Ishita’s Perspective

The moon was high over the venue  and the courtyard had been transformed into a bohemian dream. Fairy lights were draped like falling stars from the ancient trees, and the air was thick with the heady, earthy scent of fresh henna and blooming night jasmine.

Venue

I was perched on a raised, cushioned throne, feeling like a living piece of art. For the **Mehendi**, I had chosen a vibrant emerald green crop top and a heavy, flared skirt that made me look both **hot and adorable**. My **long curly hair** was styled perfectly had been replaced by delicate kohlapuri-style gold pieces.

Her look

The mehendi artist was a master. She was currently hunched over my legs, her cone moving with lightning speed as she mapped out an intricate story in dark green paste. The design climbed from my feet all the way **up to my knees**, and my arms were already adorned with patterns that reached **above my elbows**. It was cold and heavy, but I didn't mind. I could already see 'Rudra' hidden in a flurry of lotus motifs on my right palm.

"Ishu bhabhi , look at you! You look like a goddess," **Reet** said, dancing past me with a glass of mocktail.

The venue was alive. My **Mumma and Dada** were sitting with my parents, watching the younger generation go wild on the dance floor. **Ahana, Drishti, and Shifa** were leading a group dance to a peppy Bollywood track, their lehengas twirling in a kaleidoscope of colors. Even little **Krish and Purav** were trying to copy the hook steps, making everyone roar with laughter.

I sat there, my heart thumping in time with the dhol, my legs and arms spread out carefully. I was itching to join them. I’m a dreamer, a model, a girl who lives for the rhythm—and sitting still while my favorite songs played was the ultimate torture.

"Just twenty more minutes, Ishita-ji," the artist promised, noticing my restless tapping foot. "It needs to dry a bit more or it will smudge."

"I'm going to dance until my feet ache the moment this is dry," I whispered to myself.

Suddenly, the crowd parted, and the temperature in the room seemed to shift. I didn't need to look up to know he was there. I could feel the **possessive** pull of his presence.

Rudra walked toward me, looking lethal in a black pathani suit that emphasized his **6'3" muscular frame**. He didn't look at the dancers or the decor; his **ocean blue eyes** were locked onto me, taking in my exposed waist and the intricate patterns marking my skin. He looked like he wanted to devour me right there in front of the 200 guests.

His look

He stopped in front of my throne, looming over me. "You look dangerous in that green, Jaana," he murmured, his voice a low, dark vibration. "And these patterns... they look like shackles. Beautiful, golden shackles."

"They aren't shackles, Ru. They're a map," I teased, looking up at him through my lashes. "A map for you to follow later."

He let out a sharp, **shameless** breath, his gaze dropping to the skin of my midriff where the henna stopped. I saw his jaw clench. He hated that he couldn't touch me right now because of the wet paste. He hated the distance.

"Is it dry yet?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Almost," I said, a mischievous spark in my **brown eyes**. "Why? Are you going to dance with me, Mr. Rathore?"

A dark smirk played on his lips. "I don't dance, Ishita. You know that. But for you... I might just stand in the middle of the floor and let you revolve around me. Because that’s what you do anyway, isn't it? You’re the sun, and I’m just the man caught in your gravity."

I felt a flutter in my stomach that had nothing to do with the music. The way he looked at me—with such raw, unfiltered **obsession**—made the emerald silk of my top feel too tight.

"Wait for me," I whispered. "Ten more minutes and I'm all yours."

Sitting on my floral throne with henna cooling on my skin, I felt like a queen in captivity. My arms and legs were heavy with the weight of the intricate patterns, but my heart was racing because of the man standing over me. Rudra didn’t care about the music or the guests; his focus was entirely on me.

He reached into a small gold bowl on the side table and pulled out a piece of premium dark chocolate. My breath hitched as he leaned down, his **6'3" frame** creating a private sanctuary for us.

"Open," he commanded softly.

As I parted my lips, he slid the chocolate inside. His fingers lingered—purposefully, I was sure of it—brushing against my lower lip. The rough pads of his fingertips against my sensitive skin sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I looked up into his **ocean blue eyes**, seeing a flash of dark, **shameless possessiveness**. I felt a deep blush creep up my neck, contrasting beautifully with my emerald green top.

"Is it sweet enough, Jaana?" he whispered, his thumb grazing my lip once more to catch a tiny smudge of chocolate.

