Rudra's Perspective

I was standing in the middle of a high-stakes board meeting at **The Rathor Company**, but my mind wasn't on the merger. My **ocean-blue eyes** were fixed on the clock. It had been five days, since I last touched her. I didn't care about the six-day tradition anymore; I was Rajasthan’s prince, and I was going to claim what was mine.

I had already walked out of the meeting, ignoring the confused stares of my directors, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I swiped it open instantly.

"Janna," I said, my voice deep and impatient as I strode toward my black SUV. "I'm already in the car. I'm ten minutes away from your house."

"Ru! Wait!" her sweet voice crackled through the speakers, sounding panicked but adorable. "Suno na... aaj **Purav** ka birthday hai! I totally forgot to tell you in all the 'missing you' drama. So can you bring a gift, please? Something special? Please, please, please!"

I signaled my driver to stop and turned the steering wheel myself, pulling the car over. "A gift for the little shaitaan? Ishita, I'm coming to bring *you* back, not to attend a birthday party."

"Ru... please? My brother and Riva Bhabhi will be so happy. And Purav loves his fufa ji .' Ek gift le aao na, for your Janna?"

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. She knew exactly which buttons to push. I could lead a multi-billion dollar empire like **Eternity**, but I couldn't say no to her when she used that tone.

"Fine," I growled, though a small smirk tugged at my lips. "But if I do this, you owe me. No more 'I'm sleepy' excuses tonight when we get back to our room. Understood?"

I heard her soft, melodic giggle on the other end, followed by a loud *Mmuah!* through the phone. "Understood, Patidev! I'll be waiting at the gate!"

I hung up and called Laksh. "Find the best remote-controlled professional drone and a customized miniature football kit. Now. I’ll meet you at the toy boutique in five minutes. And Laksh? Make sure it's wrapped in gold. He's a Rathor's nephew, after all."

I pushed the accelerator, the engine of the SUV roaring. I had a gift to buy, a birthday to survive, and most importantly, a wife to kidnap back to my palace.

I stood in the middle of the most expensive toy boutique in the city, my **6'3" frame** looking completely out of place among the stuffed bears and colorful blocks. I was still in my bespoke charcoal suit, looking every bit the **top 5 businessman** in the world, while **Laksh** followed behind me, looking increasingly confused.

"Laksh, get the professional drone—the one with the 4K camera and the carbon-fiber body. And that miniature football kit, make sure the quality is top-tier," I commanded, my **ocean blue eyes** scanning the shelves with clinical precision.

Laksh blinked, holding the heavy drone box. "Sir... if I may ask, how old is your nephew? Is he in middle school?"

"It’s his **first** birthday," I replied simply, adjusting my cufflinks.

Laksh nearly dropped the box. He stared at me like I had lost my mind. "Sir? **1 saal ke bache ke liye drone?** Are you sure? (Sir? A drone for a one-year-old? Are you sure?)"

I turned to him, my expression cold and unyielding, though internally I was just thinking about how **Ishita** would look at me if I showed up empty-handed. "What’s the problem? He’s a Rathor-Sharma. He should learn to navigate the skies before he walks. It builds perspective."

"Sir, he'll probably just try to eat the remote," Laksh whispered under his breath, but at my sharp glance, he quickly cleared his throat. "Of course, sir. Perspective. Excellent choice."

"And the football kit?" I added, thinking of **Jay**. "If he's going to play, he starts with the best gear. Wrap them both. Gold paper. No ribbons—keep it classy."

As I waited for the staff to scramble, my phone buzzed with a text from **Janna**: *'Ru, where are you? Purav is about to cut the cake! Come fast! ❤️'*

I felt that familiar tug in my chest. I didn't care about the drone or the football. I just wanted to see her. I wanted to see her **brown eyes** light up when she saw me, and I wanted to remind her that her six-day 'vacation' was officially being cut short by her husband.

"Laksh, hurry up," I snapped, my voice thick with a sudden, desperate impatience. "I have a birthday to attend, and a wife to reclaim."

I pulled the SUV up to the Sharma house, and before the engine had even fully cooled, I was out. Laksh followed behind me, struggling to carry the massive, gold-wrapped boxes. I looked like I was arriving for a business merger rather than a one-year-old’s birthday, but I didn't care.

