Ishita's Perspective

The morning of February 12th was crisp and filled with the kind of excitement that only a massive family road trip can bring. The driveway of the Rathor Villa looked like a luxury car parade. We were finally heading back to our roots—the **Raj Mahal in Jaipur**.

The logistics were a perfectly coordinated chaos:

* **Car 1:** Maa, Papa Ji, and Bebe lead the way, filled with prayers and traditional snacks for the journey.

* **Car 2:** Chacha and Chachi Ji followed, already discussing the renovations needed at the palace.

* **Car 3:** Akshat, Dhristi, and a very energetic Krish (who was already sticking his face against the window).

* **Car 4:** Vardaan and Reet—Vardaan driving at a snail's pace because he was convinced every pebble on the road was a threat to the baby.

* **Car 5:** Ahana and Jay, likely arguing over the music playlist.

And then, there was our car.

Rudra was behind the wheel of the customized black SUV, looking every bit the royal heir in a casual yet expensive linen shirt, his **ocean-blue eyes** hidden behind dark aviators. I sat in the passenger seat, my **long curly hair** tied back, wearing a comfortable but chic chikankari kurta.

In the back sat **Oscar**. The 500-pound black tiger had the entire rear suite to himself, his head resting near the window, looking out at the passing Delhi scenery with a regal boredom.

"Janna, are you comfortable?" Rudra asked, his hand reaching out to find mine on the center console. "It’s a long drive to Jaipur. If your back hurts, tell me immediately."

"Ru, I'm fine!" I giggled, squeezing his hand. "Stop being like Vardaan. I'm not the one who's pregnant, remember?"

He glanced at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just practicing for when you are. Besides, I have Rajasthan’s most precious treasure in this car. I have to be careful."

I felt that familiar blush creep up my **brown skin**. "Aap na... flirting band kijiye aur driving pe dhyan dijiye. (Stop flirting and focus on the driving.)"

"Impossible," he murmured, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. "With you sitting right there? This car would drive itself to Jaipur before I could stop looking at you."

Suddenly, a low, rumbling *chuff* came from the back. Oscar had nudged the back of Rudra’s head with his cold nose, clearly annoyed that he wasn't getting enough attention.

"Dekha? Oscar is also bored of your romance," I teased, turning around to scratch the tiger behind his ears. "Bas thodi der aur, Oscar. Phir hum apne mahal pahunchenge! (Just a little longer, Oscar. Then we'll reach our palace!)"

Rudra laughed, a sound that was once so rare but now felt like home. "Even the tiger is jealous of my time with you. This is going to be an interesting trip."

As we hit the open highway toward Jaipur, the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink—the colors of Rajasthan. I leaned my head back, watching the milestones blur past. We were going home. Not just to a house, but to the place where the Rathor legacy began, carrying with us the new life in Reet’s womb and the secret promise of our own **Tara**.

I laughed as I saw the highway stretch out before us, the Rajasthan border finally in sight. My heart was racing with a different kind of excitement. I unclicked my seatbelt, ignoring Rudra’s disapproving "Ishi, belt..." and slid closer to him across the leather seat.

I leaned my weight against his **6'3" frame**, wrapping one arm around his neck and resting my other hand on his broad shoulder. I could feel the hard muscle beneath his linen shirt. I looked at his sharp, "Greek God" profile—the high cheekbones, the straight nose, and those piercing **ocean-blue eyes** behind his aviators.

"Ru..." I whispered, my voice full of awe. "Mere pati Raja banne wale hain. Hayeee... yakin nahi ho raha ki main ek asli Raja ki biwi hoon! (My husband is going to become a King. Hayeee... I can't believe I'm the wife of a real King!)"

Rudra’s grip on the steering wheel tightened for a second, a smirk spreading across his face. He didn't look away from the road, but I saw the way his chest expanded with pride.

"Technically, Janna," he said, his voice dropping into that deep, royal baritone, "I’ve always been the Prince. But going back to the Raj Mahal... it hits different when you’re standing by my side."

"Sachi?" I teased, nipping at his earlobe lightly, making him hiss a breath through his teeth. "Will you sit on a big gold throne and give orders? Will you be all 'Cold and Heartless' again?"

