[ Important note guys Rudra's Perspective image is not uploading i am sorry I try alot but it's not helping so i made another one ]

Ishita's Perspective

The afternoon sun filtered through the large glass windows of my makeup studio, casting a soft, natural glow over the rows of high-end palettes and brushes. This was my sanctuary, the place where I had built my dreams-and today, I was my own most important client.

I sat in the central swivel chair, staring at my reflection. I had decided long ago that no one else would touch my face on my wedding day. My hands were steady, despite the storm of emotions in my chest. I was currently wearing just my **intricately embroidered red blouse**, the heavy silk feeling cool against my skin. The massive, flared lehenga was hanging on a mannequin behind me, waiting for its turn.

"Ishu bhabhi , the base is looking flawless," Reet whispered, leaning in to look at the mirror. "You've literally given yourself that 'Glow from Within' look."

I smiled, blending the contour along my jawline. My assistant was busy behind me, meticulously working on my **long curly hair**, taming the wild coils into a sophisticated, voluminous royal bun that would eventually support the heavy weight of my dupatta.

Around me, the studio was a hive of controlled chaos. It was a beautiful sight-my two worlds colliding. My assistants were working on **Mummy and Riva Bhabhi**, who were laughing and sharing stories. In the chairs next to them sat my new family: **my Mother-in-law (Maa), Chachi-in-law, and my sisters-in-law, Drishti, Reet, and Ahana.**

Seeing them all here, getting ready under my roof, in my professional space, brought a lump to my throat. Maa looked at me through the mirror, her eyes misting over. "Ishita, beta, you look like a dream already. Rudra isn't going to be able to breathe when he sees you."

"If he can breathe now, he's doing better than me, Maa," I joked, though my heart was hammering.

I picked up a gold-toned highlighter, my **chooda-clad wrists** clinking softly. The red bangles were still covered in silk, but their presence was heavy and real. I looked at *Dhristi and Reet**, who were being transformed into the perfect royal bridesmaids. They were teasing me about how "Bhaiya" had probably checked his watch fifty times in the last hour.

I could almost see him. Rudra, in his ivory sherwani, his **6'3" frame** pacing the marble floors of the Rathore mansion, his **ocean blue eyes** cold to everyone but burning with impatience for me.

As I applied a soft, smoky rose shadow to my eyes, I felt a sharp twinge in my feet. I winced. The "madness" from last night was paying me back in full. My soles were throbbing, a dull ache that reminded me of every jump and spin I'd shared with Jay.

*You can do this, Ishita,* I told myself. *Focus on the makeup. Focus on the man.*

I looked at the group of women around me-the women who had raised me and the women who were about to become my forever. There was so much love in this room. My **brown eyes** reflected in the mirror looked different today-older, surer, filled with the light of a woman who was finally walking toward the person she was meant to be with.

"Mam hair is done. Time for the jewelry?" my assistant asked.

I nodded, my breath hitching. The transformation was almost complete. Soon, the model" and the "middle-class dreamer" would be draped in the jewels of the Rathore legacy.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The atmosphere in my suite was heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and the underlying tension of my own anticipation. I stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, my **6'3" frame** draped in a hand-woven ivory sherwani that felt like armor.

"Bhaiya, stop moving. You're making this harder than it needs to be," Ahana muttered, her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on the final folds of my royal turban. Her hands were steady, but I could see her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

I looked at my reflection-the cold, heartless prince the world feared. My **ocean blue eyes** were sharp, but there was a flicker of something new in them. Restlessness.

"Five years ago, you told me you'd rather run a marathon in a desert than wear this turban, Bhaiya," Akshat teased, his voice unusually soft. He and Vardaan were busy adjusting the heavy, emerald-encrusted brooch on my chest. "Look at you now. The man who said he didn't believe in God or love is about to go fetch a girl from a temple."

"People change, Akshat," I said, my voice a low, **possessive** rumble. "And she didn't just change me. She dismantled me."

Vardaan stepped back, looking at me with genuine pride. "The whole of outside the gates, Rudra bhai . The press, the elite, the family... they're all waiting to see the King take his Queen. But more than that, they're happy. We're all happy. We thought we'd lost you to your business empire forever."

I felt a slight tighten in my chest-an unfamiliar sensation. Emotional. I wasn't used to it. I was the man who made billion-dollar deals without a second thought, yet as my brothers and sister fussed over my attire, I felt a weight far heavier than the **ancestral sword** I was about to carry.

