💖 Ishita’s Perspective

The sleek, powerful SUV felt almost too large for the narrow, familiar lane of my neighborhood. As we pulled up in front of the **Sharma House**, the contrast was stark—the middle-class charm of my childhood home, with its potted plants and weathered gate, stood in wait for the royal daughter-in-law of the Rathors.

But to me, it was just home. And today, it felt like heaven.

Before the car even came to a full stop, I heard them. The frantic, joyous barking of my 2 German Shepherds echoed from behind the gate. **Kira**, the mother, was howling in that high-pitched way she only did for me, while her son, **King**were jumping against the grill, their tails thumping like drumsticks.

"They know you're here," Rudra said, his voice softening as he watched my face light up.

Then, I saw them. My whole world was standing on the porch. Papa, Ravi Bhai, and Riva Bhabhi were all dressed in their best clothes, their faces etched with a mix of anxiety and pure joy.

"Bua! Bua! Fufa ji is here!"

My little nephew, **Purav**, came sprinting toward the car the moment Rudra killed the engine. He was jumping up and down, his small hands pressed against the window.

Rudra stepped out first, and the neighborhood seemed to go still. At 6'3", in his  suit, he looked like a literal giant against the backdrop of our modest street. He walked around to my side, opening the door and offering his hand with a regality that made my heart swell.

As I stepped out, the **jingle of my payal** and the shimmer of my heavy **Kundan jewelry** caught the morning sun.

"Bua!" Purav threw himself at my knees, hugging me so hard my saree pleats shifted.

I laughed, tears pricking my eyes as I scooped him up for a second before turning to my father. "Papa!"

I moved to touch **Mohan Sharma’s** feet, but he caught me halfway, pulling me into a crushing hug. "My princess," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're finally home for your *Pag Phere*."

Ravi Bhai stepped forward, his eyes misty as he looked at me, then at Rudra. He reached out, shaking Rudra’s hand firmly before pulling him into a brief, respectful brother-in-law hug.

"I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble, Ishita," Ravi teased, though he looked at Rudra with immense respect. "If he is, remember, this house always has a room for you."

Rudra smirked, his arm instinctively finding its way back to my waist, pulling me against his side in a silent claim. "Don't get her hopes up, Ravi. I'm never letting her stay anywhere else for more than a few hours. I’ve already reached my limit for the day."

"Typical Rudra," Riva Bhabhi laughed, coming forward to perform the *aarti* and tilak for us. "Always so possessive. Come inside! The dogs are going to break the door down if we don't let them get to Ishita."

As we stepped through the gate, the dogs were unleashed. Kira, King,  swarmed me, their cold noses pressing against my hands and my saree. I laughed, trying to balance my heavy jewelry while they licked my face.

! King! Behave!" I giggled, looking back at Rudra.

He was standing there, watching me with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration. He didn't care about the mud on his expensive suit or the fact that we were in a small living room instead of a palace. He was just happy because I was happy.

"Go on, *Jaana*," he murmured, leaning down to whisper so only I could hear. "Enjoy your home. I'll be right here, making sure nobody tries to steal my wife away from me again."

The moment we crossed the threshold, the familiar scent of incense and home-cooked food wrapped around me like a warm hug. Riva Bhabhi stood at the door with the *aarti* tray, the small flame flickering as she circled it before us, welcoming us officially as a married couple for the first time.

"Look at you two," Riva Bhabhi whispered, her eyes glowing. "The Prince and his Princess. *Nazar na lage.*"

We moved into the living room and sat on the plush, familiar fabric of our old couch. Rudra sat beside me, his large frame making the furniture look tiny, his hand immediately finding its way to the small of my back, keeping me close even in my own home.

Mummy came forward with two glasses of water. She handed one to Rudra with a warm smile. "Drink, Rudra beta. You’ve driven through so much traffic."

He took it with a respectful nod. When Mummy offered the second glass to me, I shook my head, my **chooda** clinking. "No, Mummy, it’s too cold. My throat will get sore."