The moment I stepped into the decorated courtyard, the chatter died down. **Ravi and Riva Bhabhi** looked stunned, and **Mohan Ji and Gayatri Maa** hurried forward to greet me. But my eyes were only for **Ishita**. She was standing near the cake table, looking breathtaking in a simple pastel suit, her **long curly hair** pinned back, and her **chooda** gleaming under the fairy lights.

"Ru! You're finally here!" she exclaimed, running toward me.

I didn't care who was watching. I caught her by the waist for a brief second, breathing in her scent, before Laksh stepped forward with the "offerings."

"Happy Birthday, Purav," I said, my voice deep and formal as I gestured for Laksh to place the boxes down.

**Ravi Bhai** walked over, looking at the size of the first box. "Rudra, it's just his first birthday, man. What is this? A refrigerator?"

I smirked. "Open it."

As Ravi tore away the gold paper to reveal the high-tech, professional-grade drone and the premium leather football kit, a silence fell over the room. **Purav**, the birthday boy, was currently busy trying to chew on a plastic spoon, completely oblivious to the $5,000 piece of technology in front of him.

Ishita walked up to the drone, poking the carbon-fiber wing with one finger. She turned to me, her **brown eyes** wide with a mix of disbelief and hilarity.

"Ru... seriously?" she asked, her voice hitching as she tried to suppress a laugh. "**Ye gift laye hain aap? Drone? Purav kya uspe baith ke udega?** (You brought this gift? A drone? Is Purav going to sit on it and fly?)"

The entire family burst into laughter. **Riva Bhabhi** was giggling behind her hand, and even **Gayatri Maa** was shaking her head.

"He's a baby, Ru!" Ishita continued, stepping closer to me, her **chooda clinking** as she pointed at the drone's advanced remote control. "He can't even hold a glass of water properly, and you want him to navigate Rajasthan's airspace?"

I looked down at her, my **6'3" frame** towering over her as I tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "He needs to be prepared, Janna. A Rathor man doesn't play with wooden blocks. Besides," I leaned down, whispering into her ear so only she could hear, "if he’s busy flying that, maybe he’ll stay with his parents and let me take my wife back home without any more 'bua' duties for the night."

She blushed a deep crimson, her eyes dancing with mischief. "You are impossible, Patidev."

The cake-cutting began with a chaotic, joyful energy. The table was laden with a bright blue cake, and the whole **Sharma family** gathered around. **Ravi Bhai** was trying to get **Purav** to hold the plastic knife, while **Ishita** held the little birthday boy in her arms.

I stood right behind her, my **6'3" frame** acting like a protective shield against the crowd. I could feel the warmth of her body and the soft scent of her perfume, and honestly, the "Cold Prince" in me was struggling to stay focused on the celebration.

"Chalo Purav, cake kato! (Come on Purav, cut the cake!)" **Gayatri Maa** cheered, clapping her hands.

But Purav had other plans. He wasn't looking at the cake, and he certainly wasn't looking at my high-tech drone. His big, curious eyes were locked onto my wrist. Specifically, my **limited-edition Patek Philippe**. Before anyone could react, he reached out with a chubby, frosting-covered hand and grabbed the watch face, pulling my arm toward him.

"Oye! Purav, no!" Ishita laughed, trying to pull him back, but the toddler was surprisingly strong.

While his left hand gripped my watch, his right hand suddenly reached up and grabbed **Ishita’s** cheek. He didn't just touch it; he opened his mouth wide and tried to take a "bite" of her face, leaving a giant smear of baby drool and frosting on her **brown skin**.

"Ah! Ru, bachao! (Ru, save me!)" Ishita squealed, giggling as she tried to dodge the baby’s "attack." "Ye mera gaal kha jayega! (He's going to eat my cheek!)"

I couldn't help it—a genuine, deep laugh escaped my chest. I reached out, my large hand easily covering Purav’s tiny head to gently steer him away from my wife’s face, while my other hand stayed firmly in his grip so he could keep investigating the shiny watch.