Before I could answer, a loud whistle cut through the air. **Jay and Ahana** had hopped onto the grand stage, grabbing microphones.

"Alright, everyone! Clear the floor!" Jay shouted, grinning like a maniac. "This next performance is dedicated to the man of the hour—the one and only 'Kukkad' of the Rathore family, our Bhaiya!"

The dhol started a high-octane, funky beat, and the speakers exploded with the intro of *Kukkad*. I watched, delighted, as **Veer, Shiv, Jay, and Vardaan** took their positions. They looked so handsome and full of energy. But it was **Ahana** who stole the show. She stepped into the center, winking at me. She was clearly playing my role in their little skit.

The guys started singing and dancing with incredible energy:

*"Koi naa jaane kittho aaye hai tu*

*Sab de dilon vich ho gayi kukaduku..."*

They were pointing at Rudra, who was now leaning back with a rare, amused smirk. They danced around him, making fun of his "perfect" image.

*"Inna sona, inna cool*

*Munda inna wonderful*

*Ennu vekhe je kudiya toh kehndi*

*“Oh My God! Oh My God!…”*

The boys were doing the signature hook step, and even my **Mumma and Dada** were clapping along. Then came the part where they described his physique, and I couldn't help but giggle, looking at the "6-foot" muscular man sitting next to me.

*"Oh seena 6 biscut da*

*Oh munda 6 foot da*

*Oh dheere dheere karda dhamaal sa*

*Oh munda kukkad kamaal da..."*

The energy was infectious! Rudra’s brothers were jumping and spinning, their black Pathanis fluttering. Then the music shifted to a more rhythmic, western beat, and Ahana stepped forward, acting exactly like me when I’m being sassy. She pointed a finger at Rudra, her eyes sparkling:

*"Where’s he where’s he from from*

*Who’s that who’s that, guy*

*He something very special*

*I don’t know what i want*

*He really got me goin’*

*He makes me feel alright*

*Baby baby you can get lucky tonight..."*

She was doing a perfect imitation of my ramp walk, making everyone roar with laughter. She continued her rap, teasing him about how all the girls in London were looking at him.

*"I like the way he’s lookin’*

*The way he is movin’ now*

*I like the way they call him*

*Kukkad kamaal da!"*

As the song reached its climax, all the guys gathered around Rudra, trying to pull him onto the stage. The lyrics hit the final chorus:

*"Oh munda kukkad kamaal da*

*Oh munda kukkad kamaal da*

*Bando mein banda perfect bemisal saa*

*Kukkad kamaal da!"*

I was laughing so hard my stomach ached, my **brown eyes** bright with joy. I looked at Rudra, and for a second, the "Ice King" was completely gone. He was watching his siblings with so much love and pride.

He leaned back toward me as the final beat dropped. "They’re all idiots," he muttered, though the smile on his face said otherwise.

"They're *our* idiots, Ru," I whispered, leaning my head toward his shoulder, careful of my drying mehendi.

He looked at me, his gaze softening. "They got one thing right, though. I am *bemisal*... because I have you."

The energy in the garden shifted from masculine swagger to high-fashion glamour the moment the music transitioned. **Jay and Ahana** were back on the microphones, their faces beaming with mischief.

"Alright, that was for the King," Jay announced, gesturing to Rudra. "But now, it’s time for the girl who conquered London! To the one who has it all—the looks, the walk, and now, our Bhaiya’s heart!"

"Presenting... the ultimate showstopper performance by **Kriti, Aditi, and Shifa**!" Ahana cheered.

A massive LED screen behind the stage flickered to life. My breath hitched as I saw a montage of my own life flash before everyone's eyes. It was a stunning compilation of my **London Fashion Week** walk, my best makeup transformations, and candid shots of me posing with high-end brands. I looked so fierce, so professional, and so undeniably **number one**.

The beat dropped—a high-tempo, chic remix of *Gulabi Ankhein* mixed with a fashion-forward English rap. My girls stepped out, and they looked incredible, moving with a synchronized, sassy confidence that perfectly mirrored my modeling persona.

