[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective – ]

He gently helped me settle into the car like always—careful, protective, almost like I’d break if he wasn’t gentle enough. And of course, Rudra Singh Rathor being Rudra Singh Rathor, he closed the door for me like a gentleman before sliding into the driver’s seat himself.

His one hand immediately found mine as he started the car. Warm. Strong. So big around my tiny fingers.

I knew that grip. It wasn’t just love—it was a promise, silent and sacred.

But before I could say anything, his thumb started circling on my palm and he said, not looking at me, **Rudra:** **“You didn’t eat anything, did you?”**

I blinked. He saw right through me.

**Rudra:** (He asked again, glancing at me with those **ocean-blue eyes** that could drown any storm in me.) **“Ishita?”**

**Ishita:** **“Umm... I—”**

**Rudra:** **“I knew it,”** he sighed, already turning the car toward the market side. **“What did I say about skipping food, *haan*? You’re so small already, do you even realise? You’re 20 years old, not five. I’m going to personally monitor your diet now, **Jaana**. You can’t survive on air and excitement.”**

I started giggling softly. His voice was scolding, but the way he kept glancing at me with concern and pulling my hand closer to his lips for a gentle kiss… uff. He was soft and strict both at once.

**Ishita:** **“Sorryyy,”** I stretched the word, leaning my head on the headrest while turning my phone on. **“But the Teej *puja* felt more important than *pet* (stomach).”**

**Rudra:** **“And whose long life were you praying for, **Ishi**? Mine! But if you faint from hunger, I’ll spend that long life looking after an extremely stubborn, frail creature. That wasn’t part of the deal, was it?”**

I couldn’t help it. He looked *so handsome* while driving—one hand on the wheel, sleeves rolled up, those damn viney arms, stubble dusting his jaw. His ocean-blue eyes sharp on the road but still softer than the wind brushing my cheek.

So I opened my camera and started recording him secretly—little snippets of my 6’3", 25-year-old **Hulk** scolding his tiny, 5’3", 38kg **baby** for not eating.

**Rudra:** **“What are you doing now?”** he asked, stealing a glance again.

**Ishita:** **“Nothing,”** I replied with a smug smile, turning the camera toward his profile as he frowned adorably.

He knew. Of course he knew. But he didn’t stop me.

And I kept admiring. Recording. Capturing *my man*—the same ruthless businessman who now scolds me for not eating and kisses my knuckles like they’re sacred.

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

The moment we got into the car, I knew. Her fingers were cold, her grip light—too light. That soft fatigue in her eyes couldn’t hide from me anymore. She didn’t eat. She didn’t even *snack* despite my instructions.

And here I was, planning forever with a girl who could pass out if the wind blew too hard.

**Rudra:** **“You didn’t eat anything,”** I said, my voice laced with worry, squeezing her hand.

**Ishita:** **“Umm... I—”**

**Rudra:** **“I knew it,”** I cut her off, my heart already breaking. **“You’ll get sick one day. You’re already tiny enough for the air to carry away. Do you realize how much I worry about this, **Jaana**? I’m going to hire a dedicated chef to send you lunch every day. You need to gain weight. Seriously.”**

She laughed—that laugh, like silver bells ringing inside a temple.

**Ishita:** **“Sorryyy. But the Teej *puja* felt more important than *pet*.”**

**Rudra:** (I brought her knuckles to my lips, pressing a kiss there.) **“Your health is more important than any prayer, **Ishi**. And don’t you dare skip a meal for me again. I’ll feed you myself if I have to. You are my responsibility now, my little baby.”**

And then… I saw her turning her camera. I knew what she was doing. I always knew. I could feel her gaze on me even without looking.

**Rudra:** **“What are you doing now?”** I asked, already smiling to myself.

**Ishita:** **“Nothing.”**

*Lie.* And yet… I let her. Because somewhere deep inside, a part of me craved this—*her gaze*, her soft admiration, the way she looked at me like I wasn’t just Rudra Rathor, CEO of multi-billion companies… but her *home*.

