Rudra's Perspective

The terrace had finally fallen into a heavy, peaceful silence, the only sound being the distant, rhythmic breathing of the desert and the occasional low rumble from **King** in the gardens. One by one, the "Husband Brigade" had successfully evacuated the terrace.

**Vardaan** had carefully lifted **Reet**, mindful of her  bump, while **Veer** had done the same for **Aditi**. **Krishiv** had vanished into the shadows with **Chavvi** in his arms, his "Mafia King" silence returning as he navigated the marble corridors.

I had already settled **Ishita** into our oversized mahogany bed, her frame barely making a dent in the plush duvet. I tucked her in, my eyes lingering on the peaceful curve of her jawline before I turned back to the terrace.

When I stepped back onto the cold stone, **Jay and Ahana** were still there—the only ones left. They looked like two exhausted puppies; Ahana was still slumped heavily against Jay’s shoulder, and Jay had finally given up his "arm-numbing" struggle and drifted off himself.

**Vardaan** was about to step out from the doorway to help, but **Akshat** placed a hand on his shoulder. "Tu Reet ke paas reh... main jaata hoon," (You stay with Reet... I'll go,) Akshat whispered, his voice reflecting the quiet authority of the elder brother.

Akshat and I walked over to the sleeping duo. I leaned down and easily scooped **Ahana** up. She was a bit heavier than Ishita, but to my arms she was still light. I carried her down the hall to her room, making sure she was tucked in properly before returning to the terrace.

When I got back, Akshat was standing over **Jay**, who was now snoring quite loudly, his mouth slightly open. We both stared down at him for a long beat.

"So..." Akshat whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes that usually only appeared when we were closing a billion-dollar deal at **The Rathor Company**. "Do we do the 'Elder Brother' thing and carry the football player inside, or do we let him experience the 'Royal Rajasthani' morning dew?"

"He did call me 'Majnu' in front of everyone," I reminded Akshat, my voice a low, gravelly vibration.

"And he almost blew our 'Dosa Rebellion' to Chacha," Akshat added, crossing his arms.

We looked at Jay's peaceful, clueless face. He looked so comfortable, leaning against the cushions with the guitar still resting near his feet.

"We could just bring him a blanket," Akshat suggested, though he didn't move.

"Or," I countered, my **ocean-blue eyes** narrowing as I thought of the perfect wake-up call. "We could leave him here and tell krish that Jay Chachu has a 'surprise' for him at 6:00 AM."

The moonlight filtered through the ornate jali windows of the palace as **Akshat** and I stood over the snoring "Football Star." Akshat looked at me, a weary but amused smile on his face.

"Bhai, agar isse nahi le gaye na, toh kal subah mujhe gaaliyan padegi... aapka toh kuch nahi hoga," (Brother, if we don't take him, I'm the one who'll get earfuls tomorrow... nothing happens to you,) Akshat whispered, knowing my "Cold-Hearted Prince" reputation usually acted as a shield against family nagging.

I let out a low, gravelly chuckle. "Fine."

Together, we leaned down and hoisted **Jay** up. Even for my frame, he was dead weight—a 200-pound athlete in a deep, post-dosa slumber. We navigated the marble corridors of the **Raj Mahal**, our shadows stretching long against the walls until we reached his quarters.

With a synchronized nod, we didn't exactly "place" him—we threw him onto the plush mattress. Jay didn't even wake up; he just let out a muffled snort and rolled over, hugging a pillow.

"Kab bada hoga ye?" (When will he grow up?) Akshat sighed, wiping his brow.

"Jitna bhi bada ho jaye... hamare liye toh chota hi rahega na," (No matter how big he gets... he'll always be the youngest for us, right?) I replied, my  eyes** softening for a rare moment.

Akshat chuckled softly as we stepped back into the hallway. "Hmm, yeah. Baat toh sahi hai, par **Ahana** ko mat batana, varna jealous ho jayegi... after all, she is the youngest."

