Chapter 18 #2
Stepping out onto the marble lawn pathway, accompanied by Raghav holding a canopy of fresh red roses over her head, was Shruti.
When Akhil’s dark eyes landed on her, his entire world stopped.
He didn't see the two hundred high-society guests standing in respect. He didn't see the flashing cameras or the glowing floral decorations. He saw only her, his Shruti.
She looked breathtakingly divine in her scarlet red and gold lehenga, her dark eyes sparkling through her sheer veil, a soft, radiant smile curving her lips as she walked slowly down the aisle towards him.
Akhil stood up from his cushion. His broad chest rose and fell with a heavy, ragged breath, his dark eyes burning with a love so profound, so intense, that it brought a prick of tears to his eyes.
Shruti reached the steps of the mandap. She looked up into Akhil’s handsome face, her heart hammering against her ribs with pure, unadulterated happiness.
Akhil offered his broad hand down to her.
Shruti placed her small, henna-adorned hand into his warm, firm grip. As she stepped up beside him onto the silk cushions, Akhil leaned down slightly, his deep, velvety voice whispering right against her ear:
"You took my breath away six months ago in an emerald saree, Miss Malhotra," Akhil murmured, his breath warm and sweet. "Today, you have officially claimed my soul."
Shruti felt a hot, beautiful flush rush up her neck, her dark eyes sparkling with love. "You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Dictator."
For the next hour, under the glowing crimson sunset over the Arabian Sea, the ancient Vedic wedding rituals took place.
The priest chanted sacred Sanskrit mantras as Akhil and Shruti exchanged garlands of fresh red roses. They sat side-by-side, their hands tied together by a sacred silk knot, pouring grains and rice into the flickering holy fire.
Then came the sacred 'Pheras', the seven vows around the holy fire.
Hand-in-hand, Akhil and Shruti stood up.
Akhil led the first four rounds, his tall, broad frame guiding her steadily around the fire, taking sacred vows of protection, respect, prosperity, and lifelong devotion.
For the final three rounds, Shruti stepped forward, leading the way, taking vows of love, partnership, and shared adventures across the world.
To honor the Italian traditions that had brought them together, after the seventh phera, Akhil turned to face Shruti fully.
He reached into his sherwani pocket and pulled out two matching, custom-engraved platinum wedding bands.
In front of their families, Akhil slid the platinum band onto Shruti’s finger, beside her canary diamond ring. Inside the platinum band, engraved in fine Italian script, were the words:
'“Il mio cuore è tuo”' , '(My heart is yours).'
Shruti took the second platinum band and slid it onto Akhil’s long finger. Inside his band, engraved in Hindi, were the words:
'“Mera Safest Home”' , '(My safest home).'
Akhil reached up, taking the red vermillion powder ('sindoor') on his thumb, and gently applied it along the parting of Shruti’s dark hair. He then tied the sacred golden mangalsutra around her neck, securing the gold and black beads over her collarbone.
"I pronounce you husband and wife," the priest declared warmly, blowing a conch shell.
The entire seaside lawn erupted into joyous applause! Flower petals rained down upon them like a fragrant storm as their families cheered.
Akhil looked down at Shruti. Without waiting for the formal photo session, he wrapped his broad arms around her waist, pulled her small body flush against his chest, and brought his lips down onto hers in a passionate, breathtaking kiss that sealed their sacred union before God and the world.
***
By nine o'clock at night, the grand outdoor reception was in full swing under a canopy of twinkling fairy lights and starry skies.
A live international jazz orchestra played romantic, upbeat melodies as guests enjoyed an exquisite feast featuring both authentic Indian street food stalls and gourmet Italian pasta stations setup by Chef Matteo’s recipes.
In the center of the lawn, Vihaan and Myra were engaged in a hilarious, high-energy dance-off near the stage, surrounded by a cheering crowd of young guests.
"Look at those two," Raghav laughed, standing near the bar with a glass of champagne, leaning his arm against the high table. "I give them three months before Vihaan officially proposes."
Devendra Malhotra walked over, placing his hand affectionately on Raghav’s shoulder, looking out at the happy crowd. "It has been a long time since this family has laughed so freely, Raghav. Today is a good day."
"The best day, Dad," Raghav smiled warmly.
Meanwhile, seeking a quiet moment away from the noisy, congratulatory crowd, Akhil led Shruti through the grand side archways of the palace out onto a private, quiet stone balcony overlooking the dark, rolling ocean waves.
The cool sea breeze whipped through Shruti’s red silk veil, blowing her dark waves around her shoulders. The moonlight reflected off the dark blue water, making her Kundan jewelry and diamond ring sparkle like stars.
Akhil stepped up directly behind her.
He wrapped his broad, powerful frame around her back, his chest pressing warm and solid against her spine. His long, strong arms reached around her waist, locking her securely against his chest, while his chin rested gently on her shoulder.
Shruti leaned her head back against his shoulder, letting out a long, contented sigh of pure happiness. She covered his broad hands on her waist with her own small fingers.
"Tired, Mrs. Raheja?" Akhil murmured softly against her ear, his deep voice thick with velvety warmth.
Shruti smiled radiantly, turning her head slightly to look at his sharp profile illuminated by the moonlight. "Not at all, Mr. Raheja. Just extremely happy."
Akhil reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small, familiar object.
He placed it gently into her palm.
Shruti looked down. Resting in her hand was her silver charm bracelet, the small brass compass and camera pendant shining under the moonlight.
"You kept it," Shruti whispered softly, tears of warmth welling up in her eyes as she ran her thumb over the small compass.
"I will keep it forever, Shorty," Akhil murmured, taking the bracelet and re-clasping it securely around her left wrist, right beside her platinum wedding band. "It saved your life at the docks. And it brought you back to me."
He turned her body in his arms so she was facing him fully.
The moonlight illuminated the handsome, regal angles of his face. His dark eyes burned with a love so massive, so profound, so unshakeable, that it filled the night air with magic.
"Eight years ago," Akhil spoke softly, his deep voice carrying a quiet, sacred weight, "I sat with a crying nineteen-year-old girl in a dark garden gazebo. I promised myself that I would guard her spirit, keep her safe, and never let anyone extinguish her bright, beautiful light."
Shruti looked up into his dark eyes, her heart beating in perfect, synchronized rhythm with his. "And today?"
Akhil raised his hand, his long, warm fingers gently cupping her soft cheek, his thumb brushing over her golden skin with infinite, agonizing tenderness.
"Today," Akhil whispered, his voice dropping to a low, raw gravel filled with absolute devotion, "I promise you that no matter how dark the world gets, no matter how fierce the corporate wars become, and no matter how reckless life gets... I will never, ever let go of your hand."
Shruti felt her entire chest swell with a love so massive it defied words. She reached up on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms securely around his neck, pulling his handsome face down to hers.
"And I promise you, Akhil Raheja," Shruti declared softly against his lips, "that I will spend the rest of my life loving your reckless heart."
And as Akhil brought his lips down onto hers in a deep, passionate, eternal kiss under the moonlit sky of Mumbai, the ocean waves roared against the shore, playing the ultimate symphony for two reckless souls who had finally found forever in each other's arms.