💖 Ishita prospective

The air in my **North Delhi** home vibrated with excitement. Today was the day. Not just my birthday, but the day I would officially be bound to **Rudra Singh Rathore**, the **cold, ruthless** prince, in the traditional Roka ceremony.

It was chaotic, loud, and utterly perfect-the complete opposite of the clinical silence of the Rathore Mansion. Relatives were buzzing around, and the sweet scent of *halwa* and incense hung in the air.

My focus, however, was in my room, where I was putting the final touches on myself and my beloved sister-in-law.

I looked down at myself. I had chosen my outfit specifically for **Ru**. I was wearing a magnificent **ocean blue Anarkali suit**, the color deliberately matching his intense, mesmerizing **ocean blue eyes**. The suit was surprisingly heavy, embroidered with intricate golden work,

I wasn't used to so much ornamentation, but it felt right today. I had on matching gold bangles, the metallic clinking sound mingling with the soft chime of the same **payal** Rudra had proposed with, which never left my ankle.

My makeup was kept **soft and nude**, focusing on enhancing my natural brown-skinned beauty rather than covering it. My **long hair**, which I knew Rudra adored, was styled with fresh jasmine flowers woven delicately through the curls. My **long nails**, always done, were painted a soft blush. And yes, my feet were perched in my highest high heels, making me feel every bit the Princess he claimed I was.

Her look

"Bhabhi, you look stunning," I whispered, finishing her simple makeup. She was glowing, and absolutely beautiful. Our little boy, my sweet nephew, was finally asleep in his cradle, allowing us this moment of calm preparation.

"You look like a Queen, Ishu," Bhabhi murmured, looking at my reflection. "Seriously, that ocean blue... your man will not be able to breathe when he sees you."

I felt a fiery blush rise on my cheeks. Even after all our intimate moments, the idea of facing Rudra in this outfit, knowing the possessive fire in his eyes, made my heart race.

"I can't believe this is happening," I confessed, my voice soft. "I'm going from my little makeup studio in **Noida** to becoming the future Queen of Rajasthan."

Our house was a frenzy of last-minute preparations. My **Papa** was surprisingly nervous, constantly checking the fleet of cars Rudra had sent to escort us to the Rathore Mansion in **South Delhi**. My mother was coordinating the distribution of sweets, her housewife efficiency shining through the chaos.

Meanwhile, I knew exactly what was happening on the other side of the city.

The Rathore Mansion-or the palace, as it should correctly be called-was ready. I could almost picture the scene: the expansive hall draped in gold and blue silks, the air thick with the scent of lilies and wealth.

I imagined my man, **Rudra Singh Rathore**, standing tall and impeccably handsome in his royal attire, probably looking impatiently at his phone. He would be irritated by the delay-he hated waiting-but he would also be unable to take his **ocean blue eyes** off the entrance, knowing his **Jaana** was finally coming home.

He would be surrounded by his family: the kind **Siya Maa**, the regal King **Ram Singh**, the teasing cousins **Akshat** and **Vardaan** and **Drishti** and **Reet**. They were waiting. They were all ready for the moment I officially stepped across the threshold.

I checked the time again. Almost noon. We were running perfectly on schedule.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the frantic beating of my heart. I was about to walk into a life of unimaginable luxury and power, guided by the love of a man who was **cold** to the world but treated me with utter, devoted softness.

My hand instinctively went to the **payal** on my ankle. *Destiny Collide.*

"Bhabhi, are we ready?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly with anticipation. "It's time to go."

The final moments of my life as just **Ishita Sharma**, the middle-class dreamer, were ticking away. Soon, I would be Rudra Singh Rathore's Queen.

The drive from **North Delhi** to the Rathore Mansion in **South Delhi** felt impossibly long. The contrast between my busy, small neighborhood and the imposing gates of his estate was stark. Even the air seemed heavier here, thick with security and quiet wealth.

