Words written in italics are related to a past

⸻

The air was thick with the fragrance of marigolds and sandalwood, the soft glow of a thousand lamps illuminating the grand courtyard. The temple bells echoed in the distance, blending with the rhythmic beats of the dhol, as the wedding ceremony reached its most sacred moments. The sacred fire burned in the center, its golden flames dancing like celestial witnesses to the union taking place before it.

A groom sat tall and composed, draped in a regal sherwani of deep crimson, embroidered with intricate gold patterns. His face was partially obscured by the sehra, but the strength of his posture and the authority in his presence left no doubt—he was a man of power, a man to whom destiny bowed. Across from him, the bride sat in silence, her delicate frame adorned in a red lehenga so rich that it shimmered even under the dim temple lighting. The heavy gold jewelry on her wrists jingled softly with every subtle movement she made, and the ghunghat—the red veil—remained draped over her head, shielding her features from prying eyes.

"Saat phere le lo," the priest announced, his voice ringing through the sacred air.

Hand in hand, they rose, moving around the fire, their footsteps measured, their fates entwining with every completed circle. The groom's grip was firm yet reverent, his touch a silent vow of protection, of devotion. The bride followed, each step resonating with quiet grace, with surrender wrapped in dignity.

"Sindoor le aaiye," the priest instructed, and an attendant quickly stepped forward, offering the sacred vermillion to the groom.*

His hand was steady as he lifted the pinch of sindoor, his dark eyes locked onto the hidden face beneath the veil. As he tilted his fingers over her parted hair, a few stray grains of the deep red powder slipped, landing on the soft curve of her nose. A hushed murmur spread through the gathered guests—an old belief whispered among them.

"Dekho... dulhe raja apni dulhan se sach mein prem karte hain," an elderly woman chuckled, nudging the person beside her. "Agar sindoor naak pe gir jaye toh pati apni patni se bahut prem karta hai."

The groom's lips pressed into a faint smile, but his eyes remained unreadable, focused only on the woman before him.

"Ab mangalsutra pehnaiye," the priest instructed.

Lifting the sacred necklace, he leaned in slightly, bringing the black and gold beads closer to her delicate neck. As his fingers brushed against her skin, a shiver ran down her spine, though she remained still, her face still hidden beneath the veil. He fastened the clasp, sealing their bond—not just in ritual, but in destiny itself.

The ceremony was complete. They were now bound as husband and wife.

⸻

The chamber was bathed in the soft glow of oil lamps, the fragrance of fresh roses filling the air. The bride sat on the grand bed, her posture poised yet hesitant, her red veil still covering her face. The intricate embroidery shimmered in the dim lighting, making her seem almost ethereal—like a vision too delicate, too unreal.

The groom entered, his footsteps slow, deliberate. He carried a small velvet box in his hands, a gift meant for his bride. He stood before her, gazing at the veiled figure that now belonged to him. She was his. In name, in bond, in fate.

Bending slightly, he placed the gift beside her. Still, she did not move. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, his deep voice resonated through the quiet room.

"Kya mujhe apni rani ka chehra dekhne ki anumati milegi?"

She hesitated. Then, slowly, her hands rose, trembling slightly as she reached for the edges of her veil. But before she could lift it, his fingers brushed against hers, stilling her movements.

"Main khud dekhna chahta hoon," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent.*

With steady hands, he lifted the veil.

And there she was.

Hazel brown eyes, deep and mesmerizing, framed by thick lashes that fluttered against her delicate skin. Her face was breathtaking—a vision of beauty wrapped in innocence and mystery. The sindoor in her hairline stood out against her fair skin, a mark of the bond they now shared. He could not look away, could not breathe for a moment as those eyes met his.

It was her.

And in that instant—

Rajveer's eyes snapped open.His breath came fast, his chest rising and falling as he sat up abruptly. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, despite the cool air that filled his dimly lit room. His hands gripped the sheets, his fingers tense, as his mind reeled from what he had just seen.

A dream.

No, not just a dream. It had felt real. Too real. The heat of the sacred fire, the weight of the mangalsutra in his hands, the softness of her skin beneath his touch—it all lingered as though he had truly lived it.

