### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective:

The drive home was quiet and peaceful, a soft melody playing on the stereo-the perfect antidote to the chaos of the day. He pulled up right outside my gate, the powerful SUV looking slightly out of place on the quiet residential street.

The moment the car stopped, he reached over. Not with the frantic panic of last night, but with calm, deliberate care. He opened my seatbelt, his fingers brushing the fabric against my chest.

I gathered my bag, turning to him with the genuine, soft smile that had returned to my face.

**Ishita:** (Sweetly, giving a small wave) **"*Bye, Rudra.* Good night."**

As I reached for the door handle, his hand shot out, capturing mine-the one I was using to wave goodbye-in a warm, firm grip.

**Rudra:** **"Ruko."** (Stop.)

I turned back, surprised by the sudden seriousness.

**Rudra:** (His eyes, deep ocean blue, were fixed entirely on mine. His voice was low, earnest, a vow whispered in the darkness) **"*Agar dubara kabhi aisi galti karun na...* promise me something, Ishita."** (If I ever make this mistake again...)

**Rudra:** **"*Mujhe par chilla lena. Daant lena. Meri ijjat todh dena, par zubaan se.*"** (Yell at me. Scold me. Break my dignity, but with your words.) **"*Bas rona matt. Aapke aansu mujhe pasand nahi.*"** (Just don't cry. I don't like your tears.)

His vulnerability-the idea that the King of Rajasthan was giving me, the 'pretty distraction,' permission to scold him-melted the last trace of my hurt.

**Ishita:** (My heart felt full. I looked down at our joined hands, then back at him, giving him a soft, loving smile) **"*Wada.* I promise. Next time, *aapki class lagegi, Mr. Rathor.*"** (Promise. Next time, you will get a lecture, Mr. Rathor.)

He smiled then, a flash of blinding relief and charm.

**Rudra:** **"*Theek hai.* I'll look forward to it. Now go."**

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. But he didn't let go. He just stayed there, leaning slightly towards me, his eyes drinking me in-the smile, the blush, the repaired light.

I waited. The silence stretched, filled only by the warmth of our intertwined hands. My smile softened into an embarrassed, happy blush.

**Ishita:** (Softly, a little shy, reminding him of reality) **"*Rudra... ab chhodh bhi dijiye.*"** (Rudra... let go now.)

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective:

Her promise was everything. It wasn't just forgiveness; it was the foundation of trust, a permission slip to be imperfect, provided I remained truthful.

I watched her smile, the sight of her unharmed joy flooding my system. *God, she's so beautiful. So much light.*

I knew I needed to let her go. Her mother was waiting. But my fingers were locked around her hand, reluctant to break the physical connection that affirmed she was real, she was near, and she was mine.

**Rudra:** (I squeezed her hand lightly, my voice husky) **"*Kyun? Tumhe achha nahi lag raha?*"** (Why? Don't you like it?)

**Ishita:** (She blushed deeper, looking away shyly) **"*Achha toh lag raha hai. Par Mummy dekh lengi.* And then *Papa dekh lenge,* who will break your bones, remember?"** (I like it. But Mom will see. And then Dad will see...)

The mention of the gym trainer instantly brought me back to my senses. The risk was real, and the reward-a few more seconds of holding her hand-wasn't worth the trouble for her.

**Rudra:** (I sighed dramatically, finally releasing her hand, the cold absence immediate) **"*Uff!* That gym trainer is my biggest enemy, *tumhare aur mere beech mein.* Fine. Go."** (That gym trainer is my biggest enemy, between you and me.)

**Rudra:** (But I leaned closer, my gaze intense) **"But Ishita... remember that feeling. That you can scold me. That you can talk back. That you are the only person who can raise their voice at me and not get fired. *Tum background noise nahi ho, tum meri kahani ho.*"** (You are not background noise, you are my story.)

I watched her open the car door, her expression thoughtful and full of warmth.

