ATHOUR POV

While they remained upstairs in there silent, darkened room, he acting as a human heater for his sleeping Janna, the "junior" Rathor squad was busy turning the guest wing into a psychological battlefield.

**Jay and Ahana** were huddled in the hallway like two mischievous spirits. Jay had a mischievous glint in his eyes that usually meant someone was about to have a very bad day.

"Listen," Jay whispered to Ahana, "Bua Ji wants 'traditional' treatment? We'll give her the full village experience."

### Phase 1: The "Unstable" Lighting

Bua Ji was in the guest room, trying to apply her expensive cold cream, when the grand chandelier above her began to flicker rhythmically.

"Ahana! Yeh light ko kya hua? (What happened to this light?)" Bua Ji shouted.

Ahana walked in, wearing the most innocent expression she could muster. "Oh, Bua Ji, didn't we tell you? This wing is very old. It's said that the spirits of the ancestors don't like it when people speak ill of the family bahus. They start with the lights..."

Bua Ji froze, her hand mid-air. "Bakwas mat karo! (Don't talk nonsense!)"

### Phase 2: The "Plumbing" Disaster

Ten minutes later, Bua Ji went into the bathroom to wash her face. Jay had already been there, discreetly 'adjusting' the pressure valves. When she turned the tap, a high-pitched whistling sound erupted from the pipes, followed by a sudden, freezing burst of water that splashed all over her silk saree.

"AHHH! JAY! AKSHAT!" she shrieked.

Jay popped his head in, holding a wrench he'd found in the garage. "Sorry, Bua Ji! The pipes are sensitive to 'negative vibrations.' It's a very high-tech Rathor security feature. It must have detected your mood!"

### Phase 3: The "Accidental" Food Swap

When Bua Ji finally demanded her tea and snacks, Ahana brought in a tray. But instead of the mild, sugar-free biscuits Bua Ji liked, the tray was loaded with the spiciest *mirchi bajji* the kitchen could produce, alongside a cup of tea that had 'accidentally' been loaded with salt instead of sugar.

"What is this?! It's burning my tongue!" Bua Ji coughed, clutching her throat.

"Oh no!" Ahana gasped, looking horrified. "The chef must have been so upset by what you said to Bhabhi that he lost his sense of measurements. You know how much the staff loves Ishita Bhabhi... they're very emotional people."

### Phase 4: The Final Blow

As a finishing touch, Jay walked past her room carrying a large, empty tiger cage (from the garden's décor).

"Jay, why are you moving that?" Bua Ji asked, her voice trembling.

"Oh, Bhai's tiger, **Oscar**, is feeling a bit restless," Jay said casually. "He usually sleeps in the guest wing when he's annoyed. And believe me, Bua Ji, after hearing what you said at lunch... he sounds *very* annoyed."

By the time the sun began to set, Bua Ji was sitting on the edge of her bed, clutching her shawl, convinced the house was haunted, the pipes were cursed, and a tiger was coming for her dinner.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I woke up slowly, the golden evening light filtering through the heavy velvet curtains of our room. For the first time all day, the stabbing pain in my stomach had settled into a dull, manageable ache. But the most wonderful feeling was the warmth.

I wasn't cold anymore. My hands and feet, which usually felt like they belonged to a statue, were actually toasty. I realized why immediately-I was practically fused to **Rudra**.

He was sitting propped up against the headboard, his **6'3" frame** acting like a fortress around me. He hadn't moved an inch. One of his large, warm hands was still resting protectively on my waist, and his **ocean-blue eyes** were fixed on me the second I stirred.

"Janna?" he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly from the silence. "How are you feeling? Pain?"

I stretched like a cat, snuggling deeper into his chest for a second. "Nahi... pain kam hai. Aur main itni garam kaise hoon? (No, the pain is less. And why am I so warm?)"

He let out a soft, relieved huff, his thumb stroking my **brown skin**. "Because I didn't let you go. You were freezing, Ishi. Don't ever scare me like that again."

My stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud, traitorous growl. I blushed, hiding my face in his neck. "Ru... mujhe bhook lagi hai. Boht zor se. (Ru... I'm hungry. Really badly.)"

He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest. "Thank God. If you're hungry, it means my 'Pookie' is coming back." He reached for the intercom on the nightstand. "I'll have the kitchen send up something light. No samosas this time. Just some khichdi or soup."

"Nahi! Soup nahi," I pouted, looking up at him with my **brown eyes**. "Kuch acha... please? Waise, Bua Ji chali gayin? (Not soup. Something good... please? By the way, did Bua Ji leave?)"

Rudra's expression turned into a dark, satisfied smirk. "Not yet. But from the sounds of the shouting coming from the guest wing ten minutes ago, Jay and Ahana are making sure she doesn't stay for breakfast tomorrow."

I giggled, feeling my energy finally returning. "Aapne unhe roka nahi? (You didn't stop them?)"

"I gave them the green light," he admitted, kissing the tip of my nose. "Now, stay here. I'm going to go see what 'hand-made' delicacies my brothers have 'prepared' for you-and check if Bua Ji has started packing her bags yet."

After some time

I watched him walk back into the room, but he wasn't carrying the usual heavy silver tray from the kitchen. Instead, he was holding a simple wooden tray, and the aroma hitting my nose made my mouth water instantly.

He set it down carefully on the over-bed table and slid it toward me. My eyes widened. There was perfectly sautéed **Bhindi** (okra)-just the way I like it, slightly crispy-soft, round **Rotis** with a dollop of ghee, and a bowl of chilled **Raita**.

"Aapne banaya? (You made this?)" I asked, looking from the food to his face.

Rudra shifted uncomfortably, a slight flush creeping onto his handsome face. He adjusted his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms. "The kitchen was too chaotic with Jay and Ahana's 'experiments' on Bua Ji. Besides... I wanted to make sure it was exactly how you liked it. No extra oil, no spices that would upset your stomach."

I took a bite of the Bhindi, and it was perfect. "Ru... it's delicious.

"Only for his Janna," he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching me eat with an intensity that made my heart flutter. He didn't take his eyes off me for a second, his **ocean-blue eyes** soft and full of a quiet, fierce devotion.

Once I finished the meal, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bar of my **favorite dark chocolate**. "And for the final medicine," he said, unwrapping a piece and holding it to my lips.

I bit into the chocolate, the sweetness melting away the last bit of the day's bitterness. As I chewed, I looked at him. "Ru, you're the best 'Patidev' ever. Bua Ji was wrong. I didn't change you... you were always this wonderful, weren't you?"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. "I was a stone, Ishi. You just happened to be the only person who knew how to carve a heart out of it."

The dining room was thick with a heavy, suffocating silence as we sat down for lunch. We all thought **Bua Ji** and her saas had fled in the night after Jay's "ghostly" antics, but there she was, sitting at the head of the table like a bitter stain on a white cloth.

I was feeling better, but the hormones and the lingering period cramps had my nerves frayed like a worn-out rope. I was wearing the **diamond bracelet** Ru had gifted me before the wedding-a delicate, shimmering piece that felt like his heartbeat against my wrist.

Bua Ji's eyes locked onto it. She let out a sharp, mocking tsk. "Waise Siya, tumhari bahu ki pasand toh badi mehngi hai. (Anyway Siya, your daughter-in-law has very expensive taste.) Poor house, big dreams. After all, why else would a middle-class girl struggle through a 'love' marriage if not to secure her future in diamonds? Pyaar toh sirf ek bahana hai, asli maqsad toh Rathor khandan ki tijori hai. (Love is just an excuse, the real goal is the Rathor family vault.)"

The clatter of forks hitting plates was the only sound. I felt **Rudra's** entire body turn into a block of ice beside me. His **ocean-blue eyes** darkened to a midnight black, his jaw locking so tight I thought his teeth might break. He started to rise, his **6'3" frame** casting a terrifying shadow over the table, but I beat him to it.

I stood up so abruptly my chair screeched against the marble floor. My **long curly hair** whipped around my shoulders as I looked Bua Ji straight in the eye, my **brown eyes** burning with a fire that had been suppressed for too long.

