Rudra's Perspective

I thought the weight of the conversation had finally pulled her into sleep, but Ishita never ceases to surprise me. One moment she was a trembling leaf in my arms, and the next, she was shifting, her movements fluid and purposeful.

I let out a low grunt as she sat up, straddling my waist. The moonlight caught the curve of her shoulders and the wild tangle of her curls. She looked like a desert queen—fierce, beautiful, and suddenly very curious.

"Ru..." she started, her eyes searching mine with a sudden intensity. "I was just thinking. If we actually do this... if I get over my fear... *aapko kitne chahiye?* How many do you actually want? By the way?"

I stayed still, my hands instinctively finding her waist to steady her. I looked up at her, my heart doing that strange thud it only does for her. I hadn't expected the question to be so blunt, especially not after her panic just minutes ago.

"How many?" I repeated, my voice dropping an octave, husky and thick with a mix of amusement and something far deeper.

I pulled her slightly closer, my thumbs grazing the skin just above the waistband of her pajamas. "You're asking the man who didn't even believe in the concept of a 'family' until you crashed into my life? I used to think this mansion was just a building, Ishi. A place to work and sleep. Now... I see you in every corner."

I paused, my expression softening as I thought about our promise.

"Honestly? I want a house where I can't walk two steps without hearing laughter. I want a Tara, definitely. A girl who has your stubborn streak and my eyes, so I can never say no to her. And maybe a son who’s just as obsessed with his mother as I am, so he can protect you when I’m at the office."

I reached up, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her warm cheek.

"But Ishita, listen to me," I said, my tone turning serious. "Whether it’s one, two, or none—it doesn't change what we are. My world starts and ends with you. I’m not looking for heirs to a kingdom; I’m looking for more reasons to see you smile."

She bit her lip again, but this time it wasn't out of fear—it was that shy, beautiful hesitation I loved.

"Two?" she whispered, testing the number.

"Two sounds perfect," I murmured, a slow, predatory smirk spreading across my face as I pulled her down toward my chest again. "But if you keep sitting like that, Patidev might decide he wants to start working on the first one right now. Fear or no fear."

I felt the bed shake slightly as she collapsed back onto me, her laughter ringing out like wind chimes in the quiet room. She didn't just lay down; she burrowed into me, her face pressing into the crook of my neck, her warm breath tickling my skin as she snuggled close and said myjhe laga aapko das pandra chaiye because aap hanesa romance ke mood m rehte ho.

"Das-pandra (Ten-fifteen)?" I repeated, my eyebrows shooting up in mock disbelief. I couldn't help but chuckle, the sound vibrating from my chest into her. "Janna, do you think I’m trying to start a football team or a dynasty?"

"I'm serious, Ru!" she muffled into my skin, her arms wrapping tightly around my neck. "Mujhe laga aapko das-pandra chaiye... because you are always, *always* in a romantic mood. I thought you'd want a whole army of mini-Rudras running around!"

I wrapped my arms around her, locking her against me, feeling the soft curves of her body against my hard planes. My hand traveled to the back of her head, my fingers tangling in those long, messy curls I adored.

"Always in the mood, huh?" I murmured, my voice dropping into that dangerous, low register that usually made her blush. "Can you blame me? I spent three years in a frozen hell without you. Now that I have you back in my bed, in my arms... every second feels like I’m making up for lost time. If I'm 'always in the mood,' it's because my wife is the most beautiful woman on this planet."

I shifted slightly, kissing the top of her head, my heart feeling unusually full.

"But ten or fifteen? Ishi, I’m a businessman. I believe in quality over quantity," I teased, nipping gently at her earlobe. "I only need enough to fill your life with joy, not to keep you in the hospital forever. Besides, if there are fifteen of them, when would I ever get you all to myself? I’m a selfish man, Janna. I don’t like sharing your attention—not even with my own kids."

She giggled, her hands playfully smacking my chest. "You are so possessive, Ru! Even of our imaginary children."

"Always," I whispered, pulling the duvet up over both of us, sealing us into our own private world. "Now, go to sleep. Or I might actually start taking that 'ten-fifteen' suggestion seriously."

