AUTHOR POV

The royal servants glided into the hall like clockwork, balancing silver trays laden with aromatic masala chai and crispy kachoris for the guests. She caught Siya Maa’s eye, giving her a look that said, *'Save yourself, Maa.'*

"Maa, aap log decide kar lijiyega Bua-ji ke saath," she said, her voice forced into a diplomatic melody. "Hum husbands ko coffee deke aate hain." (Maa, you all decide with Bua-ji. We’re going to give the husbands their coffee.)

Bebe chuckled, seeing right through her escape plan. "Haan! Bichare subah se kaam kar rahe hain. Jao, jao!" (Yes! The poor guys have been working since morning. Go on!)

She blew a secret, grateful kiss to Bebe—the only one who truly understood her fire—and led the "Girl Squad" upstairs to the massive guest chamber where the men had retreated.

The moment the heavy oak doors closed behind us, the "Sophisticated Yuvrani" evaporated. She started pacing the length of the Persian rug, her saree** snapping around my ankles and her hands flying in the air like she was conducting a very angry orchestra.

"Can you believe her?! The audacity!" She ranted, her jhumkas** jingling with every aggressive step.

The men turned around, startled. Shivay leaned over to Jay, whispering loudly enough for the whole room to hear. "Jay... ye waali hamesha aisi hi rehti hai kya?" (Jay... is this one always like this?)

"Gusse mein?" (In anger?) Jay asked, suppressed amusement twitching his lips.

"Nahi... chid-chidi (irritable)," Shivay clarified with a grin.

Jay shook his head, looking at her with a mix of brotherly love and pity. "Nahi toh... par ho jati hai kuch logo ko dekh kar." (Not really... but she becomes like this after seeing certain people.

Rudra, who had been standing by the window looking every bit the Greek God in his black shirt, finally stepped toward me. He caught her flying wrists in his large, cool hands, grounding my frame instantly.

"Kya hua hai, Ishi?" he asked, his **ocean-blue eyes** searching mine with that deep, gravelly concern that always made my heart skip.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes blazing. "Hua ye hai ki aapki Bua meri chaati par naag banke... nahi, nahi! **Vecna** banke baithi hain!" (What happened is that your Bua is sitting on my chest like a snake... no, like Vecna!)

The room went silent for a beat before Veer and Akshat burst into loud laughter. Even Rudra couldn't help the corner of his mouth from twitching upward.

"Vecna, Janna? Seriously?" he teased,  he pulled her closer to calm the storm. "I didn't know Bua-ji had Upside Down powers."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The atmosphere in the upper chamber was electric, a mix of high-stakes royal drama and the kind of unfiltered chaos only this group could manage. Aditi slumped onto the velvet sofa, looking like she’d just survived a battle.

"Seriously, Bhai... teri Bua Saas toh dangerous hai!" (Seriously, brother... your aunt-in-law is dangerous!) she exclaimed, looking at Rudra with wide eyes. "Bro, I was traumatized!"

I snapped my head toward her, my **jhumkas** swinging violently. "Kamine, maze mat le mere!" (You jerk, don't make fun of me!) I barked, my  frame practically vibrating with the urge to throw a cushion at her.

I turned to Rudra, who was still holding my wrists, his **ocean-blue eyes** watching the storm in my face with a mix of amusement and  patience.

"Pata hai isne kya kiya? (Do you know what she did?) Isne wahan bola ki Bua ki saree ki pleats itni sharp hain ki kisi ka gala kaat jaye!" (She said there that Bua's saree pleats are so sharp they could cut someone's throat!) I shouted, pointing a finger at a grinning Aditi.

"Ye koi bolne wali baat hai, pagal aurat?!" (Is this any way to talk, you crazy woman?!) I hissed at her. "Tera toh kuch nahi... mujhe taane sunne padte hain!" (Nothing happens to you... I’m the one who has to hear the taunts!)

"Ullu ki—" I started, the village-style frustration boiling over, but I caught Rudra’s raised eyebrow  I bit my tongue so hard I tasted copper, stopping the gaali mid-air.