"My dear Bua Ji," I started, my voice dangerously low and vibrating with pure venom. "First of all, let's get one thing straight: I am *not* that typical type of bahu who will sit here and listen to every taunt, every pathetic insult you throw my way. I am not built like that."

The room gasped. Bua Ji's mouth fell open, but I didn't let her speak.

"Main kuch keh nahi rahi iska matlab yeh nahi ki aap kuch bhi bolengi! (Just because I'm not saying anything doesn't mean you can say whatever you want!) I love Rudra, and that is the *only* reason I am standing in this house. Paiso ke peeche hoti na, toh shaadi karne se pehle hi inhe bankrupt kar deti! (If I were after money, I would have bankrupted him before the wedding!)"

I leaned over the table, my **5'3" figure** radiating more power than a storm. "Toh aap apne yeh ghatiya thoughts apne paas, apne ghar rakhiye. (So keep these disgusting thoughts to yourself, in your own house.) Thoda kam bola karein, warna BP badh jayega aapka... aur mera haath uth gaya toh aap handle nahi kar payengi. (Talk a little less, or your BP will rise... and if my hand rises, you won't be able to handle it.)"

I slammed my hand on the table, the **red chooda** clinking loudly. "Agar main apne ghar hoti aur kisi ne yeh kaha hota, toh ab tak main uska muh tod chuki hoti! (If I were at my home and someone said this, I would have broken their face by now!)"

"Ishita! Badtameezi ki hadd-" Bua Ji sputtered, her face turning a deep, ugly purple.

"Hadd toh aapne paar ki hai! (You're the one who crossed the limit!)" I snapped back.

**Siya Maa** stood up, looking worried. "Ishu beta, shant ho jao- (Ishu, calm down-)"

"Nahi Maa," I said, my chest heaving. "Pet bhar gaya mera. Aur shayad inka bhi! (No Maa, my stomach is full. And maybe hers is too!)"

I didn't look at anyone. I didn't look at **Akshat or Jay**, who were looking at me with newfound respect, and I didn't even look at **Rudra**. I turned on my heel and marched out of the dining hall, the sound of my **silver payal** sounding like a war cry against the floor. I bolted up the stairs, my heart hammering against my ribs, and slammed our bedroom door so hard the entire wing rattled.

Back in the dining room, Rudra slowly turned his head to look at Bua Ji. He didn't scream. He didn't roar. He just looked at her with a chilling, predatory smile.

"You heard her, Bua Ji," Rudra said, his voice a whisper that carried more weight than a shout. "She's 'full.' And since she isn't eating, no one in this house is eating. Not until you and your suitcases are outside that main gate. You have ten minutes before I stop being a clam man and start being the man who built **Eternity** by crushing people like you."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The dining room was still echoing with the sound of Ishita's exit, and I felt a surge of pride so intense it almost eclipsed my anger. My **sherni** (lioness) had finally bared her claws. I didn't even give Bua Ji the satisfaction of another glance; I simply stood up and followed the scent of **Jasmine** that always trailed behind my wife.

I entered our room, the silence here a sharp contrast to the venom downstairs. The balcony doors were wide open. The **January cold of Delhi** was biting, a sharp, frosty wind whistling through the room, but she didn't seem to care.

I saw her standing there, her **5'3" slim figure** rigid against the railing. She didn't have a shawl. She was just in her saree, her **long curly hair** dancing wildly in the freezing breeze. Her shoulders were shaking-not from the cold, but from the sheer adrenaline and anger still coursing through her.

I picked up her heavy pashmina shawl from the bed and walked out onto the balcony. The cold hit my skin, but I ignored it. I stepped up behind her, wrapping the shawl firmly around her shoulders and then pulling her back against my **6'3" frame**, cocooning both of us within the warmth of the fabric and my own body.

I leaned down, pressing a lingering, firm kiss to her bare shoulder, right above the strap of her blouse. My **ocean-blue eyes** were filled with a dark, appreciative glow.

