[Ishita Sharma's Perspective -]**

It had been **30 magical days** since our wild, beautiful bike ride and a full **month** since Rudra had confessed his terrifying, overwhelming love by the holy lake. Since then, the connection had intensified. He was constantly checking on me, sending little notes, and subtly weaving himself into the fabric of my life, even helping me research B.Ed. colleges (he made it sound like a hostile takeover strategy).

Today, I called him without thinking. It was a reflex-a sudden need to hear his voice. I knew he was usually locked down in high-stakes meetings, but the impulse was too strong.

The moment the phone rang twice, I realized my mistake. *Oh, God, the shareholder call.*

I quickly raised my hand to end the call, but he was faster. The line clicked open.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra? Oh, I am so sorry! I will call later, I just... I will hang up! You must be working, I'm so sorry!"** I stammered, already feeling guilty for the interruption.

**Rudra:** (His voice was calm, deep, and sounded surprisingly close, despite the likely presence of a boardroom full of directors.) **"Ishi. Stop talking. You don't call me to apologize. What is it?"**

**Ishita:** **"No, really, I just wanted to ask you something simple, but it can wait. Go back to your billionaires, I'll talk to you later, okay?"**

**Rudra:** **"No, you will not call me later. I am listening. And for your information, my 'billionaires' can wait five minutes longer than you can. Speak, **Jaana**."**

The sudden use of *Jaana* melted my stress. He was doing this for me.

**Ishita:** **"Okay, fine. But promise me you won't yell at Laksh later?"**

**Rudra:** **"Promise. Now, spill it."**

**Ishita:** **"Okay, so tomorrow is **Teej**."** I said, taking a breath and softening my voice. **"It's the festival where women pray for their husbands or future husbands. Will you-will you come with me to the **Radha-Krishan Mandir**? Hmmm?"**

I waited, my heart hammering. This wasn't just a temple visit; it was an unspoken commitment. It was a request for him to stand by me while I prayed for *our* future, for *him*. And I knew his history with God and faith.

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective - ]**

I was in the middle of a crucial Q3 financial review. My phone, which was never supposed to ring during a meeting, buzzed with Ishita's photo. I ignored the gasps of my board members and picked up immediately.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra? Oh, I am so sorry! I will call later, I just... I will hang up! You must be working, I'm so sorry!"**

Her panicked apology was actually endearing. I waved my hand, silencing the entire room, giving them *the look* that meant "disregard the CEO's humanity."

**Rudra:** **"Ishi. Stop talking. You don't call me to apologize. What is it?"** I kept my voice low so only she could hear the tenderness beneath the command.

**Rudra:** **"No, you will not call me later. I am listening. And for your information, my 'billionaires' can wait five minutes longer than you can. Speak, **Jaana**."**

I heard her take a steadying breath. **Ishita:** **"Okay, fine. But promise me you won't yell at Laksh later?"**

**Rudra:** **"Promise. Now, spill it."**

**Ishita:** **"Okay, so tomorrow is **Teej**. It's the festival where women pray for their husbands or future husbands. Will you-will you come with me to the **Radha-Krishan Mandir**? Hmmm?"**

The request hit me with the force of a revelation. Teej. A vow of forever. And she was asking *me*-the man who claimed to believe in nothing.

My initial, cynical reaction died instantly, choked by the sincerity in her voice. She wasn't testing me; she was inviting me into her faith, into her future.

**Rudra:** (I closed my eyes for a second, then spoke, my voice devoid of boardroom polish, just raw truth.) **"Teej... I know the festival, **Ishi**. You are asking me to stand by you while you pray for my longevity and well-being. That is a request I cannot, and will not, refuse."**

**Rudra:** **"Tell me the time, **Jaana**. I will be there. And I will stand exactly where you tell me to stand. Just... promise me you won't fast too severely. I don't want you weak from hunger."**

I felt the sudden silence on her end, then a shaky, happy exhale.

**Ishita:** **"I knew you would say yes. Thank you, Rudra. Thank you. I'll text you the details. Now, go back to work before they stage a coup."**

**Rudra:** **"I will. But remember this, **Ishi**: You are my belief now. I don't need a temple, but I will go to any temple you wish, if you are there."**

I hung up, placing the phone face down. The entire room was silent, staring at me.