I saw Rudra’s jaw tighten slightly from the corner of my eye. Without a word, he took his own glass, tilted it toward my lips, and gave me a look that brooked no argument—those **ocean-blue eyes** were commanding.

"Drink, Ishita," he murmured, his voice low but firm. "A few sips won't hurt you, and you haven't had anything since breakfast."

I pouted, looking at my family, but I knew that tone. I gave up and took a few sips from his glass, his hand steadying it as I drank.

"See?" Seema Chachi laughed, nudging Riva Bhabhi. "Our Ishita used to be so stubborn, but it looks like the Prince of Rajasthan knows exactly how to handle her!"

Mummy, Seema Chachi, and Riva Bhabhi huddled around me, their eyes scanning every inch of my **Kundan jewelry** and my glowing face.

"Tell us everything, Ishita," Mummy said, holding my hand. "Is everyone treating you well? Is the Rathor mansion too big for our little girl?"

"They are wonderful, Mummy," I said, smiling at Rudra. "Siya Maa and Bebe treat me like a daughter. And the devranis are like sisters."

"And Rudra?" Chachi teased, leaning in. "Is he still the 'cold-hearted' boss, or has our Ishita melted him completely?"

Rudra, who had been listening to Papa, suddenly smirked. He didn't look away from Papa, but he squeezed my waist under the cover of my saree pallu. "She tries her best, Chachi ji. But she’s the one who gets spoiled the most."

On the other side of the room, Papa was looking at Rudra with immense pride. "I saw the news about the new **Eternity** merger, Rudra. And how is **The Rathor Company** doing? I hope we aren't disturbing your work today."

"Not at all, Papa," Rudra replied, his voice shifting into that smooth, confident tone of a top businessman. "Work is constant, but today is for family. Akshat and my father are handling the board meetings. Eternity is in good hands with my assistant, Laksh. My priority is right here."

"Fufa ji! Fufa ji!" Purav climbed onto the couch, wedging himself between me and Rudra. "Will you take me to see Oscar the tiger? Bua says he’s a baby!"

Ravi Bhai laughed, ruffling Purav’s hair. "Don't bother him, Purav. He’s here to meet your Bua."

"It's fine, Ravi," Rudra said, actually reaching out to pat Purav’s shoulder. It was so strange and beautiful to see this ruthless man, who the world feared, being so gentle in my childhood home. "Next time you come to the mansion, Purav, I’ll personally take you to Oscar. But you have to be brave."

"I am brave!" Purav chirped.

The room was filled with the sound of laughter, the barking of the dogs outside, and the constant clinking of my bangles as I talked. For the first time in three years, the hole in my heart felt completely filled. I looked at Rudra, and he was already looking at me, his gaze softening in a way that told me he was thinking exactly what I was.

*Finally, we are home.*

The lunch was heavy—the kind of homemade feast that only a mother can prepare. I had sat through it, enjoying the warmth of the Sharma household, even if it was a world away from the cold marble of the Rathor mansion. But as the afternoon progressed, my phone began to vibrate incessantly in my pocket.

It was a priority alert from **Eternity**. A crisis in the London merger.

I pulled the device out, my eyes scanning the frantic messages from Laksh. My jaw tightened. I was the President of a global empire, and even on my wife’s *Pag Phere*, the world wouldn't stop demanding my time.

"Something wrong, Rudra beta?" Mohan ji asked, noticing the shift in my posture.

I cleared my throat, the "Cold-Hearted Prince" mask slipping back into place for a brief second. "I’m sorry, Papa. There’s a critical issue with a merger in London. It requires my immediate attention from the office."

The room went a little quiet. Ravi nodded understandingly—he knew the weight I carried. "Of course, Rudra. Work is worship. We’ll take care of Ishita.

I turned to look at her. Ishita was sitting there, her fingers tracing the edge of her plate, her **chooda** catching the light. She smiled at me—a brave, supportive smile—but I saw it. The slight droop of her shoulders, the flicker of disappointment in her brown eyes. She had wanted me here for the whole day.

Every protective instinct I had flared up. Leaving her always felt like losing a limb, especially after those three years of hell.