**Ishita:** **"*Aur aap?*"** (And you?)

**Rudra:** **"*Main? Main toh bas woh pagal hoon,* who is addicted to your smile. Now go inside, before I come up there and fight your father for those *gulab jamuns.*"** (Me? I'm just that crazy person.)

She laughed-a bright, ringing sound that was my true music-and hurried out of the car. I didn't drive away until I saw her turn the key in her front door lock, the light fully extinguished.

### **Ishita Sharma's Perspective:

I closed the door behind me, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. I leaned against it, closing my eyes for a moment, savoring the peaceful end to the chaotic day. Rudra's final look, his raw promise, his soft touch-it was all real. He was trying.

I quickly walked to my room, throwing my bag onto the bed, and rushed to the window overlooking the street. I pulled the curtain back just enough to peer out.

His black SUV was still parked there, the engine idling, the lights soft.

I raised my hand and gave him a final, heartfelt **wave**. A silent, loving acknowledgment that our rift was closed.

Seconds later, the powerful engine roared softly, and the car pulled away from the curb, disappearing down the street.

*He's gone. And we're okay.*

### **Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective:

I didn't move the car until I saw the slight movement of the curtain and her small, bright hand waving at me from the window. That final signal-that unconditional, innocent wave-was the definitive seal of her forgiveness. It was everything.

A profound, exhausted peace settled over me. I finally put the car into drive and headed towards the fortress I called home.

I reached the Rathor mansion, and the first thing that assaulted me was the usual sound of polite, cold conversation emanating from the dining room.

I walked inside, pulling off my suit jacket. The entire family was seated at the immense dining table, a rare occurrence for a simple weeknight dinner. My father, **Ram Singh Rathor** (Rathor Senior), was at the head, radiating quiet authority. My mother, **Siya Singh Rathor**, looked up immediately. My *Chacha* (Uncle) **Lakhan** and his wife **Urmila**, along with **Akshat** and **Vardaan**, were seated. My younger siblings, **Jay** and **Ahana**, were arguing softly over a bread basket.

And at the side, sitting elegantly, was my Dadi, **Preeto Singh Rathor**-the one person who mattered.

**Siya Singh Rathor:** (My mother, her voice gentle) **"Rudra! You're late. *Aao, baith jao. Khaana lag gaya hai.*"** (Come, sit down. Dinner is served.)

**Rudra:** (I forced a composed, weary look) **"*Good evening, everyone.* Maa, I'll just go and freshen up quickly. *I'll join you in five minutes.*"**

My mother nodded approvingly. As I turned toward the staircase, I paused, sensing a weight of expectation.

I looked at Dadi **Preeto**. She was watching me, her eyes keen and searching, filled with the worry she had confessed last night. In the midst of the family chatter, she conveyed her question **silently, through her eyes**: *Did Ishita forgive you?*

I didn't dare smile widely. But for Dadi, I gave a quick, almost imperceptible **nod**, a slight downward tilt of my head, accompanied by the smallest flicker of relief around my lips.

Before anyone else noticed, I quickly covered the micro-expression, returning to my cold mask of exhaustion.

**Preeto Dadi:** (She gave an almost invisible, approving nod in return, a hint of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, then casually took a sip of water, resuming her facade.)

**Ram Singh Rathor:** (My father's deep voice boomed, cutting across the tension) **"Rudra, the Singapore file needs your signature by 8 AM. Don't be late."**

**Rudra:** **"Yes, Papa. I know."**

I walked up the stairs, the cold weight of the Rathor empire settling back onto my shoulders, but the silent promise and the memory of Ishita's wave-and Dadi's approval-felt like a secret, powerful shield against the world.

I returned from freshening up, the cold water having done little to wash away the memory of Ishita's tears. I took my seat at the immense dining table. Immediately, a plate was placed before me. It contained the usual: **steamed vegetables**, simple *roti* (flatbread), and a small portion of lentils, strictly **no oil, no excessive spices, and certainly no sugar**. My diet was as disciplined as my business schedule.