"See?" I murmured, leaning down so my lips were right by Ishita’s ear. "The kid has great taste. He ignores the toys and goes straight for the luxury watch and the most beautiful woman in the room."

Ishita turned her head, her **brown eyes** sparkling with joy despite the frosting on her cheek. "Aap aur aapki baatein, Patidev... (You and your words, husband...)"

I took a silk handkerchief from my pocket and slowly, carefully wiped the frosting from her cheek, my gaze turning intense. "Forget the baby," I whispered, my **ocean blue eyes** darkening. "I’ve been waiting five days for a taste of those cheeks myself. Let’s get this cake finished. I’m taking you home."

She blushed a deep pink, her **chooda clinking** as she adjusted Purav in her arms, unable to meet my gaze as the rest of the family cheered for the birthday boy.

The farewell was a whirlwind of hugs and laughter. **Ishita** squeezed **Gayatri Maa** one last time and showered **Purav** with kisses, whispering that his bua would be back soon. I stood by the door, my **6'3" frame** leaning against the frame as I nodded respectfully to **Mohan Ji** and **Ravi**.

"Chalo, Janna. Enough now," I said, my voice low and authoritative, guiding her toward the SUV. I was finally getting her back, and I wasn't planning on letting her out of my sight for at least a week.

We were almost at the car when Ishita suddenly skidded to a halt. Her eyes locked onto her younger cousin, **Vaibhav**, who was just about to take a massive, glorious first bite of a fresh slice of birthday cake.

Before the poor guy could even register what was happening, Ishita lunged. With the agility of a cat, she snatched the plate and the fork right out of his hands.

"Sara khud hi khayega kya? Badi behen se bhi share kar le, kutte! (Are you going to eat it all yourself? Share some with your elder sister, you dog!)" she teased, her **chooda clinking** loudly as she made a break for the car.

"Hey! Ishita Di! That's my slice!" Vaibhav yelled, standing there with his mouth still open in shock.

Ishita didn't look back. She scrambled into the passenger seat of the SUV, slamming the door and locking it. She looked through the window, waving the fork like a trophy and taking a huge, shameless bite of the cake. "BYEEEEEE!" she muffled through a mouthful of frosting.

Vaibhav turned toward **Gayatri Maa**, looking completely betrayed. "Tai ji! Dekhlo inhe! (Auntie, just look at her!) She’s a Rathor Bahu and she’s still stealing my cake!"

I couldn't help but smirk as I climbed into the driver's seat. I looked over at my wife, who was happily humming to herself, swinging her feet, and getting a little bit of chocolate frosting on her lip. My "Cold Prince" facade was completely gone; I was just a man hopelessly in love with this chaotic, cake-stealing woman.

"Was the theft necessary, Ishi?" I asked, starting the engine.

"Absolutely," she replied, pointing the fork at me. "I need energy for the long drive. Want a bite, Ru?"

"I'll have my dessert when we get home," I murmured, my **ocean blue eyes** lingering on her lips for a second too long before I shifted the car into gear and sped away toward the **Rathor Mansion**.

The drive back to the Rathor mansion was a complete contrast of energies. Inside the quiet, plush cabin of the SUV, the scent of expensive leather mingled with the sweet aroma of the chocolate cake **Ishita** was currently devouring. I kept one hand firmly on the steering wheel, while my other hand rested possessively on her smooth, silken thigh, feeling the warmth of her through the fabric of her suit.

I watched her from the corner of my eye—the way her **brown eyes** closed in bliss with every bite, her **chooda clinking** as she waved the fork around. My mind, however, wasn't on the cake. I was Rajasthan’s most calculated businessman, and right now, I was calculating exactly how many minutes it would take to get her behind the soundproof doors of our bedroom. *Five days of sleeping alone was five days too many,* I thought, my grip on her thigh tightening slightly as I imagined "eating" my own dessert in the privacy of our suite.

When we finally reached the mansion, the homecoming was traditional and warm. **Ishita**, ever the perfect daughter-in-law, immediately touched the feet of **Ram Papa, Siya Maa, Lakhan Chacha, and Urmila Chachi**, receiving their blessings with a bright smile.

