IN SYNC OF TIME 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)