Ishita's Perspective

The heavy, sedative-like sleep of the period's first day finally broke as the morning sun hit the edges of the curtains. I stirred, feeling a lightness in my body that hadn't been there yesterday. The sharp, stabbing cramps had settled into a dull, manageable hum.

As I blinked my eyes open, the first thing I noticed wasn't the light—it was the scent.

The room didn't smell like the usual expensive leather and mahogany. It smelled like a sanctuary. Every single vase in the room was overflowing with fresh, white **Jasmine (Mogra)** flowers. There were garlands of them draped over the headboard and small bowls of petals floating in water on the nightstands. The fragrance was intoxicatingly sweet and calming, instantly soothing the last of my jagged nerves.

I sat up, my **long curly hair** cascading over my shoulders, and noticed a massive wicker basket sitting right next to me on the bed.

I pulled it closer, my **chooda clinking** softly in the quiet room. It was filled to the brim with every single one of my "guilty pleasures." There were imported dark chocolates, spicy chips, a jar of the specific pickles only my mother makes, and even a new pair of fuzzy, high-end slippers.

Tucked into the side was a small, handwritten note on the **Rathor Company** letterhead. In his sharp, authoritative handwriting, it simply said:

> *"I am still an idiot. But I am an idiot who is obsessed with you. Eat everything in this basket. I've cancelled all my morning meetings to make sure the house stays silent for you. - Your Ru"*

I felt a huge smile spread across my face, my **brown eyes** welling up with happy tears. My "Cold-Hearted Prince" had been busy while I was dreaming of fighting biology.

The bathroom door opened, and **Rudra** walked out, looking effortlessly handsome in a black t-shirt that hugged his **muscular chest**. He stopped when he saw me awake, his **ocean-blue eyes** scanning my face with intense concern.

"How is the kalesh level today, Janna?" he asked, his voice a low, teasing rumble. He walked over, his **6'3" frame** casting a shadow over the bed as he leaned down to check my temperature with the back of his hand. "Better?"

"Much better," I whispered, reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pulling him down until he had to brace his hands on either side of me. "The flowers are beautiful, Ru. And the snacks... did you really get the pickles from Maa's house?"

"I sent a driver at 6:00 AM," he admitted, a small, smug smirk playing on his lips as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering on my **brown skin**. "I figured if I didn't have the right ammunition to fight your mood swings, I wouldn't survive the weekend. Are we at peace now, Ishi? Or do I need to order more flowers?"

"We are at peace," I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into a snuggle. "For now. But don't think you're off the hook for the 'lazy' comment yet."

"I'll spend the rest of the day making it up to you," he murmured against my temple, his grip on my waist tightening possessively. "Starting with breakfast in bed. And no, Jay is not allowed in the room. I’ve already threatened to lock him in the basement if he makes a sound."

I laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that felt so much better than yesterday's groans. I kept my arms locked tightly around his neck, pulling his **6'3" frame** down until his chest was just grazing mine. I could feel the heat radiating from him, that solid, comforting warmth that always made me feel safe.

"Kya baat hai Janna... romantic mood mein lag rahi ho? (What’s the matter, Janna... seem to be in a romantic mood?)" he asked, his **ocean-blue eyes** twinkling with a mix of surprise and pure adoration.

I nodded vigorously, my **long curly hair** rubbing against his silk pillowcase. "Bahut romantic. (Very romantic.)" I leaned in closer, my nose brushing against his. "**Ek kiss do na achi wali... please?** (Give me one good kiss... please?)"

Rudra let out a huff of disbelief, though his hands were already sliding possessively under my waist to hold me steady. "Kal toh main irritating lag raha tha... aur ab kiss chahiye? (Yesterday I was looking irritating to you... and now you want a kiss?)"

I pouted, my **brown eyes** widening with mock innocence. "Toh? Mera Ru hai... kuch bhi kahu ya mangu, aapko kya problem hai? (So? You are my Ru... whatever I say or ask for, what's your problem?)"