I felt her stiffen for a split second before she realized I was joking, and she settled even deeper into my embrace. As her breathing slowed and she finally drifted off, I stayed awake for a while, staring at the ceiling. In this room, in this silence, I was just a man who had everything he ever wanted, tucked safely under his chin.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The heavy silence in the grand foyer of the Rathor mansion was thick enough to cut with a knife. **Dhristi**, **Reet**, and I stood there like three discarded masterpieces, our heels clicking impatiently against the marble floor.

It was Valentine’s Day evening—the one day the "Rathor Men" had collectively promised to set aside their business empires, legal files, and contracts to take us out. And yet, here we were. Ready. Waiting. And very, **very** angry.

I had gone all out for Ru tonight. I was wearing a deep emerald green silk dress that hugged my curves and complimented my brown skin perfectly. My curls were pinned back with a shimmering clip, and my makeup was flawless—courtesy of my own skills. Beside me, **Dhristi** looked elegant and sharp in a sophisticated red gown, her eyes fixed on the door with a professor-like sternness. **Reet**, always the fashionista, was in a stunning cocktail dress of her own design, tapping her foot so fast I thought she might drill a hole in the floor.

Ishita's look

Dhristi look

Reet look

"Unbelievable," Reet hissed, checking her designer watch for the tenth time. "Vardaan promised he’d be home by five. It’s nearly seven! Does he think 'Valentine' means 'Wait-for-me-line'?"

"Akshat too," Dhristi added, her voice tight. "He said he’d leave the office early. Even little Krish is with his nanny, expecting us to be gone by now. This is completely unprofessional."

I crossed my arms, feeling the silk of my dress rustle. "And my 'Patidev'? He’s the one who organized the whole pact! The great Rudra Singh Rathor, world-class businessman, can’t even keep a dinner date with his wife."

The anger wasn't just about the time; it was the anticipation. We had spent hours getting ready, wanting to look "hot" and beautiful for our husbands, and they were treating the evening like just another board meeting.

"If they think they can walk in here with a bouquet of roses and a 'sorry' and expect us to melt, they are sorely mistaken," I said, my brown eyes flashing with the same fire Ru usually admired. "Right, girls?"

"Right!" Reet and Dhristi chimed in unison.

Suddenly, the heavy oak doors groaned open. The cool evening breeze swept in, followed by the three of them. **Rudra** was in the lead, looking devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit, followed by **Akshat** and **Vardaan**. They looked slightly disheveled, their ties loosened, but they were talking amongst themselves about some merger—until they saw us.

The three of them stopped dead in their tracks. Their jaws practically hit the floor as they took us in

Rudra’s ocean-blue eyes darkened instantly as they traveled from my face down to the hem of my dress. He looked like he wanted to devour me right there, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of a smile. I just raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"Oh, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "The kings of Rajasthan have arrived. Should we bow, or are we too late for that too?"

Rudra stepped forward, his gaze intense, his voice dropping into that smooth, apologetic rumble. "Janna... I know we’re late. There was an emergency at Eternity, and then Akshat’s car—"

"Save it, Ru," I snapped, turning my back on him. "We’ve been ready for two hours. The table reservation is gone, my mood is gone, and frankly, I think the couch looks very comfortable for you tonight."

Beside me, Dhristi and Reet were giving Akshat and Vardaan the exact same treatment. The Rathor brothers, who commanded thousands of employees, looked like scolded schoolboys in the face of our collective fury.

The tension in the lounge was thick enough to suffocate a Rathor’s ego. We were all sitting on the velvet sofas—I was at the center, arms crossed, looking everywhere but at Ru. Dhristi was flipping through a book she clearly wasn’t reading, and Reet... well, Reet was a ticking time bomb.

Between being a fashion designer and two months pregnant, her mood swings were legendary. Right now, she was glaring at Vardaan as if he had personally invented the concept of being late.

"I am hungry," Reet announced suddenly, her voice dangerously high. "I am hungry, my feet hurt, and this dress is tight. Vardaan, if you don't give me a valid reason in the next ten seconds, I am moving into the guest room until the baby is born."

"Reet, sweetheart, please—" Vardaan started, reaching out, but she hissed like a kitten.

"Don't 'sweetheart' me! I wanted pasta at 6:00 PM. It is now 7:30 PM. The baby wants pasta. I want a divorce."

Akshat winced, looking at Dhristi for help, but she just adjusted her glasses. "She’s right, Akshat. Time management is a core competency. You failed."