**Rudra:** **“Stop taking videos of me, **Ishi**. You’re distracting the driver.”**

**Ishita:** **“Never,”** she grinned, leaning closer.

*God.*

How could I explain to her that even her silence sounded like music? That her recording me felt more intimate than anything I’d ever known?

As I drove with her hand still locked in mine, I thought, *Maybe she’s the only thing that ever felt real. And the first thing I will ever fiercely protect.*

**Rudra:** “We’re going to a proper Italian place. You will eat one pasta dish and a slice of dessert. No arguments. Your boss is ordering.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

Of course, the moment we stopped in front of the restaurant—it wasn’t any ordinary place. It was one of those *top-tier, luxurious, don’t-even-look-at-the-menu-if-you-have-EMI* types. I gave him *the* look.

He smirked. I glared harder.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra,”** I muttered under my breath, **“do you ever take me to a normal place? One where my soul doesn’t leave my body after seeing the menu?”**

And then… he *had the audacity* to lean in and kiss my cheek softly. So soft. So hesitant. Almost like he didn’t want to overstep… like he was still unsure whether it was too soon. But that light kiss? It made my heart flutter and sigh at the same time. I melted a little. Okay—a lot.

I looked at him. His eyes met mine, searching for my reaction. When I smiled shyly, brushing my *dupatta* slightly on that cheek… his expression *relaxed*.

He quickly stepped out, came around, and opened the door for me. **Rudra:** **“Ma’am, your palace awaits,”** he teased softly, offering me his hand.

I rolled my eyes, took it anyway, and let him guide me inside like a queen. The staff bowed slightly (of course), and Rudra didn’t even glance—like this kind of treatment was basic for him. But he kept one hand on the small of my back gently, making sure I was never out of reach.

We settled in a quiet corner booth, soft music playing in the background, the lighting just warm enough to bring out his sharp jawline and those damned ocean-blue eyes.

**Ishita:** **“Now,”** I said, pulling the menu up, **“*do not* say ‘order anything’ because I swear if I see something over ₹2000, I will walk out.”**

He chuckled under his breath and said nothing. Which meant… yes, everything here was probably worth a kidney.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra, seriously, this place—”**

**Rudra:** **“I don’t care,”** he cut me off calmly, already waving the waiter over. **“You’re hungry. You’ll eat well. I’m not discussing the price, **Ishi**.”**

And just like that, he ordered—*for me*—as if he knew what I liked already. (He did. Of course, he did.)

I tried to pout. He ignored it.

And then the food came. And then… the *real Rudra* returned.

He picked up the spoon and fed me—not once, but again and again—making sure I ate slowly, comfortably, and without fuss.

Meanwhile, I? I clicked selfies. Then switched to candid photos of him. Then back to myself.

**Rudra:** **“Seriously, Ishita? Are you clicking photos while I’m feeding you? Put that thing down and chew.”** he asked, raising an eyebrow.

**Ishita:** **“Uhh… yes. This is called *proof*, mister,”** I giggled, licking a bit of chutney from the corner of my lip. **“Proof that Mr. Rudra Singh Rathor—5th richest man in the world—feeds his girl like a full-time nurse. Wait, let me get a close-up of that spoon.”**

**Rudra:** **“You’re shameless.”**

**Ishita:** **“You love it.”**

He didn’t deny it. He just looked down, hiding a smile, and offered me the next spoonful.

**Ishita:** **“You know what I love about this photo?”** I asked, showing him the candid shot of him focusing intently on my meal.

**Rudra:** **“That my arm looks particularly vascular?”**

**Ishita:** **“No, Mr. Vain. That you are sitting in a suit-and-tie environment, wearing a *kurta*, and acting like a father feeding a toddler. It's beautiful juxtaposition. I’m tagging you in this one.”**

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective – ]

I didn’t even flinch as the car rolled to a stop in front of one of the most expensive restaurants in Delhi. She hadn’t eaten anything. She deserved the best. Always.

She threw me **that glare** about the prices, and I had to stop her protest immediately. I leaned forward and kissed her cheek—soft, hesitant, testing the boundaries she had set.

She sighed, then smiled. *Relief.* She had accepted the affection.

I helped her out of the car and led her inside. My hand rested on the small of her back—a **gentle anchor**, a silent claim in a world full of spectators.