But how?That wedding... That bride... That moment...

And then the final blow struck him, leaving him frozen in place. The girl beneath the red veil...She was the same girl he had seen today. The same hazel brown eyes that had haunted his dreams for a month...

She was real.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the long, intricately decorated hallway. The flickering flames of the oil lamps lining the walls cast golden reflections on the polished marble floor. The air carried the scent of fresh jasmine and sandalwood, blending with the faint jingle of anklets as a figure rushed past, laughter trailing behind her like a melody lost in the wind.

She was draped in a breathtaking red lehenga, the fabric rich with golden embroidery, its intricate patterns telling stories of royalty and heritage. The lehenga's hem grazed the floor as she ran, the sheer red dupatta flowing behind her like a veil of moonlight. Her jewelry shimmered in the dim light—a delicate maangtika resting on her forehead, a nath adorning her nose, long earrings swaying with her hurried steps. The heavy gold necklace on her neck rose and fell with her uneven breaths, her wrists adorned with bangles that clinked musically with every movement. A kamarbandh hugged her slender waist, accentuating her every step, while the payals on her feet rang like tiny bells, announcing her presence with every stride.

"Pakdo mujhe agar pakad sakte ho!" she giggled, glancing back over her shoulder.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she saw him chasing after her, his strides slow yet deliberate, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. Dressed in a royal sherwani, he carried himself with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted. His eyes, dark and intense, never wavered from her as he followed with a predator's patience.

"Itni tez bhaag rahi ho, rani?" he called out, his voice laced with amusement. "Par kya tumhe lagta hai ke mujhse bach sakogi?"

She laughed, the sound sweet and free, her heartbeat quickening in exhilaration. But as she ran further down the hallway, her steps slowed. Something felt off. The sound of his footsteps had vanished. The air around her grew still.

Frowning, she turned back, expecting to see him just a few steps behind her. But he wasn't there. The hallway was empty.

"Kahan chale gaye?" she mumbled to herself, her brows knitting in confusion.

And then—

She gasped as she spun around, only to find herself inches away from him. He stood there, arms crossed, his smirk deepening as he watched her eyes widen in shock.

"D-Dhakkan!" she blurted out, taking a step back, her heartbeat erratic.

But before she could move any further, she felt a sudden tug at her waist. Her breath hitched as she realized—his fingers had hooked onto her kamarbandh, pulling her against him. Her palms landed on his firm chest as he held her there, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Aren't you teasing me too much?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Mujhe lagta hai maine tumhe bahut bigaad diya hai."

*She giggled softly, her lashes lowering. "Toh?"

"Toh saza toh milni chahiye, haina?" he smirked.

Before she could react, he swept her off her feet, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. A surprised gasp left her lips as she clung onto his shoulders, her bangles jingling against his chest.

"Hamesha yeh zabardasti kyun?" she pouted, but the warmth in her eyes betrayed her protest.

"Zabardasti nahi, haq," he whispered, carrying her towards their chamber.

⸻

The night was silent, the only witness to their moment being the moonlight filtering through the large window of the chamber. He placed her gently on the bed, the silk sheets cool against her heated skin. Leaning over her, he let his fingers trace the delicate curve of her face, brushing away a stray lock of hair.

Her breaths grew uneven as he reached for her earrings, unclasping them with slow, deliberate movements. The heavy necklace followed, then the maangtika, each piece of jewelry removed with a touch so gentle it sent shivers down her spine. Only the waist chain and payals remained, their presence a silent reminder of her vulnerability before him.

"Tum meri ho," he murmured, his fingers tilting her chin up.

She shivered as his lips brushed against hers, the touch hesitant at first, as if savoring the moment. But then, the hesitation melted into something deeper—something more demanding. His hand slid behind her head, deepening the kiss as she surrendered, her fingers clutching onto his sherwani. The taste of longing, of promises unspoken, lingered between them as the world outside faded away.

Morning sunlight streamed through the open window, casting golden hues across the room. Her eyes fluttered open, her chest rising and falling as she gasped softly, feeling her skin burn with warmth.

