👑 Rudra's Perspective

The sun was high over the Rathore mansion, but I wasn't in my office. I had a different kind of "merger" to attend to-one that didn't involve contracts or lawyers. I drove my SUV myself, pulling up in front of Ishita's family home. I knew she was at her studio, busy with her pre-wedding appointments, and her brother was at work.

I knocked on the door, and a moment later, Ishita's mother opened it. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Rudra? Beta, you? Is everything okay? Ishita isn't here..."

"I know, Maa," I said, giving her a respectful nod. I could hear the faint sounds of a toddler-**Purav**-playing inside, likely with his mother. "I'm actually here to see Uncle. Is he in?"

"Yes, yes, come in!" She led me to the small, cozy living room.

Ishita's father was sitting on the sofa, a newspaper in hand. When he saw me, he stood up quickly, looking a bit nervous. "Rudra? What brings you here so suddenly? Did we forget some ceremony?"

"No, Uncle. Please, sit," I said, my **6'3" frame** making the modest living room feel even smaller. I waited for her mother to go back to the kitchen before I sat across from him. I didn't beat around the bush. "I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. About the Sagan."

His shoulders tensed immediately. "Rudra, I know you returned the gifts... and Ishita told me you were upset. We didn't mean to-"

"I wasn't upset with you, Uncle," I interrupted, my **ocean blue eyes** softening. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. "I was upset that you felt you had to 'pay' your way into my family. Ishita told me about the hospital five years ago. She told me you felt a debt."

The old man looked down at his hands, his voice thick with a father's pride. "It was a lot of money back then, Beta. You saved my life. As a father, how could I let my daughter go to your house without trying to even the scales?"

"That's exactly why I'm here," I said, my voice deep and steady. "To tell you that the scales were never uneven. You think you are in my debt? Uncle, I am Rajasthan's Prince. I have palaces, cars, and more money than I can spend in ten lifetimes. But I was the poorest man in the world because I was empty inside. I was cold, heartless, and I didn't believe in God or love."

I took a breath, looking around at the photos of Ishita on the walls-from her messy-haired childhood to her modeling shots.

"Then I met your daughter. She didn't just give me love; she gave me a soul. She taught me how to smile. She made me want to be a better man. You didn't just give me a 'daughter-in-law' for my family; you gave me the reason I wake up every morning."

I reached out and placed my hand over his weathered one. "If there is a debt, it is mine. I am the one who can never repay you for giving me Ishita. You are giving me your heart, your life's work. How can a few lakhs or some gold gifts ever match that? Please... never feel like you are less than us. You are the man who raised the woman I worship. That makes you royalty in my eyes."

Ishita's father looked at me, his eyes shimmering with tears. The weight he had been carrying for years-the weight of 'middle-class' insecurity-seemed to melt away. He squeezed my hand back, his grip firm.

"She always said you were different," he whispered, a tear finally escaping. "I thought she was just blinded by love. But today, I see it. You don't just love her, Rudra. You honor her."

"I do," I promised. "And I will spend the rest of my life making sure she-and you-never have to worry about 'levels' again."

We sat there for a long time, just talking-not as a billionaire and a retired man, but as two men who both loved the same girl. I told him about my plans for the house, and he told me embarrassing stories about Ishita's childhood.

As I stood up to leave, I felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in years. I had closed the biggest deal of my life today-the deal of mutual respect.

I was halfway to the door, my car keys already in my hand, when Ishita's mother blocked my path with a look that said no amount of royal authority would work here.

"**Aise kaise jaoge?**" she scolded gently, her hands on her waist "**Tum damaad nahi ho, bete ho. Chalo, khana khao!**" (How can you leave like this? You aren't just a son-in-law, you're a son. Come, eat!)

I tried to give her my most polite 'CEO' smile. "**Nahi Mummy, phir kabhi. Kaam hai thoda...**" (No Mummy, some other time. I have some work...)

"**Nahi nahi! Abhi chalo, baitho!**" She wasn't taking no for an answer. She turned toward the hallway where my little nephew-to-be was playing. "**Purav! Fufa ji ko kaho khana kha ke jayenge!**" (Purav! Tell Fufa ji he has to eat before he goes!)

