Rudra's Perspective

The silence of our soundproof suite was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, exhausted pull of our breathing. Outside, the **December** winds of delhi were likely howling against the palace stone, but inside, the air was still heavy with the scent of roses and the lingering heat of our union.

I pulled the **thick black blanket** up over us, shielding her small, trembling frame from the slight chill of the room. Ishita was already gone-fallen into a deep, bone-weary sleep the second her head hit my chest. I looked down at her, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. The "Cold-Hearted Prince" had been utterly defeated by the woman in my arms.

"You didn't even let me clean us up, Jaana," I whispered into the crown of her head, my voice a low, gravelly rumble.

She didn't wake, but as if hearing my voice in her dreams, she snuggled closer. Her **mehndi-stained** hands, still heavy with the clinking **chooda**, clutched at my bare chest, her nails leaving faint white marks against my skin. Her legs, adorned with silver **payals** and the new **toe rings** I had placed on her during the wedding, were tangled inextricably with mine.

I looked at my collarbone in the dim amber light. A smudge of her red **sindoor** was smeared across my skin-a messy, beautiful brand that marked me as hers just as much as I had marked her.

My **ocean blue eyes** softened as I smoothed a stray, curly lock of hair away from her face. She looked so tiny against my **6'3" muscular frame**, like a delicate doll I had spent the night breaking and mending all at once. Every time I thought about the three years we lost, my grip on her tightened instinctively. I had her now. I had the scent of her skin, the weight of her body, and the echo of her moans still ringing in my ears.

I leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. My body was still humming, the soreness in my muscles a reminder of the way I had claimed her. She was my Queen, and this bed was our only kingdom for the next few hours.

"Sleep, Ishita," I murmured, closing my eyes as I pulled her even deeper into the crook of my arm. "Because when you wake up, the world is going to want a piece of us... and I'm not ready to share you yet."

I knew the family would be waiting. I knew the **Muh-Dikhayi** was only hours away. But as the winter moon hung high over delhi, I realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn't the one in control.

I was just a man, hopelessly in love with the woman who had scratched my back and whispered my name like a prayer.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The golden winter sun was trying to peek through the heavy velvet curtains, but the room was still draped in a soft, intimate shadow. I felt a familiar, heavy warmth surrounding me-a solid wall of muscle that made me feel safer than I had ever been. As I slowly blinked my eyes open, the first thing I saw was the steady rise and fall of a broad, bare chest.

I looked up, my vision slightly blurry from sleep, only to find a pair of **ocean blue eyes** already fixed on me. Rudra. He was propped up on one elbow, his messy hair falling over his forehead, watching me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. He had clearly been awake for a long time, just... watching me sleep.

The memories of the night before hit me like a tidal wave-the way his hands felt on my skin, the sound of his voice growling my name, the **ruthless** way he claimed me until I was a sobbing mess.

"R-Rudra..." I croaked, my face instantly heating up.

I couldn't handle the heat in his gaze. I tried to shift slightly, my body feeling heavy and strangely sensitive. I slid off his chest and turned my back to him, pulling the **thick black blanket** up to my chin as I buried my blushing face into the silk pillow.

"Good morning, Jaana," his voice rumbled, deeper and raspier than usual.

Before I could respond, I felt his large, calloused hand slide under the covers. His palm found my bare waist, his fingers splaying over my skin as he effortlessly pulled my **tiny frame** back against him. He didn't let go. He tucked his head into the crook of my neck, his stubble grazing my shoulder as he pressed a lingering, searing kiss to the marks he had left there last night.

"Good morning, **Mrs. Rathore**," he whispered against my skin, his breath sending fresh shivers down my spine. "Why are you hiding? It's a bit late for shyness, don't you think?"

"Rudra, stop... the sun is up," I whimpered, though I leaned back into his touch. As I tried to adjust my legs, a sharp, dull ache radiated from my **lower abdomen** and my **core**. I let out an involuntary hiss of pain and bit my lip.

Instantly, the teasing vibe vanished. I felt his body stiffen behind me. He rolled me onto my back, his face filled with a sudden, **ruthless concern**.

"Ishita? You're in pain," he stated, it wasn't a question. His hand moved from my waist to my stomach, his palm warm as he applied light, soothing pressure. "Is it bad? Is it your core? I told you I should have been more careful... I'm too big for you, I know it."

"It's... it's just sore, Rudra," I whispered, my **brown eyes** meeting his worried ones. "I'm tiny, and you're... well, you're a giant. It's natural."

