Ishita’s Perspective

The silence of the room was heavy and sweet, broken only by the sound of our slowing breaths. Rudra was still inside me, his massive weight a comforting anchor against the silk sheets. He didn't pull away; instead, he began a slow, worshipping trail of kisses across my face. He kissed my forehead, my temples, and then leaned down to tenderly kiss away the **pleasure tears** that had gathered at the corners of my eyes.

He lingered on my neck, his lips ghosting over every **dark hickey** he had just branded me with.

"Ishi..." he whispered, his voice vibrating against my skin, sounding raw and vulnerable. He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his **ocean-blue gaze** searching mine with intense concern. "Did I hurt you? I know I lost control... tell me, *Janna*."

I looked at him, my 6'3" protector looking so small in his worry for me. I shook my head slowly, though I could feel a dull, throbbing ache in my lower body. It was my second time, after all, and he was... well, he was Rudra.

"No, Ru," I murmured, my voice a tired thread. "It’s... a little sore. But it's a good kind of ache. It reminds me you’re real."

He let out a long, shaky breath and leaned down to **peck my swollen lips**. I let out a tiny, exhausted giggle at the sensation, and he finally, carefully, pulled out.

The "Ruthless Prince" was gone. In his place was a man who looked at me like I was the most fragile, precious diamond in his collection. He reached for the duvet, gently covering my **thin, slim figure**, but he didn't move away.

He stayed on his side, propped up on one elbow, and reached out to **play with my chooda**. The red and white bangles clinked softly as his large fingers traced the patterns. I looked down and saw his chest and my neck—we were both marked with **smudged sindoor**, the sacred red powder having spread during our intensity.

"Oh no," I whispered, reaching up to touch his jaw where a faint red mark from my teeth was visible. "Ru, I'm so sorry. I bit you... I didn't mean to, I just—"

"Shh," he interrupted, catching my hand and kissing my palm. He pulled me so close that my head was resting on his muscular bicep. "Don't ever apologize for wanting me, Ishi. This mark? I’m going to wear it with more pride than any of my business awards."

He began his "worship," a slow, methodical care that made me feel like a goddess. He got up for a moment, returning with a warm, damp towel. With the utmost gentleness, he began to clean the **smudged sindoor** from my skin and then his own, then my thighs  softly his touch so light I could barely feel it.

"You're so tiny," he murmured, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "Sometimes I'm terrified I'll break you, my little wife. But then you scratch my back and bite my jaw, and I realize you’re the strongest person in this mansion."

"Only because you're my strength, *Patidev*," I teased softly, snuggling deeper into his side.

He tucked the stray, curly locks of my hair behind my ear, his eyes softening in a way he only ever allowed for me. "Go to sleep, *Janna*. I’m right here. I’m not letting any shadows or gaps come between us again. Tomorrow, you’re the Queen of the Rathors, but tonight... tonight you’re just my Ishi."

I hummed in response, my eyes finally closing as he wrapped his massive arm around me, pulling me into the safety of his chest. The "Cold Prince" was the warmest place in the world.

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

The silence of our room was the most beautiful sound I’d heard in three years. As Ishita’s breathing deepened into the steady, rhythmic pull of sleep, I felt the tension finally drain out of my own body.

She was tucked perfectly into my side, her head resting on my bicep like it was made for her. I reached out and took her small, delicate hand, lacing my fingers through hers before pressing her palm flat against my chest—right over my heart. I wanted her to feel the steady thud, the proof that I was alive, and that every beat was dedicated to her.

I lay there for a long time, just admiring her. In the dim light, she looked like a masterpiece of gold and shadows. My **"little wife"** looked so peaceful, so fragile, yet she was the only person in the world who could bring a man like me to his knees. I looked at the **smudged sindoor** that still tinged her hairline and the faint **hickey marks** I had branded onto her neck. My chest swelled with a dark, protective pride.

My phone, resting on the nightstand, lit up silently. I glanced at the screen: **04:00 AM – Gym.**

In any other circumstance, I would have been up, pushing my body to its limits through iron and sweat. It was the discipline that kept the "Cold-Hearted Prince" sharp. But as I looked down at Ishi—at the way her long, curly hair was splayed across my arm and how she whimpered softly in her sleep, snuggling closer to my warmth—the gym felt like an insignificance.

I reached out with my free hand, my thumb grazing the screen to **switch off the alarm**. I didn't want the harsh buzz to break her rest. She needed this peace. She had survived kidnapping, separation, and tonight... she had survived me

"Sleep, *Janna*," I whispered so softly it was barely a breath.