He smirked, that dark, handsome look that reminded me why he was Rajasthan’s most wanted prince. "Mujhe problem nahi hai... (I don't have a problem...)" He paused, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "**Par aapke pati ko problem hui toh?** (But what if your husband has a problem?)"

I played along, moving my hand to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, my **chooda** clinking a rhythmic beat. "**Unhane nahi pata chalega...** (He won't find out...)" I whispered back, my voice full of mischief. "Woh pura din busy hote hain kaam mein. Pata hai, woh na bahut hard-working hain. Jaldi se dedo chalo! (He's busy all day with work. You know, he's very hard-working. Come on, give it to me quickly!)"

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, making a perfect, expectant pout with my lips.

I heard him chuckle—a deep, rich sound that vibrated through my own chest. He didn't kiss me immediately; instead, he nipped playfully at my lower lip before pulling back just an inch.

"**Apne pati ke piche affair hai aapka?** (You’re having an affair behind your husband’s back?)" he teased, his breath hot against my skin. "**Bata do use...** (Tell him...) I heard he’s a very possessive, very dangerous man. He might not like sharing his Janna with a 'Ru'."

"Oh, he's definitely dangerous," I whispered, opening my eyes to see the burning love in his gaze. "But I think he’ll forgive me just this once. Now stop talking, Patidev, and fulfill my request."

Rudra didn't need another invitation. He groaned low in his throat, a sound of pure surrender, and captured my lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and tasted of the Jasmine-scented morning. It wasn't just a kiss; it was his way of saying he was glad the *kalesh* was over and his Queen was back.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

Our lips moved together in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that tasted of forgiveness and the fresh jasmine filling the room. When I finally pulled back, just enough to let her breathe, her face was flushed, and her **brown eyes** were dazed with love.

I smirked, my thumb tracing the swell of her lower lip. "Achi thi, ya aur doon? (Was it good, or should I give you more?)"

She tapped her chin, pretending to think deeply while her **chooda** jingled. "Achi thi. (It was good.)"

"Pati wali se bhi achi? (Better than the one from your husband?)" I challenged, my **ocean-blue eyes** dancing with the game we were playing.

She tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Ummm... no. He gives much better."

I felt a mock growl rise in my chest. I shifted my **6'3" frame**, pinning her more firmly into the silk sheets. "Oh, really? Let me prove him wrong then."

I captured her lips again, this time with a more dominant, possessive heat that made her giggle into the kiss. We both broke apart, laughing, the tension of the previous day’s *kalesh* completely evaporated into the morning air. I tucked her head under my chin, holding her **5'3" slim figure** close, just enjoying the silence.

*BANG.*

The door didn't just open; it hit the wall with a violent thud.

"BHABHI! Good news! The 'Cold Prince' hasn't fired me yet, so I brought you—" **Jay** came skidding into the room, holding a box of donuts and wearing a neon-green tracksuit that was an assault on the eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks, seeing me hovering over Ishita, our faces inches apart.

My entire body stiffened. The romantic haze shattered instantly. I turned my head toward the door, my eyes narrowing into slits.

"**OUT.**" I hissed, the sound literally vibrating with a warning so sharp it could have cut glass.

"Oh! Sorry! My eyes! My innocent eyes!" Jay yelled, covering his face with one hand while keeping his fingers wide open to peek. "I didn't know the 'War and Peace' chapter had ended and the 'Suhagrat 2.0' had started!"

"Jay, I am counting to three," I growled, my voice low and lethal. I felt Ishita start to tremble—not with fear, but with the beginning of a fresh wave of irritation. I knew that look. If Jay didn't leave in the next two seconds, the heating pad was going to be the next thing flying at his head. "**Bahar ja, isse pehle ki uska mood phir se kharab ho jaye!** (Get out before her mood gets ruined again!)"

"Okay! Okay! Leaving the donuts on the floor! Don't kill me!" Jay squealed, dropping the box and scrambling backward so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.

I waited until the door slammed shut again before I let out a long, frustrated breath. I looked down at Ishita, ready to apologize for the interruption, but she was already reaching for the donut box with a tiny, dangerous spark in her eyes.

"He's lucky he left the chocolate ones," she muttered, though she was smiling.

