IN SYNC OF TIME

1:IN SYNC OF TIME

Excitement buzzes through the air like an electric current, filling every corner of the house with an infectious energy. The scent of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and marigolds—mingles with the rich aroma of homemade sweets being carefully arranged on silver trays. Footsteps echo hurriedly against the polished marble floor as family members and friends dart from one room to another, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of last-minute preparations. In one corner, a group of women sits cross-legged on the floor, meticulously folding vibrant silk sarees and adjusting intricate jewelry pieces, ensuring that every detail is perfect.

HARSH VASHISHT[FL DAD]

Everything should be perfect

HARSH VASHISHT[FL DAD]

No mistakes will be tolerated

Random Men

Yes master

Random Men

All will be perfect

Bride' side

The bride’s green room is a whirlwind of emotions, laughter, and last-minute adjustments. The air is thick with the delicate scent of fresh jasmine and roses, their petals strewn across the dressing table alongside shimmering bangles, open lipstick tubes, and an array of makeup brushes. A large mirror, its frame adorned with fairy lights, reflects a scene of controlled chaos—a bride surrounded by her closest friends and family, each attending to a different detail of her appearance.

The makeup artist leans in with a steady hand, carefully applying the final touches of kohl to the bride’s expressive eyes, making them even more captivating. “Just a little more blush,” she mutters, dabbing softly. The bride sits still, but her fingers nervously play with the edge of her dupatta as her heartbeat races. Her best friend, kneeling beside her, whispers reassurances, occasionally adjusting a stray curl from the elaborate updo decorated with delicate flowers.

On one side of the room, her mother stands silently, watching her daughter with a mix of pride and nostalgia. Her eyes glisten, though she quickly wipes away a tear before anyone notices. An aunt bustles around, ensuring the jewelry pieces are in place—fastening the heavy gold necklace securely, adjusting the large earrings, and sliding the ornate bangles onto the bride’s henna-adorned hands.

TANUSHREE VASHISHT[FL Mom]

Is everything perfect

Random Girls

Makeup artist : Yes ma'am

Random Girls

Young miss is looking a princess

TANUSHREE VASHISHT[FL Mom]

"smiles"

TANUSHREE VASHISHT[FL Mom]

Dear it's time to go

TANUSHREE VASHISHT[FL Mom]

Every one is waiting to our princess "caressing her cheeks softly"

Draped in a resplendent red lehenga, the bride stands like a vision of grace and tradition, embodying centuries of heritage in a single breathtaking moment. The fabric, rich with intricate gold embroidery, shimmers under the soft glow of the wedding lights, each thread whispering tales of devotion and celebration.

Her dupatta, sheer and adorned with delicate embellishments, cascades over her head like a veil of dreams, framing a face radiant with anticipation. Kohl-lined eyes, deep and expressive, hold a universe of emotions—joy, excitement, and the quiet weight of new beginnings. A small red bindi rests on her forehead, a perfect complement to the maang tikka that gleams above it, its delicate chain disappearing into the soft curls of her hair.

The chime of her bangles, stacked in hues of red and gold, fills the air as she moves, a melody of tradition and festivity. The intricate henna on her hands, darkened with love and patience, tells its own story—hidden initials, swirling patterns, and the promise of a beautiful journey ahead.

As she takes a deep breath, the fragrance of fresh jasmine entwined in her braid mingles with the scent of sandalwood from her bridal attire. Every step she takes is measured, poised, a blend of childhood dreams and the reality of the moment. She is not just a bride; she is the essence of beauty, love, and a timeless tradition, stepping into a new chapter wrapped in the warmth of her red lehenga.

Author

Welcome back, dear readers!

Author

"IN SYNC OF TIME" – a beautiful love story that transcends moments, weaving together fate, destiny, and the unbreakable bond between two souls. After a long gap, we’re finally back with a tale that will touch your heart, make you smile, and perhaps even bring a tear to your eye. This story is a journey through time, where love finds a way despite the odds, where hearts beat in sync even when the world tries to pull them apart.

Author

I’ve missed this, missed you. Your support has always been my greatest motivation, and as I take this step forward, I hope you’ll be right here with me. Let’s experience the magic together—let’s feel every moment, every heartbeat, and every emotion. This is our comeback, and I can’t wait for you to be part of "IN SYNC OF TIME"

2:IN SYNC OF TIME

EPISODE 2

The Groom's side

The green room buzzed with laughter and mischief as the groom’s friends surrounded him, each determined to make the most of these last few moments before he stepped into a new chapter of his life. Dressed in his elegant sherwani, he stood in front of the mirror, attempting to adjust his stole—only for one of his friends to yank it playfully

RICHARD STEPHENSON[ML Bff]

Last chance, man! The getaway car is ready outside.