"Ishu, finally you're back! The house felt so empty," **Siya Maa** said, kissing her forehead.

I didn't let the conversation linger. I signaled the servants to take her small suitcase up immediately. I was done sharing her. "Maa, we're a bit tired from the drive. We’ll see you at breakfast," I said, my voice carrying that finality that no one dared to question.

The moment we stepped inside our **luxurious bedroom**, I didn't even wait for her to put her handbag down. I shut the heavy door with a decisive *thud* and turned the lock.

Before she could even turn around, I trapped her against the cold wood of the door, my **6'3" muscular frame** caging her in. I leaned in, my arms on either side of her head, my **ocean blue eyes** dark with a hunger that had been simmering for six days.

"Ru..." she gasped, her **brown eyes** wide and sparkling with mischief. "The cake isn't even finished yet! Are you that hungry?"

"The cake was just an appetizer, Janna," I growled, my voice dropping to a low, husky register. I leaned down, my nose brushing against hers. "You have no idea how much I hated this room without you. The silence was deafening."

She giggled, her hands coming up to rest on my chest, her **chooda clinking** softly against my shirt. "Oh really? Rajasthan's 'Cold-Hearted Prince' couldn't handle a few nights alone? What happened to the man who doesn't believe in emotions?"

"He met a 5'3" thief who steals cake and hearts with the same lack of remorse," I countered, a smirk playing on my lips. I traced the line of her jaw with my thumb. "Now, tell me... did you miss me as much as I missed you, or were you too busy being the star of the Sharma house?"

"Hmm, let me think," she teased, tilting her head. "Between **Ravi Bhai's** jokes and **Purav's** cuddles... I might have forgotten you for, oh, maybe five minutes?"

My eyes narrowed playfully. "Five minutes? That's a long time, Ishi. I think I’ll have to make sure you don't forget me for even five seconds tonight."

I leaned closer, my breath fanning her lips. "The room is soundproof, the door is locked, and I am officially off-duty from the world. What do you have to say for yourself, Mrs. Rathor?"

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me down until our lips were inches apart. "I say... stop talking and show me how much you missed your 'Janna,' Patidev."

The air in the room felt thick, charged with the kind of electricity that only builds after days of forced distance. I didn't give her a chance to pull away; my mouth crashed onto hers with a hunger that was raw and unfiltered. It wasn't the gentle, poised kiss of a prince—it was the desperate claim of a man who had finally found his air again.

"Ru..." she whimpered against my lips, her small hands clutching the lapels of my suit jacket.

I lifted her effortlessly, her **slim legs** instinctively wrapping around my waist while her **chooda clinked** frantically behind my neck. I carried her toward the massive bed, never breaking the kiss, my tongue seeking hers with a possessive rhythm. I laid her down on the silk sheets, my **6'3" frame** hovering over her, pinning her into the mattress.

"Six days, Ishita," I rasped against the sensitive skin of her throat, my stubble grazing her as she tilted her head back, exposing the line of her neck. "Do you have any idea what you do to me? I was losing my mind."

"I... I missed you too," she moaned, her breath hitching as my hands began to roam, tracing the curves I had memorized during our **five years of love**. "Ru, please... no more talking."

I moved back to her lips, and this time, the kiss was deeper, wetter, filled with the sounds of our shared breath. As I moved my hands to the fastenings of her suit, her head fell back into the pillow, a soft, broken moan escaping her.

"Ah... Ru... your hands are so cold," she whispered, shivering as my palms met her **brown skin**.

"I'll warm you up, Janna," I promised, my voice a dark, velvet growl.

The room was silent except for the rhythmic *clink-clink-clink* of her **chooda** hitting the headboard as her movements became more restless. Every time I touched a new patch of skin, she let out a soft, melodic cry—a sound that was more addictive to me than any business success at **Eternity**.

"Patidev... please," she breathed, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her eyes clouded with a beautiful, hazy desire.

"Say my name, Ishi," I commanded, my **ocean-blue eyes** locked onto hers, wanting to see every flicker of emotion. "Tell me who you belong to."

"Rudra... I'm yours... only yours," she sobbed out, her voice breaking into a high, sweet moan as I finally bridged the last of the distance between us.