**Siya Singh Rathor (Mom):** (A sigh escaping her) **"Rudra, *beta, thoda toh normal kha lo.* You eat healthier than a saint! *Mujhe toh ab yeh 'healthy food' dekh kar hi thakaan ho jaati hai.* At least have a small piece of *gajar ka halwa*."** (Son, at least eat something normal. I get tired just looking at this 'healthy food'.)

**Rudra:** (I gave a small, polite shake of my head) **"*Nahi, Maa. Thank you.* I need the energy for tomorrow's meetings. High-performance demands high-performance fuel."**

**Jay Singh Rathor (Brother):** (He immediately jumped in, scooping a spoonful of rich *dal makhani*) **"*Bhai, aap toh protein powder ke zinda putle ho.* When are you going to stop training like you're preparing for a WWE match? *Aapko kahan jaana hai, Everest pe?*"** (Brother, you are a living statue of protein powder. Where do you need to go, to Everest?)

**Ahana Singh Rathor (Sister):** (She giggled, pointing at my plate) **"Exactly! And *Bhaiya*, how do you manage to look so handsome while only eating *ghaas-phoos* (grass and leaves)? *Mujhe toh lagta hai, aapke andar bhi protein shake hi chalta hai, khoon nahi.*"** (I think only protein shake runs inside you, not blood.)

**Vardaan Singh Rathor (Cousin):** **"*Bhai, aapke saath gym mein rehkar bhi darr lagta hai. Aap toh bas *machine* ho. Enjoy bhi kar liya karo kabhi!*"** (Brother, I am scared even being with you in the gym. You are just a machine. Try to enjoy sometimes!)

I ignored their banter, focusing on my food, a small, private smile touching my lips. *Ishita would call this my robotic food.*

---

### **The Marriage Bomb**

The lighthearted teasing was abruptly cut short by my **Chachi, Urmila Singh Rathor**. She had a knack for steering family conversations toward personal pressure points.

**Urmila Singh Rathor (Chachi):** (Her voice was overly sweet, directed at my mother but loud enough for everyone) **"*Siya ji, aapka Rudra toh bilkul machine ban gaya hai. Humesha kaam, kaam, kaam.*"** (Your Rudra has completely become a machine. Always work, work, work.)

She then turned her attention directly to me, ignoring my father's frown.

**Urmila:** **"*Rudra, ab tumhari shaadi ki baat kab hogi?* Akshat ki taraf se toh rishta pakka ho gaya hai. *Drishti ke parivaar wale toh jaldi karna chahte hain.*"** (Rudra, when will your marriage talk happen? Akshat's engagement is confirmed. Drishti's family wants to rush.)

**Urmila:** **"*Lekin tum toh ghar ke sabse bade bete ho!* Elder son! *Jab tak tum shaadi nahi karoge, Akshat kaise karega?* Yeh toh theek nahi lagta na!"** (But you are the eldest son of the house! Until you marry, how will Akshat marry? This doesn't look right, does it!)

The air in the room thickened immediately. The marriage rule-that the **eldest son, Rudra, must marry first**-was an old, annoying tradition of the Rathor family.

**Akshat Singh Rathor (Cousin):** (He shifted uncomfortably, trying to intervene for the sake of his own relationship) **"maa, that rule is outdated! We can talk to Papa and Chacha about an exception. Rudra Bhai is too busy for marriage."**

**Rudra:** (I remained impassive, meeting Chachi's challenging gaze, the pressure suddenly making me think of Ishita's spontaneous laughter and simple life) **"*Akshat sahi keh raha hai, Chachi. Shaadi koi business deal nahi hai, ki pehle sign kar do.* When I decide to marry, I will. But not before I find the right person."**

I took a deliberate, slow bite of my steamed carrot, the lack of flavor mocking the intense emotional turmoil I was trying to conceal.

