Without the axiom, things cannot hold. It all falls apart very quickly.
Maybe she is wrong about her marriage. Perhaps there is love, a love defined by marriage. Devoted, spiteful love.
And I never thought this day would come, but here I am, sitting in front of the ritual fire, repeating Sanskrit mantras I don’t understand. He’s looking at me now, and I can feel it on my skin. We are getting married. Damini is locked away somewhere in a room, Lakshmi is at Lord Krishna’s feet in the heavens, and I’m going to be his wife.