I stood up, and she followed suit. I ignored the eyes of the family on us. My world was the woman standing in front of me in her red saree.

"I have to go, *Jaana*," I said softly, my voice for her ears only.

"I know," she whispered, her voice a little small. "Go. It's important. I'll stay here with Papa and Mummy."

I couldn't leave her looking like that. I stepped into her space, my 6'3" frame looming over her, and I did something I rarely did in front of others—I gave in to my affection. I leaned down and pressed a deep, lingering kiss to her forehead, right where her *Maang Tikka* rested.

> *"Vaada kar raha hoon, jaldi aaunga,"* I murmured against her skin. (I'm promising you, I'll come back early.) *"Don't let that smile fade while I'm gone, okay?"*

She nodded, her eyes brightening just a little as she looked up at me. "Promise?"

"Promise," I repeated, my ocean-blue eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that promised much more for tonight.

I turned to the family, my expression turning back to the respectful, composed businessman. "I’m truly sorry for the early exit. Ravi, I’ll send the car back for her later, or I’ll come personally to pick her up."

"Don't worry about it, Rudra," Ravi said, walked me to the door. "Work hard. We’ll keep her busy."

As I walked to the SUV, I felt the cold Delhi air hit me, but my mind was already racing—not with the merger, but with how quickly I could finish my work to get back to the woman who now held my heart in the palm of her hand.

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

The engine of the SUV roared as I tore through the Delhi traffic, my grip on the steering wheel so tight my knuckles were white. The warmth of the Sharma household, the scent of the home-cooked lunch, and the sight of Ishita’s soft smile were fading in my rearview mirror, replaced by the cold, grey glass towers of the city.

I was beyond livid.

The glass doors of **Eternity** slid open, and the atmosphere in the lobby shifted instantly. The receptionist froze mid-sentence, and the security detail straightened their ties, barely daring to breathe. The "Cold-Hearted Prince" was back, and today, the ice was burning.

I stormed toward the private elevator, my coat billowing behind me. My mind was a chaotic mess of London stock fluctuations and the image of Ishita’s sad face when I kissed her forehead.

"Laksh!" I barked the moment the elevator doors opened onto the executive floor.

My assistant was already waiting, a tablet in his hand, looking like he was prepared to be executed. "Sir, the London board is on the line, and the legal team is—"

"I don't care who is on the line," I snapped, walking into my office without breaking my stride. I threw my car keys onto the mahogany desk with a sharp *clack* that sounded like a gunshot. "Explain to me, Laksh, why I pay a board of directors millions of dollars if they can’t handle a simple clause dispute for **four hours**? Am I the only person in this entire empire with a functioning brain?"

I stripped off my suit jacket and tossed it onto the leather sofa, rolling up my sleeves. My ocean-blue eyes were probably like ice shards right now.

"Sir, the discrepancy in the valuation was—"

"Fix it," I interrupted, my voice dropping to a dangerous, low growl. "I don't want explanations. I want results. I left my wife in the middle of her *Pag Phere*—a ritual I promised her would be perfect—because this company apparently can’t breathe without me holding its hand."

I sat down, pulling the laptop toward me. The London merger was a multi-billion dollar deal, the kind that put me in the top 5 businessmen in the world. But right now, it felt like a nuisance. Every second I spent looking at these spreadsheets was a second I wasn't looking at Ishita

I reached for a pen, but my hand brushed against my phone. I saw a notification—a photo she had sent. It was one of the ones we took in the car. She was radiant, her **sindoor** and **Kundan jewelry** making her look like a dream, and I was there beside her, looking like I’d finally found my anchor.

A sharp pang of guilt and longing hit my chest. After three years of searching, of kidnapping scares, of blackmail, and of being apart, I finally had her. And here I was, back in this sterile office, surrounded by people who couldn't handle a crisis without me.

"Laksh," I said, not looking up from the screen, my voice dangerously calm.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Tell the London team they have exactly **sixty minutes** to finalize the terms. If they don't, tell them I'm pulling the funding and I'll buy their competitors by Monday morning. I have a promise to keep to my wife, and I don't intend to break it for a few extra zeros in a bank account."