"Mera BP mat badaa!" (Don't increase my blood pressure!) I finished, letting out a huff that blew my curly bangs out of my eyes.

Rudra didn't say a word. He just pulled me flush against his muscular frame, his large hands settling on my waist. The scent of his expensive cologne and that underlying "Ru" smell started to drown out my Vecna-level rage.

"Janna, breathe," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration against my ear, right where those new moles were hiding. "If she cuts anyone's throat with her pleats, I'll make sure she’s the one who goes to jail. For now, you are the Yuvrani. Let the 'Ullu' hoot all she wants; she can't touch you."

Shivay and Veer were nearly doubled over with laughter by now. "Bhabhi, if you give her a nickname like Vecna, you have to expect a little 'Upside Down' drama!" Veer teased, ducking when I finally managed to grab a silk bolster and hurl it at him.

The tension in the chamber suddenly snapped as Krishiv, leaning against a marble pillar with the casual grace of a man who dealt in shadows, spoke up. His voice was low, cold, and entirely too serious.

"Itni buri hai toh gayab karva de?" (If she's that bad, should I make her disappear?) He looked at Rudra, then at me, as if he were offering to move a piece of furniture rather than a royal

The reaction was instantaneous. Instead of gasps of horror, a wave of desperate agreement washed over the room.

"Haan, Bhai! Please karva do!" (Yes, Brother! Please do it!) **Akshat, Vardaan, and Jay** chorused together, their voices filled with the exhaustion of years of Badi Bua’s taunts. **Ahana, Drishti, and Reet** weren't far behind, nodding fervently. Even Reet, usually the calmest, looked like she was ready to hand Krishiv the keys to a getaway car.

I stood frozen, my  jhumkas** finally coming to a rest as I stared at the "conspirators" in front of me.

I slowly turned my head, looking at the "Mafia King" Krishiv, then at my "brothers," and finally up at my husband. Rudra just stood there, his **ocean-blue eyes** unreadable

"Kya namune dosh hai aapke?!" (Is there some defect in your humanity?!) I cried out, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

"Ye koi idea hai? Aisa karo... sab milke mujhe jail karva do!" (Is this an idea? Do this... all of you get together and send me to jail!) I stomped my foot, my  heels clicking sharply on the floor.

"If she goes missing the day she arrives at the Raj Mahal, who do you think they’ll blame? The 'new bahu' who was just ranting about her in the kitchen!" I poked Rudra’s hard chest. "Aur aap? Aap toh bas smirk karenge jab police mujhe le jayegi!" (And you? You'll just smirk when the police take me away!

Rudra caught my poking finger, his lips twitching into that rare, devastating smile. "Janna, nobody is going to jail. And Krishiv was... mostly... joking."

"Mostly?" I squeaked, my brown eyes wide.

"Mostly," Krishiv echoed, though the way he checked his watch made me wonder if he’d already timed the route to the nearest desert.

"Bhabhi, chill," Jay said, leaning back. "If Bua-ji survives the night, we’ll consider it a win for non-violence. But if she mentions your 'simple' background one more time, even Papa might look the other way."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The room was thick with the kind of tension that only my wife could generate—a mix of high-voltage irritation and that sharp Sharma wit. I leaned back against the mahogany desk, my arms crossed over my chest, watching her pace. The **royal purple saree** caught the evening light, and her **heavy gold jhumkas** were still swinging from her "Vecna" rant.

"Waise mujhe rani banne ka shauk nahi hai," (By the way, I have no desire to be Queen,) she declared, pointing a finger at the ceiling as if challenging the palace itself. "Par banne ke baad, sabse pehle unki remand lagaungi!" (But after becoming one, I’ll take her to task first!)

Aditi let out a triumphant whistle. "That’s like my girl!"

I felt my jaw tighten instinctively. I stepped forward, my frame looming over them as I raised a single, skeptical eyebrow.

"Your girl?" I repeated, my voice dropping into that low, dangerous rumble I usually reserved for boardroom takeovers. "Excuse me... **She is mine.**" I let my hand rest possessively on the small of her back

Aditi didn't even flinch. She just rolled her eyes, unfazed by my glare. "Jiju, before you, she was mine and Shifa’s, you know," she countered, leaning back on the sofa. "We have seniority."