"Done," Ahana whispered, tucking the final piece of the turban. She stood back, her lower lip trembling. "You look... magnificent, Bhaiya. Ishita is going to faint when she sees you."

"She'd better not," I remarked, a ghost of a smirk playing on my lips. "Her feet are already hurting from last night. I don't need her losing consciousness too."

I picked up the heavy gold sword, the metal cold and solid in my grip. I thought of Ishita at her studio-**brown-skinned**, glowing, her **long curly hair** being pinned up as she painted her own face. I knew she was nervous. I could feel it across the distance between us.

I checked my watch. The time for the *Barat* to move was approaching.

"Let's go," I commanded, the **ruthless businessman** returning to the surface to mask the storm of love inside. "I've kept her waiting for a lifetime. I'm not losing another second."

As I walked out of the suite, the sound of the dhol outside reached a crescendo. The palace was alive with joy, celebrating the marriage of the man who swore it would never happen. I didn't care about the spectacle, though. I only cared about the girl in the red blouse, waiting for me to finish her story.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The heavy weight of my bridal transformation was finally complete. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my studio, and for a moment, I didn't recognize the woman looking back. The **model** was gone; in her place was a Rajasthani Queen.

My **red lehenga** was so heavy with gold zardosi work that it felt like I was wearing a suit of armor made of jewels. The **big traditional Nath** pulled slightly at my nose, giving my face a regal, sharp look that contrasted with my **brown eyes** and soft, **brown skin**. I had draped the second dupatta over my head, pinned firmly into the sophisticated bun my assistant had created. My **long curly hair** was tucked away, but a few rebellious wisps framed my face.

I looked down at my feet. I had forced them into my high heels, and every nerve ending was screaming.

"Ishu, the car is ready," Riva Bhabhi whispered, looking at me with awe. "We need to get you to the bridal suite at the venue before the Barat arrives."

The drive to the venue was a blur of nerves. I sat stiffly in the back of the floral-decorated car, my **chooda-clad arms** resting on my lap. The **Kaleere** clinked against the silk of my lehenga with every turn. I felt like a ticking time bomb of emotions-happy, terrified, and so deeply in love.

My phone buzzed in my lap. I picked it up carefully, my fingers trembling. It was a message from **Reet**.

> **Reet:** *Ishu! The Tika rasam is happening right now at the Mansion! All the elders are gathered around Bhaiya. He looks... oh my god, he looks like a literal God. But he also looks like he's ready to kill someone if the Barat doesn't move in the next five minutes. He's so impatient!*

I let out a shaky breath, a small smile playing on my lips. I could picture him. Rudra, standing in the middle of his grand hall, his **6'3" muscular frame** towering over everyone as the elders applied the vermillion tilak to his forehead. I could imagine his **ocean blue eyes** darting toward the door, his jaw clenched with that **ruthless** impatience I knew so well.

As we pulled into the venue's back entrance to avoid the early guests, I was ushered into the grand bridal suite. It was a room fit for royalty, filled with roses and mirrors.

"Just a few more hours," I whispered to my reflection, clutching my heavy dupatta.

My feet were throbbing, the heels feeling like torture devices, but as I looked at the engagement ring on my finger, the pain faded into the background. Rudra was coming. The man who didn't believe in God was currently partaking in every ritual just to get to me.

"Is the Barat close?" I asked Kriti, my voice barely a whisper.

"They're just starting the procession, Didi," she said, looking out the window. "

Her lehenga [ imagine her lehenga have there love story detail ]

Her whole look

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The grand courtyard of the Rathore mansion was a sea of gold and saffron. I stood at the center, my **6'3" frame** held rigid as the elders gathered for the *Tika* ceremony. My **Maa** approached me, her hands trembling as she applied the vermillion to my forehead. I saw a tear escape her eye-a rare sight for the matriarch of our family.

"My son," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I never thought I'd see this day. You've finally found your heart."

I didn't answer; I simply lowered my head in respect. But **Bebe** was a different story. She was already in full wedding mode, dancing to the beat of the distant dhol, circling my head with currency notes to ward off the evil eye.

"Look at my grandson!" she shouted over the music. "The Lion of Rajasthan is finally going to be tamed by a Delhi girl! May the gods protect you both!"

Then came my brothers. Akshat and Vardaan stepped forward, flanking me like a royal guard. Despite my **muscular build** and the fact that I could probably lift the horse myself, they insisted on "helping" me mount the white stallion.