Rudra stepped into my line of vision, blocking the TV. He looked down at me, his ocean-blue eyes soft but burning with that possessive fire. "Janna, look at me."

"I'm busy, Ru," I said, inspecting my nails. "Go back to your 'emergency' at Eternity. I’m sure the spreadsheets missed you."

He didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked—that annoying, handsome smirk. "The spreadsheets are boring. My wife, however, looks... lethal in green. If you're going to kill me with that look, at least do it outside where there’s a better view."

Before I could retort, the three brothers exchanged a look. Rudra reached down, and despite my protest, he hooked his hand around my waist and pulled me up. Akshat and Vardaan did the same with their wives (though Vardaan had to dodge a stray handbag from Reet first).

"Follow us," Ru whispered in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine. "Or I’ll carry you. Your choice, Janna."

They led us through the glass doors toward the backyard courtyard. The moment we stepped out, the anger didn't stand a chance.

The entire courtyard had been transformed into a fairyland. Thousands of fairy lights hung from the ancient trees like falling stars. A long table was set with silver and crystal, surrounded by hundreds of red roses and floating candles in the pool. A soft, romantic violin melody played in the background.

"Surprise," Akshat murmured, finally pulling Dhristi into a hug.

Vardaan immediately scurried toward a side table. "Pasta! Reet, look, four different kinds of pasta and a designer maternity hamper!"

Reet’s eyes widened. One second she was ready to sue him, and the next, she was tearing into a breadstick with tears in her eyes. "I still hate you, but this Alfredo is perfect."

Akshat handed Dhristi a small, elegant box—a rare first-edition book she’d been hunting for, along with a diamond pendant.

Then there was Rudra.

He didn't just give me a box. He stood in front of me, completely ignoring the presence of his brothers and sisters-in-law. He pulled out a velvet case, revealing a necklace with a pendant—a delicate, diamond-encrusted (star).

"For the woman who brought light back to the 'Cold Prince'," he said loudly, his voice echoing. He stepped behind me, his fingers cool against my skin as he fastened the necklace. His lips brushed my neck, lingering much longer than a 'friendly' gesture would allow.

"Ru, everyone is watching!" I whispered, blushing furiously as I felt his hands settle on my hips, pulling my back against his shirtless chest (he’d shed his suit jacket and vest the moment we got outside).

"Let them watch," he murmured, his voice husky. "Let them see how Rajasthan's Prince is completely whipped by his brown-skinned queen. You look so hot in this dress, Ishi, that I'm considering cancelling the dinner and taking my 'permanent teddy' back upstairs."

"Bhai! Please! There are children—well, one child—nearby!" Akshat laughed, covering little Krish’s eyes as the toddler ran into the garden.

I leaned back into him, my anger completely melted. "You're shameless, Ru."

"Only for you, Janna," he whispered, nipping my ear. "Only for you."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I watched as the crimson hue returned to Ishita's cheeks, but this time, it wasn't just shyness—it was that fierce, possessive streak of hers. She suddenly snapped out of the romantic trance, her eyes darting to where Akshat and Vardaan were trying (and failing) to suppress their smirks.

Before I could say another word, she snatched my discarded vest and suit jacket from the nearby chair.

"Besharam! *Kapde pehno ise...*" she hissed, shoving the fabric against my chest. Her "deadly" glare would have terrified a lesser man, but to me, it was the most beautiful thing I’d seen all night.

She leaned in, her height requiring her to stand on her tiptoes, her lips inches from my ear. The scent of her perfume—a mix of vanilla and jasmine—clouded my senses. "*Ye nazara sirf mera hai akele mein, Mr. Rathore,*" she whispered, her voice like velvet and steel. (This view is only mine, in private.)

I felt a jolt of pure adrenaline. My wife, the makeup artist who usually preached about kindness, was marking her territory. I took the vest from her, my fingers lingering against hers, and leaned down. "As you wish, Janna. I’ll keep the 'view' for your eyes only... later."

As we moved toward the table, the atmosphere shifted from romantic to chaotic, thanks to the youngest Rathor daughter-in-law.

Reet was currently in the middle of a culinary crisis. She was staring at the four different bowls of pasta Vardaan had arranged like they were a puzzle she couldn't solve. One moment she was smiling at a forkful of Alfredo, and the next, her lower lip was trembling.