At the mention of his name, little **Purav** came crawling toward me at lightning speed. He reached my boots and looked up with those big, innocent eyes, grabbing onto my trousers to pull himself up. "**Fufa ji!**" he chirped. It was one of the only words he knew, and hearing it in his tiny, squeaky voice melted the last of my resistance.

Meanwhile, the house was far from quiet. The family's **German Shepherds, Kira and King**, had started barking-not at me, but out of pure excitement, sensing the energy in the room. They were wagging their tails so hard they were hitting the furniture, their deep barks echoing through the cozy house.

I looked at the chaos-the barking dogs, the toddler pulling at my expensive pants, and the smell of fresh *parathas* wafting from the kitchen. It was a far cry from the silent, marble halls of the Rathore mansion. And yet, I felt more at home here than I ever had in my life.

"Okay, okay," I laughed, picking up Purav and settling him on my hip. His small hands immediately went for my silk tie, but I didn't care. "I'm staying. But only if King and Kira promise to let me eat in peace."

Ishita's father laughed, gesturing for me to sit back down. "Good luck with that, Rudra. In this house, the dogs and the kids are the real bosses."

I sat at the modest dining table, the Prince of Rajasthan being served simple, home-cooked food by a mother who truly saw me as a son. I took a bite of the hot paratha, and for a moment, I forgot about the 500-crore deals and the international mergers.

As I ate, I pulled out my phone under the table and sent a quick text to Ishita.

> **To: My Jaana 💖**

> *Your mom is a better negotiator than I am. I'm trapped at your place eating parathas. Also, Purav just tried to eat my tie. Hurry up and finish your work-I miss my Baby Doll.*

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I was absolutely exhausted. Between the final dress fittings, the studio madness, and dragging my teenage cousin **Kriti** around, I felt like I had run a marathon in 6-inch heels.

I didn't even check my phone as I climbed the stairs to our front door. I was too busy scolding Kriti, who was currently the bane of my existence. At fifteen, she was ten years younger than me and a hundred times more energetic.

"Kriti, if you ask me one more time if Rudra's friends are single, I will lock you in the storeroom!" I huffed, bursting through the front door. "You're fifteen! Focus on your boards, not my devar's jawlines!"

"Ugh, Ishu Di, you're so boring! You got the Prince, let me at least get a Duke," she groaned, rolling her eyes.

"**Bhabhi! Pani pila do... BP low ho gaya mera is mental ke chakkar mein!**" (Bhabhi, give me some water... my BP is low because of this mental girl!) I shouted toward the kitchen, not even looking at who was in the living room. I reached out and gave a playful smack to the back of Kriti's head. "Seriously, you're a headache."

"**Bua! Buaaaa!**"

Purav's high-pitched scream made me snap out of my rant. I looked down just in time to see him crawling toward me like a little champion, his face covered in what looked like... paratha crumbs?

"Hi, my baby!" I cooed, dropping my bags and bending down to pick him up. But as I lifted him, I realized he wasn't looking at me. He was pointing behind me with a mischievous grin.

I turned around, and my heart nearly stopped.

Sitting at our modest wooden dining table, with a half-eaten paratha in his hand and **King and Kira** resting their heavy heads on his knees, was **Rudra Singh Rathore**.

The cold-hearted prince. The man who owned half of Rajasthan. He was sitting there in his thousand-dollar shirt, with a smudge of flour on his forearm and a look of pure, **shameless** amusement on his face.

"So," Rudra rumbled, his **ocean blue eyes** dancing as he took in my disheveled hair and my 'scary elder sister' vibe. "I'm a 'cutie pie' at the lake, but a 'mental headache' is what causes your low BP?"

My face went from pale to beet red in 0.5 seconds.

"R-Rudra?" I stammered, still holding a squirming Purav. "Aap... yahan? Abhi? (You... here? Now?)"

"I came to talk to Uncle," he said, calmly taking a sip of the water my Bhabhi had just set down-the water I had literally just begged for. "But your mother decided I was a 'beta' who needed feeding. And your dogs decided I was a very comfortable chin-rest."

Kriti, who had been frozen behind me, suddenly gasped so loud it echoed. "OH MY GOD! Jiju! You're actually here!" She immediately straightened her hair, forgetting all about her 'low BP' cousin.

