Ishita's Perspective

The dining room was a riot of laughter and mock-scoldings. **Lakhan Chacha** didn't waste a second; he reached out and twisted **Jay's** ear until the boy was yelping in mid-air.

"Ye ladka peetne layak hai! (This boy deserves a beating!)" Chacha scolded, shaking his head. "Vese hi dara diya bahu ko! (You unnecessarily scared our daughter-in-law!) Kyu Bhaiya?" He turned to **Ram Papa** for backup.

"Bilkul! (Absolutely!)" Ram Papa agreed, though he was smiling as he wiped the last bit of kheer from his lip.

**Urmila Chachi** tried to play peacemaker, patting Jay's shoulder. "Jane do na, bacha hai... masti kar raha tha. (Let it be, he's just a kid... he was just having fun.)"

**Bebe** snorted, tapping her stick on the floor. "26 saal ka hai ye! Bacha kaha se hai? (He's 26 years old! How is he a kid?) Meri Ishu hai bachi, nanhi si. (My Ishu is the kid here, so small and delicate.)"

I stood there, my **brown eyes** wide and sparkling with relief, my **chooda clinking** as I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. The warmth in this room was overwhelming.

"Chalo, chalo!" Bebe commanded, her voice full of authority. "Sab sagun do ab use! Kheer banai hai usne pehli baar. (Everyone, give her her gift now! She's made kheer for the first time.)"

The tradition began. **Ram Papa and Siya Maa** came forward first, placing a heavy gold chain and a thick envelope in my hands, their eyes full of blessings. Then **Lakhan Chacha and Urmila Chachi** gave me a beautiful diamond-studded bangle.

**Akshat and Dhristi** gifted me a high-end designer bag I'd been eyeing for months, and **Vardaan and Reet** gave me a custom-made outfit set. Even **Ahana** slipped a jewelry box into my hand with a wink.

Then came the moment that made my eyes go wide. **Bebe** looked at the men and said firmly, "Oye! Bhabhi ke pair chhuo! (Hey! Touch your sister-in-law's feet!)"

**Akshat and Vardaan**, despite being older than me in years, immediately stepped forward with respectful smiles. They bowed down to touch my feet because, in this family, the 'Bhabhi' holds the highest respect.

**Jay** followed, but not without his usual drama. He grumbled as he bent down, "Technically main aur Ahana sabse chote hain ghar mein, toh hum kyu sagun dein? (Technically Ahana and I are the youngest, why should we give a gift?)" He looked up at me with a pout. "Balki humein toh milna chahiye! (In fact, we should be the ones getting gifts!)"

"Chup kar!" Bebe scolded. "**Bhabhi umar bhale hi choti ho, par rishte mein toh badi hai!** (Bhabhi might be younger in age, but she is elder in the relationship!)"

Jay sighed, touched my feet, and then dramatically pulled out a gift card. "Lo Bhabhi ji, meri taraf se shopping karke Bhai ka bank balance khatam kar dena! (Here, Bhabhi ji, do so much shopping from my side that you finish Brother's bank balance!)"

I laughed so hard my **payal** rang out, looking over at **Rudra**. He was standing back, watching the scene with a rare, soft smile, his **6'3" frame** leaning against the pillar. His **ocean-blue eyes** met mine, and I could see the pride in them. He walked over, his hand finding the small of my back, possessively pulling me toward him.

"She doesn't need Jay's gift card to do that, Jay," Rudra murmured, his voice a deep, proud rumble. "She has the black card I gave her for a reason."

The atmosphere shifted from traditional reverence to chaotic sibling energy in a heartbeat. **Jay** stood up after touching my feet, dusting off his designer jeans with a smirk that told me trouble was coming.

"Okay, Bebe! Your type of greeting is done," Jay announced, waving a hand dramatically toward the elders. "Kheer bhi kha li aur pair bhi chhu liye. (Kheer is eaten, and feet are touched.) Enough of the 1950s."