"Vardaan," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "Why is the red sauce touching the white sauce? They are fighting. I can't eat them if they're fighting."

Vardaan, usually a sharp, confident lawyer who could win any argument in court, looked absolutely terrified. "I... I’ll fix it, Reet. I’ll get a new plate. Please don't cry."

"I'm not crying! I'm frustrated!" she snapped, then immediately turned to the garlic bread and took a massive, aggressive bite.

Despite her hormones running wild, I noticed she kept her voice just below a shout. Every time she looked like she was about to explode, her eyes would flicker to me. Even in her most "dangerous" pregnancy mood, the shadow of the 'Cold-Hearted Prince' kept her in check. She knew I loved her like a sister, but she also knew I didn't tolerate disrespect at the dinner table—even from a pregnant woman.

### The Rathor Family Dynamic

"Bhai, I think we should just let her eat in peace," Akshat whispered to me, pulling a chair out for Dhristi. "Last time she had a craving like this, she made Vardaan drive to three different bakeries at 2:00 AM because the first two 'smelled too much like flour'."

I pulled out the chair for Ishita, my hand resting protectively on her shoulder. "As long as she doesn't throw a plate, Akshat, she’s fine. Being a Rathor isn't easy, and carrying one is even harder."

Ishita looked up at me, her anger from earlier completely gone, replaced by a soft, knowing smile. She reached up and squeezed my hand. "You're being very understanding today, Ru. Is it the Valentine’s spirit or just because you’re happy I liked the necklace?"

I leaned down, ignoring the clinking of silverware and Reet’s muffled complaints about the salt content in the olives.

"Neither," I murmured for her ears only. "It’s because I’m waiting for that 'private view' you promised me. The clock is ticking, Ishi."

She choked slightly on her water, and for the first time that night, the 'Cold-Hearted Prince' felt like he had truly won.

The clinking of crystal and Reet’s soft grumbling over the pasta faded into the background as Ishita leaned closer to me. The soft glow of the candlelight reflected in her brown eyes, making them look like molten honey. She waited until I had a sip of my wine before she spoke, her voice a gentle murmur meant only for us.

"Suniye..." she began softly.

I set the glass down, giving her my full attention. "Ji?"

"Vo... kal Shivratri hai," she said, her fingers tracing the edge of her plate nervously. "Maa was telling me that every year, a special Shiv-Parvati puja is held at our ancestral temple. She said that you... you've never sat for it. Not once."

I felt the familiar tightening in my chest. The ancestral temple. The place where my family had prayed for generations—the same God I had turned my back on the day the snow took my sister, Tara, away. My silence was heavy, but she continued, her voice gaining a bit of strength.

"Now we are married, Ru. It’s our first time back in Rajasthan together since the wedding. Kal puja mein baithenge mere saath? (Will you sit with me for the puja tomorrow?)"

I leaned back, my ocean-blue eyes searching her face. I didn't believe in the stone idols or the chants, but I believed in the woman sitting across from me. She knew my past; she knew why I stayed away from those altars.

"Hukum kar rahi ho ya request? (Are you commanding me or requesting?)" I asked, my voice a low rumble, my face unreadable.

Ishita didn't flinch. She squared her shoulders, a spark of that Sharma fire lighting up her gaze. "Jo aapko achha lage, vo samajh lijiye. (Whatever you feel is right, take it as that.)"

A slow, genuine smile spread across my face. This was the woman who had tamed the beast. She wasn't begging; she was standing her ground as my equal.

I reached across the table, taking her hand in mine, my thumb stroking her knuckles.

"Aap Rathor ki biwi ho, Ishi," I said, my voice thick with pride. "Request nahi... Hukum karti hui achhi lagti ho. (You are a Rathor's wife... you look better giving commands than making requests.)"

I squeezed her hand. "If it matters to you, I'll be there. I might not be praying to Him, but I'll be sitting there for you."

The relief that washed over her face was better than any business deal I’d ever closed. She beamed, her smile so bright it put the fairy lights to shame.

"Oye hoye! Bhai toh gaye!" Akshat’s voice broke the moment as he winked at Vardaan. "The great Rudra Singh Rathor in a temple? This is going to be the headline of the century."

I shot Akshat a warning glare, but there was no heat in it. "Eat your dinner, Akshat, before I decide to audit your department's expenses tomorrow morning."

