[Ishita Sharma's Perspective - ]**

We were sitting there, cozy with the *kulhad chai* and the shared bag of chips-a perfect moment of domestic bliss.

Suddenly, a soft **plop** hit my shoulder. Then another. Then a hundred more.

Rain.

**Ishita:** **"OHHHHHH MY GODDDD!"** I squealed, standing up from the bench like a 5-year-old at an ice cream truck.

Rudra instantly stood too, alarm flickering in his eyes. **Rudra:** **"Ishita, no-wait, you'll catch cold!"**

But I was already gone-running into the open path in front of us, arms wide, laughing like a madwoman as the rain soaked me from head to toe. The drops weren't too harsh, just soft enough to feel romantic, dramatic... *filmy*.

I didn't care that my waterproof liner might start smudging, or that my dress was already **clinging to my body**-the sage green fabric darkening instantly. I was alive, free, and stupidly in love with the moment... maybe even with the man staring at me like I was both a mystery and a miracle.

I spun in circles like those Bollywood heroines, letting my open hair fly wildly, the cool water hitting my face.

Then I stopped and faced him, hands in the air, smiling brightly. **Ishita:** **"Come naaa!!"** I shouted, gesturing with both hands like a toddler calling her best friend.

He shook his head from under the *chai tapri* shade, crossing his arms with that signature *I'm pretending to be serious but actually I'm smiling inside* look.

**Ishita:** (I sang in rhythm, tilting my head back.) **"Rudraaa Singhhhh Rathorrrrrr!! Don't be such a boring CEO!!"**

And spun again. God, I loved the rain.

And somewhere in my heart, I was hoping he'd walk into it, into my chaos, and claim it. I was daring him to step out of his carefully constructed, dry life and into the beautiful, messy world I inhabited.

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective - ]**

The first raindrop hit her. She paused. Then, in one breath-she exploded.

Before I could stop her, Ishita ran straight into the open-into the downpour-like the rain had been waiting its whole life to meet her.

I stood there, under the shade, completely dry... and completely captivated. My heart hammered against my ribs, watching her.

She twirled. She laughed. Her hands moved like she was dancing with clouds. And for a moment-time. just. stopped.

*God, this woman...*

She wasn't like anyone else. She didn't need chandeliers or branded perfumes to shine. She was alive in the rain, raw and free-like the monsoon had written her name in every drop. Her dress was plastered to her figure, the fabric molding to her small, perfect body, and the sight was devastatingly beautiful.

She turned to me-soaked, glowing-and gestured. **Ishita:** **"COME ONNNNN!"**

I shook my head, lips pressed to hide a smile. *Doesn't she realise she's already soaked my soul just by being in my life?*

She screamed my full name like a threat and a love letter, **Ishita:** **"Rudra Singh Rathore!"**

I smirked. No one says my name like that. No one makes me like this.

I looked around. No guards. No board meetings. No audience. Just her. Just me. And rain.

I took off my expensive, water-sensitive watch, shoved it in my pocket, mentally filing the cost of dry-cleaning my shirt... and stepped out.

The rain was cold, a shock against my skin. She was warm, her presence an immediate magnet.

When I reached her, her smile widened as if I just handed her the stars. She was shivering slightly but radiating heat.

**Rudra:** (I muttered under my breath, my voice rough with adoration.) **"You're impossible, **Ishi**. Completely impossible."**

**Ishita:** (She shrugged, the water streaming down her face.) **"And you love it."**

She was right. I did. I reached out, my cold, damp hands cupping her face, forcing her to look at me, and wiped the rain from her cheekbones.

**Rudra:** **"I love this chaos, **Jaana**. I love that you ruin my order. I love that you make me stand in the middle of a hill, soaked, and forget I own five companies."**

**Rudra:** **"But I will absolutely make you wear a jacket the second we get to the *dhaba*."**

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective - ]**

After driving through the misty roads, Rudra pulled the bike into a brightly lit *dhaba* (roadside eatery). The aroma of spices, frying onions, and hot oil hit me-it was heaven.