Before I could react, Jay stepped forward and pulled my **5'3" frame** into a tight, exuberant bear hug, making my **chooda** clatter against his back. "**Bhabhi, this is modern zamana, you know? Kya pair-vair chunna, right?** (Bhabhi, this is the modern era... what's with all this feet-touching, right?)"

He pulled back, grinning, and winked at **Rudra**, whose jaw was already tightening at the sight of someone else holding his 'Janna.'

"Exactly!" **Ahana** chimed in, rushing over to hug me from the other side. "We are friends first, Bhabhi! This 'feet-touching' is only for Bebe's satisfaction. In our team, it’s all about hugs and selfies!"

That was the spark that lit the fire. Suddenly, the dining hall turned into a debate club.

"Oye! Jay, tameez se! (Jay, behave!)" **Akshat** shouted, though he was laughing. "Relationship is relationship, whether it’s the 21st century or the 18th! You still have to show respect."

"Bhai, respect heart mein hoti hai, pairon mein nahi! (Respect is in the heart, not in the feet!)" **Vardaan** countered, siding with the younger lot. **Reet** swatted his arm. "Vardaan! Don't encourage him. Tradition is tradition. Look how beautiful Ishu looks in this role."

"She looks beautiful in *every* role, but Jay is right about the hugs," **Dhristi** added, joining the huddle around me. "But Jay, if you hug her too long, Rudra Bhai is going to send you to the Dubai office permanently."

"He wouldn't dare!" Jay yelled, ducking behind me to use me as a shield. "Bhabhi is on my team now! Right, Bhabhi? Tell this 'Cold Prince' to relax his eyebrows before they get stuck like that!"

I was caught in the middle of them all—**Jay** pulling my arm one way, **Ahana** the other, while **Reet and Dhristi** argued about modern vs. traditional values. The bickering was loud, messy, and full of love. My **long curly hair** was getting tossed around, and I was laughing so hard I could barely stand.

I looked over at **Rudra**. He hadn't moved. He was standing there with his arms crossed over his **muscular chest**, his **ocean-blue eyes** tracking Jay’s hands on my shoulders with a very "un-relaxed" expression.

"Ten seconds," Rudra said, his voice a low, dangerous velvet that cut through the noise.

"Ten seconds for what, Bhai?" Jay asked, popping his head out from behind me.

"Ten seconds for you to release my wife before I show you exactly how 'modern' my fist can be," Rudra replied, a dark, possessive smirk finally breaking his mask.

"Bhago! (Run!)" Jay screamed, letting go of me and sprinting toward the garden, with **Ahana and Vardaan** close behind him, laughing like lunatics.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The moment Jay finally released her and scrambled away, the chaos of the room didn't settle—it just transformed into a different kind of pressure. I stepped into the space Jay had vacated, my **6'3" frame** creating a wall of privacy around my **Ishi**.

She looked a little breathless, her **long curly hair** slightly disheveled from the group hug. I didn't care who was watching; I reached out, my fingers slow and steady as I tucked a stray curl back behind her ear, my thumb grazing the **sindoor** at her hairline. My **ocean-blue eyes** were locked onto her **brown ones**, and for a second, the room was silent.

Then, I felt the weight of a dozen stares.

I looked over my shoulder. **Akshat, Vardaan, Jay, Dhristi, Reet, and Ahana** had all leaned forward simultaneously, their faces resting on their palms, eyes wide and expectant. Even **Maa, Chachi, and Bebe** had stayed back, ditching the elders' usual dignity to join the kids' mischief. They were all hovering like a live audience at a theater.

I let out a long, heavy sigh, my hand still resting possessively on the small of Ishita’s back. "Kya hai? (What is it?)" I asked, my voice flat and unimpressed. "Kya chahiye tum sab ko? (What do you all want?)"

"GIFT!" they all shouted in unison, their voices echoing off the high ceilings.

I arched a cool eyebrow. "What?"