Her face was flushed, her ears and neck tinged a deep red. She pressed her fingers to her lips, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs. The dream... the kiss... it had felt so real. Too real.

As she sat up, she realized she wasn't in a grand palace, nor in the luxurious chamber she had just envisioned. Instead, she was in a simple, familiar room—the house in the village where her aunt had brought them.

"Yeh sab..." she whispered to herself, her mind still lost between the past and the present.*

Who was he? Why did his touch feel so familiar? And why... did it feel like she had once belonged to him?

Advika woke up with a shock, her breath hitching as she sat up abruptly. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Her fingers instinctively reached for her lips, tracing over them as if trying to grasp onto something intangible—something that had vanished the moment her eyes had opened. Her gaze darted around the dimly lit room, the familiar surroundings grounding her back to reality, yet her body refused to believe it.

"Bas ek sapna tha..." she murmured under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. But the words felt hollow, lacking conviction.

The lingering warmth on her lips, the ghost of his touch against her skin, the sound of her own breathless laughter—it was all too real. Every single moment, from the way she had run through the dimly lit corridors to the way he had pulled her into his arms, replayed in her mind like a scene she had lived, not merely imagined.

The way his fingers had trailed along the curve of her waist, how his voice had rumbled against her ear, sending shivers down her spine—the teasing glint in his dark eyes, filled with an intensity that made her toes curl. And then... the kiss.

Advika's hands clenched into the bedsheet as a deep flush crept up her neck. She could still feel the way his lips had moved against hers, slow yet possessive, igniting something deep within her. It wasn't just a fleeting sensation—it was as if he had marked her, claimed her in a way that left no room for doubt.

But that was impossible.

Her mind struggled to make sense of it. Dreams weren't supposed to feel this real. They weren't supposed to leave behind the sensation of warm breath against her skin, the weight of his touch, or the dizzying feeling of being utterly lost in someone's embrace.

Her brows furrowed as she pressed her fingers to her temple. Who was he? Why did he feel so familiar, yet so distant?

Advika tried to remember his face, to piece together the features of the man who had consumed her in that dream. But no matter how hard she tried, his face remained an enigma, hidden in the shadows.

All she could remember were his eyes.

Dark. Intense. Possessive.

Eyes that held a storm within them, that looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world. Eyes that had stared into hers as if searching for something—as if she belonged to him.

And then there was something else. A haze. A dizziness in his gaze, as if he was drowning in the same emotions that had overwhelmed her. As if he, too, had been waiting... yearning... longing.

Advika sucked in a shaky breath, hugging her knees to her chest as a chill ran down her spine. "Yeh sapna tha... ya kuch aur?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Because deep down, a part of her was terrified to admit the truth. It didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a memory.

Advika sat on the bed, her thoughts still tangled in the remnants of the dream that had shaken her to her core. Her heart had finally started to slow down, but the feeling of his touch, his lips, the intensity in his dark eyes—it all refused to fade. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling deeply, trying to shake off the unease that lingered in her chest. But just as she was about to gather herself, the door to her room swung open with a bang, making her jump slightly.

"Tu uth gayi?" Kirti's voice rang out, laced with amusement. "Main kabse tujhe uthane ki koshish kar rahi thi, magar tu toh kumbhkaran ki aulaad nikli! Ab jaa, fresh ho ja, Ansh aur maine nashta banaya hai."

Advika blinked at her friend, momentarily caught off guard by her sudden entrance. She nodded absentmindedly, still slightly dazed.

"Haan... ja rahi hoon," she murmured, pushing the blanket off her legs.

Kirti narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "Kya chal raha hai? Itni sust kyun lag rahi hai? Subah se so rahi thi, ab uthne ke baad bhi aise lag rahi hai jaise koi sapna dekh rahi thi," she teased.

Advika stiffened for a brief second, but quickly masked her emotions. "Kuch nahi, bas neend puri nahi hui," she lied smoothly, forcing a small smile.

Kirti gave her a suspicious look but didn't push further. "Theek hai, jaa fresh ho ja, phir nashta karna hai."