"Easy there, Maharaj," Jay teased, gripping the stirrup. "Don't break the horse before you reach the venue."

"I don't need help, Jay," I growled, though I allowed them their moment. As I settled onto the saddle, the weight of the **ancestral sword** resting against my thigh, the music exploded.

**Ahana** leaped to the front, her face glowing with pure mischief. She caught Akshat and Vardaan's hands, and they began the song that had been the anthem of our household since the wedding was announced.

*"Chhote chhote bhaiyon ke bade bhaiya...*

*Aaj banenge kisike saiyaan!"*

They danced with an energy that vibrated through the ground. Jay was whistling, spinning around the horse, pointing at me as he sang the lines about our future:

*"Bhabhi ke sang Holi mein rang gulaal udayenge...*

*Aayegi jab jab Diwali milkar deep jalayenge!"*

I sat tall on the horse, my **ocean blue eyes** hidden behind the shimmering veil of the *Sehra*. I watched them-my siblings, the people I had protected my whole life-and for the first time, I felt the "cold-hearted" walls around my chest truly crumble.

*"Jhilmil ho gayi hai ankhiyaan, yaad aayi bachpan ki ghadiyaan...*

*Naye safar mein lag jayegi, pyaar ki inko hathkadiyaan!"*

"Hathkadiyaan (Handcuffs), huh?" Akshat shouted, laughing as he looked up at me. "The Ice King is finally getting arrested by love!"

"Shut up and move the Barat, Akshat," I commanded, though the **ruthless** edge in my voice was softened by a smirk.

The song reached its crescendo as they sang the final comparison:

*"Jachte hai dekho kaise bade bhaiya...*

*Ramji bihane chale Sita Maiya!"*

"Bhaiya, look at the gates!" Ahana cried out, pointing toward the road. "The whole city is waiting to see the King go get his Queen!"

The dhol players struck a thunderous rhythm. The horses neighed, the elephants trumpeted, and the Barat began its slow, majestic crawl toward Ishita. I gripped the reins tight, my heart thundering in sync with the drums.

I wasn't thinking about the tradition or the spectacle. I was thinking about the girl in the bridal suite, her **brown eyes** probably watching the road, her **chooda** clinking as she waited for me.

"Move faster," I muttered to the lead guards. "I've waited five years for this. I'm not waiting another minute."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I was pacing restlessly in the bridal suite, my **red lehenga** rustling against the marble floor. Every minute felt like an eternity. Suddenly, the distant sound of the dhol shifted. A familiar, soul-stirring melody began to rise above the cheers.

*Raanjhana...*

My breath hitched. I gasped, pressing my **henna-stained hand** to my chest. Five years ago, during that same Holi shoot, I had told him casually, *"Rudra, I love this song so much. One day, I want my partner to dance to this for me."* At that time, he had just looked at me with those cold, unreadable eyes.

I didn't care about the rules anymore. I ignored the throbbing pain in my feet and ran toward the balcony. I stayed hidden behind the heavy velvet curtains, peeking through a small gap. My **brown eyes** widened as I saw the grand procession entering the main driveway.

👑 Rudra's Perspective:

As we reached the venue, the atmosphere was electric. As per tradition, I had shifted from the horse to a majestic gold-plated *Bhaggi*. But the businessman in me was gone; only the lover remained. I signaled the DJ. The music I had personally curated started to blast through the speakers.

I stood up on the *Bhaggi*, my **6'3" muscular frame** draped in royal ivory. I knew she was there. I could feel her gaze from the balcony. I looked up toward the curtains, my **ocean blue eyes** burning with a promise.

*"Oh, aaja-aaja dil ke gaon, raahein dekhe koi...*

*Jaagegi phir qismat sohne, thi ab tak jo soyi."*

I stepped down from the vehicle, my **ancestral sword** held firmly in one hand. To the shock of the elite guests and the delight of the Sharma family waiting at the entrance, I started to move. It wasn't a rehearsed dance; it was a rhythmic, powerful expression of my soul.

*"Hua chaaron ore shehnaai shor, tu meri ore chal nikla*

*Chadhi prem-lor, oh, dil ke chor, kar meri bhor, ab mukh dikhla!"*

I pointed the hilt of my sword toward her balcony, my movements full of **ruthless grace**. I was telling her that the "Ice King" had finally found his dawn.