I leaned down and pressed a final, tender kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair—a mix of lavender and the raw, sweet musk of our intimacy. The void was filled. The silence wasn't lonely anymore; it was full.

I adjusted the duvet, tucking it around her thin, slim frame to make sure she was warm, then I pulled her even closer. I closed my eyes, letting the scent of her and the warmth of her hand against my heart lull me into the first truly restful sleep I’d had in years.

Tomorrow, I would go back to being the ruthless CEO of **The Rathor Company** and the President of **Eternity**. Tomorrow, I would face the boardrooms and the world. But for the next few hours, I was just a man, finally whole, lying in the dark with his destiny.

Time skip in morning 8

The soft, persistent rapping on the heavy oak door broke through the fog of the deepest sleep I’d had in years. I blinked, my **ocean-blue eyes** slowly adjusting to the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of our suite.

The first thing I felt was the weight of her. Ishi was still draped across me, her small, warm body a perfect anchor against my side. We were both **naked under the thick duvet**, the friction of her soft skin against my muscular frame a vivid reminder of the fire we’d shared just hours ago.

The knocking came again. A servant, no doubt, sent to summon us for the family breakfast. My first instinct was to growl at whoever was daring to disturb our sanctuary, but I looked down at Ishita. She didn't even stir; she just let out a tiny, soft sigh and burrowed her face deeper into the crook of my neck.

I moved with the precision of a ghost, sliding my arm out from under her head and replacing it with a silk pillow. I stood up, the morning air hitting my bare skin. I caught my reflection in the mirror—marks of her nails on my shoulders, a faint bruise on my jaw where she’d bitten me in her peak. A slow, dark smirk spread across my face.

I quickly pulled on my **boxers and trousers**, but then I paused. My hand reached for a **black t-shirt**.

Normally, I wouldn't have cared. Back at my penthouse, I used to roam around shirtless without a second thought, indifferent to the presence of the staff. I was the master of that house; their eyes didn't matter to me. But then I remembered the **threats** my tiny, 5'3" wife had leveled at me before our marriage.

*"Rudra Singh Rathor, if I catch you showing off those muscles to anyone but me, I will personally make sure you regret it,"* she had whispered, her brown eyes snapping with a possessive fire that was both terrifying and incredibly arousing.

I chuckled quietly to myself, pulling the fabric over my head. It was ridiculous. I was a man who handled international mafias and ruthless boardrooms without flinching. I was राजस्थान का राजकुमार (The Prince of Rajasthan). And yet, here I was, **genuinely scared** of the wrath of a woman who barely reached my chest.

I walked over to the wall panel and tapped the **sensor mic**, keeping my voice low so it wouldn't carry back to the bed.

"Go," I said, my voice regained its cold, commanding edge, though it was still thick with sleep. "Inform everyone we will join them later. Do not knock again."

I watched the light on the sensor turn off, signaling the servant had scurried away. I turned back to the bed. The "Cold-Hearted Prince" was supposed to be at the head of the breakfast table by 8:00 AM sharp. It was a Rathor tradition. But looking at the way the sunlight hit the **sindoor** still dusting her forehead and the marks I’d left on her shoulder... tradition could wait.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. My mind drifted to the **dirty, dark thoughts** of how I wanted to wake her up—not with words, but with a repeat of last night. But then I saw the slight puffiness of her eyes and remembered her admitting she was sore.

My heart softened. I reached out, my large hand looking massive as I gently tucked a stray curly lock behind her ear.

"You've turned me into a coward, Ishi," I whispered, a soft smile playing on my lips. "A coward who's too afraid to wake his wife because he loves her peace more than his own hunger."

I stayed by the bed for a few more minutes, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders under the duvet. Satisfied that she was deep in a dreamless, healing sleep, I quietly stepped out and headed toward my private gym located in the west wing of the suite.

I had skipped my usual 4:00 AM session. It was becoming a pattern—one I wasn't at all upset about. The first time was after our wedding night, and now, after our second time, the gym was a distant second to the woman sleeping in my bed.

I gripped the cold steel of the pull-up bar and began my set. My muscles groaned, still slightly fatigued from the night’s "workout," but I pushed through. As I lifted my weight, my **ocean-blue eyes** stayed fixed on nothing, my mind spiraling into those **slow, dark-soft thoughts** that only ever emerged in the silence.

