chapter 3

Author pov :

The morning air was crisp, laced with the delicate scent of jasmine as Sita woke to the soft chime of her alarm. A warmth bloomed in her heart-the kind that had been missing for lifetimes. Today wasn't just another day. Today, he was coming.

She wrapped herself in the comfort of routine, stepping into the kitchen before anyone else stirred. Cooking had always been an act of love for her, but today, it held a different meaning. Trinodh loved her cooking.

He always had. Even if he wouldn't say it aloud, "she knew the way his eyes softened with the first bite, how his fingers would linger over the plate as if savoring not just the taste but the feeling".

By the time breakfast was ready, the house had come alive with the soft hum of morning conversations. Her family, in their usual ways, gathered in her room for a while before dispersing again.

Sita let herself bask in the warmth of their presence, but the moment her mother entered, reality set in.

"Get ready, kannama," Meenakshi's voice was gentle but firm.

"Trinodh's family will be here soon."

Sita only nodded.

"we all have eaten," her mother continued. "Only you and Trinodh haven't."

A shiver ran down Sita's spine at those words. Just the two of us.

Meenakshi left, and Sita turned to the saree her mother had chosen for her-a soft silk drape in a color that seemed to whisper secrets to her heart. She traced the fabric with her fingers, a memory surfacing from the depths of her soul. "This color... wasn't it his favorite?"

She dressed carefully, each movement slow, deliberate. Her hands reached for the sindoor, the familiar motion so natural that she almost forgot-she wasn't married yet. A bittersweet ache filled her chest. Not yet... but soon.

Her fingers trailed down to her neck, searching for the weight that wasn't there-the mangalsutra he had once tied around her. An illusion. A memory. And yet, her skin burned as if it had never left. She closed her eyes, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

The one she had lost... the one she was about to wear again... this time, it would be whole.

Just as she finished, a knock came at her door.

"They've arrived."

Her heart stumbled.

She followed her mother's voice down the corridor, but she didn't descend the stairs. Not yet. Instead, she stood at the landing, hidden by the carved wooden railing, as her eyes sought him out.

And there he was.

Trinodh.

Her breath hitched.

Trinodh stood effortlessly handsome in a traditional pancha paired with a casual shirt, the combination exuding both confidence and ease. Though their outfits didn't match, they complemented each other in a way that felt almost natural-yet it was anything but. It was intentional, a quiet choice only he knew. And when Meenakshi later remarked how well their attire complemented each other, a small, satisfied smirk flickered across his lips.

She was lost in his face-the sharp angles softened by time, the quiet intensity in his eyes, the way the light caught in the strands of his hair like the first golden rays of dawn.

He was breathtaking.

And in that moment, as though drawn by the invisible thread that had always tied them together, he looked up.

Their eyes met.

A storm passed through his gaze, something deep and unreadable. He took her in-the saree that clung to her form like a whispered promise, the jasmine flowers that cascaded in her braid like stars scattered in a midnight sky. And then, the bottu in the middle of her eyebrows, a delicate mark that felt like a symbol of something far greater than tradition.

She was a vision. No-more than that. She was poetry wrapped in silk, a melody woven into flesh and bone.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

She smiled. A small, hesitant curve of her lips, but it struck him like lightning.

And then-nothing.

No reaction.

No rush to hold her, no flicker of recognition beyond what was expected.

Sita's heart clenched. Does he not remember?

A second of hope shattered, but she steadied herself. It's better this way. If he didn't remember, she wouldn't make him think she had loved him too soon. She wouldn't let him believe her feelings had grown overnight.

Unbeknownst to her, Trinodh was fighting the same battle.

He had spent lifetimes searching for her. And now that she was in front of him, smiling with the same tenderness that had once been his undoing, he wanted nothing more than to tell her.

To tell her that he remembered.

That she was his home. His beginning and his end.

But if she didn't remember... how could he burden her with a past she had left behind?

So he did what he had never done before.

He looked away.

Sita composed herself and walked down the stairs, her every step light yet heavy with the weight of the past. She served him breakfast, her fingers trembling only slightly as she placed the plate before him.

They ate in silence.

Then, in the quiet, he spoke.