"Yeh hui na baat, meri Janna," I murmured into her ear, my voice thick with pride. "Meri sherni ho aap. (That's the spirit, my life. You are my lioness.)"

I felt her tension break just a little as she leaned her head back against my chest. Her skin was ice cold again, but the fire in her spirit was still blazing.

"I shouldn't have said the part about breaking her face, should I?" she whispered, her voice a mix of lingering fury and a tiny bit of "bahu-guilt."

I let out a low, dark chuckle, my arms tightening around her waist, my hands covering her cold ones. "Actually, that was my favorite part. I was about two seconds away from saying the exact same thing. You saved me the trouble of being 'rude' to an elder."

I turned her around in my arms so she had to look at me. Her **brown eyes** were still fierce, rimmed with a bit of red. I brushed a stray curl away from her face, my thumb lingering on her **brown skin**.

"Don't ever apologize for defending your dignity, Ishi. Not to me, not to Maa, and especially not to people who think they can use 'tradition' as a weapon against you. You are Ishita Rudra Singh Rathor. You don't bow-you conquer."

She finally let out a small, shaky breath, a tiny smile touching her lips. "I really was going to break her face, Ru. I'm not kidding."

"I know you were," I grinned, pulling her forehead against mine. "And that's why I fell in love with you. Now, let's get you inside before the Delhi cold actually turns my sherni into an ice sculpture.

We are about to go in room but the courtyard of Rathor Villa was witnessing a scene that would be talked about in Rajasthan's social circles for decades.

**Akshat and Vardaan** weren't the "polite" nephews anymore. They were the Co-CEO and the high-profile Lawyer of the Rathor empire, and they had zero patience left for someone who had insulted their Bhabhi.

**Jay** grabbed the two massive designer suitcases from the guest room. He didn't carry them down the stairs; he practically swung them. By the time he reached the main driveway, he gave one final heave, and the luggage landed with a satisfying *thud* on the gravel right next to Bua Ji's waiting car.

"Badtameez! Yeh kya kar rahe ho tum log?" Bua Ji shrieked, her face contorted in a mask of pure rage. "Ram! Lakhan! Bebe! Dekho apne beto ko! Yeh sanskar diye hain tumne? (Look at your grandsons! Are these the values you gave them?)"

**Papa (Ram Singh)** and **Lakhan Chacha** were standing on the porch, their arms crossed. For the first time, they didn't step in to stop the boys. They didn't even look at her. They looked at the horizon, their silence being the loudest answer possible.

"Humne sanskar toh boht ache diye the, Bua Ji," **Akshat** said, his voice like cracking ice as he stepped toward her. "Lekin humne yeh bhi seekha hai ki jo hamari Bhabhi ki izzat nahi kar sakta, woh is ghar ki chaukhat laangne ke layak nahi hai. (We gave them good values, but we also learned that anyone who can't respect our Bhabhi doesn't deserve to cross this threshold.)"

Bebe! Kuch toh boliye!" Bua Ji turned to **Bebe**, hoping for the ultimate matriarchal support.

Bebe adjusted her dupatta, her eyes cold. "Main kya bolun? Meri bahu ne sahi toh kaha-tera BP badh raha hai. Jaa, apne ghar jaakar ilaaj kara. (What should I say? My daughter-in-law was right-your BP is rising. Go, get treated at your own house.)"

**Vardaan** stepped forward, tapping his watch. "Bua Ji, as a lawyer, I could cite several ways your verbal abuse today constitutes harassment. But as a brother-in-law, I'm just going to tell you this: the car is running. If you aren't in it in sixty seconds, Jay is going to start tossing your 'precious' jewelry boxes into the fountain next."

"Tum log pachtaoge! (You all will regret this!)" she screamed, scrambling into the backseat as the driver nervously started the engine. "Woh ladki tum sabko barbaad kar degi! (That girl will ruin all of you!)"

"Woh humein jodh rahi hai, Bua Ji," **Jay** shouted as the car sped away, "Aap thhi jo tod rahi thhi! (She is joining us together, you were the one breaking us!)"