"Hame nahi, apni biwi ko! (Not for us, for your wife!)" Jay yelled, leaning over the table. "Kya gift doge? Batao, batao! (What gift will you give? Tell us, tell us!)"

"It's a first rasoi, Rudra bhai ," **Dhristi** added with a playful smirk. "The Rathor Prince can't just walk away with a 'thank you' for that kheer."

I felt Ishita’s hand shyly grip the fabric of my shirt. I looked back down at her, my expression softening in a way I only allowed for her. "Tum sab ko kyu bataun? (Why should I tell all of you?)" I said, my gaze returning to the group, icy and sharp again. "It’s a surprise. And last I checked, none of you are the ones I’m married to."

Jay snorted, crossing his arms. "Gift hai bhi, ya bas drama kar rahe ho? (Is there even a gift, or are you just doing a drama?)" He looked at the others. "I bet he forgot. He was too busy staring at Bhabhi to actually buy anything."

The challenge in his voice made my jaw tighten. I reached into the pocket of my trousers and pulled out a small, sleek velvet box and a single, heavy platinum key with the **Eternity** logo embossed on it.

"Drama?" I repeated, my voice dropping into that dangerous, quiet register that usually makes my board of directors break into a sweat. "I don’t do drama, Jay. I do results."

I turned back to Ishita, ignoring the gasps and "Ooooohs" coming from the table. I took her hand—the one heavy with her **red chooda**—and placed the key and the box in her palm.

"The box is for the tradition," I whispered, my voice thick with a possessive heat meant only for her. "But the key... that’s for your dreams. It’s the deed to the new flagship studio in the city center. Fully staffed, fully equipped. It’s yours, Janna. To build your own empire, alongside mine."

The dining hall went absolutely ballistic. Jay was jumping on his chair, and Maa was wiping her eyes. I didn't care. I just pulled Ishita closer, my arm winding around her **slim waist**, claiming her in front of everyone.

As the reality of the gift sank in, Ishita looked down at the heavy platinum key in her palm, her **brown eyes** shimmering with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming love. She looked up at me, her lower lip trembling slightly.

"Ru... iski zaroorat nahi thi," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Aap already itna karte ho mere liye... (You already do so much for me...)"

"It's not about need, Ishi," I murmured, my voice softening as I looked at her. "It's about what you deserve."

With a sudden burst of joy, she threw her arms around my neck, the **chooda clinking** loudly as she squeezed me tight. "But thank you... thank you so much, Patidev!"

The dining hall erupted in thunderous applause. **Siya Maa and Bebe** were beaming, and even **Akshat** was nodding in approval. Feeling the heat of a dozen teasing gazes, Ishita suddenly turned shy, burying her face in the crook of my neck, trying to hide against my **6'3" frame**. I wrapped my arms around her, my hand resting protectively on her **long curly hair**, a smug, possessive smirk finally breaking onto my face.

But of course, the peace lasted exactly four seconds.

"Arey, arey! Humein bhi toh dekhne do!" (Let us see it too!) **Jay** shouted, sliding across the floor like he was on a football pitch. Before I could react, he reached into Ishita’s hand, trying to snatch the platinum key. "Let me inspect the 'Eternity' quality. Is it real platinum or did Bhai just polish some steel?"

I felt the muscle in my jaw twitch. My arm tightened around Ishita as I snatched the key back mid-air, holding it high above my head—well out of Jay’s reach.

"Jay. Move. Away," I warned, my voice dropping into that low, dangerous register.

"Oh, come on, Bhai! Just one look!" Jay persisted, literally jumping up and down like a hyperactive toddler, trying to grab my arm. "Bhabhi, dekho na! He’s being a miser with the key now!"

**Ahana and Vardaan** started cheering Jay on, chanting, "Inspect! Inspect! Inspect!" while **Bebe** was laughing so hard she had to lean on her stick.

