C7 The Temple That Blesses New Couples

Morning in the village arrived softly.

Sunlight slipped through the small wooden window of the room and painted golden lines across the floor.

For a moment I forgot where I was.

Then I remembered.

The village.

The love stories.

And the fact that I was currently sharing a room with an army officer who pretended to be my husband.

Life had become very strange.

I sat up quietly.

Arjun was already awake.

Of course he was.

He was sitting on the chair near the window, arms crossed, looking outside like a guard watching the world.

“Good morning,” I said.

He nodded slightly.

“You talk in the morning too?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do.”

I grabbed my notebook happily.

“Today we start collecting stories.”

“We leave today.”

“What?”

He looked at me calmly.

“We shouldn’t stay in one place for long.”

“But this village has so many love legends!”

“That’s exactly why people come here.”

“Yes!”

“And attention is bad.”

Before I could argue, there was a loud knock on the door.

Then another.

And another.

Very enthusiastic knocking.

Arjun immediately stood up.

His expression changed into that serious soldier look again.

He opened the door carefully.

Outside stood three village women and one elderly man.

All smiling.

Very excited.

“There they are!” one woman said happily.

“The new couple!”

I froze.

Oh no.

The old man nodded proudly.

“You must come with us.”

“Why?” Arjun asked cautiously.

“It is the village tradition,” the man said.

“When a new couple arrives, they must visit the temple.”

Another woman added,

“The temple blesses young marriages.”

Arjun blinked once.

“We’re not married.”

The women laughed like he had just told a joke.

“All husbands say that,” one of them said.

I tried to explain.

“No, really—”

But they were already pulling us outside.

“You must hurry!”

“The priest is waiting!”

Arjun looked like a man reconsidering every decision that brought him to this village.

“This is unnecessary,” he muttered.

I whispered back,

“This is amazing.”

Ten minutes later we were standing in front of the village temple.

It was small.

Old.

Stone walls covered in flowers and red threads tied by couples over many years.

Wind bells hung from the roof and chimed softly in the mountain breeze.

The whole place felt peaceful.

Almost magical.

The villagers guided us inside.

“Stand here,” the priest said.

Before I could ask anything, someone placed a small flower garland around my neck.

Another one around Arjun’s.

He leaned slightly toward me.

“We need to leave.”

“Relax,” I whispered.

“It’s just a ritual.”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

The priest began chanting prayers.

Then he placed a red thread into Arjun’s hand.

“Tie this around your wife’s wrist,” he instructed.

Arjun froze.

The villagers watched happily.

Waiting.

Smiling.

Expecting.

He sighed quietly.

Then tied the thread around my wrist.

His fingers brushed my skin for a second.

For some reason my stomach flipped slightly.

The priest smiled.

“Good.”

Then he handed me another thread.

“Now the wife.”

I tied it around Arjun’s wrist.

The villagers clapped happily.

Someone threw flower petals.

Arjun looked like a soldier trapped in a very strange mission.

“Can we go now?” he asked.

“Almost!” the priest said cheerfully.

Then he said the words that made my heart stop for a second.

“Now walk around the sacred fire together.”

I looked at Arjun.

He looked at the fire.

Then at the villagers.

Then at the exit.

Clearly calculating escape options.

“This is symbolic,” I whispered.

“So is marriage.”

“Relax.”

“You relax.”

But the villagers were already guiding us.

So we walked around the small fire.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The bells above the temple door rang softly in the wind.

Flowers fell from the roof decorations.

The sunlight streamed through the temple entrance.

And for a strange moment…

everything felt quiet.

Peaceful.

Important.

I glanced at Arjun.

He looked serious.

Focused.

But something in his expression softened just a little.

Just for a moment.

Then it was over.

The priest blessed us.

“May your marriage be strong and full of love.”

Outside the temple the villagers congratulated us.

“You look perfect together!”

“Such a beautiful couple!”

“Stay in the village longer!”

Arjun walked away immediately.

Fast.

Like escaping a battlefield.

I followed him down the hill path.

“You didn’t have to run away,” I laughed.

“That was dangerously close to a wedding.”

“It was symbolic!”

“That’s still dangerous.”

I looked down at the red thread on my wrist.

It moved softly in the wind.

A strange little reminder.

Later that evening we sat on a hill outside the village.

The sky turned orange and pink as the sun set behind the mountains.

“Today was ridiculous,” Arjun said.

I smiled.

“I liked it.”

“Of course you did.”

“It was beautiful.”

“It was unnecessary.”

I opened my notebook again.

And wrote quietly.

Story Entry

Some love stories begin with a wedding.

Others begin with strangers accidentally performing one.

Not because they love each other.

Not because they planned it.

But because a small village believed they already belonged together.

Maybe it meant nothing.

Maybe it was just tradition.

But years from now…

I know I will still remember the sound of those temple bells.

When I finished writing, I looked at Arjun.

He was staring at the mountains silently.

Like a man who carried too many thoughts.

Maybe this moment meant nothing to him.

Maybe tomorrow we would leave this village and forget it ever happened.

But something told me…

I would remember this day for a very long time.

End of Chapter 7