Rudra chuckled, finally glancing at me for a split second, his eyes softening behind the lenses. "I might be the King to the world, Ishita. I might sit on that throne and handle the legacy of the Rathors. But in this car, and in that palace, there is only one person who holds the power to command me."

He took his left hand off the wheel and wrapped it around my waist, pulling me even tighter against his side.

"Aap meri Rani ho. Aur ek Raja humesha apni Rani ka gulam hota hai. (You are my Queen. And a King is always a slave to his Queen.)"

I giggled, resting my head on his shoulder, watching the colorful turbans and camels start to appear on the side of the road. "Gulam? The great Rudra Singh Rathor is my slave? Wait until I tell Jay and Akshat... they’ll never let you live it down."

"Try it," he challenged, his thumb stroking my side, "and I’ll show you exactly how 'ruthless' a King can be when he gets his Queen alone in the royal chambers."

I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine. The way he said "royal chambers" made my heart do a somersault. As the gates of the Jaipur Raj Mahal finally appeared in the distance—grand, golden, and ancient—I realized that my life really had become a fairytale. The makeup artist from Delhi was about to enter her kingdom.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I chuckled, the sound deep and resonant in the confines of the SUV. I could feel her warmth radiating against my side, her **long curly hair** brushing against my neck as she shifted even closer. She leaned in, her lips soft and warm as she pressed a lingering kiss to my cheek, and then another right along my jawline, where the stubble was just starting to show.

The sensation sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the road.

"Bohot pyaar aa raha hai aaj, Janna? (A lot of love is flowing today?)" I murmured, my voice thick with amusement and a hint of that dark, possessive edge I only felt for her.

"Haa!" she chirped, her **brown eyes** sparkling with mischief as she looked up at me. "Aur kya? Mera pati hai hi itna handsome ki pyaar aa hi jaata hai. (And why not? My husband is so handsome that love just happens naturally.)"

I shook my head, a genuine laugh breaking through my usual "cold" exterior. This woman—she was the only one who could make the top businessman in the world feel like a blushing teenager.

"Yeh bhi ajeeb baat hai," I said, glancing at her through my aviators before refocusing on the Jaipur highway. "Pati pyaar kare toh tharki... aur biwi pyaar kare toh romance? (This is a strange thing. If the husband shows love, he's a lecher... but if the wife does it, it's romance?)"

Ishita gasped, swatting my shoulder playfully. "Ru! Maine kab kaha aap tharki ho? (When did I say you were a lecher?)"

"Har baar," I teased, my hand tightening around her waist. "Jab bhi main office se thoda jaldi aane ki koshish karta hoon, ya balcony mein aapko thoda zyada hug karta hoon, toh aapki 'Sherni' jaag jaati hai. Par aaj, kyunki hum Jaipur ja rahe hain aur main 'Raja' banne wala hoon, toh mere saare gunaah maaf? (Every time. Whenever I try to come home early from the office, or hug you a little extra on the balcony, your 'Lioness' wakes up. But today, because we're going to Jaipur and I'm becoming 'King,' all my sins are forgiven?)"

"Exactly!" She grinned, leaning her head back on my shoulder, completely unabashed. "Rajaon ko toh sab maaf hota hai. (Everything is forgiven for Kings.)"

I leaned over, despite the tiger watching us from the back and the road ahead, and nipped her earlobe. "Toh phir taiyaar rehna, Rani Sahiba. (Then be ready, My Queen.) Because once we pass those palace gates, I intend to take full advantage of this 'romance' phase."

A low *chuff* came from the backseat. **Oscar** was definitely judging us now.

"Dekha? Oscar is seconding my point," I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. "But he can wait. Right now, I have a beautiful woman on my arm, a kingdom ahead of me, and a wife who finally admits her husband is too handsome to resist."

As the Aravalli hills began to rise around us, glowing gold in the afternoon sun, I felt a surge of pure, unadulterated happiness. The "Cold Prince" was finally coming home, not to a lonely throne, but to a life full of the very love he once thought was a myth.

