Ishita’s Perspective

I sat at the massive mahogany dining table, feeling the weight of the Rathore legacy all around me. Despite the grand setting, my entire focus was on the man sitting right next to me. Even while eating, Rudra stayed close, his thigh occasionally brushing against mine under the table, sending sparks through my already sensitized body.

Just then, **Jay**—my ever-energetic *dever*—sauntered in with a lopsided grin. He pulled out a chair directly across from us and started piling his plate with parathas, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world.

"Woooo! Good morning, Bhai! Good morning, Bhabhi!" he chirped, his eyes darting between us with far too much curiosity for a man at 10:00 AM.

"Good morning, Jay," I murmured softly, keeping my head down and focusing intensely on my plate. I could feel my **long curly hair** acting as a shield, but it wasn't enough to hide the blush that was permanently stained onto my cheeks.

Jay stopped mid-bite, noticing the heavy silence and the way **Ahana** was practically vibrating with suppressed laughter beside him. He looked at her, then back at us, his eyes narrowing playfully.

"Okay, wait. Why is Ahana laughing like she just won the lottery? What happened? Did I miss a joke?" Jay asked, leaning forward over the table.

"Oh, Jay, you missed *everything*," Ahana teased, her eyes flickering toward my neck where I had spent ten minutes applying concealer. "I was just asking Bhabhi if the room was well-ventilated last night. She looks a bit... exhausted. And Bhai? Bhai looks like he fought a tiger and won."

My hand shook as I held my spoon. I felt Rudra stiffen beside me, but instead of getting angry, he just reached under the table. His large, warm hand found my **shaking thigh**, squeezing it gently in a way that was both comforting and incredibly **shameless**.

"The tiger was quite fierce, Jay," Rudra said, his voice a deep, cool rumble that made my heart do a somersault. He didn't even look up from his coffee, looking every bit the "Cold-hearted Prince," yet his words were dripping with **dark romance**. "But as you know, a Rathore never loses a battle."

"Bhai!" Jay choked on his water, his eyes widening as he finally caught sight of the faint red scratches peeking out from Rudra’s T-shirt collar. "Oh... *Oh*. I see. So that’s why the gym was empty this morning. Recovery time, huh?"

I wanted to crawl under the table. My **mehndi-stained hands** were twisting my napkin into knots. "Jay, please eat your breakfast," I whispered, my voice sounding dazed.

"Don't tease her, Jay," **Dhristi ** intervened with a kind smile, though her eyes were twinkling too. "Ishita bhabhi  have some more juice. You look like you need the energy for the **Muh-Dikhayi** ceremony later today. It's going to be a long afternoon with all the guests arriving."

The mention of the ceremony made me nervous. I looked at Rudra, and for a split second, his **ocean blue eyes** met mine. The teasing vanished, replaced by a **ruthless concern**. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered so only I could hear.

"If you're too sore to sit through the ceremony, tell me now. I’ll cancel the whole thing."

I thought the teasing from Jay and Ahana was bad, but nothing could have prepared me for the elders.

**Ram Singh rathor (Papa ji )** finally looked up from his newspaper, his voice stern but with a hint of a smile. "Alright, that’s enough. Stop pestering your Bhabhi. Let the poor girl eat in peace."

**siya Maa** nodded, reaching over to pat my hand affectionately. "Exactly. Don't trouble my Bahu. She’s already shy enough as it is."

I felt a small wave of relief wash over me. I took a sip of my water, finally feeling like I could breathe again. But that relief lasted exactly two seconds.

**Bebe**, who had been sitting at the head of the table quietly observing everything with a mischievous glint in her eyes, suddenly chuckled. She leaned back, adjusting her dupatta, and spoke in a voice loud enough for the entire dining hall to hear.

"Siya, why are you scolding the kids for troubling her?" Bebe said, her tone sounding completely innocent but her words being anything but. "Hum kyun pareshan karenge? **Rudra already kar chuka hai raat bhar.** (Why would we trouble her? Rudra has already done that all night.)"

The silence that followed was deafening.