*"Raanjhana hua main tera, kaun tere bin mera?*

*Raunakein tumhi se meri, kaun tere bin mera?*

*Tera hai chaar-chuphera, kaun tere bin mera? Ho, kaun tere bin mera?"*

The crowd went wild. My brothers, Jay, Akshat, and Vardaan, joined me, circling around as I led the dance. But I wasn't looking at them. I was dancing for the girl hidden behind the curtain.

*"Tan thirke-thirke, mann behke-behke, tera keh ke, keh ke khud ko*

*Mere dil ki baat jaane qayenaat, tere dil ki khabar bas mujhko..."*

I twirled, the gold embroidery of my sherwani shimmering. I was claiming her. I was telling the world that while I rule Rajasthan, she rules me.

*"Aa na, baatein pyaar ki laa na, aa na, thoda pyaar jata na*

*Raanjhana hua main tera..."*

I stopped right at the entrance where **Ravi, Vaibhav, and Ayush** were standing with the *Toran*. I looked up one last time at the balcony, a **shameless, possessive smirk** playing on my lips.

*"Rang bikhra-bikhra, sab nikhra-nikhra, jaayein jidhar-jidhar ye naina*

*Mujhe khud pe naaz, hua pagla aaj, raha apne hi bas hoon main na!"*

The lyrics were true-I wasn't in my own control anymore. I was hers.

Venue

💖 Ishita's Perspective

Behind the curtain, I was sobbing and laughing at the same time. I watched him-this powerful, "heartless" man-dancing in front of hundreds of people just because I had mentioned it once five years ago.

*"Hua chaaron ore shehnaai shor, tu meri ore chal nikla...*

*Kar meri bhor, ab mukh dikhla."*

He looked up, and even through the veil of the *Sehra*, I felt his eyes lock onto mine. He was asking me to show my face, to end his wait. My **chooda** clinked as I gripped the curtain tight.

*He remembered, Radha Rani. He remembered everything.*

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The music died down, but the energy was at a fever pitch as Rudra stepped off the *Bhaggi* and walked toward the grand arched entrance. Standing there, like a beautiful but formidable wall, were Ishita's sisters and friends-**Kriti, Sannvi, Shifa, and Aditi.**

In the middle of them stood **Kriti**, holding a decorated tray, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Behind them, **Ravi and Vaibhav** stood with crossed arms, grinning at the "Ice King" who was now effectively trapped at their doorstep.

"Not so fast, Jiju!" Kriti announced, blocking the *Toran*. "The gates of the Sharma household don't open for free. Especially not for a billionaire Prince."

I stood there, my **6'3" frame** casting a long shadow over the group. My **ocean blue eyes** scanned the 'enemy lines' with the same intensity I used in a hostile takeover. I was impatient. I could hear Ishita's heart beating through the walls of the palace-or maybe that was just my own.

"Negotiations, then?" I asked, my voice a low, **possessive** rumble.

**Akshat** stepped forward, adjusting his shades. "Alright, ladies! Let's be reasonable. We're the Rathores. We have a schedule. How about a round of applause and some high-end chocolates?"

"Chocolates?" **Sannvi** laughed, shaking her head. "We want something that matches the status of a Top 5 Businessman. Otherwise, the Prince can wait outside in the heat."

**Vardaan and Jay** jumped in. "Listen, we can offer a lifetime supply of designer bags!" Jay haggled, trying to physically nudge his way through. "Move aside, let our Bhaiya in!"

"No way!" **Shifa** countered. "We want a 'sweet' price for our sweet sister."

I watched my brothers fail at diplomacy for exactly sixty seconds. Then, I stepped forward. The sisters went quiet, intimidated by the sheer aura I projected. I reached into the inner pocket of my ivory sherwani and pulled out a thick, heavy gold-embossed envelope.

"In business," I began, my voice **cold and smooth**, "we don't waste time on small talk. We go straight for the 'Closing Deal'."

I handed the envelope to Kriti. She opened it, and her jaw dropped. It wasn't just cash; it was a set of blank, signed checks along with five first-class tickets to Paris for a "Bridesmaids' Trip."

"This is for the 'opening' of the door," I said, leaning in slightly. "But there's a condition. You have ten seconds to move, or I'll consider this a breach of contract and simply pick up the bride and leave through the back door."

"Ten," I started.

"Wait, Jiju! This is-" **Kriti** stammered, looking at the tickets.

"Nine. Eight."

"Move, move!" **Aditi** giggled, pulling the others aside. "He's serious! He's the Ice King for a reason!"

I didn't wait for 'one.' I walked through the entrance, my **ancestral sword** clinking against my side. I gave a sharp nod to **Ravi and Vaibhav** as I passed.