I sighed, leaning my forehead against hers. "I’m buying a sturdier lock today, Janna. A biometric one. Only for us."

I looked down at her, still hovering over her small frame, my hands braced on either side of her head. I was ready to dive back into the peace we had just found, but Ishita had that look in her eyes—the one where she realizes something I’ve missed.

"Bhaisaab," she started, her voice sounding far too casual, "Lock pehle se hi achha hai. Fingerprint sensor aur voice sensor se khulta hai, aapki aur meri. (Brother, the lock is already good. It opens with fingerprint and voice sensors—yours and mine.)"

She poked my chest with one finger, her red chooda clicking. "Par aapne door unlocked chhod diya tha! (But you had left the door unlocked!)"

I stayed silent for a heartbeat, my brain processing the first word that had come out of her mouth. I didn't care about the lock. I didn't care about Jay. I was stuck on one specific, horrifying noun.

thought purchases I looked at her, my eyebrow arching so high it was practically lost in my hairline. My **6'3" frame** froze as the word echoed in the quiet, jasmine-scented room.

"Bhaishaab...?" I repeated, my voice dropping into a dangerously flat, low tone.

Ishita froze. Her **brown eyes** went wide, and she slowly bit her tongue, looking like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. She looked away, muttering under her breath, "Ram, Ram, Ram... pati ko bhai bol diya... haramkhor..."

I couldn't help it. I sat back on my heels, crossing my **muscular arms** over my chest, staring at her with a look of pure, mock-indignation. "Did you really just call the man who was kissing you thirty seconds ago 'Bhaishaab'?"

"Ru... don't take it seriously!" she squeaked, waving her **chooda-clad hands** frantically in the air as if she could physically push the word back into her mouth. "**Just flow flow mein beh gayi main!** (I just got carried away in the flow!) It’s Jay’s fault! He keeps shouting 'Bhabhi, Bhabhi' all day, my brain just auto-corrected to the wrong sibling!"

"Auto-corrected?" I leaned forward again, my **ocean-blue eyes** narrowing playfully as I trapped her against the pillows. "I spent five years of love and a month of marriage making sure you knew exactly who I was, and you 'auto-corrected' me to a brother figure?"

"Arey, nahi!" She was blushing a deep, beautiful crimson now, her **long curly hair** messy against the white sheets. "Aap mere Patidev hi ho! Ru hi ho! Woh toh bas... muh se nikal gaya. (You are my husband only! You're Ru! It just... slipped out.)"

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. "This is it. The ultimate insult. First, I'm 'irritating,' then I'm 'Bhaishaab.' I think I should go to the office. Clearly, I’m not wanted here."

I made a move to get up, but she lunged forward, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling me back with surprising strength for someone her size.

"Nahi! Aap kahi nahi jaoge! (No! You aren't going anywhere!)" she pouted, her eyes watery again—the hormonal mood swing making a quick comeback. "Sorry bola na! Now come back here and feed me a donut. And if you call me 'Behen,' I will actually throw this lamp at you."

I chuckled, the sound deep and genuine, as I settled back onto the bed. "I would never make that mistake, Janna. Believe me, there is nothing 'brotherly' about the way I feel when I look at you."

She looked up at me, seeing my ocean-blue eyes narrowed in mock offense and pure disbelief. "Ru! Don't take it seriously! Just flow-flow mein beh gayi main... (I just got carried away in the flow...)"

I opened the box Jay had dropped and picked out a chocolate-covered donut, holding it to her lips. "Eat. Before you decide to call me 'Uncle' next."

"The 'Bhaisaab' is currently in the garden with the tiger," I whispered, my lips grazing her ear. "The man in front of you is your Patidev. And I think the penalty for that little slip-up just doubled. Forget the donuts—you’re going to have to work much harder to get me to forget that word."

"I'm a Rathor," I reminded her, my gaze dropping to her lips. "We don't forget insults, Janna. Especially not one that puts me in the 'brother' zone."

I leaned in closer, my nose brushing against hers, my **ocean-blue eyes** darkening with a mock-seriousness that I knew made her heart race.