As the gates of Rathor Villa slammed shut with a final, metallic ring, a heavy weight seemed to lift from the house. The brothers stood in the driveway, breathing hard, before looking up at the balcony where I was still holding Ishita.

Jay looked up and gave a thumbs-up, shouting, "Bhabhi! Kalesh clear ho gaya! (Bhabhi! The chaos is cleared!)"

I scooped her up in my arms and walked back inside, kicking the balcony doors shut to lock out the Delhi chill. I sat down on the edge of the bed with her tucked firmly on my lap. She looked so small against my chest, her anger slowly dissolving into that post-clash exhaustion.

"Khana nahi khaya aapne," I murmured, my voice low and concerned, my hand stroking her hair. "Waise hi tabiyat thik nahi hai, Janna. Periods mein aise bhookha rehna thik nahi hai. (You didn't eat. Your health isn't good anyway. Staying hungry during your periods like this isn't right.)"

Ishita leaned her forehead against my shoulder, her fingers twisting the fabric of my shirt. "Mann nahi hai ab, Ru... gussa aa raha hai mujhe aur ab acha bhi nahi lag raha. Kya karu? (I don't feel like it, Ru... I'm just so angry and now I don't feel good either. What should I do?)"

I could feel her heartbeat still racing. She wasn't just hungry; she was emotionally drained from having to fight for herself in her own home.

"Wait," I said softly. I leaned down, giving her pale cheek a lingering, sweet peck that made her breath hitch.

I gently shifted her onto the pillows, tucking the duvet around her waist. "Hilna mat yahan se. (Don't move from here.)"

I walked into our massive walk-in closet. Most people would expect to find only designer suits and expensive watches there, but hidden in a top-secret corner behind my ties was my "Emergency Stash."

I walked back into the room holding a large, family-sized packet of **Tedhe Medhe**.

Her eyes lit up instantly. The "Cold Prince" of Rajasthan was standing there with a bag of spicy, tangled snacks like a guilty teenager.

"Tedhe Medhe?" she whispered, a genuine smile finally breaking through her gloom.

"Since you're being a bit 'tedhi' today with your gussa, I thought these would match your mood," I teased, ripping the packet open and sitting back down beside her. I held one out to her lips. "If you can't eat a full dinner, at least eat your favorites. After this, I'm getting you some hot chocolate. Deal?"

She took a bite, the crunch echoing in the quiet room. "Deal," she mumbled through a mouthful of spice. "Par Ru... Papa aur Maa bura toh nahi manege na? Maine boht tez bola unke saamne. (But Ru... Papa and Maa won't feel bad, right? I spoke very loudly in front of them.)"

I fed her another one, my eyes softening. "Janna, if anything, Papa is probably downstairs right now wondering why he didn't say those things to Bua Ji years ago. You didn't just stand up for yourself; you stood up for this whole family."

I leaned back against the headboard, pulling her into the crook of my arm as we shared the packet. The room was quiet, save for the satisfying crunch of the **Tedhe Medhe** and the distant whistle of the wind outside. I could feel the tension leaving her body with every bite, her "sherni" mode slowly fading back into my "Pookie."

"You know," I said, my voice low and amused, "you think you were scary today? You should have seen me when I was ten. Akshat and I once tried to 'redesign' the palace walls with permanent markers because we thought Papa’s office was too boring."

Ishita giggled, a spicy crumb landing on her lip. "No way. The 'Cold-Hearted Prince' was a vandal?"

"Worse," I admitted, wiping the crumb away with my thumb. "When Lakhan Chacha found out, I tried to convince him that Jay did it. Jay was only three—he couldn't even hold a pen. I told Chacha that Jay was a 'prodigy' and we should be proud of his abstract art. I got grounded for a month, and I had to scrub those walls until my hands turned red."

She laughed properly then, the sound like music after the harsh words of the afternoon. "Poor Jay. He’s been your scapegoat since birth!"

"He has," I grinned. "But then there was the time I tried to teach him how to play football in the grand hallway. We broke a vase that was older than our entire lineage. I told Bebe it was a 'structural failure' due to the house being old. She didn't buy it—she made me stand in the corner for two hours."