"It's not 'natural' if my wife is hurting because of me," he growled softly, his thumb tracing my hip bone. He leaned down, kissing my forehead with a tenderness that made my heart melt. "Stay right here. Don't move an inch. I'm going to draw a warm bath for you, and then I'm bringing you breakfast. If I see you trying to walk before you're ready, I'll carry you all day. Do you understand?"

I looked at him, the "Cold-hearted Prince" who was now ready to fight the world just because I had a little muscle ache. "The family is going to knock soon, Rudra. The **Muh-Dikhayi**..."

"Let them knock," he said, his blue eyes flashing with that familiar **possessive** spark. "The Rathore empire can wait. My Queen needs her rest."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

Watching her blush was a drug I'd never be able to quit. I half-hovered over her, my **6'3" muscular frame** casting a shadow that completely enveloped her. My fingers, calloused from years of building an empire, were now tracing the dark, purple-red marks I'd branded into her brown skin last night. I looked at the curve of her neck, the swell of her breast, and the dip of her waist-I had claimed it all.

"Look at what I did to you, Ishita," I rasped, my **ocean blue eyes** darkening as I leaned down.

I didn't give her a chance to look away. I captured her lips again, and the kiss wasn't just a morning greeting-it was hungry. Our mouths moved together with a familiar rhythm, the wet, tempting sounds of our lips parting and meeting again filling the quiet room. Our saliva mixed just like it had during the height of our passion last night, a carnal reminder that we were no longer just two people; we were one.

Finally, I pulled back, though my thumb stayed on her lower lip, tugging it down. "You taste like heaven," I murmured **shamelessly**.

I saw her wince slightly as she tried to shift, her brows furrowing from the ache in her **lower abdomen**. That was enough. I threw the covers back, not caring about my own nakedness, and scooped her up. She was so tiny in my arms, a delicate treasure that I held against my bare chest. I wrapped the **thick black blanket** around her, ensuring she was covered from her chest to her thighs, and carried her straight into the bathroom.

Our bathroom was a sanctuary of marble and gold, a luxury fit for the Rathore royals. I sat her down on the cold marble counter, her **mehndi-stained hands** clutching the blanket tight as she looked at me with wide, **brown eyes**. I leaned in, giving her a quick, firm peck on the lips before turning to the **jacuzzi**.

I wrapped a towel around my hips and began setting the water to a perfect, lukewarm temperature, adding oils that smelled of sandalwood and oud.

"You know, Jaana," I started, glancing at her over my shoulder with a **ruthless** smirk. "For someone who was so 'scared' last night, you certainly knew how to scream my name. I think the soundproof walls were the best investment I ever made for this palace."

"Rudra! Stop it!" she squeaked, hiding her face in the blanket, her **chooda** clinking as she trembled.

"Stop? Why?" I walked back to her, standing between her legs as she sat on the counter. I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a dangerous, **velvet** whisper. "Should I stop talking about how your walls clutched me so hard I thought I'd lose my mind? Or how you scratched my back when I finally went deep enough?"

I reached out, tracing the edge of her blanket. "You were so loud, Ishita. I wonder if you'll be just as loud in the water."

"You... you are **shameless**, Rudra Singh Rathore," she whispered, her breath hitching as I moved my hand to the back of her neck.

"Only for you, Mrs. Rathore," I growled, my gaze dropping to her lips. "Only for you."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

**[MATURE CONTENT NOTICE]**

*This chapter contains explicit descriptions of intimacy, afterglow, and adult themes. 18+ only.*

I felt like a delicate porcelain doll in his massive arms. As he lifted me from the counter to carry me toward the steaming jacuzzi, my eyes drifted to his skin. In the bright morning light, the evidence of our night was impossible to ignore. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the red, angry scratches my nails had carved into his powerful neck and his broad, **muscular back**.

"Rudra... oh no," I whispered, my voice thick with guilt. I reached out a **mehndi-stained** hand, my fingers hovering over the marks. "I'm so sorry... I didn't do it intentionally. I was just... I didn't know I was-"

He didn't let me finish. He cut me off with a kiss that was both punishing and sweet, a silent command to stop apologizing. "Don't," he rasped against my lips, his **ocean blue eyes** dark with a **ruthless** satisfaction. "I want those marks, Ishita. I want to feel what you felt last night every time I look in the mirror."

