Gauri's POV

I came out of the bathroom only to find the bedroom entirely empty.

"Where did Rana ji go?" I whispered into the quiet stillness of the room.

I looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, I walked over to the vanity to get ready for the day. I had already managed to drape my saree while inside the bathroom. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, a sudden wave of reality hit me—I still couldn’t believe that I was a married girl now.

A small smile formed on my lips as I recalled how my cousin sisters used to return to our house all beautifully dressed up after their weddings. Shaking off the daze, I plugged in the hairdryer and began to dry my wet hair.

My gaze drifted to the sindoor and the mangalsutra—the sacred symbols Rana ji had adorned me with just yesterday. I lifted the mangalsutra and carefully clasped it around my neck. To be completely honest, I didn't understand why only we girls had to wear all these external signs of marriage.

I mean, how exactly is a pinch of red powder supposed to keep my husband safe, and how is a gold pendant going to magically increase his life expectancy?

Sometimes I wondered why only married women had to wear all these things. Men got married too, didn't they? Then why didn't they have anything like this? Of course, I could never dare voice these thoughts to anyone. If my mother ever found out what was going on in my head, I would be absolutely dead.

Deep down, though, I felt that it wasn't the actual sindoor or mangalsutra that acted as a magic shield for a husband; it was the pure intention and devotion of the women wearing them. They were completely devoted.

"Leave it, Gauri. Why burden your brain with all this philosophy?" I muttered to myself.

With that, I focused on finishing my look. Once I was completely done, I took a step back and evaluated myself in the mirror. Well, I didn't know about my husband’s long life, but I was certainly looking beautiful.

Suddenly, I caught a movement and froze. Rana ji was standing right at the entrance of the door. He was already fully dressed, his hair still damp from his own shower. He gave me a brief, unreadable look and began walking directly toward me. I gulped hard, my heartbeat spiking instantly as I looked down at the floor. But instead of stopping, he simply passed right by me to reach the vanity. He picked up the comb, neatly styled his hair, sprayed his cologne, and walked back toward the closet.

I turned around and watched him. He hadn't spoken a single word to me.

A heavy, sinking feeling settled in my chest—I was officially being ignored. Was this really how my married life was supposed to be? All at once, a wave of unhappiness washed over me regarding this entire arrangement. He hadn't even tried to talk to me. How on earth was I supposed to live my life with a literal stone?

Sighing heavily, I walked back to the vanity to put on my bangles. I looked down and adjusted my bichhiya—the traditional toe rings. Out of everything, these were the absolute most important marriage symbols according to my mother. She believed in them even more than the mangalsutra, sindoor, or bindi. According to her, I could occasionally skip the other three, but there was absolutely no chance I could ever leave off the toe rings. Not even a single chance.

Rana ji had been the one to slip them onto my toes during the wedding rituals. Oh, it had felt so good when he did that. It felt just like the romance novels I read, where the male leads would touch their woman's feet without feeling any hint of disgust. I had secretly been watching his facial expression at that exact moment, and his face had been completely blank. But at the very least, he hadn't worn one of those arrogant, "sigma-male" expressions, looking like his fragile ego was hurt just because he had to touch my feet.

A small smile slipped onto my face at the memory, but I immediately concealed it when he re-entered the bedroom. He was now fully and impeccably dressed like a dashing, handsome young businessman. He was wearing a black business suit, though it had a slightly different design than the one he had worn to our wedding yesterday.

Wait... What? Seriously?

What a completely colorless man he is. I mean, my own favorite color happens to be black, but that doesn't mean I don't give other vibrant colors a chance. Hell, please don't tell me he is going to make my entire life just as bleak and colorless as his wardrobe. The mere thought made me feel incredibly sad.

"Are you ready?"

His deep voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. I looked up at him and gave a small, quiet nod. He immediately turned and began walking out of the room, and I followed closely behind him.

When we reached the living room downstairs, the entire family was already gathered there. Together, Rana ji and I bent down to touch the feet of all the elders to seek their blessings. During this ritual, one thing became crystal clear to me: my mother-in-law definitely did not like me. When we bowed down to touch her feet, she placed her hand exclusively on Rana ji’s head, giving her blessings only to him. She completely ignored me.