We sat down on a *charpai* (traditional woven bed) near a sizzling *tandoor*. Rudra, predictably, looked appalled by the sheer *oiliness* of the menu.

**Ishita:** **"Okay, one plate of *Aloo Paratha*, extra butter, and one sweet *Lassi*,"** I ordered for myself, ignoring his disapproving look.

**Rudra:** **"I'll take a black coffee, if you have it. No, actually, just hot water and a packet of biscuits if they are sealed."** He amended, turning to the waiter.

I rolled my eyes. **Ishita:** **"See? Gym freak. You're missing out, Mr. Rathor. This is soul food."**

My *paratha* arrived-golden, massive, dripping with melted butter. I ate happily, tearing off chunks and savoring the spicy potato filling. Rudra just nursed his hot water.

**Ishita:** **"*Achha*, for my sake?"** I asked, holding up a small, clean piece of the *paratha*. **"Just one bite. For the calorie count I burned while dancing in the rain?"**

He sighed dramatically, but leaned in, letting me feed him the tiny morsel.

**Rudra:** **"The entire annual budget of the Rathor Group is insufficient to cover this caloric debt, Ishita."**

**Ishita:** **"*Chup*, you loved it! Your eyes said so!"**

While eating, my mood quickly shifted from food bliss to existential frustration.

**Ishita:** **"Pata hai, I finished my B.A. degree, finally. And now my whole family is on my head about doing B.Ed. also. Seriously, Rudra. I hate studying."**

I sulked, dropping my head dramatically onto the table. **Ishita:** **"I'm so frustrated talking about it! This is my *dukh-dard-peeda* (sorrow, pain, suffering) of studying. I want to do makeup and modeling, not become a history teacher!"**

I looked up at him, pleading for understanding.

**Ishita:** **"Pata hai? Mummy said ki, 'B.Ed. ki degree toh karni padegi, kyunki kal ko shaadi hogi toh sasural mein yeh bolenge ki ladki kitni padi likhi hai. Sirf makeup artist hi nahi hai.' Seriously, yrr! They want a certificate of intellectual value for my in-laws!"**

I threw my hands up in the air. **Ishita:** **"And you know my brother? He is so good in studies! Everyone expects the same with me. Why, why younger sibling torture, yrr?!"**

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective -]**

The *dhaba* was noisy, filled with the loud chatter of truckers and the aroma of burning ghee. Ishita was in her element, happily attacking an *aloo paratha* large enough for two people. I settled for hot water, observing her with an intensity I reserved for auditing financial statements.

She insisted on feeding me a bite, and I succumbed. The oil was jarring, but the warmth of her fingers and the satisfaction on her face were a powerful, distracting combination.

She began detailing her career anxieties, her mood flipping dramatically as she talked about her **B.A. degree** and the pressure to pursue **B.Ed.**

**Ishita:** **"I'm so frustrated talking about it! This is my *dukh-dard-peeda* of studying... I want to do makeup and modeling, not become a history teacher!"**

I listened, my expression remaining neutral, but inside, I was absorbing every detail of her frustration.

**Ishita:** **"Pata hai? Mummy said ki, 'B.Ed. ki degree toh karni padegi, kyunki kal ko shaadi hogi toh sasural mein yeh bolenge ki ladki kitni padi likhi hai. Sirf makeup artist hi nahi hai.' Seriously, yrr! They want a certificate of intellectual value for my in-laws!"**

The comment about her *sasural* (in-laws) struck me hard. She was talking about an abstract future *sasural*-not the one she would actually have, *my* family. A future where her worth was measured by degrees.

**Rudra:** (I waited until she finished, then spoke, my voice low and firm, drawing her gaze.) **"Stop. First, what *you* want matters more than what any abstract *sasural* might demand. Your worth is not determined by the papers you acquire for someone else's approval, **Ishi**. Your talent, your heart, your drive-that is your true degree."**

I leaned slightly over the table, my elbow resting beside her plate.