They started chanting with the beat:

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

Shifa stepped forward, pointing to the screen where I was seen holding a designer bag:

*"I've got it all,"*

*"Jimmy Choo & Manolo, Prada, Galliano,"*

*"Cant get nuff, I want more and more..."*

*"Louis Vuitton & the Stella"*

Then **Aditi and Kriti** joined in, their movements sharp and model-esque, perfectly capturing my "beginning model" turned "pro" vibe:

*"Mccartney, Donatella Versace,"*

*"I Use bag from GUCCI !!"*

Suddenly, the music flipped into the iconic Bollywood melody, and the girls began a seductive, graceful dance that had the whole crowd cheering. They looked at the guys—specifically Rudra—as they sang the lines that described exactly what I had done to the Ice King's heart:

*"Gulabi ankhein jo meri dekhi,"*

*"Diwana har dil hogya,"*

*"Sambhalo khud ko, zara becharo,"*

*"Ki jeena mushkil ho gya !!"*

The screen behind them played a slow-motion clip of me turning on the ramp, my **long curly hair** flowing and my **brown eyes** piercing the camera. It was powerful. It was me.

The girls circled the stage, their emerald and gold lehengas shimmering under the fairy lights:

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

Kriti took the lead for the next verse, her voice full of attitude as she celebrated my journey:

*"Mujhsi kahi, koi nahi,"*

*"Jo sab k khabo me hai, I'm the one !!"*

*"Duniya mere, piche chale,"*

*"Mai sabse age hu, I'm number one !!"*

The crowd went wild as the screen showed me backstage in London, laughing and being the center of attention. The girls then went into the final high-energy chorus, repeating the brand names like a glamorous mantra:

*"I've got it all,"*

*"Jimmy Choo & Manolo, Prada, Galliano,"*

*"Cant get nuff, I want more and more..."*

*"Louis Vuitton & the Stella"*

*"Mccartney, Donatella Versace,"*

*"I Use bag from GUCCI !!"*

They finished with a flourish, all three pointing directly at me as I sat on my throne:

*"Gulabi ankhein jo meri dekhi,"*

*"Diwana har dil hogya,"*

*"Sambhalo khud ko, zara becharo,"*

*"Ki jeena mushkil ho gya !!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

*"The girl's got everything!"*

As the music faded, I felt a lump of joy in my throat. I looked at the screen, seeing my dreams realized, and then I looked at Rudra. He was staring at the screen, and then his gaze shifted to me. His **ocean blue eyes** weren't just proud; they were burning with a dark, intense **obsession**.

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as the applause thundered around us.

The glamour of the fashion montage was still vibrating in the air when the beat shifted to a heavy, folk-fusion rhythm. The dhol players picked up a sharp, syncopated pace, and **Akshat** leaped onto the stage with a playful roar, followed by a glowing **Drishti**.

Drishti looked like a vision in her flared lehenga, and Akshat, with his endless energy, was the perfect partner. This was the "Devar-Devrani" bond everyone loved, and they were performing specifically for us. Akshat pointed a playful finger at me, then at Rudra, as he started the first verse with a dramatic flourish:

*"Tujhe laage na nazariya*

*Kyun na odhe tu chunariya*

*O tujhe laage na nazariya*

*Odh le chunariya..."*

He danced around Drishti, acting like he was protecting her—and by extension, me—from the 'evil eye.' Then he turned to the crowd, his movements sharp and energetic as he sang the hook:

*"Tirchi nigahe mere dil pe giraaye re*

*Bijuriya bijuriya*

*Tirchi nigahe mere dil pe giraaye re*

*Bijuriya bijuriya"*

Drishti played along perfectly, her expressions full of bridal grace and a hint of sass. She twirled, her skirt fanning out like a blooming flower as Akshat continued to praise the "bride-to-be" and the women of the house:

*"Haaye tera sharmana tauba tera itraana*

*Jo bhi dekhe ho jaaye wo deewaana tera*

*Sone jaisa tan tera uff bhola pan tera*

*Mujhko bhi kar gaya deewaana tera"*

Rudra leaned closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine. I could see the ghost of a smile on his face as he watched his brother’s antics. Akshat was now doing a hilarious step, mimicking someone walking down a narrow street, looking at the "gujriya" (village belle):

*"O sun baanki re gujriya*

*Yahi bole hai dagariya*

*Lachak ke kamriya to chhalke gagariya*

*Ke looti re bazariya"*

The chorus hit again, and the whole family started clapping in rhythm. Akshat and Drishti were in perfect sync, their feet tapping the stage with precision.