Laksh swallowed hard. "Understood, Sir. I’ll relay the message immediately."

He scurried out, and I slammed my fist onto the desk.

"Seriously," I muttered to the empty room, my eyes darkening with frustration. "Can't a man have one day with his wife without the world falling apart?"

I began to type, the keys clattering under my fingers. I was going to finish this work in record time. Because the Prince was done playing businessman for the day; he wanted his Princess back.

💖 Ishita’s Perspective

The wall clock in our living room seemed to have slowed down just to spite me. It had been exactly two hours since the front door closed behind Rudra, and the house—which used to feel so full and noisy—now felt strangely quiet, despite the fact that my entire family was surrounding me.

I was sitting on the edge of the sofa, my hands resting in my lap. The **chooda** felt heavier than usual, and the **Kundan necklace** Bebe had given me felt like a reminder of the world I had just stepped into—a world where my husband was a king, and kings were rarely ever free.

"Ishita, *baccha*, have another piece of barfi," Mummy said, holding out a plate. I took it with a forced smile, but I could barely taste the sugar.

My mind was stuck on that last moment—the way his **ocean-blue eyes** had looked so conflicted, and the heat of his lips on my forehead. He had promised to come back early, but "early" in Rudra Singh Rathor’s world could mean anything.

I picked up my phone for the tenth time. My thumb hovered over his contact—**"My Prince"**—but I locked the screen again.

*No, Ishita. Don't be that wife,* I scolded myself. *He’s the President of Eternity. He’s handling a multi-billion dollar crisis. If you call him now, you’ll just distract him.*

But another part of me—the girl who had waited three long, agonizing years to have him back after the kidnapping and the blackmail—just wanted to scream. This was our first *Pag Phere*. It was supposed to be about us, together, celebrating our return.

"Bua, why are you looking at the door?" Purav asked, climbing onto the couch and tugging at my red saree pallu. "Fufa ji said he’s coming back. Is he bringing Oscar?"

"He’ll be back soon, Purav," I whispered, ruffling his hair. I felt a pang of sadness. Even a child could see I was waiting.

Riva Bhabhi sat down beside me, gently nudging my shoulder with hers. "You're upset, aren't you? Your face is like a transparent book, Ishita."

"I'm not upset, Bhabhi," I lied, though my voice betrayed me by trembling slightly. "It's just... it's the first time we've been apart since the wedding. And after everything we went through to be together, every hour feels like a day."

I looked down at my hands. The **mehndi** was still so dark, and I could still feel the phantom sensation of his fingers interlaced with mine on the gear shift of the car. The house was filled with the sounds of Papa and Ravi Bhai talking about politics, the dogs barking at a passing cyclist, and the clinking of tea cups—but the one sound I craved was the deep, commanding rumble of Rudra’s voice.

I wandered toward the window, pulling the curtain aside just an inch to peek at the street. The Delhi fog was getting thicker as the evening approached, making the streetlights look like blurry halos.

I felt a little bit of resentment bubbling up. I knew it was selfish—he worked so hard for us, for the legacy of **The Rathor Company**—but did **Eternity** really need him every single second? Couldn't Akshat or his assistant handle it for just one afternoon?

I touched my **mangalsutra**, my fingers tracing the 'R' initial that had been stuck in my bodice this morning. My skin still felt sensitive from where he had kissed my neck before we left the mansion.

"I won't call him," I whispered to my reflection in the windowpane. "I won't be a burden. I'll be the strong wife he needs."

But as I turned back to the room, catching the sympathetic look from my father, I realized I didn't want to be strong right now. I just wanted to be Ishita, and I wanted my Rudra back.

The three years we lost to that blackmail and the kidnapping had made me greedy for his time. Every minute he was gone felt like a minute stolen from our "happy ending."

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

The drive back was a blur of aggressive lane changes and muttered curses. The London board had finally folded, but the victory felt hollow because I knew every minute I spent in that glass tower was a minute I had failed my wife.