Advika nodded and walked towards the bathroom, but even as she moved, her mind was still wrapped around the lingering sensation of the dream. The kiss. The way he had touched her, the way he had looked at her with a gaze so intense it made her breath hitch.

She shook her head, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to push the thoughts away. "Bas ek sapna tha, Advika," she muttered to herself, gripping the edge of the sink. "Uska koi matlab nahi hai."

Yet, no matter how many times she repeated those words, the dream didn't feel any less real.

After freshening up, she changed into a simple yet comfortable outfit and made her way toward the dining area, where Kirti and Ansh were already seated, chatting about something. Advika silently pulled out a chair and sat down, picking up a piece of toast absentmindedly.

Kirti, who had been talking to Ansh, suddenly turned to Advika with a knowing look. "Ab bata, kya chal raha hai?"

Advika looked up at her, feigning confusion. "Kya matlab?"

Kirti smirked, leaning forward slightly. "Matlab yeh, ki jab main tere kamre mein aayi, tab bhi tu kisi gehre soch mein thi, aur ab bhi tu vahi kar rahi hai. Aur sabse zyada ajeeb baat yeh hai ki jab main tere kamre mein gayi thi, tab tera chehra itna laal kyun tha? Kya hua tha andar?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously.

Advika stiffened, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks again. She quickly shook her head. "Kuch bhi nahi hua, Kirti. Bas aise hi, mujhe neend se uthne mein thoda waqt lag gaya."

Kirti narrowed her eyes. "Jhooth mat bol. Tere chehre pe jo laalima thi na, woh subah ke dhoop ki wajah se nahi thi. Sach bata, kahin kisi sapne ka asar toh nahi?" she teased.

Advika nearly choked on her toast, quickly taking a sip of water to cover up her reaction. But the moment Kirti mentioned the word sapna, the images flooded back into her mind—the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his lips against hers, the way her heart had raced when he whispered in her ear.

For a moment, she was back there, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his closeness, his dominance, the way he had looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

"Advika?" Kirti's voice pulled her back to reality.

She blinked, realizing that she had been staring at her plate without responding. Quickly shaking her head, she forced a smile. "Main theek hoon, Kirti. Kuch bhi nahi hai."

But Kirti wasn't convinced. "Pakka?"

Advika nodded, trying her best to seem normal. "Haan, bas thoda thaka hua mehsoos ho raha hai."

Kirti studied her for a moment before sighing. "Theek hai, agar tujhe baat nahi karni toh main force nahi karungi. Par agar kuch hai, toh mujhe bata sakti hai, okay?"

Advika simply nodded, grateful that Kirti dropped the topic. But even as she ate her breakfast, her mind wasn't on the food. It was the man in her dream. On the way, he had kissed her. And most of all—on the strange, terrifying feeling that it wasn't just a dream.

Rajveer paced around his office, hands clasped behind his back, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. The memory of last night's dream lingered like a haunting echo. His thoughts kept returning to the girl, the hazel brown eyes that had pierced through him, her soft laughter, and the feeling of her hands in his. He had never felt anything like it before. It wasn't just a dream—it was too real, too vivid. The dream of marrying her, the warmth, the connection—it all felt like a distant memory he couldn't place. He clenched his jaw, trying to shake off the unsettling sensation that gripped him.

As if on cue, the door to his office swung open, and Rudra stepped in, his usual cocky grin playing on his face. Rajveer didn't even look up as he continued to pace, his thoughts far too consumed to notice his friend's entrance.

Rudra raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorframe. "Kya baat hai, Raj? Tum aaj kuch zyada hi pareshan lag rahe ho. Kya tumne apni shaadi ka sapna dekh liya?"

Rajveer halted mid-step, his gaze snapping to Rudra. His jaw tightened, and he made his way to his chair, sinking into it with a heavy sigh. Rudra followed, plopping down in front of him with a teasing smirk on his face.

"Shaadi ka sapna, yeh toh tumhare umra ke hisaab se common hai," Rudra teased, flicking his fingers. "Tum to budhe ho gaye ho Raj, ab toh yeh sapne dikhna normal hai."

Rajveer shot him a glare, his brows furrowing. "Shut up, Rudra," he muttered. "This isn't about that."