**Clang!**

My spoon slipped from my numb fingers and hit the porcelain plate with a sharp ring. The water I was swallowing went down the wrong way, and I began to cough violently, my face turning a shade of purple-red that matched the darkest rose in the palace gardens.

"Ishita!" Rudra’s voice was sharp with instant **ruthless concern**.

He didn't care that the whole family was watching. He immediately stood up, his **6'3" frame** towering over me as he rubbed my back with his large palm, his other hand holding my glass of water steady.

"Bebe!" **Vardaan** and **Akshat** groaned in unison, while **Jay** literally fell into his chair, howling with laughter. Even **Lakhan Chacha** had to cough into his napkin to hide his smirk.

"Kya galat kaha maine? (What did I say wrong?)" Bebe continued, completely unfazed, as she took a calm sip of her tea. "Look at the boy’s neck. Look at the girl’s walk. The Rathore blood is strong, I’m just stating the facts."

I couldn't look up. I couldn't even move. I just leaned my forehead against Rudra’s solid arm as he continued to stroke my back. My **long curly hair** fell forward, hiding my burning face. I was mortified. The "Cold-hearted Prince" was the only thing keeping me upright as my **shaking thighs** felt like they were turning into jelly.

Rudra leaned down, his lips inches from my ear, his voice a low, protective growl meant only for me. "Don't listen to her, Jaana. Just breathe. If you want, I’ll pick you up and take you back to the room right now. To hell with breakfast."

I felt the heat rising in my own neck—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer urge to toss my coffee cup at Jay’s grinning face. I was Rajasthan’s most feared businessman, the man who made CEOs tremble in boardrooms, yet here I was, being dismantled by my own grandmother over a plate of parathas.

"Dadi, enough," I said, my voice dropping into that warning, **ruthless** tone that usually silenced an entire office.

It didn't work. Not even a little bit.

"Oh? Now the lion is roaring?" Bebe chuckled, completely unfazed by my glare. She turned to **Jay** and **Ahana**, who were practically vibrating in their seats. "Look at him. Last night he was a predator, today he is a bodyguard. Acha hai, at least my Bahu is well protected."

Jay lost it. He let out a loud snort, slapping the table so hard his juice glass rattled. "Bodyguard? Dadi, he’s more like a possessive shadow! Bhai hasn't let Bhabhi breathe since they walked down the stairs. Look at his hand, it’s practically glued to her shoulder!"

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

I felt Ishita hide her face deeper into my arm. I could feel her heart racing against my side, her **tiny frame** trembling with a mix of shyness and lingering exhaustion.

"Jyada mat hass tu, Jay," I growled, my **ocean blue eyes** narrowing at him. "Unless you want me to send you to the London office for the next six months. I hear the winter there is especially lonely."

"Bhai, that’s an abuse of power!" Jay gasped, though his grin didn't fade. "Ahana, save me! The Ice King is trying to freeze his favorite brother just because Dadi told the truth!"

"Don't bring me into this," Ahana giggled, though she was busy snapping a 'candid' photo of my hand on Ishita’s back. "I’m on Bebe's side. Besides, I need to know Bhabhi’s secret. How did she manage to make the great Rudra Singh Rathore skip his 5 AM gym session? That’s a miracle even God hasn't achieved."

"It's called 'Better Cardio', Ahana," **Vardaan** chimed in from the side, winking at **Reet**.

"Vardaan!" **chachi Maa** scolded, though she was fighting a smile herself.

I tightened my grip on Ishita’s waist, pulling her closer until she was practically tucked under my arm. I didn't care if they teased me. I didn't care if the whole world knew I was obsessed with my wife. But seeing her this flustered made my protective instincts flare.

"If anyone else has a comment about my morning schedule," I said, my voice low and dangerously calm, "they can discuss it with my legal team. Or **Krishiv**. I’m sure he’d love to explain the concept of 'privacy' to you all."

That finally brought a bit of a hush. Mentioning Krishiv—the mafia-turned-friend—usually reminded them that I wasn't just a brother, but a man who held a lot of power.

"Fine, fine," Jay muttered, reaching for another paratha. "We’ll stop. For now. But Bhabhi, don't think you're safe. The **Muh-Dikhayi** is coming, and the aunties are way more ruthless than we are."