When I stepped into the Sharma house, the warmth hit me, but so did the silence. Dinner was already served. I saw her immediately—sitting there in her red saree, the **Kundan jewelry** sparkling under the dining room light, but her eyes were fixed on her plate. She didn't look up when the door opened. She didn't have to; I knew she felt me.

Dinner was a quiet affair. I barely tasted the food, my gaze locked on the way her **chooda** clicked against the table. The tension was so thick even Ravi stayed quiet. The moment it was over, I made our excuses. I needed her alone. I needed to fix this.

I followed her into her childhood bedroom. It was small, intimate, and smelled like the lavender she used to wear and the old books she loved. I shut the door behind me, the *click* of the lock echoing in the small space.

Ishita stood by the window, her back to me. The Delhi cold was seeping through the glass, but she didn't shiver. She was frozen in her own disappointment.

"Ishita," I said, my voice low and raspy.

No response. She started adjusting her paluu pin , her movements stiff and mechanical.

I walked up behind her, my 6'3" frame looming over her, casting a long shadow against the floral wallpaper. I didn't touch her yet. I just breathed her in. "I know I’m late. I know I broke the promise."

"You did your job, Rudra," she said, her voice small, devoid of its usual spark. "I’m not angry. I’m just... I just realized that even on our *Pag Phere*, I come second to Eternity."

That stung more than any corporate loss ever could. I reached out, my large, warm hands settling on her shoulders. I felt her stiffen. I leaned down, my lips grazing the shell of her ear, right next to the heavy gold jhumka.

"You are never second," I whispered, my voice a dark, intense vibration. "I was in that office feeling like my heart had been left behind in this room. I tore that merger apart in two hours just so I could get back to you. Do you have any idea how much I hated every second of being away?"

I turned her around slowly. She refused to look up, her gaze fixed on the second button of my shirt. I reached out, my thumb and forefinger catching her chin, forcing her to meet my **ocean-blue eyes**. Her brown eyes were swimming with unshed tears and a stubborn pout that I wanted to kiss away.

"Look at me, *Jaan*," I commanded softly. "I’m sorry. I’m a cold-hearted businessman who forgot that his world now revolves around a 5'3" girl in a red saree. Forgive your *Patidev*?"

She tried to pull away, but I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest. Her **chooda** pressed into my suit, and the **jingle of her payal** filled the silence as she tried to shuffle back.

"No," she mumbled, though I could see her resolve flickering. "You think you can just show up, look handsome in a suit, and I’ll forget I was sitting here like a fool waiting for you?"

I smirked, a playful glint entering my eyes. I leaned in closer, my nose brushing against hers. "Well, I *am* exceptionally handsome in this suit, don't you think? And you... you look so beautiful when you’re angry. Your cheeks get all flushed... just like they were last night."

"Rudra!" she gasped, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. She tried to swat my chest, but I caught her hands, pinning them against my heart.

"What? I’m just stating facts," I teased, my voice dropping to a husky growl. I started tracing the line of her neck with my thumb, right where her **mangalsutra** rested. "And if I remember correctly, last night you weren't this quiet. You were quite vocal about how much you liked my attention."

"You are shameless," she whispered, a tiny, reluctant smile finally tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Only for you," I said, my expression softening into something purely devoted. I took her hand—the one stained with **mehndi**—and kissed each finger individually, slowly, never breaking eye contact.

"I missed you, Ishita. Every boring minute of that meeting, I was thinking about how your hair feels, how you whine when I wake you up, and how much I love that I’m the only one who gets to see this version of you."

I pulled her into a tight embrace, burying my face in the crook of her neck. She finally gave in, her arms winding around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair.

"Don't do it again," she whispered into my shoulder. "Don't leave me alone when we're supposed to be together."

"Never," I promised, squeezing her so tight I could feel her heartbeat. "From now on, the world can wait. But my wife? She never waits again."

I pulled back just enough to look at her, my thumb wiping away a lone tear. "Now, give me that smile I drove through three hours of traffic for. Or do I have to start tickling you in your own childhood bedroom?"

She let out a genuine, bright laugh, the sound echoing in the room and finally breaking the last of the tension. "You wouldn't dare, Rudra Singh Rathor!"