It was a strange, intoxicating realization. I am Rudra Singh Rathor. I am the man who makes CEOs tremble with a single look. I am the prince who rebuilt an empire from the ashes of betrayal. The world fears my silence and respects my ruthlessness.

And yet, back in that room, lies a 5'3" girl with curly hair and a silver bindi who has me completely under her thumb.

I moved to the bench press, adding more weight. As I pushed the bar up, I thought about how I’d put on that t-shirt earlier just to avoid her "punishment." I actually **scold myself** in my head for it, but a part of me loves it.

*Everyone thinks I’m the one in control,* I thought, a dark smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth as sweat dripped down my forehead. *They see the cold-hearted businessman. They don't see the man who switches off his alarms and hides his body because his wife gave him a 'warning.'*

It wasn’t just about the threats, though. It was the way she looked at me when I was gentle. It was the way she moaned my name—**"Ru"**—last night, her voice breaking with a pleasure only I could give her. The thought of her walls clenching around me and the marks she left on my back made my grip tighten on the iron.

I sat up, breathing heavily, grabbing a towel to wipe my face. The "dirty" thoughts started creeping back in—the memory of her bare back, the way her **small waist** felt under my palms, and how she looked with my **sindoor** smudged across her beautiful, brown skin.

I’m a man who hates losing control. I’ve spent my whole life being the master of my destiny. But with Ishita? I crave the surrender. I crave being the only man who sees the fire behind her innocence.

"You've truly done it, Ishi," I muttered to the empty gym, my voice a low, possessive rumble. "You’ve tamed the lion, and the terrifying part is... I never want to be wild again."

I finished my last set, my body humming with energy. I needed to shower and get back to her. If she woke up and I wasn't there, she might think the "Cold Prince" had returned. Little did she know, that version of me had died the moment I realized I am in love

I walked back into our suite, the scent of sweat and iron fading as I stepped into the air-conditioned coolness of the bedroom. I had showered in the gym but my skin still felt a residual heat—a echo of the fire Ishita and I had lit last night.

I stopped at the foot of the bed, crossing my arms over my chest. She was still under the duvet, a small, stubborn mound of silk and lace. I couldn't help the low, dark chuckle that vibrated in my chest.

"Jyada thaka diya kya maine?" (*Did I tire you out too much?*) I murmured to the silent room, my lips twitching. "Pr vese bhi lazy hai meri biwi." (*But anyway, my wife is lazy.*)

As if she heard my voice, she stirred. She groaned softly—a sound of pure discomfort and exhaustion—and began to sit up, clutching the **thick blanket tightly around her naked body**. I watched, my **ocean-blue eyes** darkening, as the duvet slipped just enough to reveal the carnage I’d left behind.

Her neck, collarbones, and shoulders were a map of **dark, purplish hickeys**. My jaw mark was visible on her shoulder, and the **sindoor** was still a faint, beautiful smear near her hairline. Her long, curly hair was a wild, sexy mess, and as she moved, her **chooda clinked** and her **payals jingled** a sluggish, tired rhythm.

She looked at me, her eyes half-shut, her face pale. I saw her wince as she tried to shift her legs, her hand instinctively pressing against her **lower abdomen**. The reality of our two intense rounds last night was written in the way she moved—the **pain in her core** was my doing, a physical reminder of how deeply I had claimed her.

Instead of being the "Cold Prince," I decided to be her "Patidev." I sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. I saw her wrap the blanket even tighter, looking like a tiny, ruffled bird.

"What's this, Ishi?" I teased, my voice a low, gravelly hum. "Rajasthan's Princess is still in bed at 9:00 AM? Bebe and Badi Maa are already asking if I should call a doctor because my wife has 'fainted'."

"Ru... don't," she whined, her voice raspy from the screaming she’d done last night. She glared at me, but there was no heat in it, only exhaustion. "You're a monster. I can't even move my legs properly. My stomach... it aches."

My heart squeezed with a mix of guilt and dark satisfaction. I leaned forward, pinning her against the headboard by placing my hands on either side of her, trapping her in the scent of my fresh soap and lingering musk.

"It aches because you wouldn't let me stop, *Janna*," I whispered, leaning in until my nose brushed hers. "You were the one digging your nails into my back, begging for more. Remember?"

I saw her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of crimson, matching her chooda. She tried to hide her face in the blanket, but I reached out, my large hand gently forcing the fabric down to reveal her marked collarbone. I leaned down and pressed a slow, wet kiss to the most prominent hickey I’d given her.