I watched her eyes sparkle as she listened, her hand reaching into the bag for the last few pieces. I started telling her about the time I tried to cook a surprise breakfast for Maa and ended up setting the toaster on fire, forcing the entire security team to evacuate the wing.

"So you see," I said, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head, "chaos is in our blood, Ishi. Your 'breaking the face' comment was actually quite mild compared to some of the stuff we’ve pulled. You fit right in."

She sighed contentedly, her head resting on my chest. The anger was gone, replaced by the warmth of our shared laughter. The "Prince" and his "Sherni" were finally at peace, even if the rest of the house was still buzzing from the storm she’d created.

"I love you, Ru," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as the "food coma" and her periods finally demanded she sleep.

"I love you more, Janna," I replied, setting the empty packet aside. "More than all the diamonds Bua Ji was crying about."

The atmosphere in the room had shifted from a stormy afternoon to a soft, velvet night. I pulled the duvet higher around us, the only light coming from the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Ishita was completely relaxed now, her head pillowed on my chest. Her small, delicate fingers were tracing the prominent veins on my forearms—a habit she had whenever she was feeling pensive or deeply connected to me.

I felt a slight pang in my chest when she spoke, her voice a tiny, fragile whisper in the dark.

"Ru... Tara didi kaisi thi? (Ru... how was Tara didi?)"

The air in the room seemed to still. I hadn't talked about Tara in a long time—not because I had forgotten, but because the memory was a jagged glass shard in my heart. But with Ishita, it felt different. She was the one who had brought 'love' back into the life of a man who stopped believing in everything the day he lost his sister in the snow of Kedarnath.

I looked down at her, my **ocean-blue eyes** clouding with a mixture of sorrow and fondness. I shifted my arm so she could snuggle closer.

"She was... everything I wasn't," I began, my voice a bit thick. "She was eight, and I was five. She had this laugh that could make Papa forget his toughest business deals. She was the brave one, Ishi. She used to hold my hand just like you’re doing now, telling me that as long as she was there, the dark couldn't hurt me."

I paused, the image of the heavy snowfall in Kedarnath flashing before my eyes—the white void that took her away.

"She was kind, but she was a firecracker. If she were here today..." I let out a small, sad chuckle, "Bua Ji wouldn't have even made it to the lunch table. Tara would have handled her before she could even open her mouth. She was my protector."

Ishita stopped moving her fingers and looked up at me, her **brown eyes** swimming with empathy. She knew this was the reason I had turned my back on God. How could a God let an eight-year-old girl fall from a hill?

"She would have loved you, Janna," I whispered, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Sometimes, when I look at you standing up for the family, or even when you're just being your stubborn 'Pookie' self... I see a flicker of her spirit. You both have that same 'love' that can't be broken."

Ishita reached up and kissed my jaw, her hand lingering on my cheek. "She's still with you, Ru. In the way you protect everyone. You became the protector she was for you."

I closed my eyes, breathing in her scent, feeling the icy chill finally leave her fingers as they rested against my warm skin. For the first time, talking about Tara didn't feel like reopening a wound; it felt like sharing a part of my soul with the only person who truly held it.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I looked at Ru’s face as he spoke, seeing the raw vulnerability in those **ocean blue eyes** that usually looked at the world with such cold indifference. Hearing him talk about Tara Didi—the brave, laughing eight-year-old he lost in the snow—made my heart ache in a way I couldn't describe.

I kept tracing the veins on his forearm, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse. He was so strong for everyone else, Rajasthan’s "Cold Prince," but here with me, he was just a brother who still missed his sister.

"She sounds beautiful, Ru," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

As I snuggled closer into his **muscular chest**, a thought began to take root in my heart. It was a quiet, sacred promise I made to the silence of the room. I looked at our intertwined hands—his large and protective, mine small and finally warm.