**Rudra:** (I met my CFO's eye, picking up the pointer, my voice reverting to ice.) **"Right. Where were we? Q3 projections. And if anyone mentions that call, I assure you, your next meeting will be with HR."**

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective -]**

My anklets chimed with every step I took down those narrow studio stairs.

My **yellow *anarkali* fluttered softly** with the evening breeze, embroidered delicately near the hem, hugging my waist just right. The yellow was bright-the color of commitment and happiness. My long hair fell freely, cascading down like ink. Liner. Lipstick. Bangles. *Payal*. High heels. Nails freshly done-the way he always noticed.

And no... I didn't keep the Teej fast. Because *he* told me not to.

>*"Don't you dare keep fast, Ishita,"* he had said over phone last night, in that classic bossy tone of his.

>*"You're already too small. Even *air* can carry you effortlessly."*

I had laughed for 10 minutes straight. But I didn't argue. Because somewhere between the sarcasm and teasing, I heard the worry. The love.

So, I didn't fast. I just prayed. For him. For us.

And when I stepped outside-He. Was. There.

Leaning against his matte black car. Phone in one hand. But eyes... only on me.

Rudra Singh Rathore. In **white *kurta pajama***.

No coat. No cufflinks. No expensive watch. He looked like a dream-a powerful, rugged man dressed in the purity of devotion.

Veiny forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves. His stone-fair chest slightly visible through the loose collar. His hair slightly ruffled by the wind. Beard trimmed to sharp perfection.

And those blue eyes-Locked. On. Me.

**Ishita:** **"You're late,"** I said, but with a smile that gave away my excitement.

**Rudra:** **"You're too beautiful,"** he replied, his voice deep, not blinking.

I tilted my head, pretending I hadn't heard the compliment. **Ishita:** **"What did you say?"**

**Rudra:** **"Nothing. Get in the car. We have a *darshan* to attend."**

I giggled and walked toward him-I swear I heard *Radha Krishna bhajans* somewhere in the wind.

He opened the passenger side door for me, his hand brushing mine briefly as I slid in.

**Ishita:** **"Kurta pajama, hmm? Following orders, Mr. Rathore? I thought you only did Italian suits."**

He leaned in closer, his gaze intense enough to stop my breathing.

**Rudra:** **"Only your orders, Ms. Sharma. I wore this because I wanted to look like the man you deserve. The man who is ready to stand by you in a temple, for a lifetime."**

He shut the door, walked around, and slid into the driver's seat. The atmosphere was charged, quiet, and full of unspoken promises.

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective - ]

I don't know what she did. But when she walked out... I forgot how to breathe.

She wasn't just dressed in yellow. She *was* sunshine.

The **yellow *anarkali*** hugged her tiny frame, those damn heels made her just the right height-perfect for me to lean in and kiss her forehead. Her long hair spilled across her back, shining. Bangles softly clinking. Anklets teasing my ears.

And her eyes-Lined perfectly, searching, sparkling, for me.

I was already staring when she finally reached the car. **Ishita:** **"You're late,"** she said, but with a smile.

**Rudra:** **"You're too beautiful,"** I replied, the words a rough whisper, escaping before I could filter them.

**Ishita:** **"What did you say?"** she teased, tilting her head.

**Rudra:** **"Nothing. Get in the car."** I forced myself to snap back to professional mode, fearing I might start saying things about forever right here on the street.

She giggled and walked toward me-the most beautiful, precious chaos I had ever seen.

And no... she didn't fast. I made sure of it. I had called her three times to verify she ate properly. Because if anyone's health matters to me now, it's hers. Not because she's fragile. But because she's *mine*.

As I opened the passenger side door for her, she looked at me from the side, admiring my choice of attire.

**Ishita:** **"Kurta pajama, hmm? Following orders, Mr. Rathore? I thought you only did Italian suits."**

I leaned in closer, trapping her briefly against the door frame. My voice was low, resonating with the sincerity of the moment.

**Rudra:** **"Only your orders, Ms. Sharma. This is the uniform of a man who is serious about his commitment to a woman who believes in God. I came here dressed to meet *your* devotion."**

I pulled back, satisfied with the flush on her cheeks, and shut the door. I walked around to the driver's side, my fingers lingering on the pristine white cotton of my *kurta*.