Rudra leaned forward, his playful expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Toh kya hai, Raj? Batayein, kis ladki ke sapne dekh rahe ho tum?"

Rajveer sighed, leaning back in his chair as he ran a hand over his face. "This dream... it felt different. Too real, Rudra. The girl I saw... she has hazel brown eyes, the same ones from the dream, and I saw her at the temple yesterday."

Rudra's eyes widened, and he leaned back, clearly intrigued. "Arre yaar, tu toh bas uske piche hi lag gaya. Teri to love at first sight ho gayi. Kya scene hai? Tumne usse shaadi karne ka sapna dekha, toh phir usse directly pooch le na, girlfriend bana le, shaadi bhi kar le. Tum toh hamesha kehte the ki tum apne duty ke liye shaadi nahi karoge, par yeh to lagta hai ki tu pyaar mein gir gaya hai, Raj!"

Rajveer shot him a sharp glare, but inside, he could feel the words sting. "It's not like that, Rudra," he replied, his voice lower, more serious. "This isn't some stupid infatuation. It's the dream... it's the same girl I've been seeing in my dreams for the past month. The one with the hazel eyes. And when I saw her yesterday in the temple... it just felt like I'd known her for ages. Like I had some connection to her that I can't explain. The dream didn't feel like a dream at all. It felt like a memory, something from another life... another world."

Rudra's expression faltered, the teasing tone replaced by genuine curiosity. "Yeh toh kaafi ajeeb lag raha hai, Raj. Agar tum keh rahe ho ki yeh sach mein aise lag raha hai, toh mujhe lagta hai ki humein is ladki ke baare mein kuch jaankari zaroor chahiye hogi."

Rajveer nodded. "I need to know who she is... Why is this happening? What does it mean?"

Rudra leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk as he stared at Rajveer. "I'll do a background check on her. I'll find out who she is—where she's from, what she does, everything."

Rajveer looked at him, his eyes searching. "Do you have any idea how to find her? I don't know anything about her. I don't even know her name."

Rudra raised an eyebrow, clearly frustrated. "Toh tum kya karna chahte ho? Tumhe pata nahi kis se pyaar kar rahe ho aur ab tum background check karwana chahte ho? Raj, yeh bilkul impossible hai!"

Rajveer didn't respond. He just stared at his friend, his mind racing with a thousand questions. How could he explain the overwhelming feeling he had every time he thought about her? Why did everything about her seem so familiar, so... right?

Rudra sighed dramatically, facepalming himself. "Aur kis tarah se background check karenge, agar tumhare paas koi bhi detail nahi hai?" He looked at Rajveer, trying to think of a solution. "Mujhe lagta hai ki hum ussi mandir mein phir se jana chahiye. Kya pata, woh ladki phir se wahan aaye. Agar hum wahan gaye toh ho sakta hai ki humein uske baare mein aur kuch pata chale. Koi baat ho sakti hai jo hum jaane nahi."

Rajveer sat up straight, his eyes gleaming with a new sense of determination. "Yes, you're right," he muttered. "We'll go to the temple again. Maybe... maybe we'll find something."

Rudra grinned at him. "Aur agar usse wahan nahi mili, toh hum uske aas-paas ke areas mein bhi check karenge. Kuch na kuch toh mil hi jayega."

Rajveer nodded, his mind still buzzing. "I need to know, Rudra. I need to understand why she's in my dreams... why it feels like she's a part of my past."

Rudra gave him a playful shove. "Toh chal, abhi chalke mandir jate hain. Tumhare sapne waali ladki ko hum dhundenge."

Rajveer didn't reply. He simply stood up, his resolve stronger now than ever. He had to find her. He had to know why she felt so familiar... and why his dreams kept bringing him back to her.

--------------------

Here's Chapter 7 with 3.8k words! ✨ Don't forget to like❤️, vote⭐, and comment💬—your support means the world to me! 💖

Also, I've posted the trailer and Part 1 of my new Taehyung FF on Instagram! 🎬 Make sure to check it out and let me know how you like it. 😍

Happy reading! 📖💫