**Preeto Dadi (Bebe):** (She watched the interaction with a knowing glint in her eyes. I could practically hear her thoughts: *He needs to marry Ishita, the one who can break his rules.*)

The irony was crushing: they demanded I marry to maintain tradition, but the thought of marrying anyone but the girl who just scolded me felt like a betrayal. And I couldn't tell them that the **"right person"** was a feisty, vegetarian, Hindi-speaking dreamer who thought my family was scary.

The moment I dismissed the marriage topic, my mother, **Siya Singh Rathor**, took over, determined to enforce the family tradition.

**Siya Singh Rathor (Mom):** (Exasperated, turning up the volume) **"*Areee Rudra!* You are **25**! *Ab nahi toh kab karoge?* And you know, you have to take over the throne of Rajasthan in the future! *Rajgaddi sambhalni hai!*"** (If not now, then when? You have to manage the throne!)

She looked at me, demanding a concrete commitment, but I remained silent, eating my steamed carrots.

Seeing my resistance, she turned her frustration onto my father, **Ram Singh Rathor**.

**Siya:** **"*Aap hi kuch boliye na!* If he has already chosen a girl, fine! Otherwise, *main khud dhoondh lungi!* Tell him yourself!"** (You say something! I will find one myself!)

**Urmila Singh Rathor (Chachi):** (Chachi, seeing an opportunity, chimed in with her overly critical tone) **"*Bhabhi,* do you seriously think *ise dekh kar* there will be a girl waiting for him? He's busy working all day! *Saans lene ki toh fursat nahi hai.* Who would want to marry a man who is a slave to his company?"** (Looking at him... he doesn't even have time to breathe.)

My father, **Ram Singh Rathor**, finally intervened, his voice calm and reasonable.

**Ram Singh Rathor (Dad):** **"*Areee, bhayi, kyun zabardasti kar rahe ho?* When he feels like it, he will get married. Let him be."** (Hey, why are you forcing him?)

**Siya:** (She instantly rounded on him) **"*Achha ji! Par uske liye ladki bhi toh honi chahiye na!* *Hawa se shaadi kar lega kya?* He needs to meet people, Ram!"** (Oh really! But there needs to be a girl for that! Will he marry thin air?)

**Ram:** **"Sweetheart, listen! Calm down! We also got married at the age of **27**, didn't we? *Let him take time.*"**

**Siya:** **"*Ji, aap toh chup hi raho!* You wanted to marry at 23! It was only because my family didn't agree that it got so late!"** (You keep quiet! My family didn't agree, that's why it was so late!)

### **The Emotional Blackmail**

My mother launched into her favorite, dramatic tactic: emotional blackmail, designed to work on my father, who was far softer than me.

**Siya:** **"*Aur socho zara...* If he marries late, the grandchildren will be late! *Pata nahi main apne pote-poti ka muh dekh paungi bhi ya nahi!*"** (And just think... If he marries late, the grandchildren will be late! I don't know if I will even get to see my grandchildren!)

She dabbed her eyes, the picture of a distraught mother. **Urmila** and **Lakhan** (Chacha) quietly **chuckled** at the perennial drama between their older brother and sister-in-law.

I kept a straight face, but internally, the thought of Ishita and children made my stomach flip. *Grandchildren with Ishita.* I had to fight back a smile.

### **Preeto Dadi's Intervention**

Before the drama could reach a peak, my Dadi, **Preeto (Bebe)**, slammed her hand lightly on the table, her voice booming with Punjabi authority and sheer zest for life.

**Preeto Dadi (Bebe):** **"*Oyyy! Koi piche mat pado mere puttar ke!* He will marry when he's ready, *aaram se!*"** (Hey! Don't hassle my son! He will marry comfortably!)

She then rounded on my mother, eyes sparkling with mischief.

**Preeto Dadi:** **"*Pote-poti ki lagi padi hai tujhe? Abhi nahi marr rahi tum, samjhi!*"** (You're worried about grandchildren? You're not dying yet, understood!) **"*Abhi toh main bhi jawan hoon!* When I am not dying, how will you die so soon? *Haaii!*"** (I am young too!)