When the convoy of black cars finally pulled up to the main entrance of the mansion-my heart was drumming a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

A line of silent, formidable security personnel stood at attention. A towering guard opened the car door for me. I stepped out, the **high heels** steadying me as I took in the sheer scale of the place.

My **heavy bangles** and **earrings** chimed loudly, the sound echoing slightly in the immense, quiet courtyard. It felt like every piece of jewelry I wore was announcing the arrival of the middle-class girl.

My whole family-Papa, Mummy, Bhaiya, and Bhabhi (looking stunning despite the recent delivery)-entered ahead of me. I took a deep breath, telling myself: *You are Ishita Sharma. You belong here.*

The hall was breathtaking, a vision in gold , exactly as I had imagined. The Rathore family was waiting in the living area, a picture of quiet royalty.

I quickly moved to the elders first. I bent low, ignoring the stiffness of my **Anarkali suit**, and **touched the feet** of Rudra's *bebe* , his parents, **Siya Maa** and King **Ram Singh**, and his **Chacha and Chachi**. They blessed me with warmth and affection.

As I straightened up, the younger generation descended upon me in a flurry of affectionate greetings.

"Bhabhi, you look absolutely gorgeous!" **Ahana**, Rudra's younger sister, exclaimed, giving me a quick, excited hug.

**Jay**, Rudra's younger brother, grinned. "**Bhabhi**, that ocean blue is perfect! Bhai is going to lose it!"

**Akshat** and **Vardaan** and their wives, **Drishti** and **Reet* rushed over, showering me with compliments. Reet squeezed my arm. "Ishu, you did the nude makeup perfectly! The flowers in your hair are divine!"

I was busy receiving hugs and blessings when the air completely changed. It wasn't the sound of the bangles or the noise of the relatives; it was the sudden, palpable **dark aura** of one man.

I knew he was there before I looked up.

I finally lifted my gaze and found him. **Rudra Singh Rathore.**

He was standing slightly apart from his family, a magnificent sight in a perfectly tailored kurta pajama his intimidating height and **muscular** frame. He was devastatingly handsome, his face sculpted, his hair dark, his complexion fair.

His look

And his **ocean blue eyes** were locked onto me.

He wasn't complimenting me politely; he was **checking me out shamelessly**. His gaze started at the jasmine woven into my **long hair**, moved slowly down the expanse of the **ocean blue Anarkali**, paused briefly on the shimmer of the **payal** on my ankle, and then slammed back up to my face.

There was a fire in his eyes-possessive, intense, and utterly consuming. He was claiming me with just his stare.

I felt the heat rise instantly in my neck and face. I desperately tried not to blush, but it was impossible. He knew exactly what he was doing.

*Oh God. He is looking too handsome.*

He was my perfect match: the ultimate Prince, the man who was **cold and emotionless** to the world, but who held my entire heart. He looked like power personified, like the man who could move mountains and make kings bow.

My heart whispered the most loving, unfiltered thought: *Totally my maaal.*

He finally started walking toward me, his stride long and measured, moving through the crowd as if it were water. Every single sound-the jewelry, the chatter, the music-faded away. There was only the inevitable collision of our eyes. The Roka hadn't even started, but my destiny had already arrived.

👑 Rudra Perspective

The moment she stepped out of the car, I was undone.

My staff and cousins could handle the initial greetings. My job was currently impossible: standing still, maintaining the facade of the composed, collected Prince while the only person who mattered was gliding across the hall toward me.

The **ocean blue Anarkali** was breathtaking. It was the color of my eyes, the color of the deep, cold ocean that housed my secrets, and now she wore it, turning it into a vibrant, warm symbol of our union. The golden work shimmered, and the delicate flowers in her **long hair**-God, she was exquisite.

She was so beautiful, so poised, moving with grace despite the nervousness I could sense radiating off her. She went straight to the elders, bending low to **touch their feet**, a gesture that earned her immediate, complete respect from my entire traditional family.