I looked down at the top of Ishita's head, my thumb tracing the line of her **long curly hair**. "Don't worry," I whispered so only she could hear, "I’ll be right there. No one gets a 'look' at my wife unless I say so."

💖 Ishita’s Perspective

Breakfast was finally over, but the warmth of Rudra’s hand on my thigh lingered long after he pulled it away. As the men began to disperse, Rudra stood up, his **6’3” muscular frame** casting a shadow over me one last time. He didn't care that our parents and siblings were watching; he leaned down and pressed a firm, lingering kiss on my forehead, his **ocean blue eyes** searching mine with that silent, **ruthless concern**.

"I’ll be in my study if you need me. Don’t overexert yourself, Jaana," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. I knew him—he was a total workaholic, Rajasthan’s top businessman who usually lived for his spreadsheets and deals. But today, the way he looked at me made it clear that the only 'merger' he was interested in was the one we had started last night.

As soon as the heavy oak doors of the study clicked shut behind him, and **Papa ji, Chacha ji, Akshat, Vardaan, and Jay** headed out to their respective offices, the atmosphere in the dining hall shifted instantly.

"Alright, she's ours now!" **Ahana** squealed, jumping up from her seat.

Before I could even protest, I was 'kidnapped' by the Rathore ladies. **siya Maa, Dadi, Dhristi , Reet, and Ahana** practically dragged me toward the grand living room, seating me right in the center of the plush velvet sofa. I felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter, my **shaking thighs** making every step a challenge as I tried to walk normally despite the **soreness in my core**.

"So," **Reet** started, leaning in with a playful glint in her eyes, "Now that the 'Bodyguard' is upstairs, tell us the truth. How is the Cold-Hearted Prince as a husband?"

"Bhabhi, look at her face! It’s redder than her **sindoor**!" Ahana teased, nudging my arm. "And don't even try to hide that mark on your neck, bhabhi. We saw you trying to blend it with concealer, but the 'Rudra Singh Rathore brand' is way too strong for makeup."

I hid my face in my **mehndi-stained hands**, the **chooda** clinking loudly as I trembled with shyness. "Maa, please tell them to stop," I pleaded, looking toward **siya Maa**.

But Maa just laughed, sitting beside me and stroking my **long curly hair**. "Beta, let them enjoy. It’s been years since we’ve seen Rudra this... alive. He used to be like a stone, Ishita. But last night? I think you finally melted the ice."

"Melted it? Maa, I think she set it on fire!" **Dhristi * added, winking at me. "I noticed the way you were walking, Ishita. Are you okay? Do you need some hot water or a special ointment? Rudra can be... a bit much when he’s possessive, and we all know he’s been waiting five years for this."

The mention of the **three-year gap** made the room go quiet for a split second. They all knew we had suffered during that time apart, and their teasing was their way of celebrating that we were finally together. But even in their laughter, I could feel their protection.

"He was very... gentle," I whispered, barely audible, my voice dazed as I remembered the feel of his **muscular weight** and the way he whispered my name.

"Gentle? The scratches on his neck say otherwise!" Ahana shouted, making everyone burst into fresh peals of laughter.

The moment the elder ladies—**Siya Maa, Urmila Chachi, and Bebe**—walked out of the room to discuss the upcoming ritual, the atmosphere shifted from "warm family gathering" to "total girl talk chaos."

I tried to sit up straight, but the dull throb in my **lower abdomen** made me wince, and unfortunately, **Ahana** saw it. She pounced immediately, sitting on the rug right at my feet, looking up at me with a devilish grin.

"Okay, Bhabhi, the elders are gone. Now, give us the real tea," Ahana started, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "We’ve known Rudra Bhai our whole lives. He was the man who didn't believe in God, didn't believe in love, and definitely didn't believe in 'emotions.' He was cold, heartless, and basically a robot in a three-piece suit. But now? He’s literally a 'Simp' for you. What the hell happened last night to turn the Ice King into... *that*?"

I felt my cheeks burning. "Ahana, he's just... he's different with me," I whispered, my fingers nervously twisting my **chooda**.