My patience snapped—not in anger, but in that sheer frustration only a younger brother can induce. I didn't let go of Ishita; instead, I used my free hand to grab the back of Jay’s expensive designer shirt.

"That’s it," I growled. I effortlessly hauled him up by his collar, dragging him toward the large French windows that led to the garden.

"Bhai! Bhai! Tameez se! My shirt is limited edition!" Jay yelled, his legs kicking in the air.

"I don't care if it's gold-plated," I muttered, opening the door. "Since you’re so interested in 'inspecting' things, go inspect the grass. **Oscar!**"

At the mention of his name, the massive black tiger let out a playful, deep roar from the lawn, trotting toward us with interest.

"NAHI! BHAI! MAAF KAR DO!" (No! Brother! Forgive me!) Jay shrieked as I literally pushed him out onto the patio and locked the glass door. He pressed his face against the glass, looking like a dejected puppy as Oscar began to sniff his shoes.

I turned back to the family, adjusting my cuffs as if I hadn't just thrown my brother to a tiger. The room was silent for a beat before everyone burst into peals of laughter.

"Finally, some peace," I sighed, looking down at Ishita, who was peeking out from my chest, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. I leaned down, my lips grazing her forehead. "Now, where were we, Janna? Before the circus started?"

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The kitchen was a disaster zone of flour, sugar, and empty crystal bowls. Usually, the army of servants would descend to handle the mess, but **Dadi** had insisted that the "sweetness" of the first rasoi should stay between the couple for a bit.

I was busy wiping down the marble island, my **red chooda** clicking against the stone, while I tried to ignore the fact that **Rudra** was supposed to go to work Instead, he was leaning against the pantry door, his **ocean-blue eyes** following the movement of my hips as I moved.

"Ru, stop staring and help me with the saffron jar," I said, huffing as I tried to reach a high shelf. "The others are just in the next room, they'll come back any minute for more kheer!"

"Let them wait," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. He walked toward me, but instead of taking the jar, he snatched the cleaning cloth from my hand and tossed it onto the counter.

Before I could protest, he hooked his arm around my **slim waist** and steered me backward, right into the walk-in pantry. He kicked the door nearly shut—leaving just a sliver of light—and pinned me against the wooden shelves. The air instantly filled with the scent of spices, dried fruits, and his intoxicating cologne.

"**Ru! Bahar sab log hain!** (Ru! Everyone is outside!)" I whispered-yelled, my heart racing against my ribs. "What if Jay comes in for a snack?"

"Jay is currently busy being chased by a tiger. He's occupied," Rudra rasped, his **6'3" frame** completely eclipsing mine in the small space. He leaned down, his hands bracing against the shelves on either side of my head, trapping me. "You were far too distracting in that kitchen, Ishita. The way you were bossing me around... it needs a penalty."

"A penalty?" I teased, my **brown eyes** dancing with mischief as I reached up to toy with the top button of his shirt. "I was making you kheer, Patidev. You should be thanking me."

"I am thanking you," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "In my own way."

He leaned in, his lips grazing my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine that made my **payal** ring out in the quiet pantry. I tried to push him away, giggling softly, but he caught my wrists, pinning them gently above my head. The sound of **Reet and Dhristi** laughing in the dining hall felt miles away, even though they were just twenty feet from us.

"Ru, please... someone will hear the **chooda**," I breathed, my breath hitching as he nipped at the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Let them hear," he growled possessively, finally claiming my lips in a deep, slow kiss that tasted of sugar and spice. It was a stolen moment, frantic and sweet, fueled by the thrill of being caught.

Just then, we heard **Jay’s** voice echoing from the kitchen. "Bhabhi ji? Bhai? Where did you guys go? I need a spoon for my third round of kheer!"

I froze, my eyes wide. Rudra didn't pull away immediately; he took his time, pecking the corner of my mouth one last time before leaning his forehead against mine.

"If he opens this door," Rudra whispered with a dark, playful smirk, "I'm sending him to the London office for a year."