"Since you’ve clearly forgotten who I am in this 'flow' of yours," I whispered, my voice a low, possessive rumble, "I’ve decided on your penalty. For the rest of the day, every time you address me, you will use the word **'Patidev.'** No 'Ru,' no 'Janna,' and definitely no... *that* word."

Ishita’s eyes widened, a beautiful mix of shyness and laughter sparkling in them. "Ru! That’s so embarrassing! Pure din? (The whole day?)"

"One word, Ishi," I warned, my lips inches from hers. "Or the penalty becomes 'Swamiji'."

She let out a horrified giggle, burying her face in my chest. "Theek hai, theek hai... **Patidev**."

I was about to claim my victory when a muffled, high-pitched snort erupted from outside the door. We both froze.

"**BHAI!**" Jay’s voice drifted through the wood, sounding like he was literally rolling on the floor in the hallway. "Bhabhi ne aapko 'Bhaisaab' bola?! Maine sahi suna?! (Bhabhi called you 'Brother'?! Did I hear that right?!)"

"Bhai, tension mat lo!" Jay continued, his voice getting louder as he regained his breath. "**Kya main party de doon?** I’ve already messaged the family group chat! 'Welcome to the Brother-Zone, Rudra Singh Rathor!' Vardaan bhai is sending laughing emojis and Akshat Bhai just replied with a 'RIP'!"

Ishita turned bright red, clutching my shirt so hard I thought the buttons would pop. "Ru, please kill him," she whimpered.

I didn't need to be asked twice. I rolled off the bed with the predatory grace of a hunter, my **6'3" frame** radiating pure, unadulterated menace. I ripped the door open just as Jay was about to type his next message.

He looked up, his grin faltering as he saw my expression.

"Jay," I said, my voice so calm it was terrifying. "You have five seconds to delete that message and another five to reach the Dubai airport. If I see your face in delhi by lunch, I am gifting your entire sneaker collection to the local orphanage."

"Bhai! Not the sneakers! Anything but the limited editions!" Jay shrieked, tucking his phone into his pocket and sprinting down the corridor like his life depended on it—which it currently did.

I slammed the door and locked it—checking the sensor three times—before turning back to my wife. She was sitting up in the middle of the Jasmine-covered bed, her **long curly hair** a mess, looking absolutely adorable.

"Now," I said, walking back toward her and unbuttoning my cuffs. "Where were we... **Patidev-biwi**?"

"Aap bahut khatarnak hain, **Patidev**," she whispered, a shy, beautiful smile blooming on her face as she used the title.

"Only for you, Janna," I replied, pulling her back into my arms.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I leaned forward, my **long curly hair** brushing against his shoulders as I gathered a handful of the fresh **Jasmine** flowers he’d showered over the bed. I took a deep breath of their scent, then looked back at him, my **brown eyes** soft and full of the love that had only grown stronger through our five years of struggle.

I reached out, pecking his lips once, twice, and then a third time just to see that blush deepen.

"Waise Ru... mujhe koi problem nahi hai," I whispered, my **chooda** jingling as I ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "**Main toh aapko saari zindagi Patidev bol lungi, Swamiji bol dungi. Mujhe koi problem nahi hai.** (I’ll call you Patidev or Swamiji for the rest of my life. I have no problem with that.)"

He looked at me, his **ocean-blue eyes** searching mine, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "Really? You won't find it too traditional?"

"Nahi," I giggled, nipping playfully at his chin. "**Mera pati hai hi itna accha... hot and handsome.** (My husband is just that good... hot and handsome.) Why wouldn't I want to claim him with every title possible?"

Rudra let out a choked sort of laugh, his ears turning pink. He looked away for a second, trying to regain his "ruthless CEO" composure, but it was too late. I had seen the crack in the armor.

I watched the faint crimson creep up his high cheekbones, and my heart did a little somersault. The "Cold-Hearted Prince" of Rajasthan, the man who could stare down a boardroom of sharks without blinking, was actually blushing because of me.

"Ishita, stop," he muttered, though he pulled me closer, his large hands settling possessively on my **slim waist**. "You're supposed to be resting, not making me lose my mind before breakfast."