**Rudra:** **"And by the way, I made sure the AC is not too cold, **Jaana**. I don't want you catching a post-monsoon chill after praying for my long life."** I started the car, pulling smoothly into the evening traffic. **"So, tell me what this Teej *pooja* involves. Do I need to carry flowers, or should I just look handsome?"**

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective -]**

We reached the temple complex. The air was thick with the scent of marigolds, incense, and the collective energy of the Teej crowd. It was beautiful chaos.

As always, he helped me out of the car. My heels felt precarious on the uneven ground, but his hand was there-large, warm, and comforting, holding mine **tightly** because it was too crowded. He was a pillar of calm amidst the swirling colors and noise.

We were about to step through the main archway when I stopped, pulling gently on his hand. This moment-standing on the threshold of the Radha-Krishna Temple on Teej-was too symbolic to let pass with just a touch.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra. Wait."**

He stopped instantly, turning his entire focus to me, the crowd noise fading as he simply waited. **Rudra:** **"What is it, **Ishi**?"**

**Ishita:** **"I... I want to say something. Genuinely."**

He gave a slow, gentle nod, telling me he was ready for whatever truth I held.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra, genuinely, I like you. Seriously. Since the day we met at Shiv Mandir stairs, when you saved me. And after six months, 30 days ago, you confessed."**

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I needed to lay down my terms-the terms of my devotion, the terms of my fear.

**Ishita:** **"But Rudra, I really want a **Shiv-Parvati** type of love. That eternal, devoted commitment. And a **Radha-Krishan** type of love-that pure, soul-level connection, where the bond transcends everything, even society."**

I looked him straight in those deep blue eyes, the truth raw between us.

**Ishita:** **"I don't like girlfriend-boyfriend relationship because I think this is just time pass type. It's temporary, easily broken. So, promise me, Rudra. Promise me you will **never cheat**, you will **never make me feel down** or secondary, and you will **never leave me**. Only then I think about us. Only then I give you my whole heart."**

It was a huge demand-a lifetime vow requested before the relationship even officially started. I waited, breathless, for the cold CEO to surface and laugh at my *filmy* ideals.

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective -]**

The crowd was overwhelming, a sea of color and sound. My hand was a steel cage around hers, protecting her from the jostling. I was acutely aware of her fragility amidst the chaos.

We paused at the entrance, the chanting audible from inside. I felt her resistance as she stopped me.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra. Wait."**

I looked down at her. Her expression was solemn, her eyes reflecting the flickering lights of the temple lamps.

**Rudra:** **"What is it, **Ishi**?"**

She spoke quickly, spilling the truth of her guarded heart. **Ishita:** **"Rudra, genuinely, I like you. Seriously. Since the day we met at Shiv Mandir stairs, when you saved me. And after six months, a month ago, you confessed."**

I heard the numbers-six months, 30 days-and realized she'd been counting, analyzing, waiting.

Then came the demand-the condition that was her entire soul laid bare.

**Ishita:** **"But Rudra, I really want a **Shiv-Parvati** type of love... and a **Radha-Krishan** type of love... I don't like girlfriend-boyfriend relationship because I think this is just time pass type. So, promise me, Rudra. Promise me you will **never cheat**, you will **never make me feel down**... and you will **never leave me**. Only then I think about us."**

The air thickened. This wasn't a girl asking for a date; this was a woman asking for a destiny. She wasn't asking for *relationship*; she was asking for **marriage**.

I kept my hand firmly linked with hers, and slowly, deliberately, I used my other hand to reach up and remove the elegant watch from my wrist-the symbol of my controlled, time-bound world-and put it in my pocket.

**Rudra:** **"Look at me, **Jaana**."**

I looked straight into her eyes, which were wide with expectation and fear.

**Rudra:** **"I am not here to waste your time with a 'girlfriend-boyfriend' title. I hate temporary arrangements. I despise half-measures. I am Rudra Singh Rathor. When I want something, I commit to it completely. I didn't cancel a multi-billion dollar meeting to come here and be your 'time-pass.'"**

My voice was low, resonating with every ounce of commitment I possessed.

**Rudra:** **"The moment I saw you at the Shiv Mandir, I knew you were going to be my forever. I don't believe in God, Ishita. But I believe in this,"** I lifted our joined hands. **"I believe in you. And I have never, ever betrayed a trust. I promise you this, here, outside the Mandir where you pray for me-**I will never cheat on you. I will never make you feel less than the queen you are. And I will never leave you.** You are my home, **Ishi**."**

I paused, waiting for her to absorb the magnitude of my vow.