I rolled my eyes, leaning down to mutter into Ishita's ear, "We'll see about that seniority

Ishita, ever the diplomat of chaos, ignored our power struggle and skipped over to **Chavvi**. She leaned in close, her brown eyes wide with a sudden, suspicious thought.

"Tumhare waale sabko kidnap karte hain kya?" (Does your guy kidnap everyone?) she asked, gesturing vaguely toward **Krishiv**. "Tumhe bhi kahin kidnap hi toh nahi kiya aur zabardasti shaadi?" (Did he kidnap you too and force you into marriage?)

The room went dead silent for a microsecond before a synchronized chorus of groans erupted. **Ahana, Aditi, and I** all spoke at once, our voices filled with the exhaustion

"Har koi aapki tarha novel ka diwaana nahi hota, Madam!" (Not everyone is a novel fanatic like you, Madam!)

I caught her by the waist and pulled her back against my chest, my thumb grazing the moles on her jawline. "Janna, stop trying to turn our lives into a Wattpad story. Krishiv might actually take it as a suggestion."

"But Ru!" she pouted, her curly hair tickling my chin. "The drama is so much better that way!"

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I let out a huff, finally letting **Ahana** pull me down onto the plush velvet armchair. My **saree** felt five pounds heavier just from the stress of Badi Bua’s "Vecna" energy.

"Bhabhi, chalo calm down and sit down," Ahana said, her voice like a soothing balm. "Let's plan something else rather than talking about Bua or kidnapping, okay?"

"Haan, haan... mera saara mood kharab kar diya Bua ne!" (Yes, yes... Bua has completely ruined my mood!) I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back. My **heavy gold jhumkas** finally stopped their frantic swinging as I took a deep breath.

We all huddled in a circle—the girls ready for some palace-style fun, and the boys standing around like a wall of "Serious Businessman" energy.

"Let's do a late-night rooftop bonfire!" Aditi suggested, her eyes sparkling.

"**No.** Too windy, and security would be a nightmare," my husband, the Cold-Hearted Prince himself, cut in without even looking up from his phone.

"Okay... how about a midnight movie marathon in the private theatre?" Tanya tried.

"**No.** We have an early meeting with the decorators for the Raj Tilak tomorrow," Krishiv added, his voice just as flat and final as Rudra's.

"A game of hide-and-seek in the old wing?" I suggested, looking hopefully at **Ru**.

"**No, Janna.** You’ll trip over your saree and end up in the infirmary again."

The room went silent. I slowly turned my head to look at **Chavvi**, and she was already looking at me. We didn't need words. We both turned our "Deadly Wifey Glares" toward our respective husbands.

I narrowed my brown eyes at Rudra, my tongue poking my inner cheek. He caught my gaze, and I saw his **ocean-blue eyes** flicker for a second—the "Cold-Hearted Prince" was suddenly realizing he was standing in the middle of a minefield.

Beside him, Krishiv actually took a half-step back as Chavvi’s silent stare pinned him to the marble pillar.

"Did you hear something, Chavvi?" I asked, my voice dangerously sweet.

"Nothing but the sound of two men who want to sleep on the sofa tonight, Ishita," she replied, her voice just as sharp.

Rudra cleared his throat, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the back of his neck

"Ishi... I didn't mean *no* to everything," he muttered, his gravelly voice losing its "CEO" edge.

All decide truth and dare unfortunately Rudra and Krishiv have to say yes because of scary wife's

The "Cold-Hearted Prince" finally saw the metaphorical writing on the wall—and the writing said he was headed for the guest room sofa if he didn't cave. **Rudra** let out a long, dramatic sigh, adjusting the cuffs of his black shirt, while **Krishiv** just looked at the ceiling as if praying for a sudden mafia emergency to save him.

"Fine," Rudra muttered, his **ocean-blue eyes** landing on my triumphant face. "One round. **Truth or Dare.** But if anyone brings up the balance sheets, I’m out."