"I have a better way to wake you up than tea," I murmured against her skin, my hand sliding under the blanket to find her **slim, sore waist**, my thumb caressing the skin of her stomach to soothe the ache. "But if I start, we won't make it to breakfast until dinner. And I think Akshat and Jay are already placing bets on why we’re late."

"Rudra! No!" she gasped, pushing at my chest, though she didn't pull away from my touch. "Go away, you shameless man! I need to bathe."

"Fine," I smirked, standing up and reaching down to scoop her—blanket and all—into my arms. "Then I'll help you. After all, a 'lazy' wife needs a very 'attentive' husband."

💖 Ishita’s Perspective

The bathroom was warm, the steam already beginning to cloud the mirrors. Rudra set me down gently on the velvet-upholstered sofa near the vanity, my body still cocooned in the thick duvet. Every movement sent a sharp, throbbing ache through my lower abdomen—a vivid memory of how deeply he had claimed me twice last night.

"Ru..." I whispered, looking up at him with tired eyes. "Please... give me your shirt, na?"

He arched a dark brow, a wicked, dirty glint dancing in those **ocean-blue eyes**. "Why, *Janna*? Scared I’ll see something I didn't spend six hours worshipping last night?"

"Rudra! Shameless," I hissed, blushing furiously. "Just give it."

He chuckled—that deep, vibrating sound that always made my heart skip—and pulled the black fabric over his head. He held it out but didn't hand it over. "On one condition. I get to help you put it on."

"No! Close your eyes," I commanded. He groaned playfully but obeyed, covering his eyes with his hand. I quickly dropped the duvet and slipped into his shirt. It was massive on me, the hem reaching my mid-thighs, smelling purely of him.

While he moved to the **jacuzzi**, I watched his muscular back—the red scratches I’d left last night were visible, making me bite my lip. He started the warm water, the steam rising quickly since it was late **December**.

"Aap naha liye?" (*Did you already bathe?*) I asked softly.

"Hmm," he replied without looking back, adjusting the temperature.

"Ok," I murmured.

He turned around then, his gaze traveling over me in his oversized shirt. "But... there's a special offer just for you. *Main phir se naha sakta hoon, aapke saath.*" (*I can bathe again, with you.*)

I felt the heat rush to my face. "No thanks. *Mujhe ye offer nahi chahiye.*"

"Pr mujhe chahiye," (*But I want it,*) he countered, his voice dropping an octave.

He walked over and picked me up again, his touch surprisingly light despite his strength. He stepped into the **lukewarm water** of the large jacuzzi, and before I knew it, he had discarded the shirt and his clothes, pulling me into the water with him.

The warmth of the water instantly began to soothe the ache in my core, but the warmth of his body against mine was what I really needed. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, the **jingling of my payals** echoing against the tiled walls. I pulled him down to my level, my lips finding his in a soft, lingering kiss.

He smiled against my mouth, deepening the kiss with a tenderness that made my chest ache. As we pulled back just an inch, the weight of the last three years—the kidnapping, the blackmail, the distance—suddenly hit me.

"Rudra..." I whispered, my voice breaking. "I swear... *main aapke bina nahi reh sakti.* I can't even think about it. *Main mar jayungi...*" (*I will die...*)

Before the word 'die' could even fully leave my lips, his grip on me tightened painfully. His expression shifted from soft to terrifyingly intense in a split second. He hauled me up, and instinctively, I **wrapped my legs around his waist**, the water splashing around us.

He kissed me—not softly this time, but with a desperate, crushing force that silenced my fears. When he finally pulled back, his forehead was pressed hard against mine, his blue eyes burning into my brown ones.

"Don't," he rasped, his voice thick with a dark, raw emotion. "Don't you ever use that word, Ishita. You aren't going anywhere. Fate tried to tear us apart once, and look what I did to the world to get you back. If you even talk about leaving me, I’ll lock you in this mansion and never let you see the sun. You are my life, *Janna*. Without you, there is no Rudra Singh Rathor. Understood?"

I shivered, not from the cold, but from the sheer scale of his love. "Understood, Ru," I breathed, leaning in to kiss the corner of his jaw.

He let out a jagged breath, his possessiveness softening back into love. He held me there in the warm water, his large hands stroking my back, silent and protective, as the December chill stayed firmly outside our door.

The steam from the jacuzzi swirled around us, creating a private world of mist and warmth. I was still wrapped around him, my legs locked behind his waist, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat against my chest. The water was soothing my physical ache, but his words—that dark, desperate warning—had set my heart on fire.