We sat, and she tried to protest about the prices again. I pretended to listen. She didn’t know—or maybe she did—that her comfort mattered more to me than money ever had.

I ordered quickly, eliminating any chance for her to argue.

And then I watched her. Watched her click photos, pout, smile, tilt her head, tease me—and my heart just… gave up. She was glowing.

Even while she complained about my 'nurse' routine, she let me feed her, savoring every bite.

**Rudra:** **“You’re going to post this on Instagram, aren’t you?”** I asked, wiping a grain of rice from her lip.

**Ishita:** **“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just keep it in my favourites folder and watch it when I miss you.”**

I looked at her. So tiny. So sharp-tongued. So full of life.

**Rudra:** **“If you watch it when you miss me, you’ll just get hungrier. That's counterproductive. Just call me, and I’ll be there in five minutes to force-feed you properly.”**

**Rudra:** **“And what do you mean, tagging me in this photo?”** I questioned, noticing the mention of my *kurta* and the *nurse* comment.

**Ishita:** **“Proof that Mr. Rudra Singh Rathor—5th richest man in the world—feeds his girl like a full-time nurse. Wait, let me get a close-up of that spoon.”**

**Rudra:** **“You’re shameless. And yet, this is the most romantic evening of my year. Only you could make *forced feeding* feel like an adventure.”**

She didn't deny my last statement. She just offered me a tiny bite of her dessert, reversing the roles. I accepted, knowing I was utterly hopeless.

**Rudra:** **“You know I already have enough proof of your lack of self-control with food, **Ishi**. You don't need a photo. But fine. Tag me. Let the world know who owns my attention.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

We had finished eating. My hunger was gone, replaced by a nervous flutter in my stomach. The plates were cleared, but our hands were still connected across the sleek tabletop, his thumb stroking my wrist gently. We were waiting for our post-meal drinks.

I let go of my sunshine self. The playful energy faded, and a heavy, serious quiet descended on me.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra, I want to tell you something.”**

He noticed immediately. His hand stilled, his head tilted, his ocean eyes—which were just minutes ago crinkling with amusement—now instantly sharp with concern.

**Rudra:** **“Yes, **Jaana**? Say it. Is everything okay? Is your papa okay?”**

**Ishita:** **“Yes, Papa is okay. But it’s about me.”**

I took a deep breath, preparing to expose the deepest, most difficult truth I carried.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra, actually, I have **panic attack** problems. Since I was fourteen.”**

The silence that followed was immediate and total, broken only by the soft jazz music in the background. His hand tightened slightly around mine, but he didn't speak. He was just… silent.

**Ishita:** **“I know you must be hurt because I didn’t tell you before,”** I continued, feeling the immediate sting of regret. **“But it’s because I didn’t know you loved me. When we first met, you were just a stranger who helped me. And after you confessed, I wanted to tell you about it, truly, but I was scared. And maybe a little selfish. I was scared that you would leave. That this problem would be too much for the great Rudra Singh Rathor to handle.”**

I pulled my hand back gently, using both hands to cup the warm mug of herbal tea that had just been placed in front of me, anchoring myself. I lifted my gaze to meet his.

**Ishita:** **“But I can’t hide it anymore. It hurts to hide this from you, especially after what we said today at the Mandir. So, I am telling you now. If you want to leave me... you can. I don’t have any problem. I just want to tell you. And… I also do love you a lot, Rudra. It hurts to hide that too.”**

I had confessed my love and my biggest weakness in the same breath, leaving myself completely vulnerable, waiting for the devastating rejection.

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

*Luxury Restaurant | The Unveiling of the Truth*

We were waiting for our drinks. Ishita had suddenly gone quiet, the sunshine in her eyes replaced by a heavy, somber shadow. I noticed the shift instantly.

**Rudra:** **“Yes, **Jaana**? Say it. Is everything okay? Is your papa ok?”**

She dismissed the external concerns. **Ishita:** **“Yes, Papa is okay. But it’s about me.”**

*Maybe she ever had an ex and about to confess it,* I thought briefly, bracing for some complicated dating history. I could handle an ex. I could handle anything.