"Well played, Rudra," Ravi whispered, patting my shoulder. "You really do know how to get what you want."

"I always do," I replied, my eyes fixed on the grand staircase where I knew she would soon appear. "And right now, I want my wife."

After the intense "negotiations" at the door, I felt the cool air of the venue hit my face. Ishita's **Mummy** stepped forward, her eyes brimming with maternal love and pride. She performed the *Aarti*, the flame of the lamp reflecting in my **ocean blue eyes**, and applied the *Tika* to my forehead with a blessing that felt more powerful than any business contract I had ever signed.

I walked toward the grand stage, my **6'3" muscular frame** moving with a calculated, royal gait. I sat on the carved gold throne, the **ancestral sword** resting across my lap. I was the center of attention for hundreds of guests, but I felt like I was in a vacuum, my gaze fixed on the empty corridor where she would soon appear.

Then, the music changed. It was a traditional, soulful folk melody. To my surprise, **Mummy and Riva Bhabhi** took to the floor. They began a graceful, traditional dance, welcoming me not just as a groom, but as the "Ram" to their "Sita."

*"Mithila ka kan kan khila*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila"*

The lyrics echoed through the hall, comparing the joy of the household to the ancient kingdom of Mithila finding its royal son-in-law.

*"Mithila ka kan kan khila*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila*

*Mithila ka kan kan khila*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila"*

I sat perfectly still, my jaw clenched in an effort to maintain my "Ice King" composure. They sang of a bond that was destined, a union of two souls that would be as inseparable as a flower and a bee.

*"Janak suti sang tum rahiyo aise*

*Kanak kali par bhavra ho jaise*

*Kanak kali par bhavra ho jaise*

*Ram Chandra chakori Siya*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila"*

As they danced, Mummy looked at me with such hope, her gestures telling me to keep her daughter-her "Sita"-hidden safely in my eyelids, protected from the world.

*"Kanak ataari Janak dulaari*

*Nirakh rahe hai tohe dhanudhaari*

*Nirakh rahe hai tohe dhanudhaari*

*Leke palkon mein tumko chhipa*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila"*

The song shifted to the responsibilities of this new life, a reminder that we were now the torchbearers of two families' honors.

*"Pati patni vrit dharm nibhana*

*Dono kulon ka maan badhana*

*Dono kulon ka maan badhana*

*Ab duniya ka hoga bhala*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila"*

The finale was a celebration of every corner of the house blooming because the "Son-in-Law King" had arrived.

*"Mithila ka kan kan khila*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila*

*Mithila ka kan kan khila*

*Jamai Raja Ram mila!"*

I felt a strange warmth spread through my chest. I wasn't a religious man, and I had never cared for ancient parables, but hearing them call me "Ram"-the ideal protector-made me realize the gravity of what I was about to do. I wasn't just marrying a girl; I was taking over the responsibility of a dreamer's soul.

I looked at the staircase. My heart hammered against my ribs, a rhythmic "Ishita, Ishita, Ishita."

*I am here, Jaana,* I thought, my **possessive** gaze darkening. *Your family has welcomed me. Now, come out and show me the face I've been dying to see all day.*

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I stood in the bridal suite, a silent goddess carved from the dreams of a middle-class girl and the legacy of a royal house. My **red lehenga** was so heavy with gold and history that it felt like it weighed more than I did. Every time I moved, the **kaleere** clinked-the golden trinkets were custom engraved with our most important dates: the day we met at the Mandir, and our "Ice King" and "London Dreamer" nicknames.

My makeup was bold-a sharp wing, deep red lips, and a glow that masked the fact that I had barely slept. I stepped into my high heels, a sharp gasp escaping my lips as my sore feet protested, but I didn't care. Today, I was walking toward my destiny.

As the doors of the hall opened, the world went quiet. My **Dada (Papa)** took my hand, his grip trembling with the realization that he was giving away his heart. We stepped into the light, and the hauntingly beautiful melody began to play.

*"Koi bandhani joda oodh ke*

*Babul ki gali aao chodh ke*

*Tere hi liye layungi piya*

*Sola saal ke savan jod ke"*

The lyrics echoed my journey-leaving the narrow lanes of my childhood to bring sixteen years of dreams to his doorstep. I walked slowly, each step a struggle against the weight of the silk and the pain in my feet, but my eyes were locked on the stage.

