Ishita's Perspective

I was breathing hard, my chest heaving with a fury that felt like it could set the curtains on fire. I turned on my heel, expecting him to follow me to the dining table like a soldier, but instead, I felt two massive, warm hands lock around my waist.

Before I could let out another scream, Rudra swept me off my feet.

"Rudra Singh Rathor! Mujhe neeche utariye! (Put me down!)" I shrieked, my hands pounding against his rock-solid shoulders. "Aapko lagta hai ki aap mujhe utha lenge toh mera gussa thanda ho jayega? Yeh koi movie nahi chal rahi hai! (You think picking me up will cool me down? This isn't a movie!)"

He didn't say a word. He just walked toward the large lounge chair, sat down, and kept me firmly on his lap, trapping me in his **6'3" frame**. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were fixed on me with a quiet, submissive patience that only made me angrier.

"Oscar!" Rudra called out, his voice a bit desperate.

Our **black tiger, Oscar**, who usually roamed the private wing like a king, padded into the room. He looked at Rudra, then he looked at me—standing (well, sitting) in my full Kaali Mata avatar, hair messy, eyes blazing.

Oscar let out a tiny, pathetic whimper, tucked his tail between his legs, and immediately turned around, scurrying under the bed.

"Dekha? (See?)" I snapped, pointing at the bed. "Aapka sher bhi jaanta hai ki aapne galti kari hai! Woh bhi apni mummy se darta hai! (Your tiger also knows you messed up! He's scared of his mummy too!)"

Rudra looked at the spot where Oscar disappeared, then back at me. He looked like a giant, disciplined child. He didn't argue. He just started nodding slowly to every word I screamed.

"Aapko samajh nahi aata? (Don't you understand?)" I continued, my voice rising an octave. "Fourth day hai mera! Pehle hi mera sharir toot raha hai, upar se aapka yeh 'Business King' wala drama! Agar aapko kuch ho gaya, agar aapka BP low ho gaya khana na khane ki wajah se, toh main kya karungi? Mere baare mein socha? (It's my fourth day! My body is already breaking, and then there's your 'Business King' drama! If something happens to you, if your BP drops because you didn't eat, what will I do? Did you think about me?)"

"Nahi socha na? Kyun sochenge! (You didn't, right? Why would you!)" I poked his chest again. "Aap toh top businessman hain! Aapko toh bas deals dikhti hain! Aaj se aapka office jaana band, jab tak main na kahun! (You're a top businessman! You only see deals! From today, your office is cancelled until I say so!)"

Rudra just nodded. *Nod.* "Aur yeh tie? Yeh tie nikaaliye! Isse dekh ke mujhe aur gussa aa raha hai! (And this tie? Take it off! Looking at it makes me angrier!)"

He immediately reached up, untying it with trembling fingers, and tossed it across the room. He looked like a man who had accepted his fate.

"Ishi... Janna... please, ek baar suno—"

"Ek shabd nahi! (Not a word!)" I roared. "Abhi hum niche jayenge, aap chup-chap khana khayenge, aur agar aapne ek nivala bhi chhoda, toh Rudra, main sach keh rahi hoon, main Ravi Bhai ke ghar chali jaungi! (We are going downstairs, you will eat silently, and if you leave even one bite, I'm going to Ravi's house!)"

His **ocean-blue eyes** went wide at the threat of me leaving. He nodded so fast I thought he'd get whiplash.

"Theek hai. Chalo. (Fine. Let's go.)" He whispered, his voice incredibly soft, practically begging for mercy.

I scrambled off his lap, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the door. The "Ruthless Denominator" was being led by his 5'3" wife like a toddler being taken to the principal’s office.

Rudra finally swallowed the last massive bite, looking like a man who had just survived a battle for his life. He cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with a silk napkin, and stood up. I tried to maintain my stern "Kaali Mata" stance, but the adrenaline was fading, leaving me feeling heavy and exhausted.

"Khana khatam. (Food is finished.)" he announced softly.

"Theek hai. Ab jaaiye aur so— (Fine. Now go and sle—)"

Before I could finish my sentence, he moved with that predatory grace he usually reserved for boardrooms. He didn't let me retreat. He stepped into my personal space and wrapped his powerful arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his **6'3" frame**.

"Ab aapki baari, Janna. (Now it's your turn.)"