"Oh, we saw how 'different' he is!" **Reet** chimed in, leaning over the back of the sofa. "Ishu bhabhi , let's be real. Bhai is 6'3", he’s pure muscle, broad shoulders, and... well, he’s *heavy*. You are this tiny, thin, delicate thing. How on earth did you handle that much 'man' all night? You look like you’ve been through a literal marathon!"

"Reet!" I gasped, hiding my face.

"Don't 'Reet' her!" **Dhristi * joined in, laughing as she nudged my shoulder. "She’s right. I’ve been married to Akshat for four years, and even I know the Rathore men are... intense. But Rudra? He’s the Alpha. I bet he didn't even let you sleep for an hour, did he?"

"Exactly!" Ahana added, getting bolder. "I mean, look at your walk, Bhabhi! You’re shuffling like a penguin. Did he forget you have bones? Or did he think he was back in the gym? Because that workout didn't look like it had any 'rest' periods."

I was trapped. My **mehndi-stained hands** were covering my eyes, but I couldn't stop the small, dazed smile from forming. "He... he was very possessive," I admitted, my voice trembling. "He kept saying I was his... that he’s waited five years to finally mark me."

"Mark you? Bhabhi, he practically engraved his name on you!" Ahana teased, pointing to the spot on my neck I had tried to hide. "But wait, Dhristi Bhabhi, don't act like you’re innocent. You’ve been handling Akshat Bhai for four years. Is he as 'ruthless' as Rudra Bhai in bed, or is that a special trait only the CEO has?"

Dhristi’s face turned pink, but she didn't back down. "Akshat is... firm. But I think Rudra has a special kind of 'hunger' because of those three years apart. He’s making up for lost time with interest!"

"And what about you, Reet bhabhi ?" Ahana turned her focus to the youngest wife. "You and Vardaan bhai have been married for a year. Is the lawyer as 'vocal' as our brother? Because we definitely heard some 'evidence' from the soundproof wing this morning!"

"Ahana! Stop it!" Reet squealed, grabbing a cushion and hitting her with it.

The living room was filled with our giggles and dirty teasing. For the first time, I felt like I truly belonged in this circle of sisters. But every time I laughed, my **core** reminded me of exactly why they were teasing me.

"I think," I said, finally looking up with a shy but playful spark in my eyes, "that Rudra Singh Rathore might be cold to the world, but behind closed doors... he’s the most 'shameless' man I’ve ever met."

The teasing session was in full swing until the sound of familiar footsteps made us all straighten up. **Siya Maa** walked back into the living room, her expression radiating that graceful, motherly warmth that always made me feel at peace.

"Alright, alright, stop bothering my Bahu now," she said with a gentle smile, though the twinkle in her eyes suggested she knew exactly what the girls had been discussing. She came over and sat beside me, smoothing my **long curly hair**. "Ishita, beta, this afternoon is your **Muh-Dikhayi** ceremony. The guests will start arriving soon, and the whole of Rajasthan is waiting to see the face of the Rathore Princess."

I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach, competing with the lingering ache in my **lower abdomen**. This was my official introduction as Rudra’s wife.

Suddenly, **Reet** stood up and hurried over with a beautifully wrapped, heavy box. She placed it in my lap with a wide, excited grin. "Bhabhi, this is from me and Vardaan. A small wedding gift for our favorite Bhabhi."

I carefully opened it, and my breath hitched. Resting inside was a stunning **green and pink lehenga**. The silk was rich, the emerald green embroidery weaving perfectly through the soft rose-pink fabric. It was vibrant, royal, and looked like it cost a fortune.

"It's beautiful, Reet," I whispered, touching the intricate threadwork with my **mehndi-stained fingers**.

"Wait, there's more!" **Urmila Chachi** added, coming forward with a velvet-lined jewelry case. "And this is from Lakhan and me. You must wear this today."

She opened the case to reveal a heavy, traditional Rajasthani jewelry set—a **choker**, matching earrings, and a **maang-tikka** that glittered with uncut diamonds and emeralds to match the lehenga. It was the kind of jewelry that screamed 'Rathore Royalty.'