"Aap bahut bure hain! (You are very bad!)" I whispered back, smoothing down my saree and trying to look composed as he finally stepped back to let me out of our spicy sanctuary.

The sun had long set, leaving the delhi sky a deep, velvety indigo peppered with stars. Most of the family had retired to their rooms, but the adrenaline from the day was still humming in my veins. **Rudra** didn't say a word; he simply grabbed his car keys and led me to the garage, his hand firmly entwined with mine.

After a short, quiet drive through the city’s glowing lights, we pulled up in front of a stunning heritage-style building in the most elite district. It was a perfect blend of ancient Rajasthani architecture and modern glass facades.

"We're here," he murmured, killing the engine.

He walked around to my side, opening the door and offering his hand. As I stepped out, my **silver payal** chimed against the pavement. Above the grand entrance, a soft, warm LED sign glowed with the name: **"ISHA – By Eternity."**

My breath hitched. "Ru... you even got the name done?"

"I wanted it to be ready for its queen," he whispered. He took the platinum key from his pocket and pressed it into my hand, guiding my fingers to the lock.

The heavy glass doors swung open silently. As we stepped inside, the motion sensors triggered a soft, warm glow that illuminated the space. It was a makeup artist's paradise. Polished marble floors, floor-to-ceiling mirrors framed with professional "daylight" bulbs, and plush velvet chairs. There was a dedicated section for bridal couture and a private lounge in the back.

I walked through the studio, my **red chooda** reflecting in the endless mirrors. I felt like I was dreaming. "This is too much... it’s perfect, Ru."

I turned around to find him standing in the center of the room, his **6'3" frame** looking dark and imposing against the white marble. He was watching me with that raw, intense pride that always made my knees weak.

"I wanted you to have a place where you are the boss, Janna," he said, walking toward me. "The world saw you on the ramp today. From tomorrow, they’ll see the empire you build with these hands."

He reached me and pulled me into his arms, my **5'3" slim figure** disappearing into his embrace. The studio was dead silent, the moon shining through the high windows, casting long shadows across the floor.

"Thank you, Patidev," I whispered, leaning my head against his chest, listening to his steady, powerful heartbeat.

"Don't thank me yet," he murmured, his hands sliding down to rest possessively on my waist. He tilted my chin up, his **ocean-blue eyes** reflecting the moonlight. "The studio is a gift for the makeup artist. But tonight... tonight belongs to my wife."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine in a slow, deep kiss that echoed through the empty, beautiful space. In that moment, surrounded by my dreams and the man who made them possible

The atmosphere in our bedroom was thick enough to cut with a knife. Usually, this room was a sanctuary of soft whispers and hidden romance, but today, it was a war zone. My back was hurting, my cramps were making me feel like I was being twisted from the inside out, and my hormones had decided that **Rudra Singh Rathor** was public enemy number one.

Yesterday, he had made the "mistake" of teasing me about being "lazy" and jokingly told me to get up and help him find his cufflinks. I had snapped. Not just a little "go away" snap—a full-blown, Rathor-mansion-shaking **kalesh**. I had brought up things he said three years ago, questioned his life choices, and ended it by throwing a silk pillow at his face and locking myself in the dressing room.

The "Cold-Hearted Prince" of Rajasthan, the man who made international billionaires tremble with a single look, had looked genuinely terrified. He had backed out of the room slowly, hands raised in surrender, realizing he had walked into a minefield without a map.

Now, a day later, I was lying flat on my stomach in the middle of our massive bed, my face buried in a pillow, pouting so hard my lower lip probably touched the mattress. My **long curly hair** was a wild mess around me, and I was still wearing my oversized hoodie over my pajamas, clutching a heating pad to my tummy.

I heard the door creak open. The heavy, measured footsteps told me exactly who it was. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat on the edge, but I didn't move. I just let out a low, dramatic groan of annoyance.