I smirked, thinking of the girl currently dreaming in my bed. "Hmm... in us, yes. But **Meri Jaan (Ishita)** is the youngest for me."

Akshat let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Phir toh mera sher puttar **Krish** is the youngest too!"

We shared one last look—two brothers, co-CEOs of **The Rathor Company**, and the ultimate protectors of this chaotic family.

"Good night, Akshat."

"Good night, Bhai."

I walked back to my suite, the silence of the palace only broken by the distant, protective roar of **King** the lion. I entered the room and saw **Ishita** curled up, her long curly hair spilling over the silk pillowcases.

I stripped out of my shirt, the tattoo over my heartbeat catching the dim lamplight. As I slid into bed, she instinctively rolled toward my warmth, her hand resting on my chest. I pulled her close, her scent of jasmine calming " within me

The early morning sun began to creep over the golden sands of Rajasthan, filtering through the high arched windows of the **Raj Mahal**. I woke up at my usual time—5:00 AM—my internal clock as disciplined as the business I ran.

I looked down at **Ishita**. She was still deep in sleep, her long curly hair messy against the white silk pillows and her 5'3" frame curled into a tiny ball. I resisted the urge to kiss her awake and instead moved silently, a little soft kiss on her hair and heading to the private royal gym.

The gym was already occupied by the "Active Squad." **Akshat, Krishiv, and Shiv** were there, the sound of clanging iron filling the room.

"Where’s the 'Football Star'?" Krishiv grunted, mid-bench press.

"Jay is still 'dead' from last night’s concert," I replied with a smirk, my eyes** focused on my own reps.

**Vardaan and Veer** were noticeably absent; with **Reet and Aditi** in their first trimester, they had stayed back to ensure their wives didn't wake up to morning sickness alone. Safety and comfort were the only priorities for the pregnant wife's

After a quick, cold shower that washed away the gym sweat, I dressed in a green shirt and brown pants. I checked the time—**Mohan and Gayatri Sharma’s** flight was landing soon.

I walked down the grand marble staircase to the breakfast hall, where the elders were already gathered.

"I am going to pick up Mummy and Papa from the airport," I announced, my voice a calm, low vibration.

**Badi Bua** set her teacup down with a sharp *clink*. "Koi aur le aayega. Tu hone wala Raja hai, Rudra. It doesn't look good for the future King to act as a driver."

"Toh kya hua?" (So what?) I countered, my gaze level. "They are family."

"Her family," Bua corrected, her voice hissing like a desert viper.

"**Our** family," I corrected back, the finality in my tone ending that line of argument.

**Chhoti Bua** nodded supportively. "Haan, haan... jaana chahiye. It shows respect."

**Bebe** looked up from her prayer beads, her eyes twinkling. "Vaise, shaadi ke baad pehli baar aa rahe hain. It’s a big day for the Sharmas and the Rathors."

My mother, **Siya**, walked over and adjusted my collar, her face soft. "Aaram se jaa... chahe toh kisi ko le ja saath mein. Take a security detail, just in case."

I nodded to Mom. "I'll take the black SUV. I want to bring them home myself."

I leaned against the sleek black SUV, my  frame** drawing more than a few stares from the travelers at the airport terminal. Despite the "Cold Prince" reputation that followed me everywhere in Rajasthan, today I was just a son-in-law waiting for his family.

Finally, the sliding doors opened, and the **Sharma Cyclone** arrived. **Mohan Papa and Gayatri Mummy** led the way, followed by **Ravi and Riva**, with little **Purav** bouncing beside them. Tucked behind were the two smallest additions to the chaos—my little *saali sahibas*, **Kriti and Saanvi**.

As they approached, I didn't care about the cameras or the whispers of the onlookers. I stepped forward and bowed low, touching Mohan Papa and Gayatri Mummy's feet.

"Jeete raho, beta," (Live long, son,) Papa said, his hand resting proudly on my shoulder.