**Rudra:** **"So, don't just *think* about us, **Jaana**. Step inside that Mandir with me. Let's start praying for the only thing left to discuss: **our forever

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective -]**

The weight of my own vow hung in the air, but Rudra's reply-his absolute, unwavering commitment-had shattered all my remaining doubts. His eyes, fixed entirely on mine, held more devotion than any prayer.

I couldn't speak for a moment. Then, slowly, a soft, relieved smile bloomed on my face. **Ishita:** **"Rudra..."**

He returned the smile, brighter and more genuine than the strongest floodlights in his entire corporate office. **Rudra:** **"Let's go, **Ishi**. The Gods are waiting for us."**

He led me inside the packed **Radha-Krishna Mandir**. He kept me held **close**, his large frame acting as a shield against the jostling crowd. His hand was a warm vice around mine, pulling me gently through the sea of devotees.

We finally reached the front, right before the idols of Radha and Krishna. I closed my eyes, the scent of incense and *tulsi* filling my lungs.

**Ishita** (Inner Prayer): *"Radha Rani, I am leaving my decision on you. If we are meant to be together forever, give me a sign, please. Because it hurts when I see him waiting for me, giving me his heart, and I am still holding back."*

I finished my prayer and looked up. I looked toward Rudra, his face serene, watching me with profound respect. And at that exact same time, a sudden, heavy gust of wind-an impossible draft in the enclosed temple-swept through the sanctum.

The richly embroidered **dupatta** (scarf) draped over **Radha Rani's idol** fluttered wildly, catching the breeze, and then, impossibly, gracefully, it **fell directly over both of us**.

We both **got shocked**. My breath hitched. It was a sign so clear, so immediate, that it felt like Radha Rani herself had answered. Tears instantly sprang to my eyes.

The **Pandit ji** (priest), witnessing the phenomenon, smiled widely and raised his hand in blessing. **Pandit ji:** **"*Sada suhagan raho* (May you always be blessed with a married life)."**

That was it. The final, divine confirmation. I was flooded with certainty, relief, and an intoxicating burst of love.

I turned fully to Rudra, the tear tracks already running down my cheeks, the sacred cloth draped over our heads.

**Ishita:** **"Yes. Rudra..."** I leaned in close, ignoring the crowd, my voice thick with emotion. **"I love you too, Mr. Rudra Singh Rathor. I really do."**

A look of pure, unadulterated joy-something I had never seen on him-transformed his face. He smiled **brightly**, the kind of smile that made his ocean-blue eyes crinkle at the corners and lit up the entire temple.

He didn't waste a second. Without a word, he **literally picked me up**-my feet swinging briefly off the ground-and held me tightly against his chest, cradling me expertly.

**Rudra:** **"Enough of the crowd, **Jaana**. You're done struggling."**

He carried me swiftly but carefully through the throng of people, his immense strength making the dense crowd irrelevant. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, my face buried in the safe harbor of his shoulder. The *dupatta* still draped over us, a silent, sacred canopy.

[Rudra Singh Rathore's Perspective -]**

Her smile, soft and relieved, was my victory. **Rudra:** **"Let's go, **Ishi**. The Gods are waiting for us."**

I moved us through the crowd, my arm a solid barrier around her, holding her **close** to my side. I didn't care about the temple; I cared only about the beautiful, fragile creature beside me.

As she closed her eyes, praying, I watched her. I saw the pure, desperate sincerity, and my own rigid cynicism softened. I wished, foolishly, that there *was* a God, just so He could confirm that she was mine.

Then, the air shifted. A heavy, strong wind swept in, shocking everyone. And then, the sight: the elaborate **dupatta from Radha Rani's idol** lifted, danced, and settled over *both of us*.

I **got shocked**. It was an unbelievable coincidence, an undeniable answer. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Even I, the non-believer, couldn't deny the weight of that moment.

The **Pandit ji** smiled, his voice booming over the silence the wind had caused. **Pandit ji:** **"*Sada suhagan raho*."**

Then she turned to me, tears streaming down her face, the *dupatta* linking us physically.

**Ishita:** **"Yes. Rudra... I love you too, Mr. Rudra Singh Rathor. I really do."**

That moment-her tears, the sacred cloth, the three small, precious words-was everything. The joy that detonated in my chest was primal, overwhelming, completely annihilating the last vestiges of the cold prince.