I looked at my mother, who was beaming, then back at Rudra, who looked more relaxed than I'd ever seen him in his own mansion. He looked like he belonged here.

"You're late, Baby Doll," Rudra teased, leaning back and ignoring the fact that King was currently drooling slightly on his trousers. "I was just telling your father that if you're this bossy with your cousins, I might need to rethink the marriage contract."

I dropped Purav onto his feet and marched over to the table, hands on my hips, completely forgetting for a second that this man was a billionaire prince. In this house, he was just Ru, and he was currently eating *my* favorite breakfast.

"**What contract? Zyada mat udo, samjhe?**" I grumbled, narrowing my eyes at him. "**You don't have the right to decide, I have those rights!**" (Don't fly too high, understand? I'm the one who decides!)

Rudra just sat there, looking incredibly smug for someone who was currently being lectured in a middle-class dining room. He broke off another piece of paratha, looking at it like it was a gold coin.

"**Oho! Parathe khaye ja rahe hain?**" I continued, gesturing at his plate. "**Mere saamne toh bohot diet-conscious bante ho aap! 'Ishita, too much oil,' 'Ishita, I prefer protein shakes.' Ab yeh sab kya hai?**" (Oh! Eating parathas, are we? You act so diet-conscious in front of me! Now what is all this?)

I gave him my best "scary fiancée" **glare**, the one that usually makes my models at the studio sit up straight.

Rudra didn't flinch. Instead, he looked me dead in the eye, and with the most **shameless**, slow deliberation, he took a bite of the paratha. Then, he leaned back and **winked** at me-a quick, wicked flash of those **ocean blue eyes** that made my heart do a traitorous backflip.

"Your mother's cooking is the only thing more tempting than you, Jaana," he rumbled, his voice low enough that only I could feel the heat in it. "And besides, I need the energy if I'm going to handle your 'low BP' tantrums."

"Ugh! Jiju, please!" **Kriti** suddenly chimed in, sliding into the chair right next to him. She started **caressing Kira's head**, looking at Rudra with total hero-worship. "**Don't take her seriously, okay? She's just grumpy because she didn't get to eat first. You look so cool eating desi food!**"

I gasped, looking at my own cousin. "Kriti! Whose side are you on?"

"The handsome side, duh!" she chirped, grinning at Rudra. "Jiju, tell me, is it true you have a private jet with a gold-plated bathroom? Because if so, I'm definitely coming over for summer break."

Rudra laughed-a real, hearty laugh that I rarely heard in public. He reached out and ruffled Purav's hair as the toddler crawled back to his feet.

"I don't know about gold-plated," Rudra teased, glancing at me while I stood there fuming playfully, "but I'll make sure there's plenty of space for my favorite Saali... as long as she helps me keep your sister in check."

"Deal!" Kriti squealed, shaking his hand like they were closing a business merger.

I slumped into the chair across from him, defeated by his charm. "**Mummy! Ek plate mere liye bhi!**" I shouted toward the kitchen. (Mummy! One plate for me too!)

I looked at Rudra, who was now feeding a small piece of crust to King. He looked so relaxed, so *mine*. The "Ice King" was nowhere to be found; there was just a man who loved my family as much as he loved me.

I leaned my head on my hand, watching the scene in front of me with a mix of disbelief and amusement. My teenage cousin was currently ignoring me entirely, her eyes sparkling as she leaned toward Rudra like he was a celebrity at a press conference.

"Jiju, seriously!" Kriti pouted, resting her chin on her palm. "I've been checking the family group chat every five minutes. **I want my photos from the engagement!** I looked so aesthetic in that lavender lehenga, but I haven't seen a single professional shot yet. Everyone is just posting you and Ishu Di!"

Rudra wiped his hands on a napkin, his expression turning into that of the 'indulgent big brother.' He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone-the sleek, latest model that cost more than Kriti's entire school tuition.

"You mean these?" he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

He swiped through his gallery and turned the screen toward her. I caught a glimpse-there was a stunning shot of Kriti laughing while throwing rose petals at us, and another of her posing like a diva with my brothers.

"OMG! Jiju!" Kriti squealed, grabbing his arm to pull the phone closer. "The lighting! The clarity! I look like a literal model! Why didn't Ishu Di send these to me?"