He went quiet instantly, and Ishita giggled, leaning her head against my shoulder. I am going to a temple, and honestly, if it kept that smile on her face, I’d walk through fire, let alone a puja.

The moon was high over the Rajasthan desert, casting a silver sheen through the arched windows of our suite. The celebration downstairs had ended, and we were back in our sanctuary. As had become our ritual, I was lying back against the pillows, and Ishi was draped over me, her weight a comforting pressure against my chest.

Her small, soft fingers were busy tracing the lines of my face—following the curve of my jaw, the bridge of my nose, and the arch of my brow as if she were memorizing a map. She leaned down, pressing a lingering, sweet kiss to my cheek.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice like silk in the dark.

I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. I shifted my arm to pull her closer, my hand resting on the small of her back. "I know, Janna," I murmured, my voice thick with sleep and contentment.

"Thank you," she said softly, her eyes locked onto mine. "Thank you for saying yes to the puja tomorrow. I know it’s not easy for you."

I looked at her, really looked at her. The world saw a makeup artist, but I saw the only person who had the map to my soul. "Hmm... *Aapke liye jaan de de, pooja mein baithna toh kuch bhi nahi hai.*" (I'd give my life for you; sitting in a puja is nothing.)

The reaction was instantaneous.

*Thwack!*

She hit my chest—not a playful tap, but a firm strike that made me grunt. Her eyes, which had been soft a second ago, were now flashing with sudden anger.

"Khabardar!" she snapped, her finger pointing at me accusingly. "Don't you dare say something like that ever again."

I blinked, genuinely surprised by the heat in her voice. I caught her hand, pinning it gently to my chest right over my heart. "Kyu? Kya hua? (Why? What happened?)"

"Mujhe nahi pasand!" she said, her lower lip trembling slightly despite her fierce tone. "I don’t like it when you talk about dying or giving your life. It’s not romantic, Ru. It’s scary."

I started to chuckle, thinking she was just being dramatic, but her expression didn't soften.

"Aur agar kiya toh?" I teased, testing the waters, my thumb stroking her wrist. (And if I do?)

She sat up slightly, her long curly hair falling over her shoulders like a dark veil. Her gaze was steady, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried a heavy threat.

"Chodh ke chali jaungi, bata rahi hoon." (I’ll leave you, I’m telling you.)

The smile vanished from my face. Even the thought—the mere suggestion of her leaving—felt like a physical blow to my lungs. I sat up abruptly, bringing her with me so we were eye-to-eye. I wrapped my arms around her so tightly there wasn't a breath of space between us.

"Don't even joke about that, Ishita," I growled, my possessiveness flaring up. "You aren't going anywhere. You’re a Rathor now. You’re mine. I’ve spent three years in a living hell to get you back; I’m not letting you go over a figure of speech."

"Then don't talk about leaving me alone in this world," she whispered, her anger melting into a plea as she hid her face in my neck. "I can't lose you, Ru. Not after everything."

I exhaled, the tension leaving my body as I felt her heart beating against mine. I kissed her temple, my grip softening but still firm. "Okay. No more talk of 'jaan dena.' From now on, I only talk about living. For you. With you."

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the Rathor mansion, but I had already been up for hours. Discipline was my middle name, and my day always began with a grueling session in the gym to clear my head. Before leaving, I had leaned over the bed, pressing a soft kiss to Ishi’s forehead while she was still lost in her dreams, looking like a painting with her curls scattered across the pillow.

Two hours later, I walked back into our suite, wiping sweat from my brow with a towel—only to stop dead in my tracks.

Ishita was already up. Not just up, but fully dressed. She looked breathtaking in a sea-green and navy blue silk saree that draped perfectly over her slim figure. Her hair was styled in an elegant, thick braid, and the emerald jewelry she wore caught the light beautifully.

"Morning, Janna," I said, a surprised smirk playing on my lips. "Kya baat hai? Aaj aap itni jaldi uth gayi?" (What's the matter? You got up so early today?)

She adjusted her pallu, not even looking at me as she stood by the vanity. "Main der se kab uthti hoon?" (When do I ever wake up late?)

I let out a short laugh, gesturing toward the clock on the wall which was just hitting 8:00 AM. "Nahi, nahi... mera matlab ki aap isse toh kaafi later hi uthti ho hamesha." (No, no... I mean you usually wake up much later than this.)