I didn't think. I acted. **Rudra:** **"Enough of this crush, **Jaana**."**

I bent, scooping her up instantly, my arms beneath her knees and back. She was weightless, perfect.

**Rudra:** **"I'm taking you out of this chaos. You're done struggling."**

I carried her out swiftly, murmuring reassurances against the side of her head. My focus was purely on navigating the crowd without letting anyone touch her or bump her. Her arms were locked around my neck, her body flush against my chest, and I felt utterly complete.

**Rudra:** (I whispered into her ear, my voice thick with emotion, as we walked toward the exit.) **"You took too long, **Ishi**. But now that you've said it, you're never taking it back. Never."**

**Rudra:** **"Happy Teej, my beautiful **Jaana**."**

[Ishita Sharma's Perspective -]**

The second he gently put me down, my heart still reeling from his declaration and the divine sign, I caught a whiff of *mogras* floating in the air-soft, sweet, calming. And like a magnet, my eyes turned to the **gajra stall** nearby.

Rows of fresh white flowers, strung with love. The perfect final touch for Teej.

I glanced at Rudra. He already knew. That faint, beautiful **smirk** played on his lips.

And in the next second, he bent again, ready to make me wear my heels like he had done before-treating me like a princess even amidst the dust and devotion.

**Ishita:** **"Rudra!"** I stopped him, gently placing a hand on his broad shoulder. **"You don't have to, seriously. I can wear them-"**

**Rudra:** (He cut me off without even looking up, his fingers already buckling the strap of my heel.) **"You said yes to me, Ishita. Now I've got more reasons to kneel for you."**

My cheeks warmed instantly. He was *serious*. This man-this 6'3 heart-thief of mine-was now holding my heel strap like it was made of gold. I didn't know whether to cry or melt.

Before I could say anything more, I ran-*literally ran*-barefoot to the vendor, handed him the money quickly, and pointed at the prettiest, freshest gajra there. It smelled divine.

I ran back, heels still clacking in one hand, holding the gajra in another.

Rudra had just finished helping me wear my second heel.

I held out the gajra to him, slightly shy, slightly playful. **Ishita:** **"Now your turn, Mr. Rathor. My hair feels incomplete."**

He took it silently, staring at me like I just gave him the world.

Then with the softest touch, he moved behind me and started carefully wrapping the *gajra* around my long open hair-his fingers slow, tender, **reverent**, like each petal was sacred. My breath hitched when his knuckles brushed my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

**Rudra:** (He whispered, his voice low and warm, right next to my ear.) **"Perfect, **Ishi**. Absolutely perfect."**

And that moment? That was more romantic than a thousand love letters.

[Rudra Singh Rathor's Perspective -]**

She saw the gajra. I saw *her*.

That light in her eyes-pure, simple happiness-made everything else fade. I could buy her gold, diamonds, anything... but she smiled for a string of flowers. And I would buy her *a thousand* if it meant that smile stayed.

But first-yes, *first*-I bent down to make her wear those heels again. It was a ritual now, a necessary act of service.

**Rudra:** **"You don't have to do this,"** she whispered.

**Rudra:** (I murmured, looking at the strap.) **"And yet I will, **Jaana**. Every time. No arguments. My queen walks comfortably."**

And just when I finished buckling her strap, she vanished for a second. I blinked-and then saw her rushing barefoot toward the *gajra* vendor, *dupatta* flowing, heels dangling, bangles singing with each step.

*God. My little wild girl.*

She came back smiling, cheeks glowing, breathless, holding the *gajra* in her henna-decorated hands.

**Ishita:** **"Now your turn, Mr. Rathor,"** she teased, offering it like a flower crown.

I took it from her hand and walked behind her, my fingers threading into her thick, soft hair. The fragrance of jasmine mixed with her shampoo, her perfume... her. It was intoxicating.

As I twirled the *gajra* in place, careful not to snag her hair, I felt her **still** under my touch, trusting me implicitly with this intimate gesture.

**Rudra:** (I whispered, my breath warm against her temple.) **"Perfect. You look like the Goddess of my heart, **Ishi**."**

I finished, pulling my hands away reluctantly, and turned her gently to face me. My eyes scanned her-the flowers, the yellow dress, the shine on her face.

**Rudra:** **"You know, I don't believe in signs or magic. But today, even my heart felt that wind. You've sealed our destiny, **Jaana**. There's no turning back now."**