"Nahi! Mujhe nahi khana, mera mann—"

"Ishi," he interrupted, his voice dropping into that deep, velvety tone that always made my knees weak. He picked up the bowl and a fresh spoon. "Maine apni saza bhugat li. Maine bina kahe sab kha liya. Ab agar meri biwi ne nahi khaya, toh mujhe neend kaise aayegi? (I served my punishment. I ate everything without a word. Now if my wife doesn't eat, how will I sleep?)"

He sat back down, pulling me onto his lap. I tried to remain stiff, but the warmth of his body was already soothing my cramps. He took a small, careful bite and held it to my lips.

"Sirf paanch nivaale. Mere liye? (Just five bites. For me?)"

I glared at him one last time, but it was a weak, watery glare. I opened my mouth and took the bite. The food was warm and comforting, and I realized just how hungry I actually was. As he fed me, he started rubbing my lower back with his free hand, his large palm creating a heat that made the period pain dull down.

"Sorry," he whispered against my temple between bites. "Meeting sach mein boht lambi thi, par mujhe call kar dena chahiye tha. Agli baar se time se pehle ghar aaunga, promise. (The meeting really was long, but I should have called. From next time, I'll be home early, promise.)"

By the third bite, my head was resting on his shoulder, and the fire in me had turned into a soft glow. I was still annoyed, but I couldn't stay "brutal" when he was looking at me like I was his entire world.

"Aap boht gande hain, Ru," I mumbled against his neck.

"I know," he chuckled, feeding me the last bite. "Lekin ganda hone ke bawajood, mere paas duniya ki sabse khatarnak aur pyaari sherni hai. (But despite being bad, I have the world's most dangerous and lovely lioness.)"

He picked me up once more—bridal style this time—and headed toward the stairs. "Chalo, ab Oscar ko batana padega ki mummy ka gussa thanda ho gaya hai, varna woh bechara subah tak bed ke neeche hi rahega. (Come on, now we have to tell Oscar that mummy’s anger has cooled down, otherwise the poor guy will stay under the bed until morning.)"

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I carried her up the stairs, the weight of my world tucked safely against my chest. Her "Kaali Mata" fire had finally simmered down into a quiet, exhausted glow, and I could feel her small hands clutching my shirt as if she were afraid I’d disappear back to the office.

Entering our room, the silence was a relief. I set her down gently on the edge of the bed. She looked so tiny, her **brown eyes** heavy with sleep and the lingering strain of the day. My heart ached. I had been so caught up in the merger that I’d forgotten the most important merger of my life—the one that keeps me human.

"Ishi, let’s get you out of this saree," I murmured, my voice a low rumble. "It’s too heavy for you to sleep in comfortably."

I walked over to my wardrobe and pulled out one of my oversized white button-down shirts—the soft cotton one she always says smells most like me. When I turned back, she was looking at the floor, a soft flush creeping up her neck.

"Nahi, Ru..." she whispered, shaking her head. "Stain ho jayega. It’s my fourth day... I’ll ruin your shirt. Give me my nightsuit."

I knelt between her knees, taking her hands in mine. They were finally warm. "Janna, look at me." I waited until her gaze met mine. "Do you really think I give a damn about a shirt? It’s just fabric. You’re in pain, you’re tired, and I want you to be comfortable. If it stains, it stains. I’ll buy a thousand more, but I only have one of you."

I reached for the pins of her saree with practiced ease. My hands, usually so ruthless in business, were trembling slightly with the need to be gentle. I unwrapped the six yards of silk slowly, as if I were uncovering something sacred. When she was down to her basics, I slid the crisp white shirt over her shoulders.

It swamped her **5'3" slim figure**, the sleeves falling way past her fingertips. She looked like a little girl lost in my world, and it made the protective beast inside me roar with affection. I started fastening the buttons, one by one, my knuckles occasionally brushing against her **brown skin**.

"Aap boht ziddi hain, Patidev," she murmured, her voice sounding small.

"Main ziddi hoon?" I teased, finally looking up and catching her eye. "Kaun thodi der pehle meri tie kheench kar mujhe ghar se nikalne ki dhamki de raha tha? (I'm stubborn? Who was pulling my tie and threatening to kick me out of the house a while ago?)"

She let out a tiny, tired giggle and leaned her forehead against mine. I finished the last button and then scooped her up, tucking her under the duvet. I didn't stop there. I went to the bathroom, filled a hot water bottle, and wrapped it in a soft towel.

Sliding back into bed, I pulled her back against my **6'3" frame**, placing the warm bottle gently over her lower abdomen. She let out a long, shaky sigh of relief, melting into me.

