📍RISHIKESH

The cold water of the sacred Ganga wrapped around us like a sharp, living blade—chilling to the bone, yet cleansing every thread of sin from our bodies.

Our muscles tensed beneath the river’s holy flow, veins pulsing with the icy touch of the Ganga, reminding us that even warriors bow to Mahakal’s will.

Uday’s broad shoulders glistened under the moonlight, the rudraksha beads around his neck swinging silently as he moved with solemn purpose.

Abir’s lean frame held steady, fingers tracing the cold stone as he prepared his offerings, eyes closed in quiet reverence to Shri Hari.

Samar’s hands, scarred and steady, cupped water from the Ganga to pour over the Shiva lingam, each drop a vow unspoken but fiercely held.

Together, we moved in the sacred rhythm of Mahashivratri—warriors and devotees intertwined—our past sins washed away in the cold river of Ganga, our souls burning with the fire of devotion.

In that moment, the underworld and the divine merged within us.

The ritual was complete. The cool touch of the Ganga still clung to our skin, a reminder of purification and fate.

We moved back from the lingam, wiping droplets from our faces, but our eyes remained fixed on her.

She stood quietly with her family nearby, unaware of the three shadows watching her in the sacred glow of Mahashivratri.

The river flowed beside us, its gentle murmur mixing with distant chants and temple bells. Her prayer was soft, sincere—carrying the same sacred energy we carried in our souls.

We were criminals bound by blood and darkness, yet in this moment, only devotees.

And she… was the only light we could see.

HER POV

Standing barefoot near the old stone steps, holding a brass thali of offerings. Her dupatta sways in the breeze, glowing under the flickering diya light. She’s not dressed in anything grand—just a simple white suit, but on her, it looks like grace stitched in cotton.

Her lips move in silent prayer. Her eyes are closed.

And yet—they feel seen. All three of them.

Uday stills, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

Abir’s hand tightens around the wet rudraksha beads in his palm.

Samar doesn’t even blink—he just stares, like someone who’s hearing music for the first time.

They don’t know her name.

She doesn’t even look at them.

But from that moment on, something shifts.

She is calm. Devoted. Soft.

And for men who live in shadows, her light feels like a challenge they didn’t expect—but can’t walk away from.

Not now.

Not ever.

□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●□●

Three deadly men, soaked in power and devotion, stop breathing at the sight of one quiet girl.

But why her? Why now?

Is it fate?

Or a warning?

What happens when obsession wears the mask of prayer?

When silence watches you… not to protect you, but to claim you?

And most of all—

What will happen when she finally looks back?

So, Our sizzling Laal Pari 🍷(Readers), how did you like the chapter?

Don’t forget to vote and do let us know in the comments which part you loved the most!

Until we meet in the next chapter, take care of yourself.

It’s scorching hot out there—stay hydrated and stay tuned! ❤️‍🔥

See ya Laal Pari 🍷🎀

- Darkmusewrites