She then looked at my father, shaking her head.

**Preeto Dadi:** **"*O Ram puttar, samjha apni biwi ko kuch!* She creates drama over everything!"** (O Ram son, explain something to your wife!)

Dadi's protective barrier successfully deflected the pressure, and the topic finally shifted, allowing me to eat my flavorless meal in peace. I met Dadi's eyes again; she gave me a small, conspiratorial wink-the silent acknowledgment that she was my ally in the coming war to bring Ishita into this chaotic family.

My mother, **Siya Singh Rathor**, clearly felt her dramatic emotional blackmail had been insufficient and decided to make a dramatic exit.

**Siya Singh Rathor (Mom):** (Haughtily, pushing her chair back) **"Fine, Bebe! *Meri toh koi manta hi nahi hai!* Nobody listens to me! *Ho gaya mera khaana!*"** (My dinner is done!)

She tossed her napkin onto the table and walked away, her departure a clear signal of her displeasure.

My father, **Ram Singh Rathor**, sighed deeply, looking utterly defeated yet deeply loving. He immediately stood up to follow her. *The Rathor seniors were off to their nightly reconciliation routine.*

**Ram Singh Rathor (Dad):** **"*Excuse me, everyone.* I need to go make up with my sweetheart."**

The table was noticeably quieter. My Chachi, **Urmila Singh Rathor**, seized the chance for one final, softer jab.

**Urmila Singh Rathor (Chachi):** (Her tone was genuinely concerned this time, devoid of competition) **"Rudra, we know you are not ready, *but at least think about Siya Bhabhi.* She cares for you; she loves you."**

I nodded respectfully, acknowledging her point without committing to any action. **Urmila** and **Lakhan** (Chacha) finished their food soon after, offering polite goodnights before retreating, leaving only the five of us: Dadi, and the four 'kids'-Jay, Ahana, Akshat, and Vardaan.

### **The Sibling Banter Begins**

With the adults gone, the atmosphere instantly shifted. The polite masks dropped, and the true, chaotic Rathor sibling dynamic took over.

**Jay Singh Rathor (Brother):** (Leaning over the table, helping himself to the last *paneer* cube) **"*Chhodho yaar. Shaadi ki baat toh Bebe ne sambhal li.* But Rudra *Bhai* was so rigid tonight! You looked like you were testifying against yourself in court, Akshat *Bhai*."** (Leave it, man. Bebe handled the marriage talk. Bhai, you looked so rigid!)

**Akshat Singh Rathor (Cousin):** (He smirked, swirling the water in his glass) **"I was just anticipating the legal implications of marrying before the eldest son. Besides, my focus is on Drishti, not on *Bhai's* cold feet."**

**Ahana Singh Rathor (Sister):** (She turned to me, her expression suddenly serious, resting her chin on her hand) **"But seriously, *Bhaiya*. Chachi was right about one thing. You've been different lately. *Kam bolte ho, zyada khoye rehte ho.* Did the Japan deal really make you this soft, or is there a *person* involved?"** (You talk less, you are zoned out more. Is there a person involved?)

I stiffened, keeping my gaze locked on my plate. They were getting too close.

**Vardaan Singh Rathor (Cousin):** (He chuckled knowingly) **"*Zaroor koi 'person' hai, Ahana. Warna Bhai aaj subah gym mein itni jaldi break nahi lete.* He was asking about Ishita ma'am's shoot drama."** (There must be a 'person'. Otherwise, Bhai wouldn't have taken a break so quickly this morning.)

The mention of Ishita instantly drew all eyes to me.

**Rudra:** (I maintained a flat, steady voice) **"She's a sponsored artist. I need to ensure the project runs smoothly."**

**Jay:** (He winked dramatically) **"Smoothly, *haan?* Smoothly like *Bhai* wiping the tears of the sponsored artist, maybe? *Suniye, Bebe!* Is this why you were waiting for his signal?!"** (Listen, Bebe!)

