Arranged by Destiny

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Rudra's Pov ---

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The house was quiet when I returned in the evening. My footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor as I made my way down the corridor toward my room. It was late... later than I intended on the first day of my married life. Maa has instructed me strictly to come early in the evening, but the meeting had dragged on, and by the time I wrapped everything up, the sun had already disappeared beyond the city skyline.

I loosened my tie as I walked, my mind still heavy with numbers and decisions. All I wanted was the solitude of my study or perhaps a few moments of rest. But as I passed the left side of the corridor, something caught my eye.

A faint glow seeped out from beneath the door of the art studio... Naina’s studio.

I paused.

For a second, I considered walking past. It was her space, her sanctuary, I didn’t want to intrude. But curiosity tugged at me, gentle yet insistent. I hadn’t seen any of her art work before. All I knew of her art came from her father’s fond stories, the way his eyes softened when he mentioned her love for painting.

I found my hand reaching for the handle before my thoughts could stop me. Slowly, I pushed the door open.

The room was quiet, but the moment I stepped inside, it felt alive.

My gaze went immediately to the easel in the center, and there it was... Her painting.

A girl holding a diya, her face tilted upward, the small flame reflected in her eyes. Tears shimmered at the edge of her lashes, yet her lips curved in a smile that was tender, almost sacred. Gratitude radiated from her expression, even though sorrow lingered in the shadows.

I stood frozen.

It was as though the canvas breathed, whispering a story without words. Every stroke carried a fragment of her... Her struggles, her silent prayers, her strength. I had never seen anything so raw, yet so heartbreakingly beautiful.

And in that moment, I realized I was seeing Naina. Not the quiet, guarded girl who spoke in soft tones and lowered her gaze at every eye contact, but the soul she tried so hard to protect from the harsh world.

My chest tightened.

Without thinking, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I lifted it slowly, almost reverently, and captured the painting in a picture. It felt wrong to let such a masterpiece go unnoticed, to risk it fading into memory.

I saved the image in a folder and typed the name before my mind could argue with me... Her Dreams.

Because that’s what it was. Not just a painting, but a fragment of her dreams, her hope for a new light after so much darkness.

I stood there for another long moment, letting the painting etch itself into me. Then, carefully, I walked over to the switch and turned off the lights. The room slipped back into stillness.

As I closed the door behind me, one thought stayed in my mind, steady and clear.

If destiny brought us together, for some reason, then maybe… Maybe my role was to guard her dreams until she could carry them herself.

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I walked inside my room. It was empty. For a moment, I stood there, staring at the silence, wondering where she had gone. I changed out of my work clothes and loosened my tie, but the quietness of the room felt heavier than usual.

Restless, I stepped out and went downstairs.

The soft clinking of plates and the low hum of my parents voices guided me toward the dining room. And there she was... My wife.