We all scrambled into a circle on the thick Persian rug. I sat right next to Rudra, my **saree** spread out around me like a blooming flower. Aditi grabbed an empty glass bottle from the side table and spun it with the chaotic energy of a woman who had been waiting for this moment since the village.

The bottle slowed down, wobbling past Jay, past Akshat, and pointed straight at—**Shivay.**

"Truth or Dare, Shivay-ji?" I asked, my brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Dare! I'm a warrior!" Shivay declared, puffing out his chest.

"Okay," Tanya smirked, leaning in. "I dare you to call your father-in-law *right now* and tell him you've decided to become a professional goat herder in the Aravallis instead of getting married."

The room erupted. Shivay’s face went pale. "Tanya! He already hates me! He'll actually buy the goats!" He spent the next five minutes on speakerphone trying to explain to a very confused, very angry Appa that it was "just a prank," while we all muffled our screams of laughter into cushions.

Next, the bottle spun and landed on **Rudra**. The room went deathly silent. Even the air conditioning seemed to stop.

"Truth or Dare, Bhai?" Jay asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Truth," Rudra said, his voice a low, cool rumble. He looked entirely too composed, sitting there like a Greek God who had never tripped in his life.

"Is it true," Aditi started, her voice hushed, "that you once spent three hours watching 'How to Braid Curly Hair' tutorials on YouTube while Ishita was asleep?"

Rudra didn't even blink. He didn't blush. He didn't stutter. He just looked at her with those piercing blue eyes. "Yes. And I mastered the French braid by the fourth hour. Next question."

I felt my heart melt into a puddle of ghee. How was he so cool even when admitting he was a hair-tutorial nerd?! He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind my ear, his thumb grazing those new moles on my jawline, and I swear I forgot Bua-ji even existed.

Then the bottle pointed at **Jay**.

"Dare!" Jay shouted, trying to reclaim some Rathore dignity.

"I dare you," I said, leaning forward with a wicked grin, "to go downstairs right now, find Badi Bua, and tell her that her saree pleats are 'so last season' and offer to drape her in one of my 'Model-style' modern drapes."

Jay’s jaw dropped. "Bhabhi! She'll kill me! She'll literally use those sharp pleats to end my football career!"

"Go! Go! Go!" we all chanted.

We followed him to the top of the stairs, watching as Jay approached Badi Bua in the dimly lit hall. He barely got the word "Fashion" out before she turned around with a glare so cold it could have frozen the Ganges. Jay turned tail and sprinted back up the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"She hissed at me!" he gasped, clutching his chest. "The woman literally hissed like a cobra!"

"See?" I laughed, hitting Rudra’s arm. "I told you she was Vecna!"

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The grand dining hall was silent, save for the rhythmic clinking of silver against fine china. The heavy chandeliers overhead cast a soft, amber glow over the entire Rathore friends but my focus was entirely on the powerhouse sitting to my left.

I watched her out of the corner of my **eyes**. She was currently performing her nightly "ritual"—a precision operation that would put a surgeon to shame.

One by one, with the focused intensity of a diamond sorter, Ishita was picking the *matar* (peas) out of her *pulao*. She didn't say a word. She didn't even look at me. She just deftly flicked each green sphere onto the edge of my plate.

I didn't complain. I never do. I simply ate them. This was our silent contract. If it was healthy, green, or remotely "good for her," it usually ended up on my side of the table.

Today’s menu was a nightmare for her: *Sarson ka Saag*, *Makki ki Roti*, and a side of *Lauki* (bottle gourd). I watched as her nose crinkled in a way that made those new moles on her jawline dance.

* **The Blacklist:** *Saag*, *Torayi* (ridge gourd), *Gajar* (carrots), and *Kaddu* (pumpkin). If it grew in a garden and wasn't a potato, it was her sworn enemy.

* **The Approved List:** *Aloo*, *Bhindi* (ladyfinger), Dal, and anything that could be classified as normal food

And junk food ofcourse

I felt a familiar pang of worry tighten in my chest,  She was so slim, so fragile in her **saree**, and yet her stubbornness regarding nutrition was tall—just like me.