I nearly choked on my breath, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth as I felt her nimble fingers fumbling with my linen shirt button. She was looking at me with those narrowed **brown eyes**, her bottom lip slightly out in a pout that was more dangerous to my heart than any business rival.

"Mene suna hai ki rajao ki bohot sari biwiya hoti hai... (I’ve heard that kings have many wives...)" she murmured, her voice dripping with a mix of mischief and mock suspicion. "Khaas kar handsome rajao ki. (Especially handsome kings.)"

I raised an eyebrow, keeping my eyes on the winding Jaipur road but leaning into her touch.

"Accha? (Oh, really?)"

"Haa!" she huffed, finally looking me dead in the eye. "Aapne toh koi dekh nahi rakhi mere baad? Huhhh! (You haven't kept someone else in mind after me, have you?)"

I let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through my chest. I slowed the SUV down as we entered the grand, tree-lined private driveway leading to the **Raj Mahal**.

"Janna, listen to me very carefully," I said, my voice dropping into that serious, possessive tone that usually makes her blush. "Ek 'Sherni' ko sambhalna mere bas ki baat nahi ho rahi, aur aapko lagta hai main dusri ke baare mein sochunga? (I can barely handle one 'Lioness,' and you think I'd think about another?)"

I took my hand off the steering wheel for a moment and cupped her face, my thumb tracing her lower lip.

"Is 'Cold-Hearted Prince' ko pighlane mein aapko paanch saal lag gaye. Dusri kisi mein itni himmat hi nahi hai ki mere gusse ko jhel sake. (It took you five years to melt this Cold-Hearted Prince. No one else has the courage to endure my temper.)"

I leaned in closer, my **ocean-blue eyes** locking onto hers. "Rethor khandan ka itihaas (history) utha kar dekh lo. Hum Rathor mard sirf ek hi baar pyaar karte hain, aur jisse karte hain, usey apni jaan aur apni saltanat (kingdom) dono de dete hain. (We Rathor men love only once, and to the one we love, we give our life and our kingdom.)"

I nipped her nose playfully. "Aapke baad koi nahi hai, Ishi. Aur pehle bhi koi nahi thi. Mere dil ki 'Rani' ki seat par pehle din se tumhara naam likha hai. (There is no one after you, Ishi. And there was no one before. Your name has been written on the seat of my heart's 'Queen' since day one.)"

A low, guttural growl came from the back. **Oscar** was practically rolling his eyes at my poetic confession.

"See? Even Oscar knows I'm a 'one-woman man'," I teased, pulling her even closer as the massive gold-plated gates of the palace swung open. "Ab yeh faltu baatein chhodo, aur taiyaar ho jao. Palace staff bahar khada hai. (Now leave these useless thoughts and get ready. The palace staff is standing outside.)"

I felt the engine rumble as I shifted the SUV into park, my hand already reaching for the door handle. I was ready to step out into the heat and the royal protocol, but I didn't get very far.

A pair of slender, soft arms suddenly hooked around my neck, pulling me back with surprising strength. I landed back against the leather seat with a soft *thud*, and before I could react, Ishita was leaning over me, her **long curly hair** creating a fragrant curtain that shut out the rest of the world.

"Itni kya jaldi hai, Janna ki? (What's the rush, My Life?)" she whispered, her **brown eyes** narrowing with a playful, possessive fire.

I looked up at her, my **6'3" frame** effectively trapped between the seat and my wife. My heart hammered against my ribs—not out of fear, but out of the sheer thrill of her being this bold.

"Ishi... staff bahar khada hai. (The staff is waiting outside,)" I managed to say, though my voice was already losing its authority.

She didn't care. She tightened her grip around my neck, her face inches from mine. "Dusri ke baare mein sochna bhi mat... (Don't even think about another woman...)" she warned, her voice a low, sultry velvet. "Kyunki mere jaisi nahi milegi... Mr. Rathor. (Because you won't find anyone like me.)"

I let out a low, rough chuckle, my hands instinctively finding her waist to steady her. The "Cold Prince" was completely defeated, and I didn't mind one bit.