*"Pyar se thamna dor barik hai*

*Sath janmo ki ye pheli tarik hai..."*

There he was. Rudra. My **6'3" King** stood up from his throne the moment I appeared. His **ocean blue eyes** were burning through the distance, fixed solely on me. He looked lethal, magnificent, and utterly mine. I felt the "dor barik" (the thin thread) of our love pulling me toward him.

*"Door ka ek main sira aur tera hai dosra*

*Uske bich mein koi tadap hai na...*

*Jo mere manzilo ko jaati hai*

*Tere naam ki koi dhadkan hai na..."*

The song described us perfectly-two ends of a long, painful distance, connected by a yearning that had finally found its destination. I reached the bottom of the stairs, my **brown eyes** shimmering with tears that refused to fall and ruin my makeup.

Every beat of the dhol, every note of the flute, seemed to say his name. I watched his jaw clench, his **muscular frame** rigid as he watched me approach. To the world, he was the cold businessman; to me, he was the man who was holding his breath because his entire world was walking toward him in a red dress.

I reached the foot of the stage. My Papa placed my hand in Rudra's. The contrast was startling-my **brown-skinned**, henna-decorated hand resting in his large, fair, powerful grip.

"Take care of her, Rudra," Papa whispered.

Rudra didn't look at Papa. He didn't look at the crowd. He looked at me, his thumb grazing the edge of my **Chooda**.

"With my life," he growled, his voice a low vibration that only I could hear.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I stood on that stage, my **6'3" frame** towering over the world, but as she reached the top step, I felt small. I was the man who had everything, yet I had been a beggar for this very moment for five long years.

I looked at her, my **ocean blue eyes** sweeping over her with a **shameless, possessive intensity**. I took her in from head to toe. The deep red of her lehenga against her glowing **brown skin** was a sight that made my breath hitch in my throat. I looked at her **kaleeras**, catching the light-my heart hammered as I saw the dates we had shared, the nicknames, our story etched in gold hanging from her wrists. Every detail of her was a testament to "us."

I knew how I looked to her-the crown prince of her dreams. I was clean-shaven today, my features sharp and lethal, my **muscular build** filling out the ivory sherwani in a way that commanded the room. The turban made me feel like the King I was destined to be, but looking at her, I realized I was merely her servant.

As my father-in-law placed her hand in mine, I didn't let go. I pulled her a fraction of an inch closer, ignoring the gasps of the aunties and the clicking of a hundred cameras. The scent of her-jasmine, expensive makeup, and that intoxicating hint of her skin-hit me like a drug.

She looked up at me, her **brown eyes** wide and shimmering, her chest heaving under the weight of the heavy embroidery. I could see the slight wince in her expression; those damn heels and that heavy lehenga were punishing her for her "mad" dance last night.

I leaned down, my lips grazing the shell of her ear, hidden beneath the heavy gold of her jewelry. The guests thought I was whispering a prayer or a romantic vow. They were wrong.

"You look breathtaking, Jaana," I growled, my voice a dark, velvet vibration that only she could hear. "But I'm already counting the minutes until I can peel this heavy lehenga off you and see if you're wearing my name anywhere else on that beautiful body."

I felt her entire frame shiver against mine. A deep, delicious crimson flooded her cheeks, clashing beautifully with her bridal red. She gasped, her fingers digging into my bicep as she tried to maintain her composure.

"Rudra!" she breathed, her voice a tiny, shocked squeak. "Everyone is watching."

"Let them watch," I whispered, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, a **ruthless, predatory smirk** playing on my lips. "I want them to know that while you're their 'Goddess' today, tonight, you're just mine. And I'm going to make you pay for making me wait five years to see you in this red dress."

Her breath was coming in short, shallow hitches now. She was trapped between my gaze and the reality of the stage, her heart beating so hard I could feel it through the layers of silk. I wasn't going to let her escape the heat I was building between us. Not yet.

The priest started chanting for the garlands, but I didn't move. I stayed in her space, my **ocean blue eyes** tracing the curve of her **Nath** and the tremble of her lips. I wanted this moment to stretch until the stars went out. I wanted her to know that the "Ice King" wasn't just melting-he was burning for her.

"Bhaiya! The Varmala!" Akshat shouted from below, breaking the tension. "Stop flirting and get on with the wedding!"

I didn't break eye contact. I reached out, my thumb brushing over her lower lip, smearing a tiny bit of her lipstick. I didn't care.

"Are you ready for your 'handcuffs,' Ishita?" I asked, my voice thick with a **possessive** hunger