"Your cooking... it's as perfect as ever."

The words were simple, but they shattered her restraint.

She glanced at him, startled, her cheeks dusted with a soft pink. "Thank you," she murmured, barely above a whisper.

But he heard it. He always did.

Later, as he finished his meal, Trinodh searched for something to dry his hands with. Before he could reach for anything, Sita moved instinctively, offering her saree's pallu.

His fingers brushed against the fabric, and for a moment, he simply held it, his grip tightening as emotions flooded through him.

He wanted to kiss her. Right there, right then.

Instead, he let go.

She turned away, busying herself with something-anything-to keep her heart steady.

The tension stretched between them until he finally broke the silence. "Shall we talk outside?"

She turned to him, her smile light but knowing. "Let's go to my room."

Inside her room, they sat, facing each other, a strange nervousness settling between them.

Sita felt the heat of his gaze even before she looked up.

When she did, it nearly knocked the breath out of her.

Trinodh was watching her, his dark eyes intense, unwavering-like he was memorizing every inch of her. A slow, unreadable smile played at his lips, but it was his eyes that unsettled her the most.

They held knowledge.

They held longing.

Like he knew.

Overwhelmed, she lowered her gaze, composing herself. But the weight of his stare lingered, making her heart race.

She finally turned to him, her voice softer than usual.

Sita felt the heat of his gaze even before she looked up.

When she did, it nearly knocked the breath out of her.

Trinodh was watching her, his dark eyes intense, unwavering-like he was memorizing every inch of her. A slow, unreadable smile played at his lips, but it was his eyes that unsettled her the most.

They held knowledge.

They held longing.

Like he knew.

Overwhelmed, she lowered her gaze, composing herself. But the weight of his stare lingered, making her heart race.

She finally turned to him, her voice softer than usual.

"Enduku nanu ala chusthunav?"

(Why are you looking at me like that?)

Trinodh tilted his head slightly, his lips curving. "Ela chusthunna?" (Like what?)

Sita hesitated. His gaze was too much-too knowing. Flustered, she blurted out,

"Edo nanu thinesa laga." (Like you want to eat me.)

A heartbeat of silence.

Then-his smile widened, a slow, teasing curve that sent heat rushing to her cheeks.

"Only if you knew my inner thoughts, Sita... you would be scared."

Her breath caught.

His voice was a whisper of temptation, sending shivers down her spine.

Then, as if sensing her turmoil, he leaned back, letting the moment slip between them. "But, I don't want to scare you."

Her fingers clenched around her saree. His words weren't just flattery. They held a depth that reached her very soul.

Then, his eyes roamed over her again-the delicate flowers in her braid, the way the saree hugged her form, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating her face. When he finally spoke, his voice was like a whispered prayer.

Sita's fingers tightened, her pulse fluttering wildly.

"Trinodh..." she started, but her voice wavered.

"You're shy?" he teased, his voice carrying a smile.

"Nee valana..." (Because of you...) she whispered, still not looking at him.

His chuckle sent warmth spiraling through her chest.

"You never answered me, Trinodh." She quickly changed the topic, trying to calm her racing heart. "What do you think about marriage?"

He leaned back, studying her. "Marriage... it's a bond that should feel like home. Safe. Warm. Something that lasts beyond lifetimes." His voice dropped slightly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "But, most people see it as a responsibility."

Sita swallowed. "And what about you?"

His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "I want it to be with someone I cannot live without. Someone who makes me forget where I end and she begins."

Her heart stilled.

She wanted to ask him-Do you remember?

But she held back. If he didn't remember, she didn't want to force anything. And if he did... why was he pretending not to?

"And you?" he asked, pulling her back from her thoughts.

Sita hesitated. "I believe... marriage should be with the one who understands your silences. The one who sees you even when the world doesn't. The one who... feels like destiny."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Then-Trinodh exhaled softly, tilting his head. "Sita, do you believe in destiny?"

She smiled, her eyes holding unspoken truths. "I believe in second chances."

A knock broke their trance.

They turned to see Kalyani, Trinodh's mother, standing at the doorway.

The spell was broken.

But as they stood up, preparing to rejoin their families, one truth lingered between them-

They were always meant to find each other again.

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