Somewhere in Jodhpur—where time slowed down between sandstone walls and centuries-old faith—stood an ancient Shiv–Parvati temple. Its stones had witnessed countless prayers, broken hopes, fulfilled wishes, and silent promises whispered to the gods. That evening, under the soft glow of the sinking sun, the temple courtyard echoed with something far rarer—unfiltered laughter.

An old iron swing hung from a massive banyan tree, its chains rusted with age but still strong enough to hold memories. Sitting on it was a six-year-old girl, her tiny feet dangling in the air, anklets chiming with every forward sway. Her laughter was loud, carefree, and contagious—like she didn’t yet know the weight the world would someday place on her shoulders.

Behind her stood a twelve-year-old boy, thin arms pushing the swing gently but protectively, as if afraid she might fall if he pushed too hard. His laughter joined hers—not as loud, but just as sincere. In that moment, nothing else existed. Not age. Not logic. Not the future.

“Vanshu tum kitne acche ho,” she giggled, gripping the chains tightly as the swing reached its highest point.
“Mujhe humesha jhoola jhulaate ho.”

He smiled, eyes fixed on her back, pushing the swing again.
“Pari tumhe maza aa raha hai na?”

“Haan Vanshu, bahut!” she exclaimed, then suddenly turned her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
“Kya tum mujhe humesha aise jhoola jhulaoge?”

He didn’t answer immediately. He just kept pushing, as if thinking hard—because even at twelve, some promises felt bigger than words.

“Haan, Pari. Humesha.”

Her laughter softened into something else—something warm, something certain. She slowed the swing with her feet and looked at him seriously, as seriously as a six-year-old could.

“Toh phir main tumse shaadi kar lungi. Okay?”
She said it like she was deciding what sweet she’d eat next—simple, unquestioning, pure. Her eyes shone, completely unaware of how heavy that word really was.

Vanshu froze.

He stopped the swing and walked around to stand in front of her.
“Arey Pari, shaadi toh bade log karte hain,” he explained gently, brows furrowed like a concerned elder.
“Jo log ek dusre se pyaar karte hain… wahi karte hain.”

Pari frowned instantly, lower lip jutting out.
“Toh hum jab bade ho jaayenge tab karenge saaadii,” she dragged the word dramatically, folding her arms.

He sighed, trying to be patient.
“Pagal, woh shaadi hota hai. Aur hum… hum nahi kar sakte shaadii.”

Her eyes widened. Hurt bloomed quickly—too quickly.
“Kyu Vanshu?” her voice trembled.
“Tum mujhse p…py…” she sniffed, struggling with the word, “…haan, pyaar nahi karte?”

The pout returned, deeper now.
“Main toh karti hoon tumse.”

Something in his chest tightened. He smiled softly, trying to make things right.
“Umm… Pari, karta toh hoon.”

Her face lit up instantly, like clouds parting after rain.
“Toh bas phir,” she declared, nodding decisively.
“Tum mujhse bade hoke saaaadi kar lena. Okay?”
She showed all her teeth in a wide, innocent grin—sealed with absolute trust.

He laughed helplessly and nodded.
“Okay, Pariiii.”

“Pinky promise?” she asked, extending her tiny finger toward him—the most sacred oath she knew.

“Pinky promise,” Vanshu replied, hooking his finger with hers.

Two pinky fingers intertwined.
A promise made without understanding.
A vow spoken without knowing the cost.

“Chalo Pari,” he said after a moment, gently pulling her up from the swing.
“Ab ghar chalte hain. Dono ki mumma daategi nahi toh.”

She nodded obediently and slipped her small hand into his—fitting there like it always belonged. Side by side, they walked out of the temple courtyard, their shadows stretching long behind them.

Above them, the stone idols of Shiv and Parvati stood silently—eternal, unmoving, divine witnesses to a bond formed in innocence. A bond that might one day become devotion…
or fade into nothing but a memory.

Only time would decide.

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Author’s Note

Hey lovely readers,

First of all, thank you so much for picking up Vanshit: Her Devoted Love. This story is very close to my heart, and I wanted to start it with a glimpse of innocence—those childhood words that often get buried in time, yet stay alive in someone’s heart forever.

Vanshit might forget what he once said, but Raanvi never did. That’s where their journey truly begins—between forgotten promises and the courage of holding on.

This book will explore love, longing, devotion, misunderstandings, and the kind of bond that gets tested by time and circumstances. I hope you’ll feel every emotion as deeply as I felt while writing it.

Your support, comments, and encouragement mean the world to me. Don’t forget to share your thoughts after every chapter—it keeps me motivated to write more passionately.

With love, Akshvi.