"We want you to look like the Queen Rudra thinks you are," Chachi said, patting my cheek. "Go now, the girls will help you get ready. We want you draped in this for the ceremony."

I looked at the heavy outfit and the shimmering jewels. My mind flashed to Rudra—how his **ocean blue eyes** would darken when he saw me in this, and how his **6'3" muscular frame** would tower over me as he showed me off to the world.

"Thank you, Maa, Chachi," I said, feeling a surge of emotion.

"Don't thank us yet!" Ahana chirped, grabbing the lehenga box. "We have exactly two hours to turn you into a masterpiece. And this time, Bhabhi, we’re using *extra* concealer on that neck. We can't have the guests thinking Bhai is a vampire!"

They all laughed as they pulled me up. I stood slowly, my **shaking thighs** protesting, but I leaned on **Dhristi  for support. As we headed toward the grand staircase to go back up, I glanced toward Rudra’s study. I knew he was in there, probably working, but I also knew he was counting the minutes until he could see me again.

I managed to escape the girls for a few minutes under the pretext of getting some "fresh air," but my feet instinctively led me toward the heavy mahogany doors of his private study. I was still walking with that slight, telltale shuffle, my **tiny frame** feeling the weight of the morning’s emotions.

I knocked softly.

"Come in," his voice rumbled from behind the door—deep, authoritative, and sharp.

I pushed the door open, carrying a steaming cup of black coffee just the way he liked it. The room was grand, filled with the scent of old books and expensive leather, and there he was—**Rudra Singh Rathore**, the workaholic prince, sitting behind a massive desk with his sleeves rolled up, revealing those thick, veined forearms I had been clinging to just hours ago.

As soon as his **ocean blue eyes** landed on me, the "ruthless businessman" mask shattered. He dropped his pen immediately.

"Ishita," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over me with a **possessive intensity**. "I told you to rest. Why are you walking around?"

I set the coffee on his desk and moved around to his side. "Siya Maa came... she said the **Muh-Dikhayi** is this afternoon. Reet and Chachi gave me a beautiful lehenga and jewelry."

But as I stood there, the weight of the morning’s "dirty teasing" from the girls finally bubbled over. I didn't care that he was in the middle of a million-dollar deal. I leaned into him, letting my head rest against his **muscular shoulder**, my **long curly hair** spilling over his arm.

"Rudra..." I whined, my voice small and pouty. "Your siblings are terrible. And Bebe! Oh my God, Rudra, Bebe told the whole breakfast table that you 'troubled' me all night. I wanted to die of embarrassment!"

Rudra chuckled—a low, vibrating sound that I felt against my own chest. He spun his chair around and pulled me directly into his lap. I gasped, my **mehndi-stained hands** grabbing his shoulders for balance as I sat across his heavy, powerful thighs.

"Did she now?" he asked, his voice dripping with **shameless** amusement. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his palms pressing into the small of my back, pulling my **thin body** flush against his heat. "Well, she wasn't lying, was she? I did trouble you. And I plan on troubling you for the next fifty years."

"Rudra! It's not funny!" I huffed, hitting his chest lightly. "Ahana was asking how I 'handled' you because you're so big and heavy... and Jay was talking about 'noise' and 'cardio.' I can't even look them in the eye!"

He caught my wrists, his grip firm but gentle, and looked at me with a **dark, romantic** spark. "Let them talk, Jaana. They’re just jealous that I have the most beautiful woman in world in my bed. And as for my weight..." He leaned in, his nose brushing mine, his voice dropping to a velvet whisper. "You handled me perfectly. Like you were made for it."

I blushed a deep crimson, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, right where my nail marks were still visible. "You're just as bad as them."

"I'm worse," he promised, kissing my temple. "Now, go get ready for your ceremony. Wear the jewelry. Look like my Queen. I’ll be watching from the balcony, and I promise, if anyone teases you too much, I’ll remind them exactly why I’m called the 'Ice King.'"