The night was a blur of intense passion and soft whispers. I was Rajasthan’s cold prince to the world, but in the sanctuary of this soundproof room, I was just a man worshiping his wife. Every gasp she took, every time she whispered "Ru" into the crook of my neck, I felt the three years of our past separation finally being burned away by the heat of our present.

We stayed like that for hours, lost in each other, until the only sound left was our heavy, synchronized breathing and the faint jingle of her **payal** as she finally drifted off to sleep, her head tucked securely against my chest.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

A few days had passed since my return, and the mansion felt alive again. I was sitting on our oversized velvet sofa, leaning back against **Rudra’s** broad chest. The afternoon sun was streaming through the high windows of the Rathor mansion, reflecting off the gold of my **chooda**.

I was buzzing with excitement, holding a professional portfolio in my hands. "Ru, listen to me properly! It’s the ‘Heritage & Hearts’ show. It’s the biggest fashion event of the season, and they want *me* to be the showstopper for the bridal collection. My first ramp walk after our marriage!"

Rudra wasn't looking at the papers. His **6'3" frame** was relaxed, but his focus was entirely on my hands. His large, calloused fingers were gently twisting one of my red bangles, making them jingle softly. The "Cold-Hearted Prince" of the business world was currently occupied with the rhythmic *chan-chan* of my **chooda**.

"Ramp walk, hmm?" he murmured, his voice deep and vibrating against my back. He leaned in, his **ocean-blue eyes** dark and possessive. "So, you want to walk out there in front of hundreds of people, looking like a goddess, while I have to sit in the front row and remind myself not to break the legs of every man staring at my wife?"

I giggled, turning my head to look at him. "Oh, stop it! You’re the President of **Eternity**, you’re supposed to be poised. Besides, it’s a big deal for my career as a model."

At our feet, **Oscar**, our majestic black tiger, let out a low, rumbling purr. He was lying on the rug, his massive head resting near my ankles. With a playful flick of his paw, he batted at my **payal**, making the silver bells ring.

"See? Even Oscar thinks I should go," I teased, reaching down to scratch the tiger behind his ears. "He’s already practicing his 'security guard' moves for his mom

Rudra pulled me closer, his arm winding tightly around my waist, drawing my **5'3" frame** flush against him. "Oscar is just waiting for me to give the command to eat anyone who looks at you for more than three seconds," he joked, though his tone had that typical Rathor edge.

He took my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up. "Ishi, you know I’ll support you. Whether it’s at the Sharma house or on a global stage, you’re the star. But I have one condition."

"And what’s that, Patidev?" I asked, my **brown eyes** dancing with light.

"The jewelry," he said, his gaze dropping to my neck. "You’ll wear the pieces **Ahana** designed for you. And the moment the show ends, you belong back in this house, in this room. I don't share my Janna with the limelight for long."

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my **chooda clinking** against his nape. "Deal. But you have to promise to look at me the whole time I'm on that stage. I want to see those **ocean-blue eyes** so I don't get nervous."

"I haven't looked away from you for five years, Ishita," he whispered, his voice turning thick with emotion. "You think a ramp walk is going to change that? You’re the only destiny I ever followed."

He leaned down, and for a moment, the fashion show was forgotten as he claimed my lips in a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of tea, chocolate, and the "forever" we had fought so hard to keep.

The dining hall was filled with the warm aroma of saffron rice and slow-cooked dal, the clinking of silver cutlery against fine china creating a peaceful domestic melody. **Ram Papa** and **Siya Maa** were at the head of the table, while **Akshat and Dhristi** were busy making sure little **Krish** didn't throw his carrots at **Jay**.

**Rudra** cleared his throat, his **6'3" frame** commanding the room even while sitting down. He laid a protective hand over mine on the table, his **ocean-blue eyes** sweeping across the family. "I have an announcement. **Ishita** has been offered the showstopper position for the 'Heritage & Hearts' fashion show. It’s her first big project since the wedding."

The room erupted in smiles. **Siya Maa** clapped her hands, her eyes glowing with pride. "Oho! My Ishu is going to be a star again! Nazar na lage," she whispered, metaphorically warding off the evil eye.