"Confidence toh dekho Mrs. Rathor ka, (Look at the confidence of Mrs. Rathor,)" I murmured, my gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. "Mujhe pata hai nahi milegi. Isliye toh kidnapping se lekar teen saal ke intezaar tak, maine sab jhela. Kyunki mujhe pata tha ki meri sherni ka koi dusra version is duniya mein exist nahi karta. (I know I won't. That's why I endured everything from the kidnapping to the three-year wait. Because I knew another version of my lioness doesn't exist in this world.)"

I leaned up just enough to brush my nose against hers. "Ab agar dhum-dham se swagat karvana hai, toh mujhe jaane do. Varna main yehi darwaza lock karke dikha dunga ki yeh Raja kitna 'tharki' ho sakta hai. (Now if you want a grand welcome, let me go. Or I'll lock this door and show you exactly how much of a 'lecher' this King can be.)"

She gasped, a beautiful blush staining her **brown skin**, and she finally let go, laughing as she scrambled back into her seat.

"Aap boht besharam hain! (You are very shameless!)"

"Sirf aapke liye, Janna. (Only for you.)"

I straightened my shirt, took a deep breath to reclaim my "Royal" composure, and finally opened the door. The moment my boots hit the gravel, the air was filled with the sound of trumpets and the chanting of "Khamma Ghani" from the palace staff. But as I walked around to open her door, I knew that no matter how many people bowed to me today, I was the one who had already bowed to the woman inside that car.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I stepped out of the SUV, and for a moment, the sheer scale of the **Raj Mahal** took my breath away. It wasn't just a building; it was a fortress of history, glowing like burnished gold under the afternoon sun. Hundreds of palace guards stood in perfect formation, their traditional red turbans and swords gleaming.

### The Royal Procession

**Papa Ji** and **Maa** led the way. As the current King and Queen of this legacy, they walked with a regal grace that commanded absolute silence from the crowds. Behind them, the rest of the family followed in order.

I felt a large, warm hand slide into mine. **Rudra** was walking right beside me, his **6'3" frame** casting a long shadow. We stayed a few paces behind the elders, following the protocol, but the way he held my hand—tight and possessive—told me I wasn't just a guest here.

"Darr lag raha hai? (Are you scared?)" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the thunderous beat of the **Dhol** and the soulful melody of the **Shehnai**.

"Thoda sa... (A little...)" I admitted, looking up at the towering marble arches. "It's so big, Ru. I feel like I'll get lost."

He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing mine. "You’ll never get lost as long as you're with me. Soon, Janna, it’ll be us leading this walk. You'll be the one they bow to."

### The Welcome

As we crossed the main threshold, a literal **rain of rose petals** began to fall from the high balconies. It felt like walking through a pink cloud.

* **The Guards:** Every single one of them snapped to a salute as Rudra passed.

* **The People:** Residents from the nearby estate houses were leaning out of their windows, cheering and throwing flowers, eager to catch a glimpse of their Prince and his new Princess.

* **The Atmosphere:** The air was thick with the scent of marigolds and the vibrating energy of the drums.

"Look up," Rudra murmured.

I looked up at the intricate carvings of the palace walls. The Raj Mahal felt endless—balconies stacked upon balconies, hidden windows, and gold-leafed domes that seemed to touch the clouds.

"Welcome home, Rani Sahiba," Rudra said, his voice full of a pride that made my heart skip a beat.

We walked past the massive fountains, the water dancing to the rhythm of the Shehnai, and headed toward the main Durbar Hall. I could feel the eyes of the entire Rathor legacy on us, but with Rudra's hand in mine, I felt like I could conquer every single hallway of this massive palace.

The interior of the Raj Mahal was even more breath-taking than the facade. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings hand-painted with gold leaf, and the air carried the faint, regal scent of aged sandalwood and fresh jasmine. As we entered the main living area—a space so vast it could have housed my entire makeup studio five times over—I felt the exhaustion of the long drive finally hitting my bones.