"Try me," I challenged, my hands moving toward her waist.

💖 Ishita’s Perspective

The goodbye was harder than I expected. Even though I was a Rathor now, leaving my father’s house always felt like a small part of my soul was staying behind in those humble rooms. Papa held my hands for a long time, and Riva Bhabhi promised to call me every morning.

Rudra stood by the car, patient this time, his presence like a dark, protective shield. He had already greeted everyone with the respect befitting a son-in-law, his "Prince" persona softened by the love he had for me. Finally, we settled into the car, the heavy doors shutting out the sounds of my childhood and bringing me back into our shared world.

The SUV glided through the foggy Delhi streets. The heater was humming, but I could still see my breath misting against the window. The city was quiet, the streetlights blurred by the winter haze.

Rudra was driving with one hand, his other hand—as usual—claiming mine. Our fingers were locked over the gear shift, my **chooda** clinking against his watch. Every time he shifted gears, I felt the strength in his arm, a silent reminder that I was safe.

I looked at him—those **ocean-blue eyes** were focused on the road, his jawline sharp and devastatingly handsome in the dim light of the dashboard. The earlier tension was gone, replaced by a comfortable, simmering heat.

I chewed my lip, a sudden, childish craving hitting me. "Rudra?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Can we... can we get ice cream? Please, love? Just once?"

I felt him stiffen slightly. He slowed the car down and glanced at me, his brow furrowed. "Ishita, it’s nearly 11:00 PM in the middle of a Delhi December. It’s freezing outside, and you’re already prone to catching a cold. Absolutely not."

I pouted, leaning toward him as much as my seatbelt would allow. My **Kundan necklace** clinked, and my **mangalsutra** caught the light. I used my free hand to tug gently on his sleeve.

"Please? I really, really want it. Chocolate fudge... or maybe orange bar? It’ll taste better because it’s cold. *Maano na, Patidev* (Agree to it, husband)."

Rudra let out a long, weary sigh—the kind that meant he was already losing the battle. "You’re going to get a sore throat, and then I’m going to have to deal with you being a grumpy patient."

"I won't! I promise," I chirped, seeing a famous ice cream parlor approaching on the corner. "Look! They’re still open! Just one cup? We can share it?"

He pulled the car over to the curb with a sharp, controlled movement. He turned to look at me, his gaze dropping to my pouting red lips and then back to my eyes. The possessiveness in his gaze was unmistakable.

"You are a menace, Ishita Sharma Rathor," he muttered, though he reached out and tucked a loose curl behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin. "Fine. But we aren't getting out. Stay in the heat. I’ll go."

"No, let's go together! I want to see all the flavors," I insisted, already reaching for the door handle.

"Ishita, you are wearing a thin silk saree and heavy jewelry in 8-degree weather," he growled, but he was already unbuckling his seatbelt. He got out, walked around to my side, and opened the door. Before I could step out, he stripped off his **heavy charcoal blazer** and draped it over my shoulders.

I was swallowed by his jacket. It smelled like him—expensive wood, leather, and that intoxicating 'Rudra' scent. I looked like a little girl playing dress-up in his 6'3" frame’s clothes.

"Wrap it around you properly," he commanded, his hand settling on the small of my back as we walked toward the parlor. "If you shiver even once, the ice cream goes in the bin."

I giggled, clutching the lapels of his jacket, my **chooda-clad hands** peeking out from the oversized sleeves. "You're so dramatic, Rudra. But thank you."

We stood at the counter—the Top 5 businessman in the world and his bride in her wedding finery—ordering a double-scoop chocolate fudge. He watched me with a small, private smile as I took the first bite, my eyes closing in bliss.

"See? Isn't it better when it's cold?" I asked, holding out a spoonful to him.

He leaned in, his eyes locking onto mine as he took the bite from my hand. His tongue brushed the spoon, and for a second, the cold air felt like it was on fire.

"Everything is better when I'm with you, *Jaana*," he whispered, his voice thick and dark. "But if you get a cold tomorrow, don't expect me to be nice about the medicine."