It’s okay, Gauri, I consoled myself silently. That’s just how some mothers-in-law are, and yours happens to fall right into that category. I just desperately hoped her dislike wouldn't cause problems or drive a wedge between Rana ji and me.

After the blessings, I nervously headed into the kitchen for my First Rasoi ceremony. I made sure to do everything meticulously and with extreme care, successfully preparing sweet suji ka halwa alongside savory paneer and fluffy pooris.

I proudly served breakfast to everyone. They ate in silence, handed me my shagun, and went about their day. I looked over at Rana ji. He caught my eye, walked directly over to me, handed me a small box, and left without a word.

Clutching his gift, I hurried back up to our bedroom. Out of all the presents I had received, the one I was most excited about was definitely Rana ji’s. I eagerly tore open the packaging and found a pair of exquisite earrings inside. They were truly beautiful. I stood up, went over to the mirror, and held them up against my earlobes to see how they looked.

"They are beautiful. I love them," I whispered to my reflection, a genuine smile breaking across my face.

Turning back to the bed, I sat down to open the rest of the gifts. One envelope contained money, which I was certain was from Dadiji. Another box held a pair of stunning gold bangles, given to me by my parents-in-law. There were two bottles of luxury perfume, one for a male and one for a female, from my sister-in-law, Pragya. The final gift was from my brother-in-law, Ved, which contained a sweet card with a shopping voucher tucked inside.

I genuinely liked all of their gifts; whatever someone gives you from the heart is what matters the most. My eyes drifted back to Rana ji’s box, and my smile widened. I decided right then that I would wear his earrings on my very first day of college.

"College! How could I forget? I have to go to college!"

The realization hit me all at once. I needed to start preparing for my classes, but a sudden panic gripped me—would his family even allow me to go? I didn't know. Before I could worry about that, I knew I needed to first organize my educational paperwork.

I walked over to my large suitcase which held all my academic documents and reached down to unzip it. But I halted instantly when the sharp ring of my phone echoed through the room. I hurried over to the nightstand and glanced at the screen. It was a call from my father.

Without wasting another second, I swiped the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

"Namaste Papaji," I greeted my father immediately, answering the call.

"Namaste bacchey, how are you?" he asked me. I knew my father was a strict man, but he was also deeply caring. He had provided us with everything we ever needed—good food, a solid education, clothes, and all the essentials. He was just a bit conservative.

"I am fine, Papaji. How are you?" I replied, asking about his well-being. Yesterday, during my vidaai, I had seen tears in his eyes for the very first time in my entire life. I had never seen my father cry before that moment.

"I am fine, bacchey," he reassured me.

Right after that, my mother took the phone from him. I greeted her, and she began asking me a few questions. I could tell she had walked away from Papaji to speak with me in private.

"How are you feeling now, Gauri?" she asked softly.

"I am good, Maa," I replied.

"Is everything okay... like, between you and Rana ji?" she inquired, and I completely understood her unspoken indication.

"Ji, Maa. Everything is okay," I assured her.

"Okay," she sighed in relief. "Did your First Rasoi ceremony happen?"

"Ji."

"How was it?" she pressed on with her next question.

"It was good. Magically, I actually made good food," I replied.

I heard her let out a long, heavy sigh over the line. I knew my mother must have been worried sick about it because I am completely capable of beautifully making a mess out of things in the kitchen.

"Alright. Your father will be there later today to take you back for the pagphera," my mother instructed.

I nodded into the receiver. "Okay."

"We have already talked to your in-laws about it, so be beautifully prepared, okay?" she said.

"Ji, Maa."

"Take care. I will talk to you more when you get here," she said. I agreed, and we disconnected the call.

"I should just prepare to leave for the pagphera then," I murmured to myself.

With that, I immediately started packing my things because I would definitely be staying at my parents' house for at least two to three days. It was honestly a much better alternative than staying here and constantly feeling ignored by Rana ji.

Would he even miss me while I'm gone? I highly doubted it.

"Pathar mein phoolon jaise jazbaat kahan hote hai (Stones do not possess emotions as delicate as flowers)?" I dramatically whispered to the empty room. "Wow. I can be a poet too!"

Chucking at my own dramatic internal monologue, I turned back around and continued preparing for my journey home.

