- AUTHOR'S POV -

Lighting the small earthen diya placed carefully on the silver aarti plate, Chaya Agnihotri closed her eyes for a brief moment, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as the soft golden flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow across her delicate features. Standing before the tiny mandir tucked into the corner of their lavish home, she rang the bell gently, the sound echoing in the quiet morning like a whispered prayer, and began her daily puja—not just as a ritual, but as a silent conversation with the divine. She prayed for everyone, for the well-being of the household, for peace, for strength… and most of all, for him—her husband, Yash Agnihotri—the man who unknowingly held every fragile piece of her heart. Chaya was a woman of deep faith, someone who believed that devotion, whether to God or to love, would never go unanswered.