The drive back to the mansion was the perfect end to an emotional day. I was happily tucked into the passenger seat, wrapped in Rudra’s oversized blazer, digging into my chocolate fudge tub with a plastic spoon. The heater was humming, the car was silent except for the soft clinking of my **chooda** against the tub, and my husband was being his usual, stoic self.

I glanced at him—the sharp profile of his face, the way his large hand gripped the steering wheel. "Sure you don't want a bite, Rudra? It’s really good."

He didn't even look away from the road, a small, amused smirk playing on his lips. "No, thank you, *Jaan*. You know I don't touch processed sugar. Especially not at 11:00 PM."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "My health-freak hubby. You’re missing out on the best part of life. All those proteins and gym sessions, but no room for a little chocolate?"

"I have my own ways of enjoying life, Ishita," he murmured, his voice dropping into that dark, velvety tone that made my heart skip. "And none of them involve a tub of sugar."

When we pulled into the driveway of the Rathor mansion, the house was glowing with warm lights, standing tall against the Delhi fog. As we stepped inside, the familiar scent of expensive oud and fresh lilies greeted us. Everyone had finished dinner and was lounging in the massive living area, the atmosphere relaxed and familial.

I was still holding my ice cream tub, determined to finish every last bit.

"Bhabhi! You're back!"

I saw little **Krish**—Akshat and Dhristi’s son—roaming around the foyer with a toy car in his hand. His face lit up the moment he saw me.

"Kishi! Come here, baby," I called out, squatting down despite the weight of my heavy red saree. "Look what badi mumma has . *Ice cream hum dono khayenge, okay?*"

Krish giggled and ran into my arms. I sat down on the edge of the plush velvet couch, pulling him onto my lap. My **chooda** clattered softly as I scooped up a bit of the melting chocolate and fed it to him. His eyes widened. "Yummy, Badi mumma !"

As I sat there feeding Krish, I realized the whole 'squad' was already there. **Akshat and Dhristi** were sharing a laugh on the love seat, and **Vardaan and Reet** were looking through some designs on a tablet. My youngest devar, **Jay**, the star footballer and model, was sprawled out across the main sofa like he owned it.

"Wait, is that chocolate fudge?" Jay asked, sitting up suddenly, his eyes fixed on my tub. "Bhabhi, that’s not fair! *Mujhe bhi chahiye!* (I want some too!)"

I pulled the tub away playfully, shielding it with my arm. "No! This is only for me and my Kishi. You're a big boy, Jay. Go get your own."

"But it tastes better when it's yours!" Jay complained, giving me his best 'puppy dog' model eyes. When he saw I wasn't budging, he let out a dramatic sigh and flopped his head right onto my lap, next to where Krish was sitting.

"Fine," Jay grumbled, looking up at me with a mischievous grin. "If I don't get ice cream, I at least get the best seat in the house. You're the best Bhabhi, let me just rest here."

I laughed, looking down at Jay’s head on my lap and Krish happily devouring the chocolate. "You're such a baby, Jay."

I looked up and saw Rudra standing a few feet away, having just finished talking to his father. He was leaning against the marble pillar, his coat suit still sharp, his hands tucked into his pockets.

His **ocean-blue eyes** were fixed on the scene—his wife, covered in family jewelry and a red saree, sitting on the floor-adjacent couch with his nephew and his youngest brother clinging to her.

There was no coldness in his gaze now. Instead, there was a deep, quiet pride. He looked like a king watching over his kingdom, finally seeing his queen exactly where she belonged—at the heart of his family.

"Jay," Rudra’s voice rang out, deep and commanding, though there was a hint of a smile in his tone. "Get your heavy head off my wife's lap. She’s had a long day."

"Five more minutes, Bhai!" Jay called back, not moving an inch. "Bhabhi doesn't mind, do you?"

I caught Rudra's eye and winked. "He’s fine, Rudra. Let him stay."

Rudra shook his head, walking toward us. He stopped behind me, his hand resting firmly on my shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin just above my necklace. It was a silent claim, a reminder to everyone in the room that while I was 'Bhabhi' to them, I was everything to him.