The weight of the **green and pink lehenga** was substantial, the heavy gold embroidery brushing against my skin with every small movement. It took nearly three hours, but the girls had transformed me. My **long curly hair** was no longer wild; it had been tamed into a **long, heavy braid** adorned with gold hair accessories that reached down to my waist.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, dazed by the woman looking back. The emeralds in my necklace glittered against my brown skin, and the **kajal** in my eyes made them look deeper, more mysterious. I carefully slid my feet into my **high heels**, though my **shaking thighs** and the lingering ache in my **core** made me grip the vanity for support. My **payals** and **toe rings** clinked a soft melody, a constant reminder of my new identity.

Finally, I pulled the **heavy veil dupatta** over my head, covering my face in a translucent shroud of pink silk and gold borders.

"Oh, Bhabhi... you look like a literal goddess," **Ahana** whispered, standing behind me. She, **Dhristi**, and **Reet** were all dressed in their finest, ready to escort me.

"Rudra Bhai is going to lose his mind," **Reet** giggled, adjusting the fall of my lehenga. "I just hope he remembers we have guests and doesn't try to carry you back to the room the second he sees you!"

"Chalo, everyone is waiting," **Dhristi * said, taking my arm on one side while Ahana took the other.

As we walked out of the suite and toward the grand staircase, my heart started thundering against my ribs. I could hear the hum of a hundred voices from the atrium below—the elite of Rajasthan, our extended family, and the business associates of the Rathore empire. But I only cared about one person.

We reached the top of the stairs. I looked down through the thin fabric of my veil. The living hall was a sea of colors and diamonds, but standing right at the base of the stairs was a tall, **6'3" muscular silhouette** that stood out from the crowd.

**Rudra.**

He was dressed in a dark emerald green sherwani that matched my lehenga perfectly. He looked like the cold, heartless prince the world knew—back straight, jaw clenched, **ocean blue eyes** scanning the crowd with a **ruthless** authority. But the moment the sound of my **payals** reached him, he froze.

He looked up.

Even through my veil, I could feel the heat of his gaze. It was like a physical touch, tracing my form, marking me even from a distance. The room went silent as the "Ice King" watched his Queen descend. I walked slowly, my hand trembling on the banister, each step a testament to the "workout" he’d given me just hours ago.

"Careful, Bhabhi," Ahana whispered mischievously. "Don't trip, or Bhai might just jump the stairs to catch you."

As we reached the bottom, the ladies of the family surrounded me, but Rudra didn't move an inch. He stood right in my path, his presence overwhelming. I could smell his sandalwood cologne mixing with the scent of my roses.

"You're late, Mrs. Rathore," he murmured, his voice a low, private growl that only I could hear. "I was about to come up and get you myself."

Her look

The heavy gold borders of my dupatta felt like they were getting heavier with every passing minute. My neck was stiff from keeping my head bowed, and the constant cycle of the veil being lifted and lowered made me feel like a doll on display.

As the next group of elder women approached, I felt that familiar twinge in my lower back. I had been sitting cross-legged and then bending forward to touch feet for twenty minutes straight now. My muscles were screaming for a stretch.

* **The Physical Toll:** Every time I leaned down to seek blessings, the heavy jewelry—the *rani haar* and the *mathapatti*—shifted, pulling at my skin. I tried to mask my discomfort with a graceful smile, but the ache in my spine was becoming impossible to ignore.

* **The Whispers:** "She is beautiful, just like a Rajput princess," I heard one auntie whisper as she placed a gold bangle in my lap. I touched her feet, my breath catching as a sharp pinch went through my mid-back. *How many more?* I wondered desperately.

* **The Protection:** I caught a glimpse of **Dhristi** and **Reet** standing nearby. They looked at me with sympathetic eyes. Dhristi, being the professor she is, seemed to sense my fatigue immediately. She stepped closer, adjusting the cushions behind me discreetly when the women turned to talk to siya Maa

Just as I was about to bend down for the twentieth time, I felt a presence behind me that didn't belong to the ladies of the house. The air seemed to cool, and that familiar scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne filled my senses. **Rudra.**

He wasn't supposed to be in the middle of the *muh dikhai*, but since when did the Prince of Rajasthan follow rules that made his wife uncomfortable?