ARNAV MALHOTRA [ML BFF]

Just shut you Italian pasta

RICHARD STEPHENSON[ML Bff]

😑😑

Draped in an immaculate white sherwani, the groom stood at the center of the lively green room, a picture of regal elegance. The intricate gold embroidery on his attire shimmered subtly under the warm lights, each delicate thread weaving a tale of tradition and grandeur. A deep maroon stole, rich with ornate patterns, rested over his shoulder, its weight grounding him in the moment. His turban, adorned with an exquisite kalgi, sat perfectly atop his head, marking him as the man of the hour—the one everyone’s eyes would soon be upon

Yet, amidst the laughter and teasing that echoed around him, a quiet shadow lingered in his eyes, unnoticed by his friends. They saw the poised, charming groom, dressed like royalty, ready to embark on the most beautiful journey of his life. But they didn’t see the fleeting sadness hidden beneath his practiced smiles, the way his fingers lingered on the folds of his stole as if holding onto something invisible, something unsaid.

RICHARD STEPHENSON[ML Cousin]

Yash Bro

RICHARD STEPHENSON[ML Cousin]

you look like you just walked out of a royal portrait

YASH HIMAVAT [ML]

"looking himself"

ARNAV MALHOTRA [ML BFF]

Man, are you marrying or preparing for a coronation?

Laughter rippled through the room, their words filled with playful mischief.

He chuckled, shaking his head, playing along as always. No one questioned the way his smile faltered for just a second when he looked into the mirror. No one noticed the way his eyes searched for something beyond the reflection, something he couldn’t quite name. Was it longing? Was it a whisper of a past moment slipping through the cracks of time?

He took a deep breath, straightening his sherwani. Whatever it was, whatever had settled in the corners of his heart, tonight was not the time for it. Tonight, he would step out of this room, toward the woman waiting for him at the mandap

RICHARD STEPHENSON[ML Bff]

The time has arrived......The tasty feast is waiting

ARNAV MALHOTRA [ML BFF]

there is no pastas in the menu

RICHARD STEPHENSON[ML Bff]

😒

UNKNOWN

Sir it's time for you to arrive on the mandap

The groom exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of whatever had been lingering in his heart. His friends straightened up, their mischief momentarily replaced by excitement. One of them adjusted his stole with exaggerated seriousness, while another gave him a playful nudge

The doors opened, and the golden glow of the wedding venue spilled into the green room. The rhythmic beats of the dhol resonated through the air, mingling with the distant hum of wedding rituals in progress. The scent of fresh flowers and incense wrapped around him, a heady reminder that this was real.

3:IN SYNC OF TIME

EPISODE 3

As he walked through the grand wedding hall, his aura was unmistakable—commanding yet serene, regal yet deeply human. The soft rustle of his sherwani accompanied his steady steps, the delicate embroidery catching the golden light as if woven with whispers of fate. The maroon stole draped over his shoulder swayed slightly, a silent witness to the emotions swirling within him.

The guests turned, their conversations pausing as they took in the sight of the groom—elegant, poised, yet carrying something unspoken in his gaze. The rhythmic beats of the dhol pulsed through the air, but he barely registered them. His focus had narrowed, his heartbeat syncing with the steady cadence of his footsteps.

A quiet intensity lingered in his eyes, something deeper than mere excitement—an emotion undefined, as if he was walking toward not just a marriage, but a moment destiny had long written for him. As the fragrance of fresh jasmine and incense wrapped around him, his fingers instinctively brushed against the heavy rings on his hand, grounding him.

RICHARD STEPHENSON[ML Cousin]

Bro here come my future bhabi

YASH HIMAVAT [ML]

"look towards the entrance"

A hush rippled through the hall as the first notes of the shehnai filled the air, signaling her arrival. The soft chime of anklets echoed gently against the marble floor, each delicate step carrying the weight of a thousand emotions. Draped in a breathtaking red lehenga, she moved with a grace that seemed almost ethereal, the intricate gold embroidery on her attire shimmering under the warm glow of a hundred twinkling lights

YASH HIMAVAT [ML]

"looking at her intensely"

YASH HIMAVAT [ML]

"clenched his fist"

As their eyes met, a flicker of something unexpected passed between them. While the world around them saw a bride stepping toward her groom, draped in grace and beauty, he saw something else—a silent smirk dancing in the depths of her kohl-lined eyes. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. A look of quiet victory.

His jaw tightened for the briefest moment. Victory? Over what? Over him? Over fate? The thought unsettled him, and for the first time that evening, his perfectly poised expression wavered. Beneath the weight of the maroon stole draped over his shoulder, he clenched his fist, willing himself to keep his composure

The guests, the music, the sacred chants—it all blurred into the background. All that remained was this silent exchange, this unspoken challenge in her gaze and the reluctant distaste rising within him.

Yet, he couldn’t look away. As she ascended the mandap, her every movement was deliberate, carrying the grace of a woman who knew exactly what she was stepping into. And in her eyes, that quiet smirk still lingered, as if she knew something he didn’t. He swallowed hard, masking his unease with a carefully constructed smile. This was their wedding, their moment of union. But why did it suddenly feel like a game where he didn’t know the rules?

Unknown

"smriks" "extended her hand towards him"

YASH HIMAVAT [ML]

"reluctantly holds her hands tightly"

Unknown

(Hiss)

Unknown

( in the end I won) "eyes spoken"

YASH HIMAVAT [ML]

( You will be seeing hell from today onwards)

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