**Preeto Dadi (Bebe):** (She raised her hand dismissively, though her eyes twinkled) **"*Oye! Chup kar!* It's called being a good boss. *Mera puttar sab ki fikr karda ae.*"** (Quiet! My son cares for everyone.)

**Akshat:** **"Come on, *Bhai*. Spill it. *Itni stress mein ho, toh kam se kam batao toh sahi.* Is she the reason behind the sudden lack of appetite? The carrot diet wasn't enough to distract you from her?"** (You are so stressed, at least tell us.)

I met their expectant, probing stares. I wouldn't betray Ishita's privacy.

**Rudra:** (I pushed my plate slightly away, leaning back in my chair, allowing a small, secretive curve of my lip) **"*Woh sirf*... she is the only person who is brave enough to call me out on my **robotic behavior**. *Aur uski wajah se, mujhe apni life mein thodi *shanti* mili hai.* Now, stop your investigation. It's boring."** (She is only... Because of her, I have found some peace in my life.)

My vague, yet oddly profound answer only fuelled their curiosity, but I had shut the door on any further details. I had named her purpose in my life without naming her value.

**Ahana:** (She looked genuinely pleased, smiling) **"*Shanti.* Wow. That's a good word for you, *Bhaiya*. If she can bring you *shanti* (peace), she must be a miracle worker."**

**Vardaan:** **"*Bas,* Rudra Bhai found his calming influence. *Hamara kya hoga?* Who will teach us about *naagin* dance moves and vegetable *dabbas* now?"** (What will happen to us?)

I chuckled, a rare, low sound. My quiet admittance was enough for now.

I finally reached the sanctuary of my room. The dinner table chaos-the talk of diets, board meetings, and marriage-had faded into white noise. All that mattered was the renewed promise in Ishita's eyes and the warmth of her hand against mine.

I walked to my large window overlooking the silent gardens. I pulled out my phone, not to call her, but to play a song that had been running on a loop in my heart ever since I met her-ever since that moment at the Shiv Mandir where I caught her before she could fall. The song wasn't just music; it was my soul's confession to her.

I sat on the window seat, the powerful yet poignant melody of **"Tu Pehla Pehla Pyaar Hai Mera"** filling the massive, usually cold room.

I closed my eyes, and every word was for her, a visual montage of her light against my darkness:

*Baatein zaroori hain, tera milna bhi zaroori*

*Maine mita deni, yeh jo teri-meri doori*

*Hmm, baatein zaroori hain, tera milna bhi zaroori*

*Maine mita deni, yeh jo teri-meri doori*

*Jhoothi hain woh raahein saari duniya ki*

*Ishq jahaan na chale*

*Tera hona, mera hona kya hona*

*Agar na donon mile?*

I thought of her small stature, her brown skin against my fair skin, the way she made me feel like breathing again.

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

The lyrics continued, charting the geography of my love:

*Woh sheher bade honge boriyat bhare*

*Rehta nahin jin mein tu sang mere*

*Khabar tujhe bhi hai yeh*

*Raunaqein sabhi hoti tere hone se*

*Tere bina tanha koi kya kare?*

*Aise sabhi shehron pe mujhko*

*Taras hai aata bada*

*Tere liye main na jahaan khada, oh-oh*

I saw her in my mind's eye-the fearless dreamer, the makeup artist who laughed loudly, the only person who made my silent life vibrant.

*Meelon ka ho, saalon ka ho chahe woh*

*Safar ki parwaah nahin*

*Tu hai jahaan, maine wahaan hona hai*

*Pahunch hai jaana wahin*

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

*Tu pehla-pehla pyaar hai mera*

The final lines, intense and consuming, reflected the absolute devotion I felt:

*Jeete-jee toh jeetega na yeh faasla, hai pata*

*Saansein chalein teri taraf jaise chale raasta*

*Mera hai tu, tu hai khalish ya hai khushi, ya khata*

*Tere siva mera jahaan se na koi waasta*

### **Bebe's Soft Clap and the Revelation**

As the final notes faded into the silence, a soft, deliberate **clapping sound** broke the spell.

