The tent breathed softly, as though it too had learned to be careful.
Krishna entered without sound, the folded clothes resting against his forearm plain cotton, unremarkable, chosen only because they would not demand anything of her. He did not announce himself. Somehow, it felt wrong to disturb the stillness with his voice.
Rukmini stood near the lamp.
The flame trembled, and so did she not with fear, but with fatigue that had finally been allowed to surface. Her red saree clung to the story of the day: dust along the hem, creases at the waist, the anchal loosened at her shoulder where the pin had long surrendered. She did not try to fix it anymore. It slipped and flowed as it wished, obedient only to her breath.
She was still adorned as a bride, yet no longer armored by ceremony.
Her hands were raised to her head, fingers caught in the remains of a bun that had once been neat, obedient, proper. Now it resisted her gently, curls escaping, strands falling across her face, brushing her lips, her eyes. She sighed in frustration and quite resignation.
Krishna stopped just inside the tent.
The sight of her reached him slowly, then all at once.
This was not the girl who had fled in terror hours ago, heart racing, courage trembling. This was a woman who had crossed the threshold of everything she had known and stood here now, alone except for him. No attendants. No sisters. No familiar hands to ease the weight from her body.
His chest tightened at the thought of this girl leaving everyone and everything behind for him. He wanted to honour her in every way possible!
She sensed him and turned, startled. Her eyes widened slightly before softening, recognition settling in. “Krishna,” she said, instinctively lowering her hands, suddenly shy of being seen undone like this. “I was just… my hair" she mumbled.
“I know,” he said gently, smiling before he meant to.
It was not the smile of a god who had charmed worlds into devotion. It was quiet, uncertain, almost boyish and it surprised him as much as it did her. Heat crept into his cheeks. He was aware of it, faintly amused, faintly undone.
He looked at her and she looked tired. Not fragile but spent, as she had carried courage for too long without setting it down.
Without thinking, he stepped closer.
Close enough to see the faint marks the necklace had pressed into her skin. Close enough to notice how her breath changed.
He lifted his hand and his own heart won't stop thumping from nerves that weren't cooperating with him.
“May I?” he asked, softly, as though even the air might overhear.
Rukmini’s lashes fell. Her nod was small but absolute.
The word rested between them as trust became audible.
His fingers entered her hair with care, he found the first pin and eased it free slowly, mindful not to pull. When it came loose, he felt the tension in her shoulders release just a little. Another pin followed. Then another.
Rukmini was still with her soul nearly collapsing, she was aware! Way too aware!
With the last pin removed, her hair fell open completely thick, dark, wavy, curling gently where it touched her shoulders and spine. It spilled forward too, brushing her arms, her waist, alive in a way bound hair never was.
Krishna inhaled sharply before he could stop himself.
It was absurd, the thought that crossed him then , that her hair was exactly like his, only longer, softer, and it smelled like fresh flowers. The realization made something in him give way.
He brushed through it gently, his fingers spreading, then easing together again, slow and patient. Not fixing. Not arranging. Just… tending.
The sound was so soft it barely existed, yet it settled into him like a confession.
Her head tipped slightly, unconsciously leaning into his hand. When she realized what she had done, she froze but he did not withdraw. His touch remained steady, reassuring.
“You need to rest Rukmini,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
“Yes,” she admitted quietly in an agreement
The necklace caught his eye again heavy, ornate, ceremonial. It no longer belonged to this moment. He hesitated only briefly.
“May I?” he asked once more.
Her fingers curled into the edge of her saree, knuckles whitening for a heartbeat before she nodded.
His hands moved to the clasp with care. When it opened, the necklace slid free, and she straightened slightly, as though a burden had been lifted from somewhere deeper than her neck. One by one, he loosened the rest. The bangles chimed softly as they left her wrists, the earrings that tugged gently before giving way.
Each piece he set aside felt like an unfastening of expectations, of roles she had carried without complaint.
When he was done, she stood before him unadorned.
Red saree. Bare skin warmed by lamplight. Hair loose, framing her face, brushing her collarbone.
The realization arrived slowly this time, blooming rather than striking.
She is my bride. She chose me.
His breath felt suddenly insufficient. He was overwhelmed at how she put all of her faith on him!
Rukmini looked up, sensing the stillness, the way his presence had deepened. Their eyes met and held.
Her cheeks flushed instantly. She was aware now of how she stood, of the openness of herself, of the quiet intimacy they had crossed without naming it. “Krishna…” she whispered, uncertain, breath shallow.
He smiled softly but his heart was in no better state than hers.
“Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for trusting me with everything. ” he said slowly.
The words were not dramatic. They were simply true.
Her breath hitched. She lowered her gaze, shy to the very marrow, yet she did not step away. The air between them felt warm, charged not with urgency, but with something gentler and more restraint.
Desire was there too unmistakably so.
But it was tamed, held carefully between respect and an unnamed curiosity, breathing quietly rather than roaring.
Krishna stepped back at last, though it took effort. He placed the clothes into her hands, his fingers brushing hers a touch so brief it almost wasn’t one, yet it lingered all the same.
“Rest,” he said softly. “I’ll be outside.”
She nodded, clutching the fabric lightly, as though grounding herself.
As he turned away, heart steady and irrevocably claimed, Krishna knew this much with perfect clarity.
Their love, was gently blooming on trust and gentleness between the two and it did not announce itself loudly unlike their elopement which was making noises everywhere around the subcontinent.
Krishna could not help but let out a chuckle at the thought of the theatrics of his wedding. The world surely would remember it! But he would remember this moment, which was only theirs- even beyond mortality.
----------------------------------×--------------------------------------
Hey so this idea just popped in my head randomly while I was trying to complete my assignment due. I don't know- the whole time, I was not getting enough ideas but here we are!! With the exams looming over my head! My thoughts are being THUNK (ik it's not a real word) It's not that nice as it's not even properly drafted but the slump is getting to me and it's so tiresome to deal with it but I have been reading your blogs and somehow it motivated me. Do drop in your thoughts. UwU ✨💓🤍
@irantaboutkanha @bigsimp69 @mimaridoesmurari @merevasudevmeremadhav @kannammasnape @kikarou @euph0synee Don't 't know if I am missing or not if I am sorry as you can very well observe how terrible I am terrible at this!