Suddenly, the door clicked open and Rana ji entered the bedroom. He looked over at me and spoke in his deep voice, "Your father will be here shortly to fetch you for the pagphera."

"Ji, I just got the call from Maa," I replied.

He gave a slow nod and looked at me intently. Walking right up to where I stood, he looked down at me and said, "When you return, we will try to get to know each other more."

A genuine smile broke across my face, and I nodded. I wanted us to know each other too. Before I could process his words, he suddenly leaned down and gently pressed his lips against my forehead. The unexpected intimacy sent a vivid shiver straight down my spine. He backed away just as quickly, picked up his MacBook, and quietly walked out of the room, leaving the house for his work.

"Did he... did he just kiss my forehead?" I gasped, biting my lower lip as I tried desperately to control the massive smile taking over my face.

"My dil goes mmmmmmm..." I began to hum the song out loud, practically floating around the room as I resumed packing for the trip.

Time passed quickly as I organized my clothes. A little later, Pragya di walked into the room. Well, technically, since I married her elder brother, I am her elder sister-in-law and hold a senior position in the house, but age-wise, she is older than me. She smiled warmly and started chatting with me.

During our conversation, I casually brought up my studies and my upcoming college plans. The moment the words left my mouth, I noticed a distinct flicker of something cross her expression—it looked almost like fear.

"Did you ask Bhai about it?" she asked me carefully.

I shook my head. "No, I'll talk to him when I come back from my parents' house."

She gave a tight nod, but I definitely didn't miss the sharp flicker of deep unease that settled over her face.

"Di, is there a problem?" I asked, a sudden knot forming in my stomach. "Will he not agree to it?"

Fear began to claw at my chest. What if he didn't like the idea of me joining college? I had worked incredibly hard for this, successfully securing a placement at a massive, prestigious institution like the Dhanvantari Medical College & Research Centre (DMCRC). Getting into a medical college of that scale was an immense struggle.

Pragya di quickly shook her head, trying to reassure me. "No, Bhai won't stop you."

I nodded, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, finally feeling a bit calmer. We talked for a little while longer until a house helper knocked to inform us that my father had arrived.

Pragya di and I immediately went downstairs to the living room, where my father was seated. A helper politely walked over, offering him a glass of water, but my father strictly denied it. As I mentioned before, he is a deeply traditional, old-school man; he wouldn't even drink a single drop of water at his married daughter's in-laws' house. Even though my father-in-law repeatedly insisted, my father politely but firmly refused.

After that, my father stood up to talk to Rana ji, who had apparently just returned or was waiting downstairs. I couldn't quite hear what they were saying because they were standing a bit far away, and I was watching them from the edge of the kitchen.

Suddenly, I saw my father fold his hands in a deeply respectful, almost pleading gesture. Rana ji immediately reached out, holding my father's hands to lower them, shaking his head reassuringly as if giving him a solemn promise.

"What happened? Is everything alright?" My heartbeat instantly picked up its frantic race again.

I knew very well that my father had been incredibly insecure about this alliance from the very beginning because of the massive status difference between our families.

He strongly believed that marriages should only happen between financial equals. But because Rana ji's father had personally come to ask for my hand, promising that I would be given the utmost respect as the daughter-in-law of the Rana household, my father had finally agreed to the match on that sacred promise.

But seeing my proud father bow his head like that... what were they talking about?

"Bacchey," I heard my father's voice call out to me, snapping me out of my panic.

I quickly walked over to him. He offered me a warm, gentle smile and said, "Let's go, it's time for us to leave."

I nodded quickly and hurried back up to our bedroom to grab my packed bag. Just as I stepped inside the room, Rana ji entered right behind me. He looked at me, his expression calm and steady, and said, "I'll come to pick you up in two days."

"Ji," I replied, the curiosity burning inside me. I hesitated for a second before asking, "What was my father saying to you earlier?"

He looked at me for a long moment before replying in a perfectly calm, reassuring tone, "Nothing. He was just asking me to take good care of his precious daughter."

Hearing his words, all my tightly wound worries instantly melted away. I nodded with a bright smile and said, "Okay."

With that, we walked out of the room together and went downstairs. Before stepping out of the grand front doors with my father, I turned around and stole one final glance back at Rana ji. He gave me an assuring nod, and with my heart feeling a little lighter, my father and I finally left for my pagphera.