He stepped into the massive, sunken jacuzzi, the lukewarm water swirling around his knees. With a slow, fluid motion, he let the blanket slide off my body and discarded his own towel. The steam rose around us, coating our skin in a fine mist. He sat down on the wide marble bench built into the tub and pulled me directly onto his lap.

I gasped as the warm water hit my sensitized skin, but the heat of his body was even more intense. I was draped over him, my **tiny frame** bracketed by his heavy, powerful thighs.

"Now," he murmured, his voice a low, **velvet** rumble that vibrated through my chest. "Let me take care of you."

He didn't start with a massage. He started with his lips. With a **shameless** devotion, he began to kiss every single mark he had branded onto my body. He kissed the purple bruise on my collarbone, the bite mark on my shoulder, and the swelling curve of my breasts. Each touch of his mouth was like a soothing balm, yet it reignited the fire I thought had burnt out hours ago.

"Does it still ache here?" he asked, his large, calloused hands sliding underwater.

He found the muscles of my **lower abdomen** and the tops of my thighs, his thumbs beginning to knead the sore flesh with a firm, expert pressure. I let out a long, broken moan, my head falling back against his shoulder as his "hands-on" massage began to work its magic.

"Rudra... *ah*... yes, right there," I whimpered, my fingers tangling in his damp hair.

"I've got you, Jaana," he whispered, his hands moving deeper, his touch becoming more rhythmic and **intense** as the water bubbled around us. "I told you, I'm going to make sure you're ready for the day... even if it takes me all morning to 'heal' you."

I closed my eyes, the sound of the water and the feeling of his strong hands making me forget that an entire family was waiting for us outside. In this marble sanctuary, under the gaze of the "Ice King," I wasn't just his wife-I was his entire world.

The water was a swirl of sandalwood-scented bubbles, but all I could feel was the overwhelming presence of the man holding me. Rudra moved with a slow, **ruthless** grace, using his large palms to wash my skin. His hands were so big that they seemed to cover my entire back in one stroke, making me feel even smaller and thinner against his **6'3" muscular frame**.

"You're so delicate, Ishita," he murmured, his voice echoing against the marble walls. "Like you were made just for me to protect."

I blushed, the heat in my cheeks rivaling the temperature of the water. I leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, my wet, **long curly hair** dripping down his chest. He immediately growled-that low, possessive sound I was starting to love-and pulled me flush against him. Our noses brushed together, our breaths mingling as we drifted into a world where only we existed.

"You're becoming very bold, Mrs. Rathore," he teased, his **ocean blue eyes** dancing with a dark, romantic light. "Is this the same girl who was trembling last night?"

"Rudra! Be quiet," I whispered, though I couldn't stop smiling. I wrapped my arms around his neck, the water from my **chooda** dripping down his broad shoulders and over his collarbone. I noticed that the water had finally washed away the last traces of **sindoor** from my forehead, but my **mangalsutra** stayed firm. Rudra leaned down, his lips lingering on the gold initials of his name that rested against my skin, kissing them with a devotion that made my toes curl.

But then, his hands traveled.

Under the cover of the bubbles, his long, calloused fingers began to slide down my stomach, moving toward the very center of my ache. My eyes went wide as I felt him brush against my **sore core**.

"Rudra! No!" I squeaked, trying to swat his hand away. "I'm sore! You did this, you giant! Don't you dare."

"I'm just checking the 'healing' process, Jaana," he whispered **shamelessly**, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. His fingers didn't retreat; instead, they moved with a teasing, feather-light touch that made my breath hitch.

"Rudra Singh Rathore, you are a devil!" I scolded him, though my voice lacked any real anger. "I can barely walk, and here you are, being a pervert. My lower abdomen is literally throbbing because of you!"

"It's throbbing because you love it," he countered, his voice dropping to a dark, **velvet** frequency. He nipped at my earlobe, his hand moving with a more purposeful, "hands-on" pressure that started to turn my scolding into soft, broken moans. "And don't worry... if you can't walk to the **Muh-Dikhayi**, I'll just tell them my wife is too busy being worshipped by her husband."

"You wouldn't dare," I gasped, my head falling onto his shoulder as he continued to tease my body with a **ruthless** expertise.

"Try me," he challenged, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind my ear as he ignored my half-hearted protests.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

**[MATURE CONTENT NOTICE]**

*This chapter contains explicit descriptions of intimacy, afterglow, and adult themes. 18+ only.*

Watching her try to maintain her dignity while I had her pinned against me in the water was the highlight of my morning. I slid my fingers lower, rubbing her **sore core** with a slow, rhythmic pressure. I wasn't trying to start another round-not yet-I was genuinely trying to soothe the ache I had caused, but seeing her reaction was a bonus I couldn't ignore.