"Janna," I muttered, my voice a low, gravelly rumble intended only for her ears. "At least have the carrot salad. It’s good for your eyes."

She didn't even look up, just slid a piece of *Torayi* onto my plate with a triumphant smirk. "That’s why I married you, Ru. You have the 'Greek God' muscles and the perfect eyesight. I just need to stay 'Forever Young' on pizza and fries."

I let out a weary sigh, catching the judgmental gaze of **Badi Bua** from across the table. She looked ready to comment on the Yuvrani's "childish" eating habits, but one cold, sharp look from me silenced her before she could open her mouth.

I reached under the table, my large hand finding her small knee, giving it a gentle, grounding squeeze. I could handle the peas. I could handle the gourd.

The dining hall, which had been filled with the sophisticated hum of royal chatter, suddenly went quiet as all eyes turned toward the youngest Rathore at the table. **Krish**, sitting with his small back straight, was meticulously picking the green chilies and ginger bits out of his curry and sliding them onto **Akshat’s** plate with practiced ease.

"Beta, kya kar rahe ho?" (Son, what are you doing?) Akshat asked, his fork hovering mid-air. "Ye khane ki cheez hai." (This is food.)

Krish didn't even flinch. He pointed a tiny, accusatory finger toward the head of the table. "**Bhabhi bhi kar rahi hain Bade Papa ke saath!**" (Bhabhi is also doing it with Big Papa!) He crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking my own stubborn posture. "Toh main bhi karunga. I don't like it!"

Beside me, I felt Ishita freeze. A piece of *pulao* went down the wrong way, and she let out a sudden, frantic cough. She didn't even wait for a glass of water—she grabbed the corner of her pallu** and buried her face in it

"Haaye Rabba! Badi kab hogi ye?" (Good Lord! When will she grow up?) Bebe cried out, though her eyes were twinkling with suppressed laughter.

"Ye bachpan se aisi hai!" (She’s been like this since childhood!) Aditi added, leaning forward with a mischievous grin toward my in-laws. "Uncle and Aunty were also troubled by her veggie-dodging skills.

The warmth of the moment was punctured by a voice as sharp as a jagged diamond. **Badi Bua** set her silver spoon down with a deliberate *clink*.

"Maaiyke mein chalta hai... Sasural mein nahi," (It works at your parents' house... not at your in-laws',) she said, her voice dripping with "Vecna" coldness. She looked directly at Ishita’s hidden face. "The Yuvrani of Rajasthan should be setting an example, not teaching the children how to disrespect the food of this palace."

I felt Ishita stiffen under my hand. I slowly set my own glass down, the condensation cooling my palm. I didn't look at Bua. I didn't have to. My **eyes** remained fixed on the table, but my voice was a low, dangerous vibration that silenced the room.

"Bua-ji," I said,* the Yuvrani's only 'example' is her happiness. If she doesn't like the peas, she has a husband who is more than happy to finish them for her. Krish is just learning that a Rathore man takes care of his wife's dislikes."

I felt Ishita slowly peek out from behind her pallu, her brown eyes wide and shimmering with a mix of relief and love.

"And besides," I added, a ghost of a smirk playing on my lips as I looked at Krish. "The kid has good taste. Who likes ginger anyway?"

The dining hall, which had felt momentarily chilled by Badi Bua’s "Vecna-level" frost, suddenly warmed as **Papa (Ram Singh Rathore)** set his silver spoon down. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the absolute authority of the Rathore patriarch.

"Rahi baat sasural aur maaiyke ki... toh hum nahi maante," (As for the matter of in-laws and parents' homes... we don't believe in that,) he said, his eyes scanning the table with a steady, paternal warmth.

I felt **Ishita** slowly lower her **royal purple pallu**, her brown eyes wide and shimmering as she looked at her father-in-law.

