Each step, each round of the holy fire, led Meera and Shreyansh into a life they never expected, never planned, and never even imagined. Once strangers with separate paths, their lives were now intricately tangled, bound by fate's unpredictable design.

"Now, fill the partition with vermillion on the bride's head," the priest announced. Shreyansh pinched some vermillion between his fingers. As an elderly lady unveiled Meera, Shreyansh's gaze fell upon her tear-streaked face. Her eyes remained tightly shut, as if shielding herself from the harsh reality unfolding around her. With a heavy heart, Shreyansh filled her partition with the sacred red powder, some of it falling onto the bridge of her nose.