*"Lachak ke kamriya to thirke bijuriya*

*Lachak ke gagariya to girke bijuriya*

*O re bijuriya o re bijuriya*

*Naino se maare chhori aisan bijuriya"*

Then, the music softened slightly as Drishti took the lead, her voice (and the playback) representing the bride’s confidence. She pulled her dupatta over her head, looking directly at me with a wink:

*"O mujhe laage na nazariya*

*Maine odh li chunriyan*

*Mera hi deewaana mere dil pe fida hai*

*Main banungi main dulhaniya"*

When she sang the line *"Main banungi main dulhaniya"* (I will become the bride), she pointed her henna-stained palm directly at me, and then at Rudra. The crowd erupted. Rudra’s hand found mine under the table, his fingers—still warm and strong—intertwining with my clean ones. He squeezed tight, his **ocean blue eyes** dark with a promise that made my heart skip.

Akshat and Drishti finished the song with a high-energy finale, their movements a blur of gold and green:

*"Tirchi nigahe mere dil pe giraaye re*

*Bijuriya bijuriya*

*Lachak ke kamriya to*

*Bachke dagariya to*

*O re bijuriya*

*Naino se maare chhori aisan bijuriya!"*

They ended in a classic pose, Akshat bowing to the "Queen" (me) and Drishti laughing as she threw rose petals toward us. My **brown eyes** were wet with happy tears. This was the family I was entering—one full of music, laughter, and so much heart.

Rudra leaned in, his voice a low vibration against my ear. "They call you *Bijuriya* (Lightning), Jaana. And they’re right. You’ve struck my life and changed everything."

I looked at him, my "Ice King," who was looking at me with more love than I ever thought possible. My mehendi was finally dry, the dark green paste cracking slightly, revealing the deep orange stain of his name on my skin.

The energy in the garden was already at a boiling point, but the moment **Jay and Ahana** stepped back onto the stage, the crowd went silent in anticipation.

"Okay, okay! We’ve seen the 'Kukkad' and the 'Global Model,' but now..." Jay grinned, pointing a finger at Rudra. "Let’s talk about how the mighty 'Ice King' actually fell. Because we all know, when Ishita Sharma entered the frame, our brother didn't just fall—he surrendered!"

"Presenting the story of the royal surrender by **Reet and Vardaan**!" Ahana shouted.

The music kicked in with a playful, cheeky beat. **Vardaan** jumped onto the center of the stage, adjustng his collar with a hilarious 'lover-boy' expression. He pointed directly at Rudra, who was watching with an amused, raised eyebrow.

Vardaan began, his energy infectious as he acted out the 'smitten' groom:

*"Jo bhida tere..eee~~~~*

*Jo bhida tere naino se tanka*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua"*

He mimicked looking through binoculars, searching for me, making everyone roar with laughter. He acted like he was standing under my window, looking up at me on my throne:

*"Tune sharma ke window se jhanka*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua*

*Aa~~ sun o ri gori, Mohabbat mein tohri*

*Na jaane kab June se December hua"*

Then Vardaan did a hilarious dramatic pause, pointing to the screen where a clip of me scolding Rudra during a meeting played:

*"Tune English mein~~~*

*"Tune English mein jab humko danta*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua*

*Pyar se maara gaalon pe chanta*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua!"*

Suddenly, **Reet** stepped forward, looking every bit the sassy diva. She swished her lehenga, her hand on her hip as she 'shut down' Vardaan’s advances, representing my "Delhi girl" fire:

*"Hey look yeh mera awesome*

*Adayein beautiful hai..*

*Jaanti hoon main tujhe*

*Tu kitna bloody fool hai, oye!"*

She danced with a sharp, model-like grace, her expressions perfect as she teased the idea of marriage:

*"Are shadiyon ka season Na April Fool hai*

*"Kaise hum ye kehde Ki ha ji ha qubul he*

*Innocency se face maine dhanka*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua..."*

She turned to me and winked, then sang the hook back at the boys:

*"Jo bhida mere…ee~~~*

*Jo bhida mere naino se tanka*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua*

*Surrender hua…"*

Vardaan didn't give up. He fell to his knees in a mock proposal, offering a single marigold he snatched from the decor, making my **Mumma and Dada** laugh so hard they had to hold onto each other.