"Hum beti laaye hain, bahu nahi," (We have brought home a daughter, not a daughter-in-law,) Papa continued, his gaze softening as it landed on Ishita

He didn't stop there. He looked at **Drishti**, then at **Reet**, and finally toward **Jay**, who suddenly looked very interested in his water glass. "Drishti ho, ya Reet, ya Ishita... ya Jay ki hone waali... sab hamari betiyan hain, Ahana ki tarah." (Whether it's Drishti, or Reet, or Ishita... or Jay's future partner... they are all our daughters, just like Ahana.)

I felt a surge of pride in my chest, . I didn't need to say another word; Papa had just dismantled Badi Bua’s entire "Royal Etiquette" manual in three sentences.

Beside me, Ishita let out a shaky breath, a small, grateful smile touching those new moles on her jawline. She looked over at **Drishti and Reet**, and I saw a silent, watery-eyed "sisters-in-law" moment pass between them.

Badi Bua looked like she’d just been served a plate of the very bitter gourd Ishita hated. She opened her mouth to argue, but **Chhoti Bua** gently placed a hand on her arm, shaking her head. Even the Phupha-jis seemed to be nodding in agreement with Papa.

"Toh phir..." Ishita whispered, her mischief returning as she leaned toward me, her **heavy gold jhumkas** tinkling. "Since I'm a 'daughter,' does that mean I can officially skip the *Saag* and go straight to the brownies Ravi aditi brought?"

I let out a low, gravelly chuckle, my **ocean-blue eyes** finally losing their "Cold-Hearted" edge. "Don't push your luck, Janna. One bite of the *Makki ki Roti*, and then we'll talk about the brownies."

I couldn't help the way my **eyes** softened as she looked up at me, her  frame practically vibrating with a mix of hunger and sheer manipulation. She knew exactly which buttons to press.

"Aapko pata toh hai I don't like it... please na," she pouted, her pink lips trembling just enough to be dangerous.

Before I could remind her about the nutritional value of *Saag*, she leaned in, her **jhumkas** brushing against my shoulder. The scent of her jasmine hair oil filled my senses as she pulled me down toward her, her voice a tiny, desperate thread of a whisper.

"Mere liye Dosa mangwa dena... please, Ru."

I let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated deep in my chest, right over the **tattoo of her name**. I knew I was a goner.  I was officially the "Dosa-Ordering Assistant."

"Fine," I whispered back, my thumb grazing the new moles on her jawline. "But healthy wala, okay? Ragi or oats."

She gave a tiny, triumphant wiggle of her shoulders, but we weren't as subtle as we thought. **Shivay**, sitting across from us, caught my eye and made a frantic "one for me too" gesture with his hands.

Within seconds, a silent "Dosa Chain" erupted. **Veer** gave a thumbs-up, **Aditi and Tanya** nodded frantically, and **Ahana and Jay** started miming dipping chutney. **Reet** looked at me hopefully, and Ishita, ever the leader of the rebellion, gestured toward **Chavvi** as well.

The entire "Young Squad" was suddenly communicating in a complex language of eyebrows and hand-waves, trying to bypass the "Healthy Royal Dinner" protocol.

"Kya chal raha hai ye?" (What is going on here?)

**Lakhan Chacha’s** voice boomed through the dining hall, snapping the silent conversation like a dry twig. He looked between my suspicious smirk and the frozen, guilty faces of the cousins.

In an instant, the "Warrior Dosa Rebellion" collapsed. Every single one of them—**Shivay, Veer, Jay, and the girls**—snapped their spines straight, looking forward with the kind of forced innocence that screams "guilty."

"Nothing!" they chorused in perfect, suspicious unison.

I just took a slow sip of my water, my **eyes** hiding the fact that I was already mentally texting the palace kitchen staff to start the fermentation process.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The desert air had turned crisp, a perfect contrast to the warm, crackling fire at the center of the **Raj Mahal’s private terrace**. The "Young Squad" had successfully navigated the dinner minefield and escaped Badi Bua’s watchful eyes.

Everyone had traded their heavy royal silks for comfort. I swapped my **royal purple saree** for a soft, oversized hoodie and leggings, while **Rudra** looked dangerously relaxed in his grey sweatpants and a t-shirt that stretched over his muscular frame.