I watched her interact with my cousins-**Akshat, Vardaan, Jay, Ahana**-hearing their effusive "Bhabhi! Bhabhi!"s. They adored her, and their adoration only fueled my possessiveness. She was the light of my dark world.

Then, she finally looked up. Her eyes-those wide, earnest, brown eyes-met mine.

*Rudra, focus. She's watching you.*

I didn't care. I let my gaze sweep over her, a slow, deliberate inspection, from the high heels to the delicate **payal** I gifted her, to the blush on her cheeks. I was checking her out **shamelessly**, and the tiny, subtle flush rising on her skin told me she felt every second of my hungry scrutiny.

*Totally my maaal.* That playful thought of hers, which she often said out loud, seemed to echo in my mind.

I started moving, my focus entirely on closing the distance. The crowd parted. Every single person in the room could feel the temperature shift.

First, I had to manage the formality. I stopped by her parents, the wonderful, nervous people who gave me my heart's obsession. I bent low and touched the **feet of her Papa and Mummy**, thanking them silently for raising the woman who saved me.

" Papa ji, Mummy ji," I said, my voice deeply sincere.

"God bless you, beta. " Mummy ji replied, her eyes brimming with maternal pride.

I then turned to **Rishi**, her brother, and pulled him into a firm, respectful hug.

Rishi grinned, slightly stunned by the intensity of my focus.

Finally, the required social steps were complete. I was standing directly in front of **Ishi**.

I reached out, my large hand cupping her chin, my thumb gently sweeping over her soft skin. My eyes locked onto hers-those **ocean blue eyes** demanding her full, unwavering attention.

"You look..." I paused, unable to reach for an adequate, polite compliment. "You look like the only thing I have ever truly needed, **Jaana**."

I leaned in, my voice dropping to a low, possessive whisper meant only for her ear, ignoring the hundreds of people around us.

"Happy Birthday, my Princess. You wore my color. Now, let's get you officially ringed before I drag you away and ruin that beautiful, soft makeup. The waiting ends today."

I lingered close, taking a deep, restorative breath of her perfume-jasmine and rose and the unique scent of *her*. The **cold, heartless** facade was intact for the room, but only she knew the fire I was holding back. I gave her a private, searing look that promised what awaited us later, then straightened, placing my hand firmly at the small of her back to guide her forward.

"Let's begin the ceremony," I announced to the room, my voice booming with command, suddenly back in Prince mode. "We have a lot to celebrate."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The grand living room of the Rathore Mansion was even more imposing up close. It was enormous, filled with expensive artwork, velvet cushions, and what looked like centuries of history. I was seated next to Rudra on a plush, ornate sofa set aside for the Roka couple.

I was dressed in his color-the stunning **ocean blue Anarkali**-and he was sitting right there, commanding the room with his presence while simultaneously focusing his entire universe on me.

"You look..." he had whispered to me just moments ago, after guiding me to the sofa. He had leaned in, his voice a low, possessive growl that bypassed my ears and went straight to my heart. "Like the only thing I have ever truly needed, **Jaana**."

My cheeks were still hot from his intense compliment, and the promise in his **ocean blue eyes** was almost too much to bear.

I turned to him, keeping my voice low so only he could hear. "And you, **Ru**," I countered, looking him over from his impeccably tailored suit to his stern, handsome face. "You look utterly majestic. Totally **my maaal**."

A ghost of a smile-the rare, true one-danced on his lips. He understood the highest compliment I could give him was confirming his status as the center of my desire.

Around us, the ceremony was gearing up. The elders were deep in conversation about the traditional rituals of a **Roka ceremony**. My **Papa** was trying to politely decline the enormous, glittering tray of sweets **Siya Maa** was pushing towards him, while my **Mummy** nervously consulted with Chachi Urmila about the exchange of gifts.

"So, for the Roka, we will put the *shagun* (auspicious gift) on Ishita's lap," I heard **Siya Maa** explain softly. "And we will officially exchange the rings."