**Rudra:** **"And second, you worry too much about your future in-laws, **Jaana**. I can guarantee that your future *sasural* will be thrilled to have you, degrees or no degrees. The only thing they will care about is your happiness, and frankly, my *Bebe* is already preparing your welcome. She certainly doesn't require you to teach history."**

I watched her eyes widen, realizing I had just subtly shifted the conversation from an abstract concept to a concrete reality-*us*.

**Rudra:** **"As for your brother setting a high standard... I understand that pressure. But you are exceptional in your own field. Don't compare yourself to him. You can make people beautiful with makeup; I struggle to operate a manual blender. We all have our areas of expertise. You are the only person who can make me smile during a high-stakes board meeting. That, **Ishi**, is a skillset far more valuable than a B.Ed."**

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective - ]

His fingers were warm despite the rain. The moment he admitted he loved the chaos, I knew I had won this round.

I didn't think twice. I grabbed his hand and ran-straight to the edge of the hilltop, where the view of the drenched city blurred into the horizon like a watercolour painting.

**Ishita:** **"Come on!!"** I yelled over the sound of the rain, laughing, slipping a little but dragging him anyway.

He groaned playfully, **Rudra:** **"Ishita-"**

But I didn't let him complete. I turned to face him, still holding his hand, and with zero warning-I spun myself under his arm like it was a dance move straight from a Bollywood movie.

He blinked. Eyes wide. Stiff as a pole.

I looked up at him, droplets sliding down both our faces. **Ishita:** **"You seriously won't dance?"** I challenged.

**Rudra:** (He deadpanned, trying to regain his composure.) **"You know who I am, right?"**

**Ishita:** (I smirked.) **"Yes, Rudra Singh Rathor, the same man who just walked into the rain for me."**

And I did it again-spinning under his arm. This time, I pulled his other hand too, placing it firmly on my waist, forcing him to engage.

**Ishita:** **"I'll guide you, big guy,"** I teased, leaning into his chest, my voice breathy.

He sighed... a deep, defeated sound that melted my heart. And finally, he moved.

Our feet slipped a little on the wet grass, our steps had no rhythm, but oh god, he was dancing. With me. Not for the camera. Not for an event. Just. For. Me.

I looked at him-wet hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising and falling, his shirt completely soaked and outlining that magnificent, sculpted body. But more than that-his ocean eyes were soft.

**Ishita:** **"Now, spin me!"** I commanded.

He obeyed instantly. He spun me quickly, and I screamed, laughing, clinging to him as I stumbled back into his solid chest.

Rudra Singh Rathor. The man who never danced. Never felt. Never believed. Was dancing.

With me. And maybe... just maybe... He was falling too.

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective -]**

I didn't dance. I didn't laugh without a reason. I didn't believe in love. Not because I was too strong. But because somewhere-I was scared.

Until her. Ishita Sharma. 5'3 hurricane in a dress. Laugh loud, love louder.

She didn't even ask me twice. Just pulled me into the rain like she had full ownership over the sky and my limbs.

And now... Here I was. Holding her waist. Letting her guide my feet. Moving. **Dancing.**

*What was I doing? Who even was I right now?*

The rain made her look ethereal. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, the fabric of her dress clung to her body, highlighting every soft curve. Every masculine instinct flared, the desire sharp and immediate, but I ruthlessly clamped down on it. This moment was sacred; it wasn't about possession, but adoration.

She looked up at me, eyes shining, chest heaving from laughter.

**Ishita:** **"You're terrible at this, you know,"** she teased, her voice barely a whisper above the drumming rain.

**Rudra:** **"I'm learning, **Ishi**."** I replied, my voice hoarse. **"I'm learning to be clumsy for you."**

And in that exact second, something inside me broke. Some wall I had built brick by brick over years of denial. The raw emotion hit me-the terrifying, magnificent realization that I would give up all my control just to keep seeing that laugh.