But the sentimental moment lasted exactly two seconds before the complaining started. "Rudra! Yeh sab kya zaroorat thi?" Mummy asked, gesturing to the airport. "Why did you book a flight? We could have come by car just like all of you did!"

"Mummy, we came by car because **Bebe, Maa, and Chachi** don't like flying," I explained with a rare, patient smile.

"Mujhe bhi nahi pasand!" (I don't like it either!) Mummy shuddered, clutching her handbag. "Lag raha tha ab giri... ab giri!" (It felt like it was going to fall any second!)

**Kriti and Saanvi** immediately burst into giggles, their high-pitched laughs echoing through the arrivals hall. "Bua! You were holding the armrest so tight your knuckles were white!" they teased, making Gayatri Mummy turn a light shade of pink.

I looked over the group, noticing one missing face. "Nani ji nahi aayi?" (Nani ji didn't come?) I asked, remembering the elderly matriarch of the Sharma house.

"Nahi beta, unki tabiyat thik nahi hai," (No son, her health isn't great,) Mummy sighed, her expression softening. "Travel was too much for her."

"Achha... no problem," I replied, ushering them toward the parked cars. "We have the best doctors at the palace; we will consult them for her once we get home."

I opened the door for Mummy and Papa, while Ravi and Riva managed the kids. Little **Purav** tugged at my sleeve.  Phupha ji , is **Oscar** at the airport too?"

"No, Purav," I chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Oscar and King are guarding the palace for **Ishi bua **. They’re waiting for you."

As I climbed into the driver's seat, I felt a sense of completion. The Rathors were powerful, but the Sharmas brought the soul. I knew that the moment we stepped into the **Raj Mahal**, Badi Bua’s "hissing" would be drowned out by the sheer volume of Mummy's stories and the kids' laughter.

"Jiju! You didn't welcome us!" **Kriti** declared, crossing her arms with a pout that reminded me dangerously of **Ishita**.

I gripped the steering wheel, a rare, genuine smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth as I looked at my two little *saali sahibas* through the rearview mirror. The "Prince" of Rajasthan was currently being interrogated by two girls who didn't even reach my waist.

**Saanvi** chimed in right on cue, her eyes wide with mock hurt. "Iska matlab... aapko hamari fikar hi nahi hai!" (It means... you don't even care about us!)

I let out a low, gravelly chuckle that rumbled through the SUV. "Fikar nahi hai? (I don't care?)" I repeated, my **ocean-blue eyes** twinkling. "Do you have any idea how much chocolate is currently waiting in your rooms at the palace? Or the fact that I had to tell **Oscar** specifically not to roar too loudly so he wouldn't scare his favorite aunts?"

**Gayatri Mummy** swatted the air. "Rudra, don't spoil them! They already think they own the Raj Mahal."

"But Mummy, they do," I countered smoothly, navigating the SUV onto the long, sun-drenched road leading to the palace. "If **Ishita** is the Queen, then Kriti and Saanvi are the Princesses-in-command."

The girls giggled, their "anger" vanishing instantly at the mention of chocolate and panthers. But I knew a simple car ride wasn't enough of a "welcome" for the Sharma family.

"Actually," I said, my voice dropping into a more serious, royal tone. "The real welcome isn't here at the airport. Look ahead."

As we turned the final corner toward the grand gates of the **Raj Mahal**, the sight stole the words right out of their mouths. Standing tall and majestic on the stone pedestals flanking the entrance was **King** the lion, his golden mane catching the morning sun. Beside the main arch, draped over a low wall like a shadow, was **Oscar**, the black panther, his yellow eyes tracking the car with a protective intensity.

"Phupha ji! Look!" **Purav** screamed, pointing out the window.

"Is that... real?" **Ravi** whispered, leaning forward, his eyes wide.

"Welcome to the Rathor family," I murmured, my hand resting on the gear shift. "And don't worry, Kriti—the band and the 'official' welcome party are waiting just inside the courtyard. I wouldn't dream of letting my saalis enter without a proper royal salute."