I rolled my eyes, taking a big bite of the paratha my mother had finally set in front of me. "Because 'Ishu Di' was busy getting engaged, you drama queen! And besides, those are Rudra's private edits. The photographer sent the high-res files to him first."

Rudra looked at me, a **shameless** smirk playing on his lips as he watched me eat. "Actually, I told the photographer to prioritize the shots of the 'Saali Sahiba.' I knew if she didn't get her Instagram content, I'd never hear the end of it."

"See!" Kriti pointed at me. "Jiju understands me! You're just mean, Di." She turned back to Rudra, her voice turning sweet and manipulative. "Jiju, can you AirDrop them to me? Right now? Please? I'll tell everyone you're the best person in the world."

"Only if you promise to keep your sister busy while I talk to your fufa ji for five more minutes," Rudra bargained, his **ocean blue eyes** flickering toward me with a secret heat that made my toes curl under the table.

"Done! I'll take her to her room and show her my new dance steps for the Sangeet. She'll be trapped for an hour!" Kriti chirped, already reaching for his phone.

I choked on my water. "Hey! I'm sitting right here! You can't trade me like a business commodity!"

Rudra leaned across the table, his hand momentarily covering mine, his thumb grazing my knuckles in a way that sent a familiar jolt of electricity through my system. "It's not a trade, Baby Doll. It's an investment in my peace of mind."

I leaned into my father's side, letting out a dramatic **whine** as I watched Rudra and Kriti basically forming a "let's tease Ishita" fan club right in my own dining room.

"**Papa, dekho na! Yeh dono mujhe chidha rahe hain!**" (Papa, look at them! These two are teasing me!) I complained, pouting my lips just like I used to when I was five.

My father laughed, his heart clearly full seeing the house so lively. He reached out and pulled me into a warm, protective **embrace**, kissing the top of my head. "**aree, meri laado ko mat chidhao bhai!**" (Hey, don't tease my princess!) he declared with mock sternness, glaring playfully at Rudra.

"**Fufa ji, main bhi toh hoon!**" (Fufa ji, I'm here too!) Kriti chirped, not wanting to be left out of the cuddle session. She squeezed in on the other side, and Papa laughed, pulling her into the hug as well.

Just then, my mother walked back from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She walked straight over to Rudra, who was watching us with a soft, lingering look in his **ocean blue eyes**. She stood beside him and **patted his shoulder** firmly.

"**Rudra ko bhi tum dono pareshan mat kara karo... yeh mera beta hai!**" (Don't you two trouble Rudra either... he is my son!) she announced, looking at me and Kriti with a warning tilt of her head.

My jaw dropped. I looked at my father, then at my mother, and finally at Rudra-who had the most **shameless**, victorious smirk on his face. He actually leaned into my mother's touch, looking like the cat that got the cream.

"**Dhoke-baaz mummy se shaadi kari hai aapne, Papa!**" (You've married a traitor mummy, Papa!) I cried out, making everyone burst into laughter. "Mere ghar mein hi meri koi value nahi rahi!" (I have no value left in my own house!)

**Bhabhi Riya** laughed loudly from the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Welcome to the club, Ishu! Since Rudra came in, even Purav has forgotten I exist!"

As if on cue, **Purav** started **clapping his tiny hands**, cheering as if he understood exactly how much I was being roasted.

Rudra leaned back in his chair, his **6'3" muscular frame** looking so comfortable among the mismatched chairs and floral curtains. He looked at me, his eyes dark with that secret, possessive love.

"Don't worry, Ishita," he rumbled, his voice a low velvet hum that made my heart skip. "If your family has traded you for me, you can always come to my house. I hear the owner there is quite fond of you."

"Fond?" Kriti snorted, finally getting her AirDropped photos. "He's literally obsessed. Di, you should see the way he looks at you when you aren't looking. It's like he's watching a movie he's seen a thousand times but still loves the ending."

I felt my cheeks burn a bright crimson. I grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it at her. "Kriti! Stop it!"

Rudra caught the cushion mid-air with one hand, his reflexes as sharp as ever. He tossed it back to me, his **wink** so quick and private it was like a lightning strike.