"Rudra... *hah*... stop... I'm-I'm scolding you!" she stammered, her voice trembling as much as her body.

"Are you, Jaana?" I murmured, my lips grazing the wet skin of her shoulder. "Because it sounds more like you're begging me not to stop."

"I... you're a... *ah*... devil," she whispered, her head falling back against my chest. Every time I brushed against her, she let out a broken, stuttering sound that she tried to swallow. Her **tiny and thin body** was so responsive, so perfectly tuned to my touch. I kept my movements soft, calming the inflammation of her core with the warmth of the water and the steady pressure of my palm, until I felt her finally relax into me.

Eventually, the water began to cool. I got out first, wrapping a fresh towel around my hips, and then reached back in to lift her out. She was walking with a slight, gingerly shuffle, her face wincing with every step. I didn't say a word; I just picked her up again, earning a small gasp, and carried her to the vanity.

I wrapped a plush white towel around her chest, tucking it securely, and stood her in front of the massive **bathroom mirror**. She looked like a dream-flushed, damp, and marked by me. I stood behind her, taking a fresh, dry towel and beginning to gently pat her **long, wet curly hair**.

The playful atmosphere shifted in a heartbeat when she looked at my reflection, her **brown eyes** suddenly swimming with a deep, lingering insecurity.

"Rudra?" her voice was small. "You won't leave me again... will you? Not like those three years? Not because of that blackmailer or anything else?"

The towel in my hands went still. The memory of those three agonizing years-the distance, the silence, the way I had to stay away to protect her from things she didn't even know about yet-hit me like a physical blow. I dropped the towel and wrapped my arms around her from behind, pulling her back against my **muscular chest**. I rested my chin on her shoulder, locking our gazes in the mirror.

"Listen to me, Ishita Sharma Rathore," I said, my voice dropping that **ruthless** businessman edge, replaced by a raw, naked honesty. "Those three years were a slow death for me. I lived like a ghost. Now that I've tasted life again-now that I've felt you beneath me and heard you say my name-there is no force in this world, no blackmailer, and no rival, that could ever make me walk away."

I leaned in, nipping playfully at the lobe of her ear to break the heavy tension. "Besides," I teased, my **ocean blue eyes** sparking with a smirk. "After the way you clutched me last night, I think you've permanently trapped me. I'm pretty sure my initials are literally engraved in your heart now."

She let out a small, wet giggle, leaning her head back against me. "They are. They always were."

"Good," I whispered, my hands sliding down to the knot of her towel. "Now, let's get you dressed before **Jay** decides to break the door down. I have a feeling he's been outside for the last twenty minutes, and I'd rather not have to kill my brother on my first morning as a husband."

I didn't even give her feet a chance to touch the cold marble floor. I scooped her up again, her **tiny frame** weighing almost nothing against my chest, and walked straight into the massive, gold-trimmed walk-in closet. I set her down gently on the velvet ottoman in the center, watching as she reached for a heavy, Peach **Anarkali suit** and her delicate lace inners.

I turned to my own side of the wardrobe-a sea of charcoal greys and deep blacks-and pulled out a simple pair of joggers and a fitted black T-shirt.

"Rudra?" she called out, her voice still sounding a little raspy from last night's screaming. I glanced over to see her looking at me with curiosity. "Aap gym nahi gaye aaj? (You didn't go to the gym today?)"

I paused, my hand on the collar of my shirt, and let a **ruthless, shameless** smirk spread across my face. I turned to look at her, my **ocean blue eyes** scanning the way she was trying to hold her clothes over her chest while her **thighs still trembled** slightly from the walk.

"Nahi, Jaana," I teased, my voice dropping into that dark, velvety register. "Raat ko bahut mehnat kari thi na biwi ke sath... full workout session, with plenty of 'noise' and cardio. Itna intensive session ke baad, even I needed a break. (No, Jaana. I worked very hard with my wife last night... full workout session... after such an intensive session, even I needed a break.)"

I watched the blood rush to her face, turning her skin a deep, beautiful shade of crimson. "Rudra! Besharam! (Shameless!)"

She didn't even hesitate. She grabbed the damp towel she had been using and threw it at me with all her might. I didn't even turn my head. I just reached up and caught the heavy fabric **effortlessly** mid-air, my gaze never leaving her flustered, **brown eyes**.