"Better?" I whispered, my lips pressed against the back of her neck, inhaling the scent of **Jasmine**.

"Mmm... better," she breathed. "Ru? I'm sorry I screamed at you. I just... I get so scared when you don't eat. I don't want to lose you like..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't have to. I knew she was thinking of Tara. I knew she was thinking of the 3-year gap where we were apart. I tightened my grip on her, my hand resting over hers on the hot water bottle.

"I'm not going anywhere, Ishi. Not now, not ever. And if I'm late again, you have my full permission to call Oscar and have him hunt me down. Deal?"

"Deal," she whispered, her breathing finally evening out into sleep.

I stayed awake for a while longer, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders. The "Cold Prince" was gone. In this room, in this moment, I was just a man lucky enough to be loved by a woman who would fight the world—and me—just to make sure I had dinner.

The last few weeks have been a blur of high-fashion shoots, board meetings, and the beautiful, chaotic rhythm of the Rathor household. Ishita is back in her element—running her makeup studio and owning the camera during her modeling assignments. Watching her balance the grace of a Rathor *bahu* with the fire of a career woman makes my heart swell with a pride I can't even put into words.

Today is January 20th. Exactly one month since we stood at the altar and promised our lives to each other. One month of being "Rudra and Ishita" officially.

I stood in the foyer of Rathor Villa, adjusting my cufflinks, my **6'3" frame** reflected in the grand mirrors. The house was buzzing. **Maa** was discussing something with **Ahana** about a new jewelry line, and I could hear **Jay** arguing with **Vardaan** about a football match in the distance.

Then, I saw her.

Ishita was coming down the stairs, dressed for a day at her studio. Her **brown skin** glowed under the chandelier light, and her **long curly hair** was pinned back just the way I liked. She looked like a dream—a dream I finally got to wake up to every single morning.

"Happy one month, Janna," I said, my voice dropping into that private, deep register I reserved only for her.

She stopped on the last step, her **brown eyes** sparkling. "Happy one month, Ru. I can't believe it's been thirty days since I officially became your 'headache'."

"The only headache I ever want to have," I murmured, stepping close and catching her hand. I noticed she was wearing the diamond bracelet again—the one Bua Ji had tried to mock. It looked perfect on her. "I have a surprise for tonight. Don't let your studio bookings run late. I've already cleared my schedule at Eternity."

"A surprise?" She arched a perfectly groomed brow. "Is this the 'Cold-Hearted Prince' being romantic, or is 'Pookie' back in charge?"

I chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "A bit of both. We’ve survived the 3-year gap, the kidnapping, the blackmail, and even Bua Ji. I think a private rooftop dinner is the least you deserve."

Just then, **Akshat** walked in, holding **Krish**. "Bhai, if you're done romancing Bhabhi in the hallway, we have a 10:00 AM briefing. But honestly," he grinned, looking at Ishita, "thank you for keeping him in line this month, Bhabhi. He’s actually smiled three times in the office. It’s terrifying the interns."

"Only three?" Ishita teased, leaning into my side. "I'll have to work harder then."

I gave Akshat a mock glare, but I didn't let go of her hand. This month has been the most peaceful of my life. The nightmares of the past are fading, replaced by the warmth of her presence. As I looked around at my family—my brothers, my parents, and my wife

I watched her step out of the SUV, the Delhi sun catching the highlights in her **long curly hair**. Even in a simple professional outfit, she owned the pavement like it was a Parisian runway. I stayed in the driver's seat, my hands idling on the steering wheel of the Lamborghini, my **ocean-blue eyes** tracing her every move.

"Ek minute, Janna," I called out, leaning toward the passenger window.

She turned back, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Ji, Patidev? Late ho rahe hain aap. (Yes, Husband? You're getting late.)"

"Ek mahina ho gaya hai," I said, my voice dropping to a gravelly, flirtatious silk. "Aur mujhe mera anniversary gift abhi tak nahi mila. (It's been one month, and I haven't received my anniversary gift yet.)"

Ishita rolled her eyes, but she leaned back into the car, her **brown eyes** dancing with mischief. "Aap boht greedy hote ja rahe hain, Ru."

Before I could reply, she leaned in quickly. I expected a cheek kiss, but she surprised me by pressing her soft lips firmly against mine—a real, lingering kiss that tasted like her morning coffee and strawberry lip balm.

She pulled back just as I reached out to deepen it, laughing at the stunned, hungry look on my face.