"She's not wrong, Baby Doll," he whispered, loud enough for only me to hear as the rest of the family went back to their loud chatter. "And I'm not sharing that 'movie' with anyone."

Rudra stood up, his towering **6'3" frame** instantly commanding the room again, but the coldness was completely gone. He looked around the small living room with a genuine smile, then his gaze settled on me, turning dark and focused.

"**Umm... one more thing,**" he said, adjusting his watch with that effortless royal grace. "**Be ready on Sunday. We are going for our pre-wedding shoot.**"

My jaw literally dropped. My **brown eyes** widened, and I felt a squeal of pure joy trapped in my throat. "**Really?!**" I gasped, clutching my hands to my chest. "**It's my dream, Ru! I already have a mood board of poses and locations!**"

Before I could say anything else, **Kriti** let out a loud, dramatic whistle. "**Ooohooo! Kya baat hai, Jiju! Shaadi se pehle hi ghoomna?**" (Wow, Jiju! Traveling even before the wedding?) She wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively. "**Means... half honeymoon, huh?**"

The heat that rushed to my face was enough to power the whole city. "**Kriti!**" I yelled, my face turning a deep shade of scarlet.

Without thinking, I bent down and **removed my sleeper**, raising it in the air like a lethal weapon. "**Aaj toh tu gayi!**" (You're dead today!)

"**Bachao! Jiju, dekho apni 'Cutie Pie' ka asli roop!**" (Save me! Jiju, look at your 'Cutie Pie's' real face!) Kriti screamed, ducking behind the sofa and then bolting toward the hallway.

I chased her for two steps, waving my slipper, while she ran away screaming and laughing. **Purav** started cheering, thinking it was a game, and **King and Kira** started barking and running in circles around us. The whole house was in an uproar of laughter.

I stopped near the door, breathless and blushing, still holding my slipper. I looked up to see Rudra leaning against the doorframe, watching me with a look of pure, **shameless** adoration. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore; he looked at me like I was his entire world.

"Half honeymoon, huh?" he murmured, stepping closer so only I could hear him above the chaos. He leaned down, his breath fanning my ear. "If that's what your cousin calls a photoshoot, I can't wait to see what she calls the *actual* honeymoon, Baby Doll."

I swatted his arm with my free hand. "Ru! Not you too!"

He chuckled, catching my hand and kissing my palm before stepping out. "Sunday, Ishi. Wear something that makes you feel like the Queen you are. I'll handle the rest."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The loud, dual-tone horn of my SUV echoed through the street, signaling my arrival. I leaned against the hood, crossing my arms over my **muscular chest**, waiting for my girl.

The door swung open, and Ishita stepped out looking like a literal dream even in her travel clothes. Her brother, **Ravi**, followed behind, lugging a heavy suitcase-no doubt filled with the dozen outfits she'd planned for this shoot. I straightened up and walked over, intercepting him.

"I've got it, Ravi," I said, taking the bag from him with one hand as if it weighed nothing. I tossed it into the trunk while Ishita went through her usual chaotic goodbye ritual-kissing **Purav**, hugging her Maa, and promising Papa she'd call the second we landed.

"Ready, Baby Doll?" I asked, opening the passenger door for her.

She hopped in, her **brown eyes** sparkling with a mix of nerves and excitement. "I'm ready! But Ru, you still haven't told me the location. Is it a heritage hotel? A beach?"

I just gave her a **shameless** smirk and pulled out into the traffic. "Patience, Jaana. All good things come to those who wait."

When we pulled onto the tarmac of the private terminal and she saw the **Rathore Industries private jet** fueled up and waiting, she gripped my arm. "Airport? Ru, where are we going?"

We walked up the gold-trimmed stairs and settled into the plush leather seats. As the engines began to hum, I leaned across the small table separating us and took her hand.

"**Switzerland,**" I murmured, watching her closely.

Her eyes widened until they were like saucers. "**Switzerland?!**" she shrieked, literally **jumping in her seat** with excitement. "Ru! The snow! The Alps! It's November-it's going to be a winter wonderland!"

I laughed, my **ocean blue eyes** softening as I watched her vibrate with pure, unadulterated joy. This was why I did it. To see that look on her face. To be the man who turned her "middle-class dreams" into a royal reality.