*"Are bhagyewan maan bhi ja*

*Ladna befizool hai*

*Are Taj Mahal banwana*

*Shah Jahan ki bhul hai*

*Uske pas paisa Apne haath me to phool he!"*

He then acted out a scene where he was staring at his phone, crying because "Ishita" had blocked him:

*"Tune gusse mein.ee~~.*

*Tune gusse mein phone mera kaata*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua*

*Jo bhida mere… aye mister*

*Jo bhida mere naino se tanka*

*Toh aashiq surrender hua!"*

The song ended with Vardaan and Reet back-to-back, Vardaan holding his hands up in a "surrender" pose while Reet looked victoriously at the crowd.

I was leaning against Rudra now, my body shaking with laughter. My **brown eyes** were watering, and I looked up at him to see his reaction. The "cold" prince was actually chuckling, his **ocean blue eyes** crinkling at the corners.

"They have a lot of free time," he murmured, but his hand squeezed my waist firmly.

"Admit it, Ru," I whispered, my voice thick with happiness. "You did surrender. The moment we met at the Mandir, you were a goner."

He didn't argue. He leaned down, his nose brushing against mine, oblivious to the family cheering around us. "I didn't just surrender, Ishita. I gave up my world to be in yours. And looking at you tonight... I'd do it a thousand times

The atmosphere under the canopy of fairy lights shifted from playful teasing to heartwarming love. **Jay and Ahana** stepped onto the stage once more, but this time their voices were softer, filled with genuine affection.

"The Rathore brothers have said their piece," Jay announced. "But now, it’s time for the men who have protected our bride since she was a little girl. Presenting... **Ravi, Vaibhav, and Ayush**!"

My heart swelled as my three brothers walked onto the stage. They looked so handsome in their traditional kurtas, their faces beaming with a mix of joy and the sadness of knowing I’d be leaving home soon. As the iconic beat of *Maahi Ve* began, they started dancing with a grace that only brothers have for their sister.

*"Tere maathe jhumar damke*

*Tere kaanon baali chamke hai re (maahi ve)*

*Tere haathon kangna khanke*

*Tere pairon paayal chhanke hai re (maahi ve)..."*

They pointed at me, celebrating every bit of my bridal look. Ayush did a little spin, Vaibhav winked, and Ravi, the eldest, led the choreography with so much pride.

*"Nainon se bole, rabba-rabba*

*Mann mein dole, rabba-rabba*

*Amrit ghole, rabba-rabba, tu soniye..."*

Then, the music swelled, and the whole family joined in for the chorus. **"Jind maahi ve!"** echoed through the palace gardens. My brothers continued, describing me with so much love that I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world.

*"O, teri aankhen kaali-kaali*

*Tera gora-gora mukhda hai re (maahi ve)*

*O, teri rangat jaise sona*

*Tu chaand ka jaise tukda hai re..."*

Suddenly, the stage cleared slightly, and **Riva Bhabhi** stepped forward, holding little **Purav's** hand. They looked so sweet together. Bhabhi’s voice was gentle as she sang the melodic bridge, her eyes reflecting the starlight.

*"Barse rangini, kaliyaan hain meheki bheeni-bheeni*

*Baje mann mein halke-halke shehnaai re..."*

Purav did a cute little dance around her, and I felt a tear prick my eye. But the moment that truly broke me was when the music slowed down, and **Mummy** and **Mumma (Mami)** walked to the center of the floor. They held each other’s hands, looking directly at me with eyes full of tears and a lifetime of memories.

*"Chanda, mere chanda, tujhe kaise main yeh samjhaaoon*

*Mujhe lagti hai tu kitni pyaari re...*

*O, khushiyaan jitni hain, sab dhoondh-dhoond ke laaon*

*Teri doli ke sang kar doon saari re."*

As they sang about sending my *doli* (palanquin) away with all the happiness in the world, a sob escaped my throat. I looked at my two mothers—the one who gave me life and the one who raised me—and I felt the weight of their love. I wasn't just a model or a princess to them; I was their little "Chanda."

I felt a warm, heavy hand cover mine. **Rudra** had moved closer, his **6'3" frame** a steady anchor. He didn't say anything, but he used his thumb to gently wipe a tear from my cheek, his **ocean blue eyes** softening with a rare, deep empathy.