**Drishti ** and **Reet** were busy arranging the gifts, chatting excitedly. Everyone was talking about formalities, family histories, and auspicious timings.

But Rudra and I were utterly absorbed in our own little world, a bubble of intense, quiet romance right in the middle of the crowded room.

He lifted his hand, his large, warm fingers gently settling onto the back of my neck, just beneath my messy-but-flowered hair. He wasn't touching me openly, but the pressure was intensely comforting and possessive.

"Did you remember to eat something today, Princess?" he murmured, his gaze sweeping over my face, checking for any signs of stress.

"Yes, **Ru**. A small fruit salad before I put on the high heels," I replied, trying to sound calm, while his touch was melting my resolve. "Did *you* eat? Not just the cake crumb I fed you?"

He chuckled, the sound deep and low. "I ran ten miles and had my protein shake, as per routine. But I am feeding off this," he stated, his thumb lightly stroking the delicate skin at the base of my skull. "The joy on your face. And the sheer audacity of you wearing that color for me."

"It's my birthday, **Ru**," I whispered back, leaning slightly into his touch, "I get to be audacious. And it's your color, so you'll have to stare at it all day."

His eyes darkened with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. "I will **shamelessly check you out** all day, **Jaana**. It's my right. After this ceremony, the entire world will know you are mine. That is the only formality I care about."

He was still the **cold, ruthless** man of the world, but his devotion to me was his only soft spot, and right now, I was basking in it. While the rest of the room discussed *shagun* we were confirming our love in a language only we understood: through intense glances, possessive touches, and quiet, affectionate teasing. The Roka was for the world; this moment was our true ceremony.

The Roka ceremony began formally. It wasn't about the rings today, but about the official blessing and acceptance of the bride-to-be by the groom's family. This was about *shagun*-confirming the engagement with gifts and blessings.

I sat ramrod straight, trying to look composed, but inside, I was vibrating with nerves and excitement. Rudra's large, warm hand was resting on my thigh, hidden beneath the heavy fabric of my **ocean blue Anarkali**, a secret anchor in the sea of royal traditions.

**Siya Maa** was the first to approach. She looked regal and kind, her eyes full of genuine affection. She placed a tray laden with fruits, sweets, and a heavy, intricately woven red *dupatta* (stole) on my lap. This was the *shagun*.

"Welcome to the Rathore family, **Ishi**," Siya Maa said warmly, adjusting the red *dupatta* over my head and shoulders, a gesture of acceptance. "May you always be happy. Happy Birthday, my dear."

"Thank you, Maa," I whispered, feeling tears prick my eyes. Their acceptance was everything.

Next came Chachi **Urmila**, followed by all the younger women-Drishti, Reet, and Ahana-who showered me with bangles, *sindoor* (vermilion), and small, beautiful gifts. Each person paused to wish me a **Happy Birthday** as well, turning the formal Roka into a dual celebration.

"Bhabhi, this gold chain is from me and Akshat," Drishti said, adjusting a delicate chain around my neck. "Happy Birthday!"

Rudra squeezed my thigh beneath the fabric. "See, **Jaana**? You already own half the estate jewelry. But you still haven't acknowledged the man sitting next to you."

I glanced at him, trying to keep my expression demure while my heart melted. "I'm busy being blessed, **Ru**," I mouthed.

Kindly ignore the dress plz

Imagine the dress is told you

👑 Rudra's Perspective:

I watched, clinically at first, as my family performed the Roka rituals. Every gesture, every gift, was a confirmation: **Ishita** was now officially marked as the future Queen. The satisfaction was immense, but also frustrating. Why couldn't we just skip to the wedding?

The entire hall was a spectacle of traditional grandeur, and I was the picture of a composed, powerful groom. But inside, I was consumed by my desire for the woman beside me.