"I remember you mentioning once that you wanted to do a shoot in the snow, wearing a red saree like a Bollywood heroine," I said, my thumb grazing her knuckles. "So, I booked a chalet in Zermatt. The Matterhorn will be our backdrop."

"I love you! I love you! I love you!" she squealed, leaning over the table to pepper my face with kisses.

I caught her by the waist, pulling her onto my lap despite the flight attendant being just a few feet away. I didn't care. I was the Prince, and this was my kingdom.

"I know you do," I whispered into her **long curly hair**, breathing in her scent. "And in Switzerland, I'm going to make sure every photo looks like a fairytale. Because that's exactly what you've given me, Ishi."

As the jet took off, soaring into the clouds, I held her tight. The 'Ice King' was taking his Princess to theI was leaning back in the plush leather seat, enjoying the feeling of Ishita's head on my shoulder. She was busy with her phone, her **long curly hair** brushing against my neck as she recorded one of her "vlogs," whispering about how "sweet" her fiancé was. I just closed my eyes, a small, **shameless** smile on my lips, soaking in the peace.

Until the atmosphere shifted.

One of the flight attendants came over to serve the first course. I didn't think much of it at first. I'm used to people staring-it's the curse of being a Rathore. But this girl was... persistent. Every time I looked up, she was beaming at me with a smile that was definitely not in the company handbook.

I ignored it, focusing on Ishita. But Ishita, with her sharp **brown eyes**, had clearly noticed. She stayed quiet, but I could feel her body stiffen slightly against mine.

Then, it happened.

As the attendant lowered the tray of appetizers, she didn't just place it on the table. She lingered. Her fingers deliberately **brushed against my hand**, staying there for a second longer than necessary as she leaned in, completely ignoring Ishita.

"Is there anything *else* I can get for you, Sir?" she purred, her eyes locked onto mine.

I pulled my hand away instantly, my **ocean blue eyes** turning ice-cold. "That will be all," I said, my voice like a blade.

But the damage was done. I turned to look at Ishita, and I knew I was in trouble.

She wasn't leaning on my shoulder anymore. She was sitting bolt upright, her eyes wide with a look of pure, **dramatic "Dhoka" (betrayal)**. She looked at my hand, then at the attendant's retreating back, then at me.

"**Aapne dekha?**" she whispered, her voice dangerously calm. (Did you see that?)

"Ishi, I didn't do anything-"

"**Oho! 'Sir, anything else?'**" she mimicked in a high-pitched, mocking voice, throwing her hands up in the air. "**And she touched your hand! In front of me! Like I'm a piece of furniture sitting here!**"

"Jaana, she was just being unprofessional. I'll have her-"

"**Nahi, nahi!**" She cut me off, her **Kaleshi mood** (troublemaking mood) fully activated. She moved to the seat across from me, crossing her arms over her chest and giving me a look that could melt the Swiss Alps before we even arrived. "**Aap toh bade enjoy kar rahe the na? Prince of Rajasthan ko extra attention mil rahi hai!**" (You were enjoying it, right? The Prince is getting extra attention!)

"I wasn't enjoying anything," I groaned, trying to reach for her hand, but she swatted me away with a dramatic gasp.

"**Don't touch me with that hand! It's been contaminated!**" she declared, leaning back and pouting so hard her lower lip nearly touched her nose. "**Dhoke-baaz!** I'm going to Switzerland to do a shoot with a 'Cheater-Cheater Pumpkin Eater'!"

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. "A pumpkin eater? Really, Ishita? That's the best you've got?"

"**Hasso! Hasso aap!**" (Laugh! Go ahead and laugh!) she huffed, looking out the window. "Wait until we land. I'm going to do my solo photos and you can go do a 'Pre-Wedding' with the flight attendant!"

I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved to the edge of my seat, leaning into her space until she was trapped between the window and my **muscular frame**.

"Listen to me, you dramatic little queen," I rumbled, my voice dropping to that low, possessive tone she couldn't resist. "I don't see anyone in this cabin except you. I don't care if a thousand women touch my hand; it only belongs to the girl who called me a 'cutie-pie' yesterday. Now, stop being a Kaleshi and come back here."