I felt a strong, steady hand briefly graze my shoulder—a silent command to stay still.

"Chachi-sa," Rudra’s deep, velvet voice echoed through the hall, stopping the elderly lady in her tracks. "I believe Ishita has received enough blessings for one afternoon. Her health is my priority over protocol."

The room went quiet. I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks, but more than that, I felt an immense sense of relief. He didn't care about the traditional "cold-hearted" image the world had of him; in this moment, he was only my husband.

My Thoughts in the Moment

> *Thank God. I don't think I could have stood up on my own if this went on for another ten minutes. I looked up through the sheer fabric of my veil, catching the glint of his ocean-blue eyes. He looked annoyed at the crowd, but when his gaze dropped to mine, it softened instantly.*

The lunch had finished, and while the guests were relaxed and full, I was still trapped in the heavy armor of my bridal finery. My back was throbbing, and the weight of the *lehenga* felt like it doubled with every passing hour. I had hoped for a change of clothes, but tradition had other plans. In the Rathor household, the *muh dikhai* wasn't complete without the new bride’s first dance—a graceful welcome into the family’s cultural heritage.

The large hall was cleared, leaving a circular space in the center. I could feel **Rudra’s** gaze on me from where he sat with **Akshat** and **Vardaan**. His blue eyes were unreadable to others, but I saw the concern flickering there. He knew I was exhausted.

As the first soulful notes of the sitar filled the room, I took my position. I took a deep breath, pushing the pain in my back to the back of my mind. I was a model and a performer; once the music started, the stage was mine.

I raised my arms, the bangles clinking rhythmically as the lyrics began:

*“Mohe rang do laal, mohe rang do laal...*

*Nand ke laal laal, chhedo nahi bas rang do laal...”*

I twirled, the heavy flared skirt of my lehenga expanding like a blooming flower. My eyes were fixed on the floor, my movements slow and deliberate, mimicking the shyness of a bride. But as the song progressed, I couldn't help but steal a glance at Rudra.

*“Dekhun dekhun tujhko main hoke nihaal...*

*Chhu lo kora mora kaanch sa tan, nain bhar kya rahe nihaar...”*

The lyrics felt too personal. I saw Rudra’s jaw tighten as I gestured toward my eyes, following the meaning of the song. He wasn't just watching a performance; he was watching *his* Ishita. I saw **Siya Maa** smiling with pride, while **Ahana** and **Dhristi** cheered softly

The tempo picked up, and I moved with more agility, my long curly hair swaying despite the pins holding my veil.

*“Marodi kalaayi mori... haan kalaayi mori...*

*Choodi chatkaayi itraayi, to chori garwa lagaayi...”*

I acted out the lyrics, showing the feigned anger of a gopi whose wrist was held by Krishna. I spun faster, my "kaanch sa tan" (glass-like body) feeling light despite the heavy jewelry. I felt a surge of energy.

*“Hari ye chunariya, jo jhatke se chhini...*

*Main to rangi hari hari ke rang, laaj se gulaabi gaal...”*

As I sang of the green dupatta being snatched away and my cheeks turning pink with shyness, I felt my own face heat up. I wasn't acting anymore. I was looking directly at Rudra now. He was the one who had "colored" my life, the one who had brought me into this world of royalty and intense love.

The music reached its crescendo.

*“Mohe rang do laal, Nand ke laal laal...*

*Chhedo nahi bas rang do laal... Mohe rang do laal...”*

I finished with a final, rapid spin, my gold-bordered veil fluttering in the air before I dropped into a perfect *baithak* pose, my head bowed and one hand covering my face in a traditional gesture of modesty.

The hall was silent for a heartbeat before erupting into applause. My breath was coming in short gasps, and the ache in my back returned with a vengeance, but I didn't care. I looked up and saw Rudra. He wasn't clapping. He was just staring at me, his eyes burning with an intensity that told me he wanted to whisk me away from this crowd immediately.

**Vardaan** leaned over to Rudra, whispering something with a smirk, likely teasing him about how "nihaal" (enchanted) he looked, but Rudra didn't take his eyes off me.