"I am resting!" I chirped, snuggling my head into the crook of his neck. "This is very therapeutic for me. Telling my husband how much I adore him is part of my recovery process. It’s medical, **Patidev**."

He groaned, but the sound was full of affection. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling the jasmine and the scent of my skin. "You are going to be the death of me, Janna. First you call me 'Bhaisaab' and nearly give me a heart attack, and now you’re being so sweet I can't even stay mad at Jay."

"Let's not go that far," I laughed, pulling back to look at him. "Jay still deserves a little scare for that group chat message. But for now... just stay here. No business, no Eternity, no Rathor Company. Just us."

He nodded, his gaze turning serious and incredibly tender. "Just us. Always."

I walked down the grand staircase, feeling like I was floating. My heart was light, even if my braid was... well, a masterpiece of effort rather than skill. The "Rudra-special" was a bit lopsided, with a few stubborn curls escaping near my ears, but I wouldn't have traded it for a professional styling for anything in the world.

As we entered the dining hall, the usual chatter died down. **Akshat, Dhristi, Vardaan, Reet, and Ahana** were already seated, with **Maa and Bebe** presiding at the head. **Jay** was there too, looking suspiciously quiet as he poked at his salad.

All eyes moved from me to the man walking possessively behind me.

"Ishu, beta, you’re looking so fresh today!" **Siya Maa** beamed, but then her eyes traveled up to my hair. Her smile faltered into a look of pure confusion. "Lekin... ye choti (this braid)... did you do this in your sleep, bachha?"

**Reet**, the fashion designer of the family, dropped her fork with a dramatic *clank*. She squinted at my head like she was analyzing a crime scene. "Bhabhi as your stylist and sister-in-law, I am offended. Is this a new 'messy-chic' trend I missed? It’s... uniquely asymmetrical."

I felt Rudra stiffen behind me. I reached back and squeezed his hand, suppressing a giggle.

"Actually," I said, tilting my head proudly, "it’s a limited edition style. Very exclusive."

**Jay** couldn't hold it in any longer. He stood up, walked a full circle around me, and then burst into a cackling laugh. "Limited edition? Bhabhi, it looks like a bird started a nest and then gave up halfway through! Who did this? Even **Oscar** has better grooming habits!"

"I did it," Rudra’s voice boomed, cold and sharp as a glacier.

The silence that followed was legendary. Jay’s laugh died in his throat. **Akshat** choked on his water, and **Vardaan** looked like he was trying to calculate if this was a prank.

"Aapne?" **Bebe** asked, her eyes wide with shock. "Rudra... tune meri ladli ke baal banaye? (You made my darling's hair?)"

"Yes, Bebe," Rudra said, pulling out my chair with a heavy *thud* and glaring at Jay until the boy sat back down. "I did. Does anyone else have a 'style critique' they’d like to share? I’m listening."

"It's... it's beautiful!" Jay squeaked, suddenly terrified. "Very avant-garde! Very bold! Honestly, the lopsidedness adds... character?"

**Ahana** giggled, leaning over to me. "Bhabhi, the fact that the 'Cold Prince' even knows what a hair tie is, is a miracle. You’ve really turned him into a softie."

"I think it’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen," **Dhristi** said softly, smiling at us. "Look at him, he’s still glaring at anyone who looks at the braid too long."

I looked up at Rudra as he sat down beside me. He was still looking a bit defensive, his **ocean-blue eyes** scanning the table for any more jokers. I leaned closer and whispered, "Thank you, **Patidev**. I love it."

He finally relaxed, a small, private smile touching his lips. "Eat your lunch, Janna. Before I decide to 'style' Jay’s hair with my bare hands."

The dining hall was now alive with a different kind of energy. **Dhristi and Reet** turned simultaneously toward their husbands, their expressions a mix of playful reproach and "why aren't you like this?"

"Seekho kuch apne bade bhai se! (Learn something from your big brother!)" **Dhristi** said, nudging **Akshat** with her elbow. "Tumne aaj tak kiya hai kabhi aisa? (Have you ever done anything like this?)"