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my **muscular chest**, and watched the show. Most men would be terrified of a fiancée in "Kaleshi" mode, but I was secretly enjoying it. Seeing my "Pink Princess" turn into a fierce **Jamnapari Delhi girl** was the highlight of the trip.

The flight attendant, clearly not realizing she had just walked into a lion's den, returned with a fresh towel on a silver tray. She aimed that same sugary, over-the-top smile at me. "Your warm towel, Mr. Rathore. I made sure it's just the right temperature for-"

"**Oye! Hello! Excuse me?**"

Ishita's voice cut through the cabin like a whip. She stood up, her **long curly hair** practically bouncing with her indignation. The flight attendant froze.

"**Aapko dikh nahi raha?**" Ishita started, her Delhi accent coming out in full force. "**Yahan unki mangetar baithi hai, aur aap aise chipak rahi hain jaise koi fevicol ka ad chal raha ho?**" (Can't you see? His fiancée is sitting here, and you're sticking to him like a Fevicol ad?)

The attendant stammered, "Ma'am, I was just-"

"**'Just' kya?**" Ishita stepped closer, her **5'3" frame** looking incredibly intimidating. "**Haath kyun touch kiya? Serving tray hai ya dating app? Agli baar haath badhaya na, toh Switzerland land hone se pehle aapka career land karwa dungi main! Mere wala hai yeh, samjhe?**" (Just what? Why did you touch his hand? Is this a serving tray or a dating app? If you reach out again, I'll land your career before we land in Switzerland! He's mine, understand?)

I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud. My **ocean blue eyes** were sparkling with pride. My girl was a firecracker.

The attendant turned pale, mumbled an apology, and practically ran toward the galley. Ishita huffed, plopping back into her seat, her chest heaving.

"**Dekha aapne?**" she turned her glare to me. "**Zyada hi handsome banne ka shauq hai na aapko? Yeh white shirt pehan ke 'Prince' banke baith gye ho, tabhi toh makkhian bhin-bhin-a rahi hain!**" (Did you see? You love acting so handsome, don't you? Sitting there like a Prince in your white shirt, that's why the flies are buzzing around you!)

"Makkhian?" I chuckled, leaning toward her. "Ishi, she's a professional-"

"**Professional my foot!**" she ranted, her words coming out at 100mph. "**Main Delhi ki ladki hoon, Ru! Humare yahan line maarne walo ko prasad milta hai, aur jo mere 'Cutie Pie' pe line maare, usko toh main seedha Switzerland ki baraf mein gaad dungi!**" (I'm a Delhi girl! Where I'm from, people who hit on others get 'blessings' [slaps], and anyone hitting on my Cutie Pie will be buried straight in the Swiss snow!)

I pulled her onto my lap, ignoring her mock struggles. "**Accha, toh main 'aapka' hoon?**" I whispered against her neck, my voice deep and teasing.

"**Haan! Mere ho! Registry ho chuki hai apki!**" (Yes! You're mine! Your registration is done!) she snapped, but her hands were already finding their way to my shoulders. "**But serious talk, Rudra... listen to me.**"

She pulled back, looking me dead in the eye, trying to be dead serious despite her flushed cheeks.

"**Insecurity nahi hai yeh... but look at you. You are 6'3", you look like a Greek God, you have blue eyes, and you own the plane. And then there's me... simple Ishita. Main nahi chahti koi bhi aake aapka haath pakad le... because... because yeh haath sirf mera hai! Waxing ke paise main bharti hoon ispe haq jatane ke liye!**" (It's not insecurity... but look at you... I don't want anyone grabbing your hand because this hand is only mine! I pay for the waxing [her own] to have rights on this!)

I roared with laughter, burying my face in her neck. "Waxing? Ishi, you are ridiculous."

"**Hasso mat! Serious baat hai!**" she whined, though she was smiling now.

"Okay, okay," I said, calming down and kissing her forehead. "I promise. From now on, I'll wear gloves. Or maybe I'll just carry a sign that says 'Property of a Jamnapari Delhi Girl. Touch at your own risk.'"

"**Better!**" she huffed, finally snuggling into my chest. "**Ab so jao. Mujhe snow mein sundar dikhna hai, Kalesh karke thak gayi hoon main.**" (Better! Now sleep. I need to look beautiful in the snow, I'm tired from all the drama.)