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Chapter 13 Devraj POV

My cousins danced ahead of me on the dusty village road, their sherwanis heavy with intricate zari embroidery—gold threads glinting under the flickering torches, the kind of opulence that could buy a poor farmer's entire harvest, maybe even his soul.

The dhol drums thundered like a heartbeat gone wild, brass band blaring Bollywood tunes mixed with folk wedding songs, fireworks cracking overhead in bursts of red and gold. The baraat pranced forward like peacocks in full display, men laughing, women ululating, children darting underfoot with sparklers.

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