"Your aim is getting better, Mrs. Rathore," I chuckled, tossing the towel onto a nearby rack. "But your husband is still faster. Just like last night-I always catch what I'm looking for."

"I am not talking to you," she huffed, turning around to hide her blush, though the way her **long curly hair** swayed against her bare back only made me want to pull her back into bed.

"I don't need you to talk, Ishita," I murmured, stepping up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist, my palms flat against her **lower abdomen** to soothe the lingering ache one more time. "Your moans from last night are still echoing in my head. They told me everything I needed to know."

I felt her heart racing under my touch. She leaned her head back against my chest, a small, defeated smile playing on her lips. "You are impossible, Rudra Singh Rathore."

"I'm yours," I corrected, nipping at her shoulder. "Now, get dressed before I decide that 'gymming' at home is actually a better idea than going to the office."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I stood in the center of our massive walk-in closet, feeling the soft silk of my peach **Anarkali** brush against my skin. The fabric felt cool, but my body was still radiating a warmth that only Rudra could ignite. I carefully wiped the water from my **chooda**, the red glass bangles clinking softly, and made sure my **mangalsutra** was sitting perfectly over my heart.

"Alexa, open my vanity," I said softly.

With a futuristic hum, the wall panel glided open, revealing my makeup sanctuary. I stood there, looking at my reflection. My **brown eyes** looked brighter, and there was a glow on my face that no highlighter could mimic. I began to comb through my **long curly hair**, slowly detangling the knots from last night until the dark waves reached down to my hips.

I worked quickly but precisely-applying my morning skincare, a flick of liner, dark **kajal** to define my eyes, and a soft rose lipstick. My **engagement ring** caught the light, sparkling on my finger. Finally, I reached for the small vial of **sindoor**, my heart skipping a beat. Before I could touch it, I saw his **6'3" muscular frame** loom behind me in the mirror.

Rudra took the vial from my hand. His **ocean blue eyes** were soft, focused only on me. With a steady finger, he applied the red powder into my parting, his touch making me shiver. He leaned down and pressed a long, lingering kiss to my forehead, his stubble grazing my skin.

"Perfect," he whispered, his voice a low, **ruthless** rumble of satisfaction.

I turned slightly, struggling with the delicate silk strings at the back of my suit. "Rudra... can you help me? Tie the **dori** on my back, please."

He stepped closer, his large, calloused hands reaching for the thin silk threads. But instead of tying them, I felt his fingers brush against the bare skin of my spine, tracing the line of my vertebrae with a **shameless** slowness.

"You know, Jaana," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, "Mujhe ye kholni aati hai, bandhani nahi. (I know how to open these, not how to tie them.)"

"Rudra! Be serious!" I scolded, blushing as I felt him **intentionally** struggle with the delicate silk. His large fingers were fumbling, pulling the strings just enough to keep the suit tight against my chest, but never quite making the knot.

"I am being serious," he teased, his voice dropping to that dark, **velvet** register. "It's a design flaw. Why make it so easy to put on when it's so much more fun to take off?"

I felt his fingers "accidentally" slip, his knuckles grazing the small of my back, right above where I was still feeling the dull ache from his **muscular weight** last night. I let out a soft gasp, my hands gripping the edge of the vanity.

"Rudra, please... the family is waiting," I pleaded, though I didn't move away.

"Let them wait," he whispered, finally pulling the strings tight and tying a slow, firm knot. He didn't pull back though; he wrapped his arms around my waist, his palms flat against my **lower abdomen**, pulling my **tiny and thin body** flush against his hard chest. "There. You're tied up. For now."

He kissed the side of my neck, his lips lingering on a mark he had left near my shoulder. "But remember, Jaana... I'm much faster at untying them."

I leaned back into him, the solid, immovable weight of his **muscular chest** feeling like my own personal fortress. His arms were locked around my waist, his large palms resting right over my **lower abdomen**, as if he were trying to heal the soreness with the sheer heat of his touch.

I looked in the mirror, my heart doing a little flip-flop at how dark my **mehndi** still was. It was nearly black, a deep, rich mahogany that covered my hands and feet in intricate patterns-the aunties would say it's a sign of how much my husband loves me, and looking at the man behind me, I knew they weren't wrong.

But then, my gaze shifted to my neck. My breath hitched. Right there, just above the collar of my Anarkali, and on my neck was a dark, purplish marks-a **hickey** so prominent it looked like a brand.