I cupped her face, my thumbs gently sweeping away the rain and her tears of joy. I looked into her soul.

**Rudra:** **"You are my favorite kind of disaster, **Jaana**."**

I didn't kiss her. I *couldn't*. Because if I started, I wouldn't stop. And I wouldn't ruin this beautiful, innocent surrender with the hunger I felt.

I leaned our foreheads together, the rain pouring down on both of us, mingling the water from the sky with the warmth of her

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective - ]

Finally, the rain slowed down to a light drizzle, then stopped completely.

I was still breathless, hair a total mess, my dress clinging to me like second skin. But my cheeks hurt from smiling.

I looked at him. He was wet from head to toe, hair dripping, shirt see-through, **veins on his forearms more visible than ever**. But he didn't care. Neither did I.

We both just stood there for a moment, quietly watching the clearing sky.

**Ishita:** (I whispered.) **"God, that was insane. I loved it."**

He looked down at me and gave a rare, gentle nod. **Rudra:** **"*Haan*... it was."**

We started walking back toward the bike, slow steps, no rush. The soil was soft under our shoes, the air had that after-rain freshness, and everything smelled of earth and new beginnings.

He handed me a small towel from his bike kit. Of course he had one. Typical prepared Rudra. I dried my hands and face, and laughed.

**Ishita:** **"You're such a *papa*-type. Towel *bhi rakh ke laate ho* (You even bring a towel)."**

He smirked. **Rudra:** **"And you're the type to forget a jacket in monsoon. Great combination."**

I poked my tongue at him and he shook his head, chuckling.

He sat on the bike, patted the seat behind him. **Rudra:** **"Helmet?"**

I groaned. **Ishita:** **"Ughhh, fine. For the sake of my newly extended life with you. I don't want my beautiful CEO to get fined."**

I sat, wrapped my arms around him again-and tighter this time, burrowing my cheek against his soaked back.

**Ishita:** (I whispered, meaning every word.) **"That was the best day of my life, Rudra."**

He didn't reply. But I felt him squeeze my hand on his stomach, holding it securely.

That was enough. I knew his silence spoke volumes.

[Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective -]

As the rain stopped, I realized... I was smiling. Not just with lips, but something inside me felt warmer. Lighter.

She stood beside me, glowing like the monsoon sunlight trying to peek out behind clouds. She didn't care about being drenched or messy. She just looked... happy. And I'd give anything to keep that expression on her face.

The walk back to the bike was quiet but peaceful. She teased me about carrying a towel. I let her. I could take a thousand jabs if it meant hearing her laugh like that.

Once she climbed on the bike, her arms wrapped around me again-and tighter this time. She rested her cheek on my back, soft against my soaked shirt.

Then she whispered, **Ishita:** **"That was the best day of my life, Rudra."**

Something inside my chest twisted. Not in pain. In... fear.

Because how do I tell her that every day with her is better than my best?

But I didn't speak. Just squeezed her hand back-a silent promise.

She doesn't know how many thoughts stormed in my head right then-

**Rudra** (Inner Monologue): *How much I am waiting for her to say if she is in love with me or not. I am waiting desperately for her words.*

I am waiting for that reciprocal vulnerability, that final leap of faith that lets me claim her completely.

How much I wanted to turn around, kiss her, and never let go. But I'm not ready yet. Not until she gives me that key.

**Rudra:** (I shifted the bike into gear, my voice low and steady, hiding the turbulence inside.) **"We need to get you warm, **Ishi**. I know a *dhaba* with the best ginger tea on the highway."**

**Rudra:** **"Keep holding on, **Jaana**. The ride back is long, but I promise, this is just the beginning of our best days."**

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective -]

Rudra's response had momentarily stunned me, especially his blunt acceptance of our future together. But the focus quickly returned to my current life crisis.