She looked utterly breathtaking in the **ocean blue**-a conscious homage to my eyes, a tiny, adorable sign of her devotion. The blush on her cheeks, amplified by the **soft, nude makeup**, was a direct result of my continuous, private teasing.

I felt a surge of pride as my mother welcomed her. The red *dupatta* draped over her shoulder looked perfect against the blue.

When the ritual paused, I leaned toward her, my breath warm against her ear, letting the noise of the room cover my words.

"My gift," I murmured, my voice low and dark, "is not a piece of jewelry, **Ishi**. My gift is this commitment. The certainty that you are mine, and I will **shamelessly check you out** for the rest of our lives."

She stiffened slightly, suppressing a smile. "i love you ru" she whispered back playfully.

I waited until the elders were done, and the room grew slightly quieter as the women moved away. My moment.

I reached out and took her hand-the one not currently holding the weight of the *shagun*. I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles slowly, deeply, letting my **ocean blue eyes** hold hers captive.

"Before we proceed," I announced to the room, my voice carrying the weight of command, "I would like to propose a toast, not just for the Roka, but for **Ishita's birthday**."

I raised my glass of sparkling juice-a compromise for my strict **health freak** principles.

"To **Ishi**," I declared, my voice resonating with absolute devotion, ignoring the surprise of some relatives. "The most beautiful, courageous woman in the world. She is the light in my darkness, the only warmth in my cold life. Today, we celebrate the Roka, but we primarily celebrate the day she entered the world, making my destiny possible."

I looked directly at her, letting every bit of my **heartless, ruthless** façade crack just for her.

"Happy Birthday, **Jaana**. You are my greatest gift. May this Roka be the shortest part of our journey."

I drank, never breaking eye contact. The room erupted in applause, cheers, and new rounds of birthday wishes for her. She was blushing furiously, her eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness.

She truly is my **Princess**. The Roka was confirmed, and our fate was sealed.

💖 Ishita's Perspective:

The Roka ceremony transitioned seamlessly into the social gathering. After Rudra's toast, the celebration of both the formal commitment and my birthday continued. The hall filled with congratulations and the clinking of glasses.

I knew this was a critical time for documentation. For the Rathores, every significant event was meticulously recorded. For me, photos were cherished memories. Rudra, despite his aversion to unnecessary public exposure, accommodated the extensive photo sessions readily, understanding that these documentation rituals were important to her.

We took many family portraits first. My entire Sharma family stood alongside the Rathores-the gym trainer Papa and the King, the housewife Mummy and the Queen, all smiling together. We posed with the cousins, the recently married Vardaan and Reet, Akshat and Drishti, and the younger siblings, Jay and Ahana.

Then came the solo shots. Rudra and I moved to a quieter section of the hall, near a massive floral arrangement. I posed holding the red *dupatta* gifted by Siya Maa. Rudra maintained strong visual contact with Ishita throughout the session. In some photographs, he maintained a steady hand at her waist while the photographer directed poses that captured the official commitment. His cooperation was complete, prioritizing the successful capture of the day's events.

After nearly an hour of photography, the formalities were finally complete. My parents were preparing to discuss logistics with Rudra's father, the King.

Rudra approached me where I was talking to Reet. He placed his hand gently on my shoulder, signaling the immediate change in plans.

"Ishita," he stated, his voice low and firm. "We are leaving."

I looked at him, surprised. "Leaving? The Roka just finished. We need to cut the main cake and say goodbye."

"The main cake has been sliced and distributed to all the guests in a formal manner," he informed me, ever efficient. "The final farewells will be handled by the elders. You have already completed the necessary rituals. Your departure is now required."

He offered his hand, his posture commanding immediate obedience.

"Where are we going?" I asked, gathering my heavy *dupatta*.

"It is your birthday," he replied, guiding her through the remaining guests toward a side exit. "You have received the family's official blessing. Now, you receive your private gift. The destination remains undisclosed for the moment."