"Janna?" his voice was a cautious, velvety whisper. He sounded like a man approaching a sleeping tiger. "Ishi... I brought you that dark chocolate sea-salt bar you like. And the heating pad's light is blinking, let me change the setting for you."

"Don't touch me," I muffled into the pillow, my voice thick with period-induced tragedy. "Go ask your cufflinks to help you. Since I'm so 'lazy,' I shouldn't be bothered."

I heard him let out a long, weary sigh. Rudra reached out, his large, warm hand hesitantly hovering over my back before he finally gathered the courage to rest it there. He began to rub small, soothing circles over my spine, his touch incredibly light and careful.

"Ishi, I'm an idiot," he murmured, his **6'3" frame** leaning over me protectively. "I forgot the date. I was just joking, you know I love seeing you relax. I’d keep you in this bed forever if I could. Please stop being angry... the whole house is walking on eggshells. Jay is hiding in the gym because he’s scared you’ll yell at him next."

"He should be scared," I grumbled, finally turning my head to look at him with one eye, my **brown eyes** narrowed and watery. "Everyone is annoying. You’re annoying. The sun is too bright. Why are you so tall? It’s irritating."

Rudra actually let out a small, relieved chuckle, his **ocean-blue eyes** softening with pure adoration despite my irrational rant. He knew this drill. He’d seen this side of me during our five years of love, but now, as my husband, he felt the full force of it.

"I'll be shorter if it makes you feel better," he teased softly, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. "I’ll even fire the sun. Just tell me what you need. Do you want me to order from that Italian place? Or should I call **Reet** to come over and distract you with fashion talk?"

"No," I pouted, finally rolling over onto my side, clutching the heating pad to my stomach while my **chooda** jingled weakly. "I just want to be grumpy. And I want you to sit here and let me be grumpy at you."

"Consider it my full-time job for the next three days," he whispered, sliding into the bed behind me and pulling my **5'3" slim figure** back against his chest. He wrapped his powerful arms around me, his warmth seeping into my back, providing more relief than any heating pad ever could. "Kalesh karlo jitna karna hai (Do as much drama as you want). I’m not going anywhere."

I leaned back into him, my anger melting into a tiny, tired smile. "You're still an idiot, Ru."

"I know, Janna. I know."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I felt her shift against me, a restless, tiny bundle of frustration and pain. My **5'3" slim queen** was currently a whirlwind of emotions, and I was her only anchor. She crawled closer, completely abandoning her pillow to snuggle into my side, her head resting on my shoulder while her small, delicate hand wandered beneath my shirt.

As her **long nails** absently traced the ridges of my chest muscles—a habit she had when she was seeking comfort—I felt my body relax, though my heart ached seeing her in such discomfort. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her so close that her **long curly hair** tickled my chin.

"Mujhe periods bilkul pasand nahi hain, Ru," she whispered, her voice cracking with that specific brand of period-misery. "Ye kyun hote hain? (I don't like periods at all, Ru. Why do they happen?)"

I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. "Taki girls can give birth, maybe," I murmured, trying to be logical, though logic is a dangerous tool during a **kalesh**-prone mood swing. "It's nature’s way of preparing you to be a mother one day."

She stopped moving her hand and looked up at me, her **brown eyes** wide, glassy, and full of genuine, hormonal indignation.

"Why boys don't have it? Why girls only?" she demanded, her pout deepening. "Aur ladke kyun bacche paida nahi kar sakte? Haan? (And why can't boys give birth? Huh?)"

I blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer "Ishita-logic" of the question. To the world, I had an answer for everything—billion-dollar mergers, legal loopholes, hostile takeovers. But standing in the court of a woman on her period? I was defenseless.

"I... I don't know, Janna," I stammered, my **6'3" frame** feeling suddenly very small under her intense gaze. "Nature made us differently, I guess? If I could take the pain for you, you know I would. I’d take every cramp, every mood swing, just to see you smile."