**Ishita:** **“Rudra, actually, I have **panic attack** problems. Since I was fourteen.”**

The word *panic attack* hit me like a physical blow, silencing every logical thought in my head. I went utterly **silent**. Not because I was judging her, but because I was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization of her private suffering. She had been carrying this heavy weight alone for years.

**Ishita:** **“I know you must be hurt because I didn’t tell you before... I was scared that you would leave. That this problem would be too much for the great Rudra Singh Rathor to handle.”**

She pulled her hand away, revealing her vulnerability. Then, she delivered the final blow—her declaration of love paired with her escape clause.

**Ishita:** **“So, I am telling you now. If you want to leave me... you can. I don’t have any problem. I just want to tell you. And… I also do love you a lot, Rudra. It hurts to hide that too.”**

*Leave her?* After she just offered me her terrified, beautiful heart? After we just stood under Radha Rani’s *dupatta*?

My jaw tightened. I reached out immediately, gently taking the tea mug from her shaking hands, setting it aside, and reclaiming both of her hands in mine. I squeezed them tightly, grounding her.

**Rudra:** **“Listen to me, Ishita Sharma. You have given me your biggest truth and your greatest gift—your love—in the same breath. And you think I would leave?”**

I looked directly into her tear-filled, wide eyes.

**Rudra:** **“My entire life is built on solving complex problems. My own existence is ruthless and emotionless. You are the only person who brought softness and life into my world. Do you think I am so shallow that I would run from a part of you that requires only patience and care?”**

**Rudra:** **“That problem… those panic attacks? That’s not a flaw, **Ishi**. That’s a part of your journey, and from now on, it’s a part of *our* journey. We face it together. We will get you the best help. And when that darkness hits, I will be your anchor. I will be your safety net. You will never, ever be alone again.”**

I brought her hands to my lips and pressed my forehead against them, my heart aching with fierce protectiveness.

**Rudra:** **“I didn’t choose you for your perfection, **Jaana**. I chose you for your heart. And I am not going anywhere. Never. Now, look at me. Say that ‘I love you’ again, without the fear of me leaving.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective –]

*At the Restaurant | Shattering the Silence*

Rudra’s powerful denial of my escape clause had momentarily steadied me, but the emotional dam had broken. Tears began to fall, hot and heavy, onto our joined hands.

**Ishita:** (My voice was shaky, wet with tears.) **“But it’s hard, Ru. It’s very hard. Sometimes I myself can’t able to handle the attacks.”**

I pulled one hand away to wipe my face, but the tears kept coming. I confessed the true terror of it.

**Ishita:** **“I can’t able to walk or talk. I just become… useless that time. I become a burden.”**

Before I could finish the thought, Rudra did something unexpected. He got up from his side of the booth and walked around, effortlessly sliding onto the seat right beside me, closing the physical distance between us.

I looked at him, confused, my vulnerability amplifying my fear. **Ishita:** **“What if you get pissed off by it? I just can’t see frustration and stress because of me in your eyes. I love your eyes, Ru. They’re my safe place.”**

I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting my tears soak his pristine white *kurta*. The guilt was consuming me.

**Ishita:** **“I am sorry, I don’t know what to do. I am sorry I hide this from you.”**

I waited for him to speak—to give me a plan, a strategy, a rational response. But all he did was pull me closer, his big hand immediately moving to rub circles on my back, a simple, warm gesture of unconditional acceptance.

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective –]

*Luxury Restaurant | The New Reality*

She was crying now, the elegant restaurant setting fading around us. Her tears were a devastating sight, each one tearing at the commitment I had just made.

**Ishita:** **“But it’s hard, Ru. It’s very hard. Sometimes I myself can’t able to handle the attacks... I can’t able to walk or talk. I just become… useless that time.”**

*Useless.* The word stung me deeply. This brilliant, vibrant woman thought she was *useless*. That was unacceptable.

I got up immediately and moved to the seat beside her, needing to eliminate every inch of distance. The sheer proximity was the only antidote I could offer right now.