"Oy, Husband! Jaldi aana! (Hey, Husband! Come back early!)" she chirped, winking at me before turning around and walking toward the studio entrance with a rhythmic sway of her hips.

I sat there for a good thirty seconds, a dazed, stupid grin on my face that would have absolutely ruined my "ruthless" reputation if any of my employees had seen it. I touched my lips, feeling the lingering warmth.

"Jaldi hi aaunga, Janna," I muttered to the empty car. "Boht jaldi. (I'll come very soon... very soon.)"

I pulled away from the curb, driving toward **Eternity** with more energy than a caffeine shot could ever provide. The morning briefing was going to be short today. I had a rooftop to decorate, a chef to harangue, and a wife to spoil.

By 7:00 PM, I was back at the studio. I didn't call. I didn't text. I walked in, my **6'3" frame** causing an immediate hush among her staff. I found her in the back office, finishing up some invoices.

"Time’s up, Mrs. Rathor," I said, leaning against the doorframe.

She looked up, startled, then smiled. "Aap sach mein jaldi aa gaye? (You actually came early?)"

"I don't break promises made to my sherni," I replied, walking over and closing her laptop. "Now, come. We have a date with the stars."

The city lights of Delhi blurred into a soft glow as I drove us toward the outskirts, away from the honking horns and the prying eyes of the media. I had rented out a private farmhouse estate for the night—no staff, no security inside the perimeter, just the two of us and the cold January breeze.

The entire backyard was a sea of fairy lights draped over ancient banyan trees. In the center sat a low, bohemian-style table surrounded by plush velvet cushions and heavy faux-fur rugs to keep her warm. A small bonfire crackled nearby, sending sparks dancing into the dark sky like tiny stars.

"Ru..." Ishita whispered, her hand tightening in mine as she took it all in. "Yeh sab... (All of this...)"

"For us," I murmured, pulling her back against my **6'3" frame**. "One month of being yours. One month of peace."

I led her to the rugs, making sure she was comfortable. I had personally picked out the menu—nothing heavy, just her favorites. As we sat there, the heat from the bonfire reflecting in her **brown eyes**, the world felt like it had finally stopped spinning. There was no "The Rathor Company," no "Eternity," and no past traumas. Just my **Janna** and me.

I reached into the pocket of my coat and pulled out a small, velvet box.

"Rudra, you already gave me the bracelet," she giggled, though I could see her breath hitch.

"That was for the wedding. This," I said, opening the box to reveal a delicate rose-gold ring with —surrounded by small white ones, "is for the man I became because of you. I didn't believe in God, Ishi. But I believe in the fate that brought you to that Mandir stairs. I believe in the love that waited through three years of hell."

I slid the ring onto her finger, right next to her wedding band.

"Aap rulaoge kya aaj? (Are you going to make me cry today?)" she asked, her voice trembling as she looked at the ring, then up at me.

"Only happy tears," I whispered, leaning in.

I cupped her face, my thumbs stroking her **brown skin**, and kissed her. It wasn't a rushed peck or a flirtatious tease like this morning. It was a slow, deep promise. A promise that no matter how many years passed, I would always be the man who stood between her and the world.

We spent the rest of the night tucked under a single heavy blanket, watching the fire die down. She rested her head on my chest, playing with my fingers, while I told her about the future I saw for us—the home we would build, the laughter of the **Tara** we had promised to bring into the world, and the many anniversaries yet to come.

"I love you, Patidev," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and contentment.

"I love you more, my Sherni," I replied, kissing the top of her head as the moon reached its peak.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The calm of the studio was shattered in an instant. One moment, **Reet** and I were surrounded by swatches of silk and lace, excitedly discussing the designs for the upcoming spring collection. The next, her face went deathly pale.

"Reet? Tum theek ho? (Are you okay?)" I asked, reaching out to steady her.

She didn't even have time to answer. She clutched her stomach, a look of pure nausea crossing her face, and before I could grab her properly, her eyes rolled back. She went limp in my arms.

"Reet! Reet, aankhen kholo! (Reet, open your eyes!)" I screamed, my heart hammering against my ribs. My studio staff rushed in, but I was already on the floor with her, cradling her head. She was completely unconscious.

Panic surged through me, but I forced my hands not to shake. I had the driver bring the car around immediately. We lifted her into the back seat, and I sat with her head on my lap, rubbing her cold hands the whole way to the hospital.

The moment we reached the emergency wing, I grabbed my phone. My fingers flew across the screen to **Vardaan’s** contact.