**Jay**, who was busy dramatically posing with his fork, suddenly sat up straight. He adjusted his collar, looking every bit the top model he is. "Bhabhi ji! This is huge!" he exclaimed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He leaned across the table, ignoring the warning glare **Rudra** was starting to give him. "**Should I accompany you, Bhabhi ji?** Think about it! Two top models in one frame. The 'Prince of the Ramp' and the 'Rathor Bahu.' We’ll set the stage on fire! The headlines will be all about us."

I giggled, my **chooda clinking** as I covered my mouth. "Jay, I think the stage might not be big enough for your ego and my lehenga at the same time!"

"Oye! Ego nahi, talent hai ye!" Jay defended himself, winking at me.

Rudra’s grip on my hand tightened slightly—not in anger at me, but in that typical, possessive "Big Brother" way he had with Jay. "Jay, if you even think about stealing her spotlight or 'accompanying' her with those cheesy poses, I’ll make sure your next football match is played in the backyard with **Oscar** as the goalie."

**Akshat** let out a loud laugh, nudging **Dhristi**. "Hear that? Rudra is already getting jealous of his own brother. I bet he’s going to buy the entire front row just so no one can sit near him while he stares at her."

"I don't need to buy the front row to make it clear she’s mine," Rudra replied smoothly, taking a sip of water, his icy exterior momentarily melting into a smirk.

I looked at all of them—my beautiful, chaotic family. From my **Patidev** who was secretly my biggest fan, to **Jay** who always knew how to make me laugh. "Actually, Jay," I said, tilting my head playfully, "if you walk with me, who will keep an eye on Ru? He looks like he’s ready to kidnap me from the ramp the moment I finish my walk!"

"Don't give me ideas, Janna," Rudra whispered under his breath, leaning closer to me so only I could hear the possessive rumble in his chest.

The night before the big show, our suite had turned into a full-blown fashion headquarters. The air smelled of expensive perfumes and fresh fabric. **Reet**, being the brilliant designer she is, was fussing over the final hooks of my showstopper lehenga, while **Ahana** had her jewelry trunks spread out across the velvet ottoman like a treasure chest.

I was sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge, my **long curly hair** tossed over one shoulder, while **Jay**—in his typical dramatic fashion—was lying with his head in my lap. He was staring at the ceiling, waving a hand in the air as if visualizing the stage.

"Bhabhi ji, listen to me," **Jay** insisted, his voice full of theatrical flair. "When you reach the end of the ramp, don't just smile. Give them that 'Rathor Royalty' look. Cold, sharp, and then... *boom!* A tiny smirk just for Bhai in the front row. It’ll kill him!"

I laughed, my **chooda clinking** as I absentmindedly stroked Jay’s hair like he was a younger brother. "Jay, if I do that, your Bhai will probably jump onto the stage and carry me away before I can even turn around!"

**Reet** pulled a pin from her mouth, nodding in agreement. "She’s right, Jay. We need her to look like a bride, not a rebel. Ishu bhabhi , the fit is perfect now. The way this silk hugs your **slim figure**... Rudra is going to lose his mind."

**Ahana** held up a heavy choker made of uncut diamonds and deep green emeralds—the signature Rathor style. "And this," she said, her eyes sparkling. "This is the 'Janna Set.' I designed it specifically for this neckline. It’s bold, bhabhi, just like your love story."

"It's beautiful, Ahana," I whispered, reaching out to touch the cool stones.

Suddenly, the door opened, and **Rudra** walked in, his **6'3" frame** instantly making the room feel smaller. He stopped dead in his eyes, his **ocean-blue eyes** taking in the scene: the clothes, the jewelry, and his brother comfortably lounging in my lap.

"Jay," Rudra’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble. "Is there a reason your head is attached to my wife’s lap while I’ve been waiting in the study for an hour?"

Jay didn't even flinch; he just grinned up at his brother. "Relax, Bhai! We’re discussing *art*. I’m giving Bhabhi ji the secret tips of the trade. You wouldn't understand; you just sign checks."

Rudra walked over, his presence like a magnetic pull. He reached down, grabbed Jay by the back of his shirt, and effortlessly hauled him up. "Out. All of you. The 'art' session is over. My wife needs to sleep, and I need my room back."