**Reet** nodded fervently, looking at **Vardaan**. "Exactly! Bhaiya ko dekho. For the whole world, he is a cold, heartless, ruthless, and emotionless man. But for Bhabhi..." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "For Bhabhi, he is a **Pookie**!"

The word hung in the air like a floral bomb. **Akshat** actually spit out his juice, and **Vardaan** looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Rudra, the man who handled billion-dollar crises without breaking a sweat, looked like he had been struck by lightning.

"Pookie?" Rudra repeated, his voice dropping into a flat, horrified register. "I am a *what*?"

I couldn't help it. I leaned into his arm, my **long curly hair** brushing against his shoulder, and let out a bright, bubbly giggle. I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "Hayeee... mera **Pookie Patidev**! Nazar na lage. (My Pookie husband... may no evil eye fall on you.)"

I looked up at **Bebe**, who was watching the scene with a wide, toothless grin. "Bebe! Mere Patidev ki nazar utar dena... ye dono nazar laga dengi inko! (Bebe, please ward off the evil eye from my husband... these two will cast a spell on him!)" I teased, pointing playfully at Reet and Dhristi.

"Bilkul, beta! (Of course!)" Bebe laughed, waving a hand in the air. "Main aaj hi mirchi vaar dungi ispe. (I’ll ward it off with chilies today.) My Rudra has finally found his heart."

Rudra’s face was now a fascinating shade of deep crimson. He looked down at me, his **ocean-blue eyes** swirling with a mix of embarrassment and that deep, possessive love.

"Pookie?" he muttered again, leaning down so only I could hear his rasp. "Isi din ke liye maine Jay ko sher se bachaya tha? (Did I save Jay from the tiger for this day?)"

"Chup kijiye, Patidev," I whispered back, my **brown eyes** dancing. "Apna lunch kijiye, warna sabko pata chal jayega ki aap sach mein softie hain. (Shut up, Patidev. Eat your lunch, otherwise everyone will find out you’re actually a softie.)"

Across the table, **Jay** was vibrating with the effort of not laughing, his phone hidden under the table. **Akshat** just shook his head, looking at Rudra. "Bhai, I never thought I’d see the day the Prince of Rajasthan was officially titled 'Pookie.' This is going down in history."

Rudra picked up his fork, his jaw set, but I saw the way he subtly moved his chair closer to mine, his shoulder pressing firmly against my **5'3" frame**. He might hate the title, but he clearly loved the reason he had earned it.

The dining table had turned into a full-blown courtroom drama. **Dhristi and Reet** weren't letting up, their voices rising in a synchronized rant that had **Akshat and Vardaan** looking like they wanted to hide under the mahogany table.

"Tumhe toh comb pakadna bhi nahi aata hoga, Akshat!" Dhristi complained, crossing her arms. "Look at Bhai. He’s the CEO of two companies, and he still found time to learn how to 'scrunch' curls!"

**Reet** turned to **Vardaan**, her eyes narrowed playfully. "Aur tum? Forget a braid, you can't even find my hair ties when they’re sitting right in front of you! Shame, Vardaan. Pure shame."

Both brothers turned their heads slowly to look at **Rudra**, their expressions a mix of betrayal and "why, Bhai, why?"

"Bhai... ye kya kiya aapne? (What have you done?)" **Akshat** whispered, his voice full of mock agony. "Kara toh kara, lekin bataya kyun sabko ki aapne Bhabhi ki choti banayi hai? (If you did it, fine, but why did you tell everyone you made Bhabhi's braid?) You’ve set the bar too high. How are we supposed to survive this?"

**Vardaan** sighed, shaking his head. "Humara toh ghar basne se pehle hi kalesh shuru ho gaya. (Our domestic peace is ruined before it even started.) You’ve officially ended the 'Cool Brother' era and started the 'Pookie' era. Thanks, Bhai."

I looked up at my husband. **Rudra** didn't even look at them. He leaned back in his chair, his **6'3" frame** radiating a smug, king-like energy. He picked up his glass of water, taking a slow sip, and then looked away with a definitive, sharp smirk. He had intentionally thrown his brothers into the fire of their wives' expectations, and he was clearly enjoying the show.