"Vardaan! Hospital aao, jaldi! (Vardaan! Come to the hospital, fast!)" I cried out the second he picked up.

"Bhabhi? Kya hua? Aap theek hain? Aap  kahan hai? (Bhabhi? What happened? Are you okay? Where is Ru?)" His voice was sharp with instant lawyer-like focus, but I could hear the underlying tremor of fear.

"Reet... woh studio mein behosh ho gayi. Hum City Hospital mein hain. Vardaan, please jaldi aao! (Reet... she fainted at the studio. We're at City Hospital. Vardaan, please come fast!)"

I hung up and paced the hallway, my **long curly hair** messy and my mind racing. Within fifteen minutes, I heard the screech of tires outside. Vardaan burst through the sliding doors, looking like he’d run all the way from court. Right behind him was **Rudra**, who must have dropped everything the moment he heard I was at a hospital.

Rudra reached me first, his **6'3" frame** towering over me as he checked my face for any injuries. "Janna? Are you hurt? Kya hua?"

"Main theek hoon, Ru... Reet suddenly unconscious ho gayi. Doctor andar hain. (I'm fine, Ru... Reet suddenly went unconscious. The doctor is inside.)"

Vardaan was staring at the closed doors of the examination room, his face ashen. The usually confident, sharp-tongued lawyer looked like he was about to collapse himself. "Woh theek toh hogi na, Bhabhi? Usey subah se thodi bechaini thi, maine dhyan kyun nahi diya... (She'll be okay, right? She was a bit restless since morning, why didn't I pay attention...)"

I stepped forward and squeezed Vardaan's arm. "Shant ho jao, Vardaan. She’s strong. Let the doctor come out."

Rudra pulled me into his side, his arm a heavy, protective weight around my shoulders. We all stood there in a tense silence, the hospital smell of antiseptic filling our lungs, until finally, the door opened and the doctor stepped out with a small, knowing smile.

The tension in the hallway was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. **Vardaan** looked like he was barely breathing, his eyes fixed on the doctor’s lips as if his whole world depended on the next sentence. **Rudra** kept me tucked against his side, his hand rubbing my arm to keep me calm.

The doctor removed her stethoscope and looked at us, her expression softening into a bright, celebratory smile.

"Darrne ki koi baat nahi hai. (There’s nothing to worry about,)" she started, looking directly at Vardaan. "Congratulations, Mr. Rathor. Aapki wife bilkul theek hain... bas thodi weakness hai aur morning sickness. **She is six weeks pregnant.**"

The silence that followed was electric.

Vardaan froze. His jaw dropped, and for the first time in his life, the sharp-witted lawyer was completely speechless. He leaned back against the hospital wall, a shaky, disbelieving laugh escaping his lips. "Pregnant? Reet... main... hum?"

"Haan, Vardaan!" I shouted, tears of pure joy instantly blurring my **brown eyes**. I let out a squeal of delight and hugged him briefly before turning and throwing my arms around **Rudra**. "Ru! Hum badi mumma and papa banne wale hain! (Ru! We’re going to be Uncle and Aunt!)"

Rudra’s **ocean-blue eyes** widened, and a genuine, rare beam of light broke across his face. He slapped Vardaan on the shoulder with a force that almost knocked the wind out of him. "Mubarak ho, bhai! (Congratulations, brother!)"

I was beaming, my heart racing with happiness for Reet. But as I watched Vardaan rush into the room to be with his wife, a sudden, beautiful warmth spread through my chest. I looked up at Rudra, and I knew he was thinking the exact same thing.

This was the first baby of our generation in the Rathor family. My mind flashed back to our conversation just a few days ago—about the name **Tara**, about the little girl we promised to bring home. Seeing the joy of new life beginning for Vardaan and Reet made our own promise feel so much closer, so much more real.

"Ishi," Rudra whispered, leaning down so only I could hear him, his voice thick with emotion.

The atmosphere in the Rathor Villa was usually grand, but as we pulled into the driveway with Reet and Vardaan, it felt like the very walls were vibrating with anticipation. Vardaan was walking as if Reet were made of the finest glass, his arm never leaving her waist.

The moment we stepped through the front doors, the whole family was there—**Maa, Papa, Bebe, Akshat, and Dhristi**. They had seen our frantic exit earlier and were waiting with anxious faces.

"Kya hua? Reet theek hai? Doctor ne kya kaha?" **Siya Maa** asked, her voice trembling with worry.

I couldn't keep the secret for even a second longer. My face was glowing with a smile so wide it actually hurt. I looked at Vardaan, who gave me a tearful, happy nod.

