Saisha's POV

The wedding was not just a single event - it was an entire world unfolding before my eyes, a world filled with colors, music, laughter, and emotions.

I had never been a part of anything like this before. In my village, weddings were simpler. But here, every ritual felt like a festival of its own.

The haldi ceremony was the first event, and I was completely in awe.

The bride and groom, Aditi and Aryan, sat on decorated stools, dressed in simple yellow outfits, as their families applied turmeric paste to their faces and arms. The air was filled with laughter, teasing, and the scent of sandalwood and roses.

I watched as Aditi giggled, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of gold with every handful of turmeric. Aryan tried to dodge his brother - vivaan's  playful smears but failed miserably.

Pranay was busy capturing every moment - the golden dust flying in the air, the way the sunlight hit their glowing skin, the joy in their eyes.

I stood beside him, mesmerized.

"Have you ever seen a haldi ceremony before?" Pranay asked, adjusting his camera.

I shook my head. "Not like this. It looks... warm. Like a blessing wrapped in laughter."

Pranay smiled. "That's exactly what it is."

Before I could react, one of Aryan's sister meera playfully smeared haldi on my cheek. I gasped in shock, and everyone burst into laughter.

Pranay chuckled. "Now you're officially a part of the wedding."

Since we came here this family is treating us so good. Roohi didi- she was the one who became my first friend . She has twin babies - both cute and bubbly , 2 years old.And her husband Vivaan bhaiya,he is so caring just like pranay.He is a famous artist too.

I touched my cheek, feeling the smooth paste on my skin. A small smile formed on my lips. Maybe I didn't mind being a part of it after all.

But then, as I turned, my eyes landed on Pranay - still clean, still untouched by the madness of the ceremony.

A sudden mischief sparked inside me.

Before he could react, I dipped my fingers into the turmeric paste and smeared it across his cheek.

His eyes widened in shock as the crowd erupted in cheers. "Saisha!"

I bit my lip, trying to hold back a laugh. "Now you're officially a part of the wedding too."

Pranay blinked before breaking into a wide grin. "You're getting bolder, Mrs. Saisha."

I looked away, hiding the warmth spreading across my cheeks. But inside, I felt something new—a sense of belonging, like I wasn't just an observer anymore.

That evening, the mehendi ceremony was held in the palace gardens, decorated with fairy lights and cushions in shades of pink, orange, and green.

Aditi sat in the center, getting intricate henna designs drawn on her hands and arms. Women around her were getting their own mehendi done, and the entire place smelled of fresh henna and jasmine.

I hesitated at first, but when Aditi pulled me to sit beside her, I found myself stretching out my hands as a mehendi artist began designing delicate patterns on my palms.

As the cool paste touched my skin, I stared at it in fascination. I had never had mehendi done like this before.

"Do you want me to write your husband's name in the design?" the artist asked with a mischievous smile.

I looked at Pranay, who was standing at a distance, busy taking photos. My heart skipped a beat.

Before I could respond, Aditi answered for me. "Of course! That's a tradition!"

The artist smirked and carefully traced Pranay's name within the swirls of henna on my palm.

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling slightly.

Would Pranay look for his name later? Would he smile when he found it?

I shook my head, pushing the thought away. But deep inside, I knew—this moment was now etched onto my skin... and maybe onto my heart too.

Pranay's POV

The mehendi ceremony had been a whirlwind of color and emotion. I had spent most of the evening capturing the laughter, the joy, the intricate swirls of henna on everyone's hands.

But amidst all that, my eyes kept finding her—Saisha, sitting quietly, her hands covered in delicate designs.

At one point, I saw her glance at her palm, tracing something with her fingers. My heart tugged at the sight.

As the night slowed down, and most people were lost in conversations, I finally put my camera down and walked toward the mehendi artists.

"Can I get some done too?" I asked casually.

The girl grinned. "Of course! Do you want a traditional design?"

I shook my head, my eyes flickering toward Saisha. "No, just a name."

She tilted her head. "Whose name?"

I exhaled and smiled. "Saisha."

She nodded knowingly and quickly traced my wife's name onto my wrist.

I stared at it, the dark brown paste standing out against my skin. A warmth spread through my chest—an emotion I couldn't quite name.

Would she notice? Would she smile when she saw it?

I glanced up and caught Saisha looking at me. Her eyes flickered from my wrist to my face, and for a moment, she just stared.

Then, a small, shy smile touched her lips.

And in that moment, I knew - this was more than just a name on my skin. This was a mark she had left on my life, in ways neither of us could fully understand yet.

Saisha's POV

The next morning, Pranay and I arrive at the wedding venue, and I have to stop myself from gasping out loud.

The palace is breathtaking—ivory-white domes, carved marble pillars, and intricate jharokhas overlooking a vast lake. Everything looks like a scene from a royal fairy tale.

The wedding planners and decorators are busy setting up - strings of marigolds hang from the arches, diya-lit pathways create a golden glow, and the air is filled with the scent of roses and sandalwood.

I turn to Pranay, and for once, even he seems lost in admiration.

"This never gets old," he murmurs, adjusting his camera. "No matter how many weddings I shoot, each one feels different."

As he lifts his camera to take a few test shots, I watch him work. There is something effortless about the way he moves, the way his fingers glide over the buttons, the way he adjusts the angles with complete focus.

"You're really passionate about this, aren't you?" I ask.

Pranay pauses, glancing at me. Then, a small smile forms on his lips. "Yes. Capturing emotions, moments that people will treasure forever - there's something beautiful about it."

I nod, understanding.

The bride and groom, Aditi and Aryan Malhotra, are a stunning couple. Aryan looks regal in his cream and gold sherwani, while Aditi is dressed in a breathtaking red lehenga, her jewelry sparkling under the fairy lights.

Pranay takes shots of them as they laugh, steal glances at each other, and share whispered words that no one else can hear.

"They look happy," I whisper, watching them from the side.

"They are," Pranay says. "You can always tell when a couple is truly in love."

I wonder if love looks as beautiful in real life as it does in these pictures.

As the wedding rituals unfold, I help Pranay in small ways—fixing the lens, carrying his equipment, passing him water when he gets too focused to notice he's thirsty.

At one point, Aditi's dupatta gets caught on a chair, and she struggles to fix it without ruining her makeup. I rush forward and gently untangle it.

"Thank you," she says with a warm smile.

"You look beautiful," I say softly.

She squeezes my hand. "And so do you. Is this your first wedding shoot?"

I nod. "Yes. I've never been to a wedding like this before."

She winks. "One day, you'll have one of your own."

I flush, my eyes darting to Pranay. But he's too busy adjusting his camera, completely unaware of our conversation.

After the pheras, as the couple sits for their official wedding portraits, Pranay turns the camera towards me.

I frown. "What are you doing?"

He grins. "You've been so mesmerized by everything. I want to capture that look."

"I am not the bride," I protest, but he just shakes his head.

"Doesn't matter."

The camera clicks, and I look away, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Pranay lowers the camera, staring at the screen for a moment before showing me the picture.

I don't recognize myself.

There is wonder in my eyes, awe in my expression, and for the first time, I don't see the shy girl from a small village - I see someone who is discovering the world, one step at a time.

I swallow hard.

Maybe, just maybe, this is a moment I'll treasure forever too.

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