"Arey, Ru! We were just finishing!" I protested, though I was smiling.

"Vardaan is looking for you, Reet," Rudra lied smoothly, not even looking at her as he ushered them toward the door. "And Ahana, take the diamonds. She’ll wear them tomorrow, not in her sleep."

Once the door clicked shut and the sound of Jay’s fading laughter echoed in the hall, Rudra turned to me. The room went silent. He walked over and sat where Jay had been, pulling me into his arms so my back was against his chest.

"Finally," he breathed, his chin resting on my shoulder, his hands coming up to entwine with mine, his fingers sliding between my **chooda**. "Do you have any idea how much I hate sharing your attention? Even with them?"

"They’re family, Ru," I teased, leaning back. "And they're just excited for me."

"I'm excited for you too, Janna," he whispered, his lips grazing my ear. "But my excitement involves seeing you in that lehenga... and then slowly taking it off you once we're back home."

The energy backstage was electric, a chaotic symphony of hairspray hiss, frantic zippers, and the upbeat pulse of the runway music thumping through the walls. I sat in front of a sprawling mirror, my **5'3" slim figure** draped in a stunning saree-style lehenga. It was a masterpiece of deep crimson and gold, featuring a daring knee-high slit that added a modern edge to my traditional look.

My **long curly hair** had been styled into voluminous, royal waves that cascaded down my back. Despite the modern cut of the blouse, I felt every bit the Rathor Bahu—my **chooda** gleamed under the vanity lights, my **mangalsutra** rested against my collarbone, and the **sindoor** in my parting was a bold, proud streak of red. My makeup was intense; smoky eyes that made my **brown eyes** look feline and a deep red lip that screamed confidence.

But inside? I was a mess.

The other models were chatting and laughing, some of them casting curious glances at my **payal** and **toe rings**, but I couldn't focus. My hands were shaking. This was my first walk after new marriage. What if I tripped? What if the "Cold Prince’s" wife became a laughingstock?

"Two minutes, Ishita! You’re up after the bridal sequence!" the coordinator yelled.

I stood up, the bells of my **payal** ringing sharply in the crowded room, mirroring my heartbeat. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Just as I was about to spiral into a full panic, a sudden hush fell over the area near the entrance. The air seemed to chill and sharpen, a familiar presence cutting through the flowery perfumes of the models.

I turned around, and there he was.

**Rudra**. My **6'3" husband** was leaning against the garment rack, looking devastatingly handsome in a black velvet bandhgala. His **ocean-blue eyes** were fixed on me, ignoring the gasps of the models who recognized the world-famous CEO of **The Rathor Company**.

"Ru? What are you doing here?" I whispered, looking around. "Men aren't allowed backstage!"

He walked toward me, his stride slow and possessive, making the floorboards seem to vibrate. He stopped right in front of me, his massive frame blocking out the rest of the room. Without saying a word, he tucked a stray curl behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my **brown skin**.

"You think a 'Men Not Allowed' sign can stop a Rathor from reaching his wife?" he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that instantly stilled my shaking hands. "You look breathtaking, Janna. Like a goddess who decided to walk among mortals for a night."

"I'm nervous, Ru," I confessed, leaning my forehead against his chest for a second, careful not to ruin my makeup. "What if I mess up?"

He cupped my face, forcing me to look up into those icy blue depths that were now filled with a rare, burning warmth. "Listen to me. When you walk out there, don't look at the cameras. Don't look at the designers. Just look at the center of the front row. I'll be there. I’ll be the only person in that entire hall who matters. Walk for me, Ishita. Walk like you own the crown I gave you."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my temple, a soft *muah* sound lost in the music. "And remember... if anyone dares to breathe too loudly while you're on that stage, they'll have to answer to me tomorrow at **Eternity**."

I laughed, the tension finally breaking. "You’re so arrogant, Patidev."

"Only for you," he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he checked his watch. "Now, go out there and show them why you're the only woman who could ever melt the heart of the Cold Prince."

He gave my hand a firm, reassuring squeeze, his fingers lingering against my **chooda** before he disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.