**Ishita:** (I shook my head dramatically.) **"Aap nahi jante younger sibling ka *dukh* (the sorrow of a younger sibling). You just don't. You're the eldest, the CEO, the *maharaja*! You set the standard!"**

Then a realization hit me. I leaned forward, my eyes wide.

**Ishita:** **"Ek min! You have siblings?"**

**Rudra:** **"Yes. One brother, Jay, and one sister, Ahana. And two younger cousins who are practically my brothers, Akshat and Vardaan."**

**Ishita:** **"Who is the youngest?"** I asked, already anticipating a co-conspirator.

**Rudra:** **"Ahana Singh Rathor. 21 years old. Means one year older than you."**

**Ishita:** **"Yesss! Then she will understand the pain!"** I cried out triumphantly, clapping my hands. **"She'll understand what it's like jab *aapke alava* (when apart from you) the other sibling or cousin *padhai mein ya har cheez mein best hai* (is best in studies or everything)!"**

I mused for a moment, recalling something Reet, Vardaan's girlfriend, had mentioned.

**Ishita:** **"Vese, Vardaan Singh Rathor ke baare mein mujhe pata hai. Reet ne mujhe bataya. Vo lawyer hai. So baki ke do bache?"** (By the way, I know about Vardaan Singh Rathor. Reet told me. He is a lawyer. So, who are the remaining two?)

**Rudra:** **"Jay is handling my North India operations and Akshat manages the technological innovations and co ceo with me. They are all highly efficient, well-educated, and dedicated."** He listed their accomplishments with evident pride, completely oblivious to the competitive stress that created.

**Rudra:** (He settled back, a faint smile touching his lips.) **"Actually, everyone is a kid in our family in everything. My all brothers and my sister. I am proud of them."**

**Ishita:** (I scoffed loudly, mimicking his formal tone.) **"Haa, haa, *Of course*! Ye toh Ahana se poocho jaake kitni acchi kat rahi hai uski life aap sab ke standard ki vajha se!"** (Yes, yes, of course! Go ask Ahana how well her life is going because of all your standards!)

I leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. **Ishita:** **"Imagine, Rudra. Your little sister is 21, and she probably has to face questions like, 'Why aren't you the CEO of Europe yet, like your brother? Why aren't you a lawyer like Vardaan *bhaiya*? Why are you just breathing?'"**

I grabbed my *lassi*, taking a massive, dramatic sip. **Ishita:** **"You guys are creating Olympic levels of pressure! I bet she is secretly hiding a tattoo or something just to rebel! I need to talk to her."**

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective -]

She had completely derailed the conversation about her future in-laws to focus on the imagined woes of my 21-year-old sister, Ahana.

**Ishita:** **"Aap nahi jante younger sibling ka *dukh*. You just don't. You're the eldest, the CEO, the *maharaja*! You set the standard!"**

She was right; I had never experienced it. I was the eldest, the one who established the standard.

When I confirmed I had siblings and named them, she seized on Ahana's age-**21, one year older than you**-with the fervor of a revolutionary.

**Ishita:** **"Yesss! Then she will understand the pain! She'll understand what it's like jab *aapke alava* the other sibling or cousin *padhai mein ya har cheez mein best hai*!"**

I listed their professional successes, speaking with genuine pride-Jay's operations, Akshat's tech, Vardaan's law degree.

**Rudra:** **"Actually, everyone is a kid in our family in everything. My all brothers and my sister. I am proud of them."**

Her reaction to my simple, proud statement was priceless.

**Ishita:** **"Haa, haa, *Of course*! Ye toh Ahana se poocho jaake kitni acchi kat rahi hai uski life aap sab ke standard ki vajha se!"** She completely ignored my pride and focused on the pressure.