She turned around, pointing a manicured finger at me. "Chup rahiye aap!" (Be quiet!)

She walked over to the bed, picked up a set of clothes she had already laid out—a stunning navy blue kurta with intricate gold embroidery—and shoved them into my hands. "Go freshen up. Then we have to go to the puja. Everyone is waiting."

I couldn't help it; a hearty laugh escaped my chest. I caught her by the waist before she could walk past me, pulling her close despite my sweaty state. "Waah! Late-Latif biwi aaj mujhe time sikha rahi hai? Kya baat hai!" (Wow! My late-comer wife is teaching me about time today? Impressive!)

"Ru! Chhodo, aapko pasina aa raha hai!" (Ru! Let go, you're sweaty!) She tried to squirm away, but her cheeks were turning that lovely shade of pink. "Chup raho aur jaao! Aur haan..."

She looked at me sternly, her eyes narrowing. "Mummy ke aage mat bolna yeh. Varna mujhe taane maar-maar ke sunati rahengi... ki shaadi se pehle bhi aisi thi aur baad mein bhi." (And yes... don't say this in front of Mummy. Otherwise, she'll keep taunting me... saying I was like this before marriage and I'm still the same after.)

I chuckled, picturing Gayatri Maa’s inevitable lecture. I leaned down, stealing a quick kiss from her cheek before she could protest. "Your secret is safe with me, Janna. But only if you promise to look at me during the puja as much as you look at the idol."

"Besharam! Jaaiye ab!" (Shameless! Go now!)

I walked toward the bathroom, whistling a tune. Today was going to be long—the temple, the crowds, the rituals I didn't believe in—but seeing her this happy and seeing her take charge as the daughter-in-law of the Rathor house? It made every bit of it worth it.

I descended the grand marble staircase of the Raj Mahal, the silk of my navy blue kurta rustling with every step. I felt... exposed. Not because of the clothes, but because of where I was headed. The entire hall went silent as I entered. My mother, Siya, chachi Urmila, and even the staff stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide as if they were seeing a ghost. Or a miracle.

Ishita was standing near the center of the hall, looking like a dream in that sea-green saree. She was holding a silver puja thali laden with fresh flowers and incense.

"Maa, chaliye," she said, her voice bright and full of pride, "ye bhi aa gaye." (Maa, let's go, he has arrived too.)

My mother stepped forward, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She looked at me, then at the temple doors, then back at me. "Aaj pakka Suraj kahi aur se nikla hai," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. (Today the sun has definitely risen from a different direction.)

Bebe, who was leaning on her walking stick, let out a dry, knowing chuckle. "Na, na, Siya... Suraj toh wahi se nikla hai. Ye toh bas biwi ke hukum ka kamaal hai!" (No, no... the sun rose from the same place. This is just the magic of his wife's command!)

The entire hall erupted into soft giggles. Even Akshat, who was standing by the door, gave me a cheeky salute. I felt the back of my neck heat up—a sensation I rarely experienced. I shot a look at Ishita, expecting her to defend me, but my bold 'Hukum' queen was currently busy burying her face in the flower plate, her cheeks matching the red roses she held.

"Ab chaliye sab!" (Now everyone, let's go!) she squeaked, clearly trying to hide her blush.

She didn't wait for my retort. She quickly turned on her heels and started walking toward the massive garden mandir area, linking arms with Dhristi. I watched the graceful sway of her saree as she walked away, her laughter drifting back to me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was my father, Ram Singh. He didn't say much—he never did—but the firm squeeze of his hand spoke volumes. I took a deep breath, adjusted my cuffs, and followed them.

As we stepped out into the sprawling gardens, the fragrance of 'Bel Patra' and sandalwood filled the air. The temple, an ancient structure carved from white marble, stood under the shade of a massive Banyan tree. Hundreds of villagers and family associates were already there, and as soon as I stepped into the perimeter, a hush fell over the crowd.

The "Cold-Hearted Prince" was at the Shiv Mandir.

I looked ahead at Ishita. She stopped at the temple steps, turned around, and waited for me. She reached out her hand, her bangles clinking, beckoning me to join her at the altar. For a second, the old pain—the memory of that snowy hill in Kedarnath—flashed in my mind. But then I looked at her eyes, and the darkness receded.

I took her hand. It was warm, steady, and real.