The **Raj Mahal** courtyard was alive with the sound of traditional music and the scent of fresh marigolds as the **Sharma Cyclone** stepped out of the black SUV.

The welcome was nothing short of legendary. **Ram Singh Rathore** and **Lakhan chacha** stood at the front with the dignity of kings, while **Siya Maa, Chachi, Bebe, and Chhoti Bua** waited with silver thalis, their faces beaming with genuine warmth. The air was filled with laughter and the sound of blessings as everyone hugged each other, bridging the gap between two families that destiny had finally woven together.

Amidst the adult conversations, a six-year-old **Krish**—looking every bit like a mini Akshat—immediately spotted one-year-and-three-month-old **Purav**. Within seconds, the two "Rathor-Sharma" heirs were chasing each other around the marble fountains, their giggles echoing through the palace.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream of pure joy shattered the formal atmosphere.

Didi

**Kriti** broke into a sprint across the courtyard, and from the grand palace doors, a blur of **ice-blue silk** came running toward her. **Ishita** didn't care about royal decorum; she was laughing, her **long curly hair** flying behind her as she collided with Kriti in a bone-crushing hug. The two of them started jumping up and down like children, their screams of excitement making everyone else wince and smile at the same time.

I stood by the car, leaning against the door as I watched them. Beside me, **Akshat and Drishti** shared a knowing look. My eyes** were fixed entirely on my wife.

Ishita looked breathtaking in the light of the morning sun. She was draped in a **shimmering ice-blue saree** that draped perfectly over her thin, slim figure. The delicate silver embroidery caught the light with every jump.

As she pulled back to kiss Kriti’s cheeks, the symbols of our union were unmistakable:

* The **mangalsutra** resting against her collarbone.

* The deep red **sindoor** marking her hairline.

* The **chooda** on her wrists clinking rhythmically.

* The **silver payal** and **toe rings** flashing as she hopped around.

She looked up and caught my gaze. Even from across the courtyard, the love in her brown eyes was enough to ground the " Prince."

"Rudra! Look! They're finally here!" she shouted, waving a hand at me, her ** silver heels** clicking against the marble.

"I noticed, Janna," I replied, a slow, possessive smirk spreading across my face as I walked toward her to greet my mother-in-law properly.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I felt like my heart was going to burst as the **Raj Mahal** courtyard filled with the people who knew the "me" before I became a Rathor.

"Main bhi!" (Me too!) **Saanvi** squealed, her small feet thundering against the marble as she threw herself into our group hug. I pulled both my sister's close to myself my sarre rustling against them as we jumped and squealed in a circle.

**Aditi** walked over, her hand resting instinctively on her bump, a soft glow on her face as she looked at how much they’d grown. "Badi ho gayi tu toh! What’s your age now?" she asked, poking **Kriti’s** cheek.

Kriti didn't miss a beat. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder with a dramatic flair that made **Rudra** let out a quiet, amused huff from where he stood. "Sweet 16, Di!" she declared, her eyes sparkling.

**Saanvi** let out a loud, bubbly laugh. "Aur main 11 ki hoon!" (And I'm 11!) She looked up at my **heavy silver earrings** and **mangalsutra**, her eyes wide with wonder at me

Suddenly, a tiny whirlwind in a miniature came charging toward me. "Buaaaaa!"

It was **Purav**. I immediately bent down—my **silver payal** jingling loudly—and scooped his one-year-and-three-month-old frame into my arms. He felt so small and precious against my figure.

"Aaww, mera baby!" I cooed, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses.

He giggled, his tiny hands patting my face, . "Meri pyali Bua..." he whispered, his tongue slipping on the 'r' as he tried to say *pyari* (lovely).

"Pyali?" I laughed, my brown eyes welling up with happy tears. "Yes, I am your *pyali* Bua

I looked over Purav’s shoulder and caught **Rudra’s ocean-blue eyes** fixed on us. He was leaning against the SUV, his muscular frame** looking like a Greek god in that dark green shirt, but his expression was anything but "cold." He had that soft, possessive look he only saved for me—and now, apparently, for my nephew.