We all settled onto the plush, velvet-covered oversized sofas. My feet were aching, and my head felt a bit heavy from the sheer sensory overload of the grand welcome. A line of staff in pristine white uniforms immediately brought silver trays with chilled water and small plates of traditional Rajasthani snacks—*dal Kachori* and *Mawa Kachori*.

Papa Ji stood up, his presence commanding the room. He looked at the gathered palace officials, the distant relatives, and the senior staff who had served the Rathors for generations.

"Listen, everyone," Papa Ji announced, his voice echoing with authority and pride. "As you all know, this is a momentous return for our family. And today, I officially introduce you to the newest pillar of the Rathor legacy. This is Ishita Rudra Singh Rathor, Rudra’s wife and the eldest daughter-in-law of this house. Her respect is my respect, and her command is the law of this palace."

I felt a lump in my throat as I stood up beside him, offering a graceful *Namaste* to everyone. I could feel the weight of the "Eldest Bahu" title—it was a crown in itself.

Beside me, **Rudra** stood like a pillar of granite. To the outsiders, he was the **Cold-Hearted Prince**—his face was a mask of stoic, royal indifference, his **6'3" frame** radiating a "don't mess with me" energy. He didn't smile; he didn't even blink. He just gave a sharp, authoritative nod to the staff, acknowledging his position.

But under the cover of the long velvet sofa cushions, out of everyone’s sight, his hand found mine. He squeezed it firmly, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over my knuckles. It was his silent way of saying, *'I’ve got you, Janna. You’re doing great.'*

"Thak gayi ho? (Are you tired?)" he murmured, his lips barely moving, his eyes still fixed ahead as if he were discussing a serious state matter.

"Boht... (A lot...)" I whispered back, leaning just a fraction of an inch toward him. "Mere pair dukh rahe hain, Ru. (My feet are hurting, Ru.)"

I saw the corner of his jaw tighten—the only sign of his protective streak. "Bas thodi der aur. Phir main tumhe kamre mein le jaunga. (Just a little longer. Then I'll take you to the room.)"

**Jay**, who was sitting across from us and stuffing his face with a kachori, caught Rudra’s subtle movement and smirked. "Bhai, itna 'Serious King' banne ki zaroorat nahi hai. Hum sab jaante hain ki aap andar hi andar Bhabhi ke liye pighal rahe hain. (Bhai, no need to be such a 'Serious King.' We all know you're melting for Bhabhi on the inside.)"

Rudra’s **ocean-blue eyes** shot a frosty glare toward Jay. "Jay, concentrate on your food before I make you run laps around the palace courtyard."

**Akshat** laughed, patting Jay’s shoulder. "Chhod de Jay, Bhai is currently in 'Duty' mode. But Bhabhi, don't let him fool you. The moment those bedroom doors close, he'll be back to being your 'Gulam'."

I blushed a deep crimson, looking down at my water glass, while Rudra just cleared his throat, his ears turning slightly pink—the only giveaway of his embarrassment. Despite the fatigue, I felt a wave of warmth. I was in a palace, surrounded by history and duty, but the man holding my hand was still my 'Ru'—my romantic, protective husband who would walk through fire just to make sure I was comfortable.

After the introductions, Papa Ji finally nodded to the family. "The journey has been long. Everyone, go rest. We have much to discuss tomorrow." Chachi Ji called out as we headed toward the stairs, "Vardaan, don't forget to give Reet her medicine!"

I was leaning heavily against the wall, my energy completely drained, when **Rudra** stepped in front of me. He waited until the last of the family members had turned the corner into their respective wings. The moment we were effectively "alone" in the grand hallway, the stony, authoritative mask of the **Cold-Hearted Prince** vanished.

"Ishi," he whispered, his **ocean-blue eyes** searching my tired face.

Before I could protest, he swept me off my feet, his **6'3" frame** making the action look effortless. I gasped, wrapping my arms around his neck as he carried me up the grand marble staircase toward our private royal suite.

"Ru! Anyone could see us!" I whispered, my heart fluttering.

"Let them," he replied, his voice a deep, possessive rumble. "I'm carrying my wife to her chambers. It’s my royal prerogative."