My eyes snapped open. Standing in the doorway, a gentle smile gracing her lips, was **Dadi Preeto**. She had heard the entire, raw confession.

My composure instantly crumbled. The cold CEO veneer was replaced by the awkward embarrassment of a schoolboy caught daydreaming. I quickly looked away, scrambling to turn the music off.

**Rudra:** (My face felt hot. I cleared my throat, avoiding her eyes) **"Dadi... aap? *Kab aayi?*"** (Dadi... you? When did you come?)

Dadi walked in and sat down beside me on the window seat, her hand immediately resting on my tense arm.

**Preeto Dadi (Bebe):** (Her voice was tender, filled with absolute approval) **"*Abhi-abhi.* When the music was just getting good. *Itna pyaar karta hai, putar.* To *bola* kyun nahi apni Maa ko? *Kyun bana raha hai yeh faasla?*"** (Just now. You love her so much, son. Then why didn't you tell your Mother? Why are you creating this distance?)

**Rudra:** (I finally looked at her, the struggle clear in my eyes) **"*Abhi nahi, Bebe.* Abhi toh maine unhein hi nahi bataya, toh kisi aur ko kaise bolu? *Kya pata woh mujhe pasand karti bhi hai ya nahi?*"** (Not now, Bebe. I haven't even told her yet, so how can I tell anyone else? What if she doesn't even like me?)

I let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through my hair. The age gap and her youth were always present in my mind.

**Rudra:** **"*Aur waise bhi, abhi woh chhotisi hai.* She's just 20. She has a whole life ahead. *Itni jaldi shaadi ke liye main use force nahi karunga.* I want her to choose her life, not my throne."** (And anyway, she's small right now. I won't force her into marriage so quickly.)

Dadi smiled, a beautiful, knowing expression. My careful planning, my tenderness, and my respect for Ishita's future won her over completely.

**Preeto Dadi:** **"*Acha chal, itna sab kuch soch rakha hai toh,*"** (Okay, if you have thought about all this,) **"*photo toh hogi tere paas uski. Dikha zara meri hone wali bahu ki photo.*"** (You must have her photo. Show me a picture of my future daughter-in-law.)

### **The Secret Photos**

I hesitated for a split second-these photos were my most private treasures. But this was Dadi. I quickly pulled up my phone gallery.

I showed Dadi the main photo, which was from a recent photoshoot or festival where she looked radiant and traditionally beautiful.

**Rudra:** (My voice was low with pride) **"This is from a holi event."**

**Preeto Dadi:** (She examined the photo closely, her eyes widening slightly at her beauty and confidence) **"*Aye haaye! Kitni soni hai!* A proper queen! *Aur kitni alag!*"** (Oh my! How beautiful! And how different!)

Then, I scrolled through my hidden folder, revealing the photos I had taken **secretly**-candid shots that captured her real essence, moments the cameras never saw:

**A picture of her laughing**-her hair loose and wild, dressed in casual, modern clothes. * **A softly lit picture** from a recent ethnic shoot, where she looked ethereal and serene.

**Rudra:** **"These are... these are the ones I like the most. The real her."**

**Preeto Dadi:** (She looked from the phone to my face, her hand squeezing my arm fiercely) **"*Rudra, putar.* She is fire and light. *Aur tumhare liye toh woh Rab di meherbani hai.* Go get your happiness. *Dadi tere saath hai.*"** (She is God's blessing for you. Dadi is with you.)

She gave me a gentle, reassuring pat on the cheek and left the room, leaving me alone with the quiet aftermath of the song and the profound weight of her approval.

Note this photos are just for example ok