I paused only long enough to give a quick, grateful hug to my sister-in-law, who smiled knowingly.

Rudra led me through a quiet corridor, away from the main hall. A dedicated security detail was already waiting at the unmarked door. He opened the door, and the cold Delhi air hit us, a stark contrast to the warmth of the mansion.

He ushered me into a discreet, sleek black car, which immediately pulled away from the main estate. I adjusted the heavy blue fabric of my suit, settling into the luxury leather seat.

"Are you taking me back to North Delhi?" I asked, looking out at the rapidly moving scenery.

"No," Rudra replied, reaching out to gently adjust the flowers in her hair, which had shifted during the day's activity. "We are going somewhere where you can finally relax and celebrate without photographers or family rituals. The day is yours."

The car sped through the city, leaving the grandeur of South Delhi behind, the destination remaining a mystery.

👑 Rudra's perspective

he moment we were sealed inside the car, the entire world outside the tinted windows ceased to matter. I needed this seclusion. The Roka was necessary for the empire, but this drive-this private time with **Isha**-was necessary for me.

I gripped the steering wheel with one hand, navigating the late afternoon traffic, while the other was deliberately busy. I reached over, my fingers settling on the smooth, cool surfaces of her **heavy bangles**. I gently nudged them up and down her wrist, enjoying the soft chime they made.

The **ocean blue** fabric of her *Anarkali* was a constant, visual testament to her devotion, a silent reminder that she wore my color.

I felt her shift closer, and then, her head rested against my shoulder, her chin settling comfortably on my suit jacket. Her warmth immediately seeped through the fabric, relaxing the perpetual tension in my shoulders.

"Tell me na," she murmured, her voice a low, teasing whisper that vibrated against my ear. "Are you **kiddnaping** your future wife, hmmm?"

A deep, genuine rumble of laughter escaped my chest-a sound only she could elicit.

"Kidnapping, **Jaana**?" I corrected her, unable to resist the need to tease. "I am the future King of Rajasthan; I don't kidnap. I *command*. And yes, I am commanding your presence for a mandatory, private birthday celebration."

I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the lingering scent of the fresh jasmine flowers in her hair.

"You were too beautiful at the Roka. I had to get you out before I lost all composure and caused a diplomatic incident," I confessed, my voice dropping to a husky timbre. "My family already thinks I am completely obsessed. I don't need to confirm it by devouring you in front of them."

She giggled, a delightful, airy sound. She started playing with the cuff of my shirt, her **long nails** lightly tracing the expensive fabric.

"Obsessed is a good look on you, **Ru**," she countered playfully. "It makes your **ocean blue eyes** look less cold."

She leaned up and whispered, "Besides, you're driving. You're supposed to be focused. But your hand is playing with my bangles, and you're admitting you want to 'devour' me. You are distracted, **Mr. Rathore**."

I tightened my grip on her wrist, trapping the bangles. She knew exactly how to dismantle my **ruthless, emotionless** facade. The thought of my attention being split between traffic and her was entirely correct.

"I am trained for maximum efficiency, **Ishi**," I stated, injecting a touch of my corporate coldness into my voice, even though I knew it was futile. "My reflexes are sharp. I can navigate the world's financial markets and Delhi traffic while simultaneously admiring your dedication to those ridiculous high heels you're wearing."

I glanced down at the **high heels** on her feet, then back up at the road.

"But yes," I admitted, my voice softer now, pure adoration replacing the facade. "You are my favorite distraction. You, my **Jaana**, are the reason my focus deviates. And I love you **five times more** for it."

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the soft curve of her wrist, directly over the pulse point.

"Now, stop trying to get me to reveal the location. We are almost there," I commanded, my gaze intense. "Just relax, and enjoy the silence. Your birthday is about to get much more private."

I felt her settle back onto my shoulder, a content sigh escaping her lips. She was playing, teasing, distracting, and I let her, because in her presence, I was simply **Ru**, her devoted man, rather than the future King.