I looked into those **ocean-blue eyes** that were now soft with an almost painful devotion. I reached up, my **long nails** gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the one I had bitten just hours ago in a haze of pleasure.

"Kyu krte ho itna pyar mujhe aap, hmm?" I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "Esa kya hai mujhme? I’m just... Ishita. And you are the Rudra Singh Rathor. Why am I your everything?"

Rudra didn't answer immediately. He leaned back against the edge of the tub, pulling me even closer so that I was practically a part of him. His large hands began a slow, rhythmic massage on my lower back, his thumbs expertly easing the **soreness in my core** with a gentleness that made me want to cry all over again.

"Everything?" he repeated, his voice a low, melodic rumble. "That’s a small word for what you are, *Janna*. You think you’re 'just Ishita,' but you’re the only person who looked at the cold-hearted Prince and saw a man worth loving. You’re the only one who isn't afraid to scold me, to threat me, or to bite me."

He leaned in, kissing the tip of my nose before his lips moved to my ear, his breath hot and intoxicating.

"I love you because you are my peace in a world of war. When I was alone for those three years, I wasn't living, Ishi. I was just surviving. The business, the money, the 'Top 5' titles... they meant nothing. I would have traded every single rupee in the **Eternity** accounts just to have one minute of you jingling your **payals** in my room."

I melted. There was no other way to describe it. I hid my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of the water and the raw, masculine musk of my husband. My **chooda clinked** softly against his wet skin as I tightened my hold on him.

"You're a genius, Ru," I murmured against his skin. "You run empires, you solve problems the world can't... and yet, you're here, in a bathtub, worrying about my stomach ache."

"Because this empire," he said, his hand sliding down to cup my cheek, forcing me to look at him, "is the only one that matters. My board of directors can wait. My brothers can wait. Even the world can wait. But my wife? She comes first. Always."

He started to wash me then—a slow, **sensual aftercare** that felt like worship. He used a sponge with my favorite rose-scented soap, his movements incredibly careful. He cleaned the last traces of **smudged sindoor** from my skin, his eyes following every curve of my body with a look that wasn't just lust—it was pure, unadulterated adoration.

"Don't ever ask me 'why' again," he murmured, his thumb grazing my lower lip. "Just know that as long as this heart is beating, it's beating for you. You have the license to my soul, Ishita. You can break me, or you can build me. I’m yours to do with as you please."

I felt a tear of happiness escape and hit the warm water. I didn't say anything; I just pulled him into a deep, soul-searing kiss that told him everything my words couldn't. I wasn't just his wife; I was his sanctuary.

As the warm water bubbled around us, the December cold outside felt like a distant memory. Here, in his arms, I was safe. I was loved. And I was exactly where destiny had always meant for me to be.

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

The warm, soapy water drained away, leaving us anchored to each other as the overhead shower kicked in automatically. It felt like standing in a warm December rain. The water cascaded over my shoulders and down Ishita’s back, plastering her long, curly hair to her skin.

I leaned down, my lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck and jaw, tasting the salt and the rose-scented soap. I felt her small hand rise, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the **faint purple bite mark** on my jaw.

"It's still there," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "I really did that, didn't I?"

I captured her hand and kissed her palm, a dark, possessive smirk pulling at my lips. "The first of many marks, *Janna*. I told you, I’m wearing it like a crown. It’s proof that the little makeup artist finally broke the Prince."

After a few more minutes of just holding her under the "rain," I realized she was starting to shiver. I turned off the shower and stepped out, grabbing a plush white robe. I wrapped her in it, the fabric swallowing her **5'3" frame**, and then I scooped her up into my arms.

"Ru... I can walk," she protested weakly, even as she tucked her head into my chest.

"I know you can," I murmured, walking out into the bedroom. "But after last night, your husband prefers to be your personal transport."

I set her down on the edge of the bed and sat behind her, pulling her back so she was resting securely on **my lap**. I grabbed a fresh, dry towel and began to **slowly dry her hair**. I was meticulous, patting the damp curls with a gentleness that surprised even me.

The **clinking of her chooda** and the **soft jingle of her payals** filled the room as she leaned her head back against my shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut.

"You know," I said, my voice teasingly low, "Akshat and Jay are probably telling the whole family that I’ve finally met my match. They think you own me now."

She let out a soft, sleepy hum. "And do I? Own you?"

I stopped drying her hair for a second, my hands resting on her shoulders. I leaned down, my lips grazing her ear. "You know the answer, Ishita. To the world, I am the boss. I am the Rathor who takes what he wants. But in this room? I belong to you. Every muscle, every breath, every heartbeat."