"Ru! Look at him!" I called out, holding Purav toward him. "He called me 'pyali'!"

Rudra walked over, his **silver watch** catching the sun as he ruffled Purav’s hair. "He’s right, Janna. You are quite... *pyali*," he murmured, his gravelly voice sending a shiver down my spine even in the middle of the crowded courtyard.

The courtyard of the **Raj Mahal** was a beautiful blur of tradition and modern-day chaos. As the morning sun climbed higher,

**Akshat, Drishti, Vardaan, Reet, Jay, and Veer** all approached with deep respect, bending down to touch the feet of **Mohan Papa and Gayatri Mummy**. It was a scene of perfect harmony—until Reet tried to bow.

**Gayatri Mummy** gasped and caught **Reet** by the shoulders before she could bend her knees. "Tum nahi!" (Not you!) she exclaimed, her eyes immediately softening as they landed on Reet’s bump. Instead of a formal blessing, she pulled reet into a warm, protective hug. "In days like these, you are the one who should be pampered, not the one touching feet."

**Ahana** bounced over to **Kriti and Saanvi**, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Finally, you're here! I’ve been waiting for reinforcements to help me deal with these brothers of mine."

Nearby, **Jay** didn't waste a second. He scooped up little **Purav** from my arms and hoisted him high into the air. "Who's the little champion? Are you ready to play some football with buddy ?" Purav squealed with delight, his tiny legs kicking as he "flew" over the marble floor.

**Bebe**, leaning on her walking stick but looking as regal as ever, clapped her hands together. "Chalo, chalo! Ander chalo... ye sab thak gaye honge flight se," (Come, come! Let's go inside... they must be exhausted from the flight,) she announced in her authoritative Punjabi tone.

**Kriti** let out a dramatic gasp, flipping her hair with that "Sweet 16" confidence. "Bebe, hum thakne waale nahi... thakaney waalo mein se hain!" (Bebe, we aren't the ones who get tired... we're the ones who make others tired!)

The courtyard erupted in laughter. Even **Rudra**, standing tall at in his dark green shirt, let out a rare, genuine laugh that reached his **ocean-blue eyes**. He looked at me, a silent message passing between us—the "Sharma Cyclone" had officially made landfall, and the Raj Mahal would never be quiet again.

I adjusted my **ice-blue saree**, the silver embroidery sparkling as I linked my arm with Mummy’s. "Chalo ab!" (Let's go now!) I laughed, ushering everyone toward the grand entrance where the scent of fresh parathas and Ragi dosas was already wafting from the kitchen.

As we walked, my **silver payal** jingled with every step, and I could feel **Rudra’s** gaze on my back—possessive, protective, and finally, completely at peace.

The transition from the sun-drenched courtyard to the cool, marble interiors of the **Raj Mahal** felt like moving from one world to another. As the families settled into the grand living area, the atmosphere was a mix of warm reunion and chilling royal tension.

**Siya Maa**, ever the graceful matriarch, stepped forward to bridge the gap. "Didi," she said, gesturing toward the Sharma family with a soft smile, "meet Ishita's parents, Mohan ji and Gayatri ji. And her brother Ravi with his wife Riva."

**Badi Bua** didn't stand. She sat stiffly on her ornate velvet chair, her eyes—sharp and cold—scanning the Sharma family from their shoes to their hair. Her judgmental gaze lingered on **Gayatri and the excited chatter of the children. She didn't offer a smile; she merely gave a stiff nod that made the air in the room feel ten degrees colder.

I felt **Rudra’s** hand settle firmly on the small of my back, his frame** casting a protective shadow over me. I leaned into him, my **ice-blue silk saree** rustling as I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way Bua was looking at my family like they were outsiders in their own daughter’s home.