We were all tucked into the circular stone pit, the fairy lights above us twinkling like the stars over Rajasthan. The smell of woodsmoke and the lingering scent of our "hidden" dosa feast filled the air.

"Okay, but remember the time in college when **Akshat Bhai** tried to write a poem for **Drishti Bhabhi** and accidentally sent it to the HOD?" **Jay** wheezed, leaning back against the cushions.

The terrace erupted in laughter. Even **Rudra** let out a low, gravelly chuckle, his arm draped possessively over my shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly tracing my shoulder

"Seriously, guys... stop with the nostalgia," **Shivay** interrupted, his face illuminated by the flickering flames. He looked genuinely stressed. "I need help. *Kese Tanya ke baap ko manaye shaadi ke liye?*" (How do I convince Tanya’s father for the marriage?)

**Tanya** rolled her eyes, leaning her head on **Chavvi’s** shoulder. "He’s not a villain, Shiv. He just wants to know you're stable."

"Stable?!" **Veer** barked out a laugh. "Shivay is about as stable as a Jenga tower in an earthquake!"

**Aditi** threw a cushion at Veer. "Shut up! Ishu, you give him tips. You and Rudra Jiju had a 3-year gap and more and look at you now—the Royal Couple of the year."

I looked up at **Rudra**. His **ocean-blue eyes** were reflecting the firelight, looking calm and heartless as ever to the world, but I felt the warmth radiating from him.

"Shivay," Rudra said, his voice a deep, commanding vibration. "Don't try to impress him with money or status. He’s seen that. Show him you’re the only person who can handle his daughter’s tantrums better than he can."

"And maybe don't mention the 'goat herder' prank," I added, giggling as I snuggled closer to my husband "My father was tough too, but Ru just... stood his ground. Even when I was acting like 'Vecna,' he didn't run away."

"Exactly," **Krishiv** added from the shadows, his hand entwined with **Chavvi’s**. "A father just wants to know that if his daughter gets kidnapped—metaphorically or literally—you’re the one who’s going to call the cavalry."

I let out a long, dramatic sigh, shifting my frame against **Rudra’s** rock-hard chest. My curly hair was a mess from the terrace wind, and I looked at **Krishiv** with a mix of genuine curiosity and "I-have-had-enough-drama" sass.

"Krishiv... ye aapki suyi hamesha kidnapping par aake kyun atak jaati hai?" (Why does your needle always get stuck on kidnapping?) I asked, my brown eyes reflecting the orange glow of the bonfire.

"Aur kuch nahi aata kya aapko? Except kidnapping, murder, and all that?" I waved a hand dismissively, my **heavy gold jhumkas** (which I still hadn't taken off because, let's face it, they're iconic) jingling in the night air.

The "Young Squad" went silent. Even the fire seemed to crackle a bit quieter as everyone waited to see how the Mafia King would respond to being grilled by a model in a hoodie.

"Waise... mafia log karte kya hain?" I pushed, leaning forward. "Matlab, kya job hai? Logo ko daraane ke alawa? Do you have like... LinkedIn? Or an HR department for henchmen?"

**Krishiv** didn't look angry. He actually leaned back, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at **Chavvi**. "Job description, Ishita? It's mostly logistics. We manage... 'unregulated' trade. And yes, we have a very efficient HR department. The exit interviews are just a bit more permanent."

I felt **Rudra’s** low, gravelly chuckle vibrate through my entire body. His large hand moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck, his thumb grazing those moles on my jawline.

"Janna, don't give him ideas," Rudra murmured, his **ocean-blue eyes** glinting with amusement. "He’s a businessman, just like me. My business is built on marble and tech; his is built on... information and silence."

"So... no kidnapping tips for Shivay then?" **Aditi** piped up, popping a piece of popcorn. "Because if 'papa' says no one more time, we might actually need to move a few 'logistics' around."

"No kidnapping!" I shouted, hitting Rudra’s arm. "I've had enough of that to last three lifetimes. Let's talk about something normal. Like... why **Jay** is still single despite being a 'great football player' and a model?"