"Hmm," she teased, a playful smile touching her lips. "Then as your owner, I command you to keep drying my hair. It’s heavy."

I let out a genuine laugh, the sound echoing through the suite. "See? This is what I mean. My 5'3" wife is the only person on this planet who would dare 'command' the President of Eternity."

I continued the soft, rhythmic drying, watching the way she leaned into my touch. I could feel her relaxing, the **pain in her core** seemingly forgotten in the warmth of our banter.

"I love this, Ru," she whispered, her fingers playing with the edge of my robe. "Just... being us. No drama, no kidnapping, no three-year gap. Just you and me."

"It's always going to be just us from now on," I promised, dropping the towel and pulling her around so she was straddling my lap, her face inches from mine. "But if we don't go down for breakfast in the next ten minutes, Jay is going to start a 'Rudra and Ishita' search party, and I don't think you want your *devar* seeing those hickeys on your neck."

She gasped, her eyes widening in realization as she quickly tried to pull the robe higher. "Rudra! Why didn't you tell me they were that visible? Hide them! I need makeup... I need high-neck clothes!"

I just grinned, my **ocean-blue eyes** dancing with mischief. "Good luck with that, *Janna*. I made sure those marks stay for a while."

I couldn't help the wicked grin that spread across my face as I watched her panic. She looked so small and adorable, huddled in my lap, trying to pull the collar of the robe up to her chin while her **messy curls** bounced with every frantic movement.

"Mujhe nahi jaana neeche!" she cried, clinging to my shoulders as if I were about to throw her to a pack of wolves. "Sab kya sochenge aapka ye mark dekh kar? Ki biwi pati ko kaati hai?" (*What will everyone think seeing this mark? That the wife bites her husband?*)

I let out a low, dark chuckle, my hands tightening on her waist to keep her from squirming away. "Ru, please! Main nahi ja rahi!"

"They already know, Ishi," I said, my voice smooth and dangerously calm.

Her head snapped up, her **brown eyes** wide with a look of pure, unadulterated horror. "K-Kya?!" she shrieked in a high pitch that probably would have shattered glass if we weren't in a suite. She looked at me with a shocked expression, her **chooda clinking** frantically as she gestured around. "Aapne bola tha room soundproof hai! Fir sabko kaise pata chala?!"

I pulled her closer, my nose brushing against hers. "Janna, ghar mein sab adults hain," I explained, my **ocean-blue eyes** dancing with mischief. "Jo humne kiya, sab karte honge. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why the 'Cold Prince' isn't at the breakfast table at 8:00 AM after three years of waiting."

She gasped, her face turning a shade of red that put her rubies to shame. "Haww! Rudra, sharam karo thoda! Kaisi baatein karte ho aap?!" (*Have some shame! What kind of things are you saying?!*)

I leaned in, my lips ghosting over her reddened cheek, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Jab karte hue sharm nahi aayi, toh bolne mein kaisi sharam, Ishita?" (*If you weren't shy while doing it, why be shy talking about it?*)

"Rudra! Aap paagal ho!" (*Rudra, you're crazy!*) she whined, hitting my chest with her small fists. She buried her face in my shoulder, her **long hair** veiling her embarrassment. "I can't face Badi Maa. I can't face Reet or Dhristi. They’ll look at my neck and then at your jaw and... oh god, I'm going to die of embarrassment."

"No one is dying on my watch," I teased, rubbing her back to soothe the lingering **tension and soreness**. "Besides, if anyone teases you too much, I’ll just give them 'the look.' You know no one dares to speak when the King is in the room."

"Except me," she mumbled into my neck.

"Except you," I agreed, smiling against her skin. "You're the only one who has the license to bite the King and then complain about it."

I felt her relax slightly, though she was still pouting. I knew she was terrified of the teasing from **Akshat and Jay**, but I also knew she wouldn't leave my side.

"Now," I said, lifting her chin so she had to look at me. "Are you going to get dressed, or should I tell everyone that my wife is too 'busy' to come down? Because that will definitely make them stop thinking about what we were doing."

"Rudra! Fine! I'm going!" she huffed, finally sliding off my lap, clutching the robe tight. "But you're wearing a high-neck shirt too! I'm not the only one hiding marks today!"

I watched her stomp toward the walk-in closet, her **payals jingling** with every indignant step. I stayed on the bed for a moment, enjoying the view of my fierce, tiny wife.