The tension was momentarily broken as a line of servants entered, carrying silver trays laden with steaming masala chai, chilled water in crystal glasses, and platters of fresh snacks. The scent of hot samosas and kachoris filled the room, finally coaxing a smile back onto **Mohan Papa’s** face.

Everyone began to settle onto the oversized sofas. **Ravi** sat with little **Purav** on his lap, trying to navigate a plate of breakfast while keeping the energetic toddler contained.

Purav, however, had only one thing on his mind. He looked up at **Jay**, his eyes wide with wonder. "Fufa ji... Oscar kahan hai? (Where is Oscar?)" he asked between bites of a soft paratha.

**Jay** grinned, leaning in close as if sharing a state secret. "Oscar? Oh, he's the King of the shadows, Purav. He’s probably watching us right now from the balcony!"

**Krish**, sitting cross-legged next to them, decided it was time to take over the storytelling. At six years old, he considered himself the official expert on the palace's "Wild Side."

"Purav, Oscar is huge!" Krish whispered dramatically, using his hands to show the size. "And he's all black like the night. He only listens to **Bade Papa (Rudra)** and **Badi Maa (Ishita)**. If he roars, the whole palace shakes! Even the birds stop flying."

**Gayatri Mummy** froze, her tea cup halfway to her lips. She looked at me, then at **Rudra**, her eyes wide with sudden realization. "Ishita... what is this 'Oscar' they are talking about? Is it a toy?"

I caught **Rudra’s ocean-blue eyes** twinkling with suppressed amusement. He squeezed my waist gently, leaving the explanation to me.

I quickly took a sip of my coffee, my ** saree** rustling as I tried to look as innocent as possible. I caught Mummy’s** panicked expression and forced a bright, breezy smile.

"Kuch nahi, Mummy! Dog hai... dog!" (It's nothing, Mummy! He's just a dog!) I lied through my teeth, my **heavy silver earrings** swaying with the frantic shake of my head.

Beside me, I felt **Rudra’s muscular frame** vibrate with a silent, gravelly chuckle. He knew exactly how "un-dog-like" my black panther **Oscar** actually was.

**Kriti and Riva bhabhi ** didn't even try to hide their skepticism. They leaned toward each other, their voices loud enough for me—but luckily not Mummy—to hear. "Jhutti..." (Liar...) they muttered in unison, their eyes dancing with mischief.

I shot them a sharp, warning glare, my brown eyes narrowing. *One more word and no royal chocolates for you!* I messaged them silently.

Luckily, Mummy was too distracted by the grand surroundings to investigate further. "Achha... dog hai? The children made him sound like a monster," she sighed, finally taking a calm sip of her tea.

**Chachi** leaned forward, her face full of genuine concern as she offered more snacks to **Gayatri Mummy**. "Aane mein koi problem toh nahi hui na? Ishita bata rahi thi aapko flight mein darr lagta hai... hamein bhi lagta hai!" (No problems coming here, right? Ishita was saying you're scared of flights... we are too!)

Mummy’s face lit up with the relief of finding a kindred spirit. "Wahi toh, urmila ji! I told Rudra we could come by car, but he insisted. My heart was in my mouth the whole time!"

**Bebe** laughed, her Punjabi spirit warming the room. "Arre, inki mat suno! These Rathor men love their speed. Whether it's cars or planes, they want to reach before they’ve even started!"

In the corner, **Badi Bua** continued her "Judgmental Watch," her eyes moving from my mother’s animated storytelling to the way **Rudra** was standing—not like a King on a throne, but like a husband protectively anchored to his wife.

"A flying machine is a necessity for a Royal," Bua interrupted, her voice sharp and cold. "Fear is for those who aren't used to the heights of this world."

The room went momentarily still. I felt my grip tighten on my tea cup, but before I could say anything, **Mohan Papa** cleared his throat with a calm, dignified smile. "True, Bhen ji. But sometimes, those who stay on the ground have the best view of the roots."