*One day,* I thought, *when we have a family of our own... if fate blesses us with a daughter, I will bring that name back to this house.*

I imagined a little girl with Ru’s striking blue eyes and that "firecracker" spirit he described. A little girl who would bring the laughter back to the Rathor Villa that had been missing since that day in Kedarnath.

"Ru?" I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut as sleep finally began to pull at me.

"Hmm?"

"Whenever a girl is born to us... we’ll name her Tara. We'll bring her back home."

I felt his entire body stiffen for a fraction of a second, and then a long, shaky breath escaped his lungs. He didn't say anything at first, but he tightened his hold on me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I felt a tiny bit of moisture against my skin, and I knew that my "Stone Prince" was moved beyond words.

"Tara Rudra Singh Rathor," he whispered against my skin, the name sounding like a prayer. "Thank you, Ishi. Thank you for giving me hope I didn't think I had left."

I drifted off to sleep in his arms, feeling the most profound sense of peace. The shadows of the past were still there, but for the first time, we were shining a light on them together.

It was 11:00 PM. The grand clock in the hallway of Rathor Villa seemed to be ticking specifically to annoy me.

This was the fourth day of my cycle—the day where my body felt like it was being wrung out like a wet cloth and my patience was non-existent. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my **long curly hair** a wild mess, my **brown eyes** glowing with a dark, predatory fire.

I hadn't eaten. He hadn't eaten. And the "Cold-Hearted Prince" of Rajasthan was currently proving that he was also the "King of Carelessness." He knew I was in pain, he knew I was waiting, and yet, the co-CEO of The Rathor Company was nowhere to be found.

When the heavy oak door finally creaked open, **Rudra** stepped in. He looked exhausted—his tie was loosened, his white shirt was wrinkled at the sleeves, and his **6'3" frame** was slightly slumped. But the moment he saw me, he froze.

"Janna? Aap abhi tak jaag rahi ho? (You’re still awake?)" he asked, his voice low. "Meeting lambi khich gayi thi, I’m sorry—"

"Chup! (Shut up!)"

The word cut through the air like a whip. Rudra’s **ocean blue eyes** widened. He had faced mafia lords and business rivals without blinking, but the look on my face made him visibly take a step back.

"Ishi, listen—"

"Nahi, aap suniye! (No, you listen!)" I stood up, ignoring the sharp cramp that shot through my abdomen. I marched toward him, my **5'3" frame** radiating a "Kaali Maa" energy that seemed to make the room shrink. "Aapko kya lagta hai? Aap top 5 businessmen mein aate hain toh aap amar hain? (Do you think because you're a top 5 businessman, you're immortal?)"

I poked my finger into his **muscular chest**, right over his heart. "11 baj rahe hain, Rudra Singh Rathor! Na aapne khana khaya hai, na maine! Aap apni sehat ka dhyan nahi rakh sakte toh mera kya rakhenge? (It's 11 PM! Neither you nor I have eaten! If you can't take care of your own health, how will you take care of mine?)"

"Ishi, please, it was an international merger—"

"Bhaad mein gaya aapka merger! (To hell with your merger!)" I yelled, my voice trembling with a mix of hunger, pain, and pure frustration. "Yahan meri jaan nikli ja rahi hai, aur aapko filein dikh rahi hain? You think you're ruthless? You think you're emotionless? Aaj main dikhaungi ki asli denominator kaun hai is ghar ka! (I'm dying here and you see files? Today I'll show you who the real denominator of this house is!)"

I grabbed his tie and yanked him down so he was at eye level. My breath was ragged. "Agar agli baar aapne apne aap ko starv kiya na, toh main is ghar se nahi, aap is kamre se bahar honge! Samjhe aap? (If you starve yourself next time, you won't be out of the house—you'll be out of this room! Understood?)"

Rudra, the man who made the world tremble, didn't say a word. He looked at me with a mixture of shock and a strange, dark fascination. He knew I was in 'Kalesh' mode, and for the first time in his life, he was genuinely terrified of the woman standing in front of him.

"Khana thanda ho chuka hai, par aap wahi khayenge. Chaliye! (The food is cold, but that's what you'll eat. Move!)" I commanded, pointing toward the door.