The living room was a picture of royal chaos, and I was right at the center of it. With little Krish still happily licking chocolate from his fingers on my right and Jay’s messy hair tickling my lap on the left, I felt like the most popular person in the Rathor mansion.

But the peace didn't last long.

**Ahana** walked into the room, looking elegant even in her loungewear. She stopped dead when she saw Jay sprawling across me.

"Jay, honestly? Have some shame," Ahana said, crossing her arms and leaning against the armchair. "You’re a 6-foot-something professional football player and a top model, yet here you are, acting like a five-year-old clinging to Bhabhi. Get off her lap; you’re probably crushing her saree!"

Jay didn't even open his eyes. He just snuggled closer to my knee, a cheeky grin on his face. "Jealous much, Ahana? Just because Bhabhi didn't invite you to the ice cream party? Go back to sketching your necklaces and leave us 'favorites' alone."

"Favorites?" Ahana scoffed, looking at me for backup. "Bhabhi, tell him he’s being a brat. He’s always like this! He thinks just because he’s the youngest, he can occupy all your time."

The room suddenly erupted as the other brothers joined in.

"Technically," **Vardaan** piped up, looking up from his legal documents with a smirk. "Jay is encroaching on private property. As a lawyer, I’d say Ahana has a point. He’s infringing on Bhai’s territory, and the physical burden on Bhabhi’s lap constitutes a nuisance."

"Oh, shut up, Vardaan!" **Akshat** laughed, throwing a cushion at him. He looked at me and winked. "I’m with Jay on this one. Leave the kid alone. He’s been missing Bhabhi all day while they were at the Sharma house. Besides, someone has to keep her entertained while Bhai is busy being a workaholic."

"I am *not* a kid!" Jay shouted, finally sitting up but staying close to me. "And at least I don't spend my day arguing in court or stuck in board meetings. I’m the fun brother!"

"You're the *annoying* brother," Ahana countered, reaching out to pull Jay’s ear.

"Ouch! Bhabhi, look! She’s assaulting me in your presence!" Jay complained, hiding behind my shoulder.

I was laughing so hard my **chooda** was jingling like crazy. I looked over at **Dhristi and Reet**, who were just as entertained as I was, watching their husbands bicker like teenagers.

Then, the atmosphere shifted. The temperature didn't change, but the authority in the room did.

Rudra, who had been watching the whole drama with a stoic expression, finally stepped forward. He stood right behind where I was sitting, his presence looming over the back of the couch. His **ocean-blue eyes** swept over his siblings—first Jay, then Ahana, then the middle two.

"Enough," Rudra said. It wasn't loud, but the single word silenced the room instantly. Jay sat up straight, and Ahana dropped her hand.

"Jay, stop bothering Ishita. Ahana, stop screeching; it’s nearly midnight," Rudra commanded, his voice like velvet over steel. He looked at Akshat and Vardaan. "And you two—if you have this much energy to argue, I expect the quarterly reports for The Rathor Company to be on my desk by 8:00 AM tomorrow."

A collective groan went around the room.

"Bhai, you're such a buzzkill," Jay muttered, though he quickly scooted away from my lap when Rudra gave him a warning look.

Rudra ignored them. He reached down, his large hand sliding under my elbow to gently pull me up from the couch. My **payal** jingled as I stood, my red saree shimmering under the chandelier.

"The circus is over," Rudra announced to his siblings. He looked down at me, his gaze softening into that possessive, private look that always made my breath hitch. "My wife has had a long day of traveling, emotional reunions, and dealing with your nonsense. She’s going to sleep."

"But Bhai—" Ahana started.

"Goodnight, everyone," Rudra interrupted, his tone final.

He didn't wait for a reply. He kept his arm firmly around my waist, his hand splayed across my back, guiding me toward the grand staircase. Behind us, I could hear Jay whispering to Akshat, *"See? The Lion is taking his Lioness back to the den."*

I hid a smile against Rudra’s shoulder as we ascended. "You were a bit harsh on them, don't you think, *Patidev*?"

"I was being generous," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl as we reached our bedroom door. "They had you for hour. Now, it's my turn."