The boys jumped back in to lift the mood, their energy bringing the "sassy" Ishita back to life:

*"Hey, tu jo aayi sajke, mehndi rachke*

*Chal bachke, o soniye*

*Dil kitno ka khaaye dhajke, o soniye!"*

They finished the song in a grand finale, circling around my throne, their voices joined by everyone in the garden. **"Jind maahi ve! Soni, soni, aaja maahi ve!"** As the last note played, my brothers rushed off the stage and pulled me into a massive group hug, being careful of my mehendi. I was crying and laughing at the same time.

Rudra stood up, towering over us, and Ravi looked at him, placing my hand—the one with the dark orange henna—into Rudra’s.

"She’s our life, Rudra," Ravi said, his voice thick.

Rudra looked at my brothers, then down at me, his gaze intense and **possessive**. "She’s my world now," he replied shortly, but the sincerity in his voice made everyone go quiet. "I’ll take it from here."

The emotional tears from my brothers' performance were still drying on my cheeks when **Kriti** skipped onto the stage, her bangles clinking as she grabbed the mic with a mischievous grin.

"Okay, okay! Enough crying!" she laughed. "We’ve seen the love, but let’s talk about the *hunt*. Because finding the perfect match for the world’s most 'Cold-Hearted Prince' wasn't easy. But hey, we found her!"

The upbeat, quirky trumpets of *Mere Brother Ki Dulhan* kicked in, and the crowd immediately started whistling. **Jay and Ahana** leaped onto the dance floor, and the energy shifted to pure, unadulterated fun. Jay was pointing at Rudra with every beat, acting like he was searching through a telescope.

*"Mere brother ki dulhan, brother ki dulhan, brother ki dulhan..."*

Jay danced with a hilarious intensity, mimicking a guy looking through matrimonial ads. He looked at me, then back at the "Ice King," singing with a wink:

*"Sundar ho aur sushila, rang chaandi sa chamkila*

*Degree bhi ho fashion bhi jaane soniye*

*Ho seeta jaise naari aur jaane duniya daari*

*Piya ko sab kuch hi woh maane..."*

When the chorus hit, the lyrics felt like they were written exactly for me. I felt Rudra’s hand tighten on my waist as they sang the line about my two worlds:

*"Dil se dilli ho woh dhadkan se ho London*

*Dhundu main dhundu, mere brother ki dulhan..."*

The screen behind them flickered with clips of my London ramp walk, transitioning into me sitting at the Shiv Mandir. **Ahana** took the lead for the next verse, dancing around Jay, acting out the "perfect" modern-yet-traditional bride:

*"Mohabbat ki ho woh google jo dede har question ka hal*

*Nazar ke ek hi click se soniye...*

*Model ho world best par mitti ho Indian*

*Dhundu mein dhundu, mere brother ki dulhan!"*

The crowd roared at the "Model world-best" part. I laughed, leaning my head against Rudra’s shoulder. He looked down at me, his **ocean blue eyes** dancing with a rare, playful light. He seemed to be enjoying the fact that his siblings were publicly admitting that he had found a "number one" match.

Jay continued the high-energy rap, teasing about how I wasn't lazy and had that "3G speed" (or in my case, 5G!) and the perfect attitude:

*"Kaam mein jo na ho lazy ho jis mein 3g ki tezzi*

*Aur ho chok si adaa soniye...*

*Relation samjhe jo ladki, rahe na ego mein badki*

*Jo laaye gud luck hi gud luck sadaa!"*

The finale was a chaotic explosion of color. All the siblings joined Jay and Ahana on stage, pointing at me and then at Rudra, chanting in unison:

*"Mere brother ki dulhan hogi number one mere brother ki dulhan!"*

*"Mere brother ki dulhan ban ja tu ban ja mere brother ki dulhan!"*

As the music ended, Jay ran off the stage and did a dramatic "salaam" to Rudra. "Bhaiya, mission accomplished! We found the best one in the world!"

Rudra stood up, pulling me up with him as my mehendi was finally set. He looked at Jay, then at the entire cheering family.

"You're right for once, Jay," Rudra said, his voice deep and carrying across the garden. "She is number one. And luckily for you all, she's officially a Rathore from tomorrow."

He turned to me, his **6'3" frame** blocking out the rest of the world. He lifted my henna-stained hand and kissed the tip of my finger—the only part without paste—making me shiver.

"The celebrations are over, Jaana," he whispered. "The next time we are under a canopy, it will be the Mandap. Are you ready to be mine forever?"

"I’ve been yours since the stairs, Ru," I whispered back.