**Ishita:** **“What if you get pissed off by it? I just can’t see frustration and stress because of me in your eyes. I love your eyes, Ru. They’re my safe place.”**

She rested her head on my shoulder, and I let her tears fall, ignoring the expensive cloth and the public setting. I focused entirely on her rapid, shallow breathing.

**Rudra:** (My voice was low and steady, a grounding rumble against her ear, using the soothing tone I rarely allowed myself.) **“Look at me, **Ishi**. Look at my eyes now. Do you see frustration? Do you see anger?”**

I gently lifted her chin with my forefinger, forcing her to meet my gaze. My ocean eyes were full of nothing but fierce devotion.

**Rudra:** **“You see absolute devotion. You see a promise, **Jaana**. You call yourself useless? You’re the most useful thing in my life; you make me human. You are my only weakness, and now, my greatest strength.”**

I kept my arm firmly around her, pulling her against the unyielding strength of my body.

**Rudra:** **“Don’t apologize for hiding it. I understand the fear. But you told me now, and that is what matters. You gave me your truth. And I accept every single part of you—the laughter, the chaos, and the darkness. I will learn everything there is to know about panic attacks. I will be the one who knows how to hold you, how to breathe for you, when you can’t. We are a team now. *We* handle it.”**

I tucked her head back onto my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, right where the *gajra* met her hairline.

**Rudra:** **“You are mine, **Ishi**. And I will never let you break alone. Never. Now, let’s get you home. I need to research this before the sun rises.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective ]

His words, his presence beside me, and the firm, warm hug were more effective than any therapy session. I clung to him, my hands wrapped tightly around his neck, finally letting the fear and the guilt dissipate into his strength.

**Ishita:** (I whispered against his neck, my voice muffled.) **“There is no cure of it, Ru. Just self-control on specific situations when I have them.”**

I pulled back just enough to look at him, my eyes still wet. I had one more heavy secret to share.

**Ishita:** **“Especially at dark area. I have **phobia of dark**. I can’t stay there, not for a second. That's usually when the attacks are worse—when I feel trapped and can’t see.”**

His expression remained unreadable, only the ocean blue of his eyes showing the deep, focused attention he gave me.

**Ishita:** **“But the good thing is… I didn’t get any attack since six months. Not since I met you.”** A small, relieved smile managed to surface. **“Maybe my brain decided that having the 5th richest man in the world chasing me was distracting enough.”**

I reached up and gently touched the curve of his jaw, tracing the perfectly trimmed stubble. **Ishita:** **“Thank you for not leaving me. You’re my light, Rudra.”**

I leaned in and pressed a soft, thankful **kiss** to the strong, exposed column of his neck, right where his pulse throbbed, feeling the warmth of his skin against my lips. It was a promise, a soft, intimate thank you that spoke louder than any words.

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective]

She was clinging to me, her arms tight around my neck. I returned the hug fiercely, shielding her small frame from the outside world.

**Ishita:** **“There is no cure of it, Ru. Just a self-control on specific situations when I have them.”**

She pulled back slightly to reveal the root of some of the episodes. **Ishita:** **“Especially at dark area. I have **phobia of dark**. I can’t stay there, not for a second.”**

*Phobia of dark. Claustrophobia.* The panic attacks made sense now. I mentally filed this critical information: no dark places, ever. She needs light, clarity, and space.

**Rudra:** (I held her tighter, pulling her head to rest against my shoulder again.) **“Then we eliminate the specific situations, **Jaana**. You won’t have to practice self-control when I am here to control the environment for you. We will ensure there is always light. Always.”**

**Ishita:** **“But the good thing is… I didn’t get any attack since six months. Not since I met you. Maybe my brain decided that having the 5th richest man in the world chasing me was distracting enough.”**

The attempt at lightness made me smile genuinely. **Rudra:** **“Your brain is correct. It knows a distraction when it sees one. And I will continue to be a full-time distraction, **Ishi**. I won’t give your brain the time to worry about anything else.”**

Then, she leaned in and pressed a soft, heartfelt **kiss** to my neck. The intimate, unexpected touch sent a jolt of heat through me. It wasn’t a casual touch; it was trust.