Time skip

The afternoon sun had mellowed, casting a golden glow over the **Ladies' Garden**—a private, lush sanctuary within the **Raj Mahal** where the men were rarely seen. I sat on a marble bench, my **ice-blue silk saree** pooling around me, surrounded by the women who were my entire world before I became a Rathor.

**Mummy, Riva Bhabhi, Kriti, and Saanvi** were all there, the air filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and the sound of our whispered secrets. For a moment, the heavy weight of being the "Future Queen" vanished, and I was just Ishu again.

**Gayatri Mummy** reached out, her hand calloused but warm as she took my hand, her thumb tracing the **chooda** on my wrist. She looked at me with that piercing motherly gaze that no amount of royal makeup could hide from.

"Ishu..." she whispered, her voice low so the younger girls wouldn't overhear. "Khush toh hai na tu? (Are you happy?) Koi baat toh nahi hai? If there’s anything—any trouble, any sadness—you can tell your Mummy. This palace is grand, but is your heart at peace?"

I looked at the silver **toe rings** on my feet and then up at the high stone walls of the palace.

"Mummy," I said, my brown eyes shimmering with a sudden, happy moisture. "Main bahut khush hoon. (I am very happy.) Honestly, there were times when I thought destiny had forgotten us, but **Ru**... he never let go. He’s changed so much for me. The 'Cold Prince' everyone talks about? He doesn't exist when he’s with me."

**Riva Bhabhi** smiled, nudging me playfully. "Humne dekha hai, Ishu. The way he was looking at you in the courtyard? Like you’re the only person in a room full of people. Even **Ravi** noticed!"

"Aur Jiju ne humein chocolate bhi di!" (And Jiju gave us chocolate too!) **Saanvi** chimed in, leaning her head against my shoulder. "He’s the best Jiju ever!"

**Kriti**, ever the "Sweet 16" observer, looked toward the palace balcony. "Lekin Ishu Di... woh Badi Bua thodi 'vamp' type nahi lagti? (But Ishu Di... doesn't that Badi Bua seem a bit like a 'vamp'?) The way she was staring at Mummy’s jewelry... I felt like I was in a Star Plus drama!"

I let out a soft laugh, my **heavy silver earrings** jingling. "Woh thodi... traditional hain, Kriti. But don't worry. As long as **Rudra** is with me, no 'vamp' can touch us. He’s my shield."

The tension of the "serious mother-talk" dissolved into a soft breeze as **Siya Maa** stepped onto the garden path, her elegant silk saree rustling against the manicured grass. She looked like the true matriarch of the **Raj Mahal**, yet her smile was as warm as the afternoon sun.

"Aree, humein bhi baat karni hai! Kya ho raha hai yahan?" (Hey, I want to talk too! What’s going on here?) Siya Maa asked, her eyes twinkling with a mix of affection for both me and my mother.

** Mummy** quickly wiped a stray tear from her eye and smiled, moving over on the marble bench to make space. "Aree, hum toh bas maa-beti ki baat... sab thik hai ya nahi, yeh puch rahi thi." (Oh, just mother-daughter talk... I was just asking if everything is okay.)

Mummy turned back to Siya Maa, her voice dropping into that classic "samdhan-to-samdhan" tone. "Aap bataiye... yeh pareshan toh nahi karti? Ladti toh nahi hai yeh?" (You tell me... she doesn't trouble you? She doesn't fight with you, does she?)

I let out a mock gasp, my saree** shimmering as I folded my arms. "Mummy! Main aur ladai? I am the most disciplined 'Bahu' in Rajasthan!"

**Kriti and Saanvi** immediately burst into giggles, while **Riva Bhabhi** hid her smile behind her dupatta. They all knew there Cyclone" energy too well means me

Siya Maa laughed, a sound as graceful as the fountains in the background. She reached out and patted my hand, right over the **chooda** that Rudra had placed there.

"Gayatri ji, sach kahun toh... the only person she 'fights' with is **Rudra**," Siya Maa whispered with a wink. "And honestly? We all love it. This palace was so quiet, so