He kicked open the massive double doors to our suite, and I felt like I had stepped into a different world. Our royal chambers were breathtaking—a masterclass in Rajasthani luxury. The **bedroom** was draped in deep midnight-blue velvet and dripping with intricate gold carvings on the ceiling and walls. A massive chandelier cast a warm, crystalline glow over the plush bedding. Adjacent to it was a **living area** featuring a grand piano and velvet sofas, all under a mesmerizing gold-domed ceiling.

He didn't stop until he reached the **bathroom**, which looked more like a private spa. A large gold-rimmed tub was already filled with warm, bubbling blue water, perfectly matching the royal aesthetic of the room.

He set me down gently on a velvet ottoman. He knelt before me, his large hands reaching out to slowly unlace my shoes.

"Rudra, what are you doing?" I asked, touched by his sudden softness.

"You said your feet were hurting," he murmured, not looking up. He massaged my heels for a moment, his touch firm yet incredibly gentle. "In front of the world, I am the heir to this throne. But in these four walls, Ishi, I am just a man who belongs to you."

He stood up, pulling me into a slow, lingering hug. He rested his chin on the top of my head, inhaling the scent of my **long curly hair**.

"Welcome to our kingdom, Janna," he whispered against my temple. "I’ve spent years imagining you in this room. Now that you’re finally here, I don't think I'm ever letting you leave."

I leaned into his chest, the exhaustion finally turning into a warm, cozy peace. The makeup artist from Delhi was now truly the Queen of the Raj Mahal, protected by the most romantic "Cold Prince" in history.

I leaned back against the mountain of silk pillows, my body sinking into the plush midnight-blue duvet of our royal bed. The room was silent, save for the faint crackle of the fireplace and the steady rhythm of my own heart, which was finally slowing down after the day's excitement.

**Rudra** didn't join me under the covers immediately. Instead, he sat at the foot of the bed, his **6'3" frame** silhouetted against the golden glow of the chandeliers. Without a word, he took my aching feet into his large, warm lap. His hands, which could be so ruthless in the boardroom, moved with a tenderness that brought tears to my eyes. He began rubbing my feet, his thumbs finding every pressure point with instinctive precision.

"Ru, stop... you're a King now, you shouldn't be doing this," I whispered, though I was already melting into the mattress.

"I told you, Janna," he murmured, his **ocean-blue eyes** dark and focused on me. "In this room, there is no King. Only your husband."

After a few minutes, he moved up the bed, settling beside me. He didn't pull me into a passionate embrace; he knew I was beyond exhausted. Instead, he reached out with his other hand, his fingers tracing soft, rhythmic circles on my forehead. The touch was hypnotic, pulling the last remnants of stress from my mind.

"Sleep, Janna," he whispered, his voice a velvety lullaby. "Everything is okay. You're home. We're home."

I felt my eyelids growing heavy, the golden carvings on the ceiling blurring into a beautiful haze. His hand never stopped its gentle motion—rubbing my feet with one hand and soothing my brow with the other. In that moment, surrounded by the opulence of the **Raj Mahal**, I realized that the greatest luxury wasn't the gold or the silk; it was the man who had waited three years just to hold me like this.

"I love you, Ru..." I breathed, my voice trailing off into sleep.

"I love you more than anything Ishi," I heard him whisper back just before I drifted off.

Next day

The morning sun filtered through the high arched windows of the **Raj Mahal**, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. I felt refreshed after the night’s rest, though the sheer scale of this palace still felt like a dream. I was joined by my *devranis*, **Dhristi** and **Reet**, and our sister-in-law **Ahana**, who had taken it upon herself to be our royal tour guide.

"Bhabhi, you have to see this wing," **Ahana** said, her eyes bright with pride as she led us down a corridor lined with ancient shields and swords. "This is where the real history of the Rathors lives."

**Reet**, walking slowly as **Vardaan** had strictly instructed her to be careful, gripped my arm. "Ishu Bhabhi, look at the gold work on these walls! It’s even more intricate than the designs in my fashion studio."

"It’s breathtaking," I murmured, my **long curly hair** swaying as I looked around. "I feel like I’ve stepped back in time."