I held her face between my large hands, gazing at her. **Rudra:** **“You said I am your light, **Ishi**? Then you are my entire reason for existing. I will never let you walk into the dark alone. That is a lifetime contract.”**

I slowly lowered my head and pressed a firm, reassuring **kiss** to her temple, lingering there for a moment before I released her.

**Rudra:** **“Now. Let’s go. I’m driving you straight home, and tonight, I am reading every medical journal about panic disorders. You focus on relaxing. I’ll focus on fighting your demons.”**

[Ishita Sharma’s Perspective]

Rudra didn't even give me a chance to argue or to put my heels on properly. The minute he finished speaking, his control-freak CEO mode fully shifted into protective-boyfriend mode. He **paid the bill** instantly, ignoring my protests about standing up.

He just **picked me up** again—effortlessly, as if I weighed nothing more than a feather—and carried me out of the high-end restaurant. I buried my face in his neck, hearing the murmurs of the stunned patrons, but honestly, I didn't care. Being in his arms felt like the only safe place in the world.

As he walked, I kept **admiring him with a smile**. His sharp profile, the way his jaw was set with fierce determination, and the total disregard for the public eye. *This man loves me.* It was still sinking in.

He reached the car, gently **put me in**, buckling my seatbelt before walking around to the driver's seat.

The drive was quiet, filled with the comfortable silence of two people who had just sealed a lifetime commitment.

We reached my house. He stopped the car, and before I could move, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering **kiss on my cheek**.

**Rudra:** **“Go inside, **Ishi**. And call me the moment you’re in the door. I’ll stay here until I hear the bolt lock.”**

I nodded, my heart full. I hurried up the steps, unlocked the door, and then, before stepping inside, I turned back to the window. He was still sitting there, watching. I **waved at him** with both hands, and he raised his hand slightly in return.

Only when I was safely inside did I hear the powerful roar of his engine as he finally drove away.

[Rudra Singh Rathor’s Perspective]

I drove back to the mansion on autopilot, the scent of Ishita's perfume and the *mogra* gajra still clinging to my white *kurta*. The world felt different—lighter, clearer. I hadn't solved the panic attacks yet, but I had solved the biggest problem: *us*.

I walked into the dimly lit, expansive living room. And there was **Bebe** (grandmother), sitting on the sofa, waiting for me, her expression a mix of affection and mild annoyance at my lateness.

I smiled, instantly reverting to the devoted grandson. I walked over, bowed, and **touched her feet** respectfully.

**Bebe:** (She held my hand, noticing the unusual softness in my eyes.) **“Rudra? *Kya baat hai* (What is the matter)? You are glowing like a thousand-watt bulb. And in a *kurta*? Did you finally start believing in God?”**

I laughed, a warm, genuine sound I hadn’t known I possessed before Ishita.

**Rudra:** (I sat down beside her, the seriousness of the confession weighing on me, but the joy of the outcome overwhelming.) **“She loves me, Bebe. She told me. Today, in the Mandir, right after we got a divine sign.”**

Bebe’s eyes went wide. She stared at me for a beat, processing the news that her cold, emotionless grandson had actually won the heart of the girl who made him smile.

**Bebe:** **“Oh, *mere ladoo*! *Sach*?!”** (Oh, my darling! Truly?!)

She jumped up, her seventy-year-old body suddenly energized, and started **dancing** right there in the living room, singing a tune of joy. **Bebe:** **“*Ayeeee!* My Rudra finally found his other half! *Shukrana* (Gratitude)! I knew that girl was magic!”**

I smiled, completely resigned to her theatrical happiness.

**Rudra:** **“*Bas, bas*, Bebe. *Zyada khush mat ho. So jao*, it’s late.”** (Enough, enough, don’t be too happy. Go to sleep.)

**Bebe:** (She stopped, breathless, leaning in and **kissing my forehead** deeply.) **“*Haa, haa, so jaungi*. But now I need to start thinking about the names of your children!”**

I sighed, shaking my head at her immediate jump to grandchildren.

**Rudra:** **“She is a kid herself right now, Bebe. And she’s already terrified of her B.Ed. degree. Let’s focus on the wedding date first, shall we? Babies can wait.”**