**Rudra:** (I watched her dramatic sulking, a familiar, amused smile playing on my lips.) **"Ahana is currently studying Art History in London. She is quite happy, **Ishi**. She is focusing on what she loves, and no one is demanding she become a CEO. Her biggest problem right now is the cold weather, not my professional standards."**

**Ishita:** (She leaned in, whispering her theory.) **"You guys are creating Olympic levels of pressure! I bet she is secretly hiding a tattoo or something just to rebel! I need to talk to her. We need a support group."**

**Rudra:** **"You want to form a support group with my sister against my family? That's treason, **Jaana**."**

I reached across the table and took her hand, running my thumb over her knuckles.

**Rudra:** **"But here's the truth: whether you have a B.Ed. or not, whether you want to open a massive studio or just paint nails-I will support it. And Ahana will love you. Because you are the first person who has made me laugh about *my* life. You bring the chaos we all need. So, tell me the real *dukh*. Is it studying, or is it the fear of disappointing your mother?"**

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective -]

Rudra's question was soft, but it cut straight through my theatrical complaints. He always found the real emotional core.

**Rudra:** **"So, tell me the real *dukh*. Is it studying, or is it the fear of disappointing your mother?"**

I looked down at the messy *paratha* plate, feeling the weight of the truth settle heavily on my shoulders. I tightened my grip on his hand.

**Ishita:** (My voice dropped, losing all its previous teasing tone.) **"The second one. *Of course*. I have to do it for her, Rudra."**

**Ishita:** **"She sacrificed everything, *yaar*, just so I could finish my B.A. She works so hard. And now... she sees this B.Ed. degree as the only way to give me *izzat* (respect) in front of the world. Especially for when I marry. She thinks if I'm 'just' a makeup artist, people will look down on me, you know?"**

I looked up at him, my eyes pleading for his understanding of my middle-class reality. **Ishita:** **"It's not about the job; it's about giving her peace of mind. I want her to be able to say proudly that her daughter is well-educated, not just a dreamer. Even if I never use the degree, it's her security blanket. It's my duty to give her that."**

I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting out a frustrated sigh. **Ishita:** **"So, I'll do the B.Ed. It's two years of torture, but it's worth my mother's smile."**

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective -]

Her dramatic sulking vanished instantly, replaced by a profound seriousness that made my heart ache with respect.

**Rudra:** **"So, tell me the real *dukh*. Is it studying, or is it the fear of disappointing your mother?"**

**Ishita:** (Her voice was barely a whisper.) **"The second one. *Of course*. I have to do it for her, Rudra."**

I squeezed her hand, my thumb rubbing the soft skin on her knuckles. This selfless devotion, this intense loyalty to her mother-it was everything I admired about her. She wasn't fighting for money or power; she was fighting for her mother's respect in society.

**Rudra:** (I held her gaze, my voice steady and reassuring.) **"Then we will do it. You will start the B.Ed., and you will finish it. And I will ensure you have every resource you need-the best tutors, the quietest study room, anything at all. Consider it a mandatory two-year project, **Ishi**."**

**Rudra:** **"But here's my condition: You will not study for two years, only to put that degree in a drawer and wait for society's approval. You study for two years, and then you open the biggest, most successful makeup academy in Delhi. You will make your mother proud not just with a degree, but with your *own* success."**

I looked around the dusty, charming *dhaba*. **Rudra:** **"I admire your dedication to your mother, **Jaana**. But when we are together-and we *will* be-no one, absolutely no one, will dare question your value or your mother's sacrifices. Your value is here,"** I tapped her heart gently.

I smiled, offering a practical solution. **Rudra:** **"As for the torture of studying... I can help with that. I was the top-ranked student in my university. I am an excellent tutor. Get your admissions done, and I will personally create your study schedule. You think your B.Ed. is going to be tough? Try failing a class when Rudra Singh Rathor is your tutor."**

I lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. **Rudra:** **"No more sulking. We face the future together. Now, finish your *lassi* before it melts, future teacher."