**Dhristi**, always the observant professor, pointed toward a grand gallery at the end of the hall. "Look at those portraits. They aren't just paintings; they’re the soul of this family."

We stopped in front of a massive, floor-to-ceiling oil painting. It was **Dada Ji and Dadi Ji** in their youth. Dada Ji looked exactly like a younger version of **Papa Ji**, standing tall with a fierce, regal stare that reminded me so much of **Rudra’s** cold, authoritative look. Beside him, Dadi Ji sat on a silver throne, draped in a heavy poshak, her jewelry reflecting a dignity that **Siya Maa** carries today.

"They look so powerful," I whispered, stepping closer. "Just like Maa and Papa Ji lead the family now."

"And just like you and Bhai will lead it one day, Bhabhi," **Ahana** added softly, bumping her shoulder against mine. "Look at the way they are standing together. It’s the same way Rudra Bhai stands behind you—protective and proud."

I looked at the portrait of the young King and Queen and then at my own reflection in the polished marble. It was a heavy legacy, but seeing the love in the eyes of the ancestors made it feel less like a burden and more like a blessing.

"I hope I can be half the Queen she was," I said, my **brown eyes** misting slightly as I thought of our promise of **Tara** and the future we were building.

"You already are, bhabhi" **Dhristi** said warmly, squeezing my hand. "The way the staff looks at you, and the way the Prince looks at you... you were born for this Mahal."

As we continued roaming through the endless rooms, passing by hidden courtyards with dancing fountains and libraries filled with the scent of old parchment, I realized that while **Rudra** was the King of this palace, I was the heart that made it a home.

Ahana led us through a hidden archway covered in thick ivy, and as we stepped through, the air suddenly felt cooler and smelled like a dream. We had entered the **Zenana Garden**, a private sanctuary once built for the royal women of the Rathor family. It was a paradise of white marble pathways and emerald-green lawns, where peacocks roamed freely, their iridescent feathers catching the sunlight.

"Look!" Reet whispered, pointing toward a marble fountain where two peacocks were fanning their tails in a magnificent display. "It’s like a scene from a movie."

But as the others hurried toward the peacocks, my feet slowed. My gaze was pulled toward a specific corner of the garden where a long, winding lane of flowers began. My breath hitched. They weren't the usual red or pink; they were a rare, mesmerizing shade of **blue roses**.

I walked toward them, my fingers trembling as I touched a velvet petal. The sight hit me like a wave of nostalgia, taking me back to our first year of love.

"Blue roses..." I murmured to myself.

I remembered the early days of us—the first six months when **Rudra** was falling for me. I had once offhandedly mentioned to him that I found red roses too common; I told him I preferred blue because they were rare and mysterious, just like him. After that, no matter where we were, he would find them for me. Even during those four months of pure love before the darkness of the separation, he never arrived for a date without a single blue rose in his hand.

"Bhabhi? Why are you crying?" Ahana asked, coming up beside me.

I wiped a stray tear from my **brown skin**, smiling through the emotion. "I'm not sad, Ahana. I’m just remembering. Your brother... he used to give me these all the time. I suggested it once, and he never forgot."

"He never forgets anything related to you, bhabhi," Dhristi said, joining us and looking at the blue roses with a soft smile. "He probably had the palace gardeners plant this entire lane just for your arrival."

As if on cue, the heavy sound of boots echoed on the marble path behind us. I didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. The air always felt different when he was near—more charged, more secure.

"The head gardener told me I'd find my Queen among the roses," **Rudra’s** deep voice resonated.

I turned to see him standing there, his **6'3" frame** looking every bit the King in a sharp Nehru jacket. His **ocean-blue eyes** weren't looking at the garden; they were fixed entirely on me, reflecting the same shade as the flowers I was holding.

"Do you like them, Janna?" he asked, stepping closer and ignoring the teasing smiles of the other girls. "I made sure they were blooming before we reached Jaipur."

"I love them, Ru," I whispered. "You remembered."

"I told you," he murmured, leaning down to speak only for my ears. "Everything that belongs to this palace is yours, but every blue rose in this garden is a reminder that I have belonged to you since the day we met at that Mandir."