"Rudra!" I gasped, grabbing my concealer wand with trembling fingers. I began to dab at it frantically, blending the thick cream over the mark. "Seriously! Did you give me this here on purpose? Anyone could see it! What will Maa think? Or everyone?"

Through the mirror, I saw him lean his chin on my shoulder. He looked totally calm, utterly **shameless**, and dangerously handsome. His **ocean blue eyes** didn't hold a shred of regret; in fact, they sparked with a **ruthless** pride.

"I gave it to you because I wanted to, Jaana," he murmured, his voice a low, vibrating hum against my skin. "And so what if they see? Let the world know exactly where my lips were last night. I'm not hiding the fact that I spent hours worshipping my wife."

"You are unbelievable!" I whispered, my face burning a shade of red that matched the **sindoor** in my hair. "You're Rajasthan's 'Ice King,' the top businessman... you're supposed to be cold and emotionless. Where is that man?"

"He died the moment you walked into the Shiv Mandir," he said, his voice turning soft and serious for a second before that teasing smirk returned. "Besides, I'm only 'cold' to the rest of the world. For you... I think we both know I'm anything but cold."

He nipped at my earlobe, his hand sliding a little lower on my hip, making my **thighs shake** all over again.

"Stop! We are going downstairs right now," I commanded, finally finishing my makeup and grabbing my dupatta. I turned in his arms, my **tiny and thin frame** looking like a doll next to his **6'3" height**. I adjusted his collar, trying to hide the scratches I had left on his neck, but they were deep.

"You're going to have a hard time hiding those, Mr. Rathore," I teased back, gaining a little courage.

"I won't even try," he replied, catching my hand and kissing my palm, right over the center of my **mehndi**. "I'll wear them like medals of honor. Ready?"

I stood there for a moment longer, soaking in the quiet intimacy of our suite. I pulled him toward me for a few more soft, lingering pecks, and then pouted slightly. "Okay, now we have to click photos," I insisted, grabbing my phone. Rudra usually hated the camera, but today, he didn't decline. He knew how much I loved capturing memories, and he seemed to have a new, **ruthless devotion** to making me happy.

I leaned against him, my **tiny and thin frame** looking almost comical next to his **6'3" muscular build**. I snapped a few selfies-his **ocean blue eyes** looking softened and dazed, and my face glowing under the fresh **sindoor**.

"Okay, now we really have to go," I whispered.

We finally stepped out of the room and began the walk downstairs. Every step reminded me of last night; the dull ache in my **lower abdomen** and my **sore core** made me walk a little slower than usual. Rudra didn't rush me. He walked right beside me, his hand hovering near my waist as if he were ready to catch me if my **shaking thighs** gave out.

He was just wearing a fitted T-shirt and trousers, but he looked devastatingly handsome. I couldn't help but peek at him-the "Cold-hearted Prince" had skipped the gym for the first time in years today. All because he was too busy being a "husband" to me. The thought made my heart swell.

As we reached the grand dining area, the entire Rathore seemed to be gathered. The air was filled with the scent of parathas and coffee.

I immediately went to the elders. I bent down to touch the feet of **Dadi**, **Ram Singh Papa**, **Gayatri Maa**, and **Lakhan Chacha and Chachi**. Their hands rested on my head with warm blessings, though I could see the knowing, happy glint in Gayatri Maa's eyes as she looked at the fresh glow on my face.

"Good morning, Bhai! Good morning, Bhabhi!" the younger brothers-**Akshat, Vardaan, and Jay**-chimed in. Their wives, **Dhristi and Reet**, gave me warm, welcoming smiles, but I could tell they were already analyzing my slower pace.

Then, I felt a pair of eyes burning a hole through me. I looked up to see **Ahana**, my sister-in-law. She wasn't even trying to be subtle. She was leaning against the pillar, a mischievous smirk on her face, her eyebrows dancing up and down as she looked from my covered neck to Rudra's scratched one.

"Good morning, Bhabhi," Ahana said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Did you sleep well? Or was the Rajasthani winter a bit... *too hot* inside the room last night?"

I felt my face turn a shade of red that put my **sindoor** to shame. I quickly looked down at my **mehndi-stained** hands, wishing the floor would swallow me whole.

"Ahana, let her eat," Rudra warned, but his voice lacked his usual bite. He pulled out a chair for me, his hand lingering on my shoulder for a second too long, a silent message to his sister to back off.