Author's pov

Rajmata, her regal presence commanding attention, instructed Samaira to sit directly opposite Surya. The ritual was about to begin, and every detail was crucial. Samaira, composed despite the underlying tension, settled into her designated spot. Surya, a man of apparent indifference, remained oblivious to her proximity. He was a study in nonchalance, his gaze distant, his expression unreadable. He had married her for reasons known only to himself, a motive that lay far beyond the simple spectrum of love or hate. It was a deeper, more complex agenda that drove him. He was here, after all, to perform the ritual, but as a formality, a necessary step in a carefully orchestrated plan.
The place arranged and ready, Rajmata initiated the ceremony. She began by carefully dropping a royal ring into a large bowl of milk. Samaira, her heart pounding, was the first to begin the search. She plunged her hand into the cool liquid, her fingers navigating the milky depths, seeking the elusive prize. Surya followed, his movements deliberate, almost languid.