"No!" she snapped, though she didn't move away from my chest. "It's not fair. You just walk around, 6 foot plus, muscular, no stomach pain, no mood swings, looking like a Greek god, while I’m here feeling like a balloon that’s about to burst! You should have to go through it too. At least then we could be grumpy together."

I couldn't help it; a small, lopsided smile broke across my face. I pulled the blanket up to her chin, tucking her in like a precious porcelain doll.

"Believe me, Ishi," I whispered, leaning down so our foreheads touched. "Watching you in pain is its own kind of torture for me. And as for the mood swings... I think I experience them vicariously through you anyway. My heart rate goes up every time you look at me like you’re going to throw a vase."

"I wouldn't throw a vase," she grumbled, snuggling deeper into my warmth, her fingers finally stilling over my heart. "Maybe just a slipper."

"I'll keep my eyes open for flying footwear then," I teased softly, kissing her forehead. "Now, stay still. If you want to be mad at biology, be mad. But do it while you're resting. I'm right here."

She let out a long, shaky breath, her body finally going limp with exhaustion as she surrendered to the comfort of my embrace. I stayed perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle, serving as her human heating pad for as long as she needed.

I felt the sharp, tiny pinches of her **long nails** against my skin—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me she was there and she was restless. I didn't mind. I shifted my hand beneath the hem of the oversized hoodie she’d stolen from me, my palm finding the small of her back. The skin there was warm, and I began to rub in slow, soothing circles, trying to ease the ache that nature had forced upon my **Janna**.

I kept my lips pressed against the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair, acting as her anchor while she whined softly, making those tiny, pained noises that broke my heart.

"Ye biology bahut bekar hoti hai," she muttered against my chest, her voice muffled by my shirt. "Bhagwan ji ko kya lagta hai... ladkiya zyada strong hoti hain? (This biology is very bad... what does God think? That girls are stronger?)"

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her **brown eyes** searching mine with a sudden, serious intensity that only a woman in the middle of a hormonal storm can possess.

"Vo chhodo... aap batao," she whispered, her fingers still kneading my chest muscles. "Aapko lagta hai girls strong hoti hain men se zyada? (Leave that... you tell me. Do you think girls are stronger than men?)"

I looked down at her—this 5'3" woman who had survived being kidnapped, who had endured a three-year separation from the man she loved, and who was currently fighting a battle inside her own body while still worrying about the world’s balance of power.

"Honestly?" I rasped, my **ocean-blue eyes** darkening with sincerity. I pulled her closer, my chin resting on her head. "Yes. I do."

"Kyun? (Why?)" she asked, a tiny pout still on her lips.

"Ishi, look at me," I said, tilting her face up so she had to see the truth in my eyes. "I am **6'3"**. I can bench press twice my body weight. I can run an empire without blinking. But if I had to feel even half of the cramping you’re feeling right now, while still having to smile for the world and deal with someone as 'annoying' as me... I’d probably crumble in an hour."

I gave her a soft peck on the tip of her nose. "A man’s strength is in his muscles, Janna. But a woman’s strength? Yours? It’s in your endurance. To bleed every month and still have the heart to love, to carry life, to deal with the mental toll... that’s a level of power I don’t think any man truly understands. You're the strongest person in this mansion. Even **Oscar** is scared of you when you’re angry, and he’s a literal tiger."

She let out a small, watery giggle, her tension finally beginning to bleed away. "So... you're saying I'm a superhero?"

"I'm saying you're my Queen," I whispered, pulling the blanket tighter around both of us. "And even superheroes need to sleep. Now, no more talking about biology or God. Just close your eyes. I’m right here, and I’m not letting go."

She hummed a contented sound, snuggling so deep into my chest that she was practically a part of me. As her breathing slowed and she finally drifted into a much-needed sleep, I kept rubbing her back, my gaze fixed on her peaceful face, silently promising to protect her from everything—even if I couldn't protect her from biology.