"It’s called 'efficiency,' boys," Rudra murmured, his **ocean-blue eyes** glinting with mischief. "Maybe you should spend less time in the gym and more time on YouTube tutorials."

Just then, **Siya Maa** let out a soft, nostalgic laugh, drawing everyone's attention. She looked at Rudra with so much pride it made my heart melt.

"Waise, is maamle mein Rudra apne Papa par gaya hai," she said, her voice warm. (Actually, in this matter, Rudra has taken after his father.) "Ram Singh ji used to do the same. No matter how busy the Rathor business was, if my hair was tangled or I was tired, he would be the one to fix it. Rudra is just carrying on the Rathor tradition of worshipping his Queen."

The table went quiet for a second, a beautiful, sentimental moment settled over us—until **Jay** ruined it, of course.

"Toh basically, humare khandaan ka 'Cold Hearted' hona ek scam hai?" Jay asked, looking horrified. "Hum sab 'Pookies' hain? (So basically, our family being 'Cold Hearted' is a scam? We're all Pookies?)"

I giggled, leaning my head on Rudra’s shoulder. "Lagta toh aisa hi hai, Jay."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I leaned back, enjoying the way the table had turned from a courtroom into a comedy club. The sight of Akshat and Vardaan looking absolutely defeated was the highlight of my week. But then, I felt **Ishi** shift beside me. She had that spark in her **brown eyes**—the one that usually meant she was about to drop a bomb.

She turned toward **Maa**, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Maa... waise Jay bhaiya bhi ab settled hain, toh inka kalesh kab ghar aayega? (Maa... Jay is also settled now, so when is his 'chaos' coming home?)"

**Maa, Bebe, and Chachi**—who had just stepped out of the kitchen—all burst into a chorus of laughter. "Sahi baat hai! (Too true!)" Bebe chuckled, pointing her spoon at Jay.

**Jay** looked up from his plate, blinking in confusion. "Kaisa kalesh? (What chaos?)"

Ishi let out a bright, ringing laugh, leaning toward him. "Tumhari shaadi, buddhu! (Your wedding, stupid!) Tum kiske liye 'Pookie' banoge? (Who are you going to be a 'Pookie' for?)"

The entire room erupted. Watching Jay’s reaction was better than any business deal I’d ever closed. The boy who usually had a comeback for everything suddenly went silent. A deep, unmistakable flush crept up his neck, matching the red of Ishita’s **chooda**.

"Bhabhi... aap bhi na! (Bhabhi... you're too much!)" Jay muttered, looking down at his plate and fidgeting with his fork. He actually sounded shy, a rare sight for the resident prankster of the Rathor mansion.

Ishi didn't let him off the hook. She laughed harder, her **long curly hair** bouncing. "Kya? Koi dhoond rakhi hai kya? (What? Have you already found someone?)"

I crossed my arms over my **muscular chest**, my **ocean-blue eyes** narrowing as I watched my younger brother. He was acting suspiciously quiet. Usually, Jay would have made a joke about being "too handsome to settle down" or "waiting for a princess," but right now, he was avoiding everyone’s gaze.

"Tell us, Jay," I prompted, my voice low and teasing. "Is there someone who has managed to tame the wildest Rathor? Because if there is, I need to send her a trophy and a warning letter."

"Bhai! Aap bhi unki side ho?" Jay whined, finally looking up, his face still red. "There’s no one! I’m just... enjoying my football and my modeling. I don't have time for braids and jewelry shopping."

"That’s what your Bhai used to say," **Akshat** chimed in with a smirk, finally recovering from his own roasting. "And look at him now—hairdresser-in-chief and professional pouter."

I shot Akshat a glare, but my hand instinctively found Ishi’s under the table, squeezing her fingers. She squeezed back, her eyes still fixed on a very flustered Jay.

"Don't worry, Jay," she said, her voice softening with that warmth she had for all of us. "When she comes, I'll make sure she’s even more of a 'kalesh' than I am. You deserve someone who keeps you on your toes."