"Maa... Bebe..." I started, my voice choking up with joy. "Ghar mein nanhe kadam aane wale hain. Reet Maa banne wali hai! (Small steps are coming to this house. Reet is going to be a mother!)"

For a heartbeat, the foyer was pin-drop silent. Then, the explosion happened.

**Bebe** let out a loud "Hai Rabba!" and immediately pulled Reet into a suffocatingly sweet hug, while **Siya Maa and Urmila Chachi** started crying and laughing at the same time. **Papa and Lakhan Chacha** were busy hugging a very dazed but beaming Vardaan.

In all the chaos, I saw **little Krish** standing by the sofa, looking confused by all the shouting and crying. I ran over to him and scooped him up in my arms, lifting him high.

"Krishu! Mere bachha!" I squealed, kissing his chubby cheeks. "Pata hai kya hua? Chota baby aane wala hai! (Do you know what happened? A small baby is coming!) Krishu ka chota bhai ya behen aane wali hai! Yeahhhh!"

Krish didn't quite understand the biology, but he caught my excitement. He started clapping his tiny hands and cheering, "Baby! Baby! Yeahhh!"

**Rudra** stood back for a moment, watching me play with Krish. His **ocean-blue eyes** were incredibly soft, shimmering with a depth of love I’d never seen before. He walked over to me, wrapping one arm around my waist and the other around Krish’s back, forming our own little circle.

"Dekha, Janna?" he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "The house is finally filling up with life again."

I leaned my head against his shoulder, still holding a giggling Krish.

The evening turned into a full-blown celebration. **Jay and Akshat** were already planning what sports the baby would play, while **Ahana and Dhristi** were discussing nursery themes. Amidst the laughter and the distribution of sweets, the Rathor family felt more united than ever.

The atmosphere in the Rathor Villa shifted from the loud, jubilant celebration of last night to a serene, spiritual calm. **Bebe** was a firm believer that whenever something beautiful happened, the first thank you belonged to the Almighty.

By 10:00 AM, the grand central hall was transformed. The fragrance of fresh marigolds and sandalwood incense filled the air, mingling with the heavenly aroma of *Kada Prashad* being prepared in the kitchen. A beautifully decorated canopy had been set up for the **Guru Granth Sahib Ji**.

We were all dressed in traditional finery. I wore a soft peach suit with a heavy phulkari dupatta, my **long curly hair** covered respectfully. **Rudra** looked breathtaking in a white chikankari kurta-pyjma, his **6'3" frame** standing tall as he helped the sevadaars arrange the seating.

As the *Gurbani* started, the soulful kirtan vibrated through the halls. I sat on the floor next to Dhristi and ahana , reet who was glowing with a new kind of radiance. I reached out and squeezed her hand, whispering, "Happy?" She just nodded, her eyes moist with gratitude.

I glanced over at **Rudra**. Usually, during religious ceremonies, he would stand at the back, respectful but distant—the man who lost his faith in the snow of Kedarnath. But today, he was different. He was sitting right at the front with **Vardaan** and **Akshat**.

When the *Ardas* (prayer) began, we all stood up. The Raagi (priest) began to pray for the well-being of the family and the new life growing inside Reet. I closed my eyes, but I felt a large, warm hand find mine. I opened them to see Rudra standing beside me.

His **ocean-blue eyes** weren't cold today; they were reflective. He didn't say the words out loud, but the way he closed his eyes and bowed his head during the prayer told me everything. He wasn't just doing this for the family—he was doing it for us. He was starting to believe again, because he had so much to be thankful for.

After the path concluded, **Bebe** called me over. "Ishi, puttar, help me distribute the prashad."

As I handed the warm, sweet halwa to everyone, I finally reached Rudra. I placed a generous portion into his cupped hands.

"Ru," I whispered, smiling up at him. "Aapne Ardas mein kya manga? (What did you ask for in the prayer?)"

He took a bite of the prashad, then looked around at our family—the laughing **Krish**, the glowing **Reet**, and finally, his gaze settled on me.

"I didn't ask for anything, Janna," he murmured, his voice thick with a rare peace. "I just thanked Him. For giving me a wife who brought the 'Prince' back to life, and for making this house feel like a home again. And maybe... I told Him to keep a seat ready for **Tara**."

I felt a lump in my throat. I leaned my shoulder against his arm, watching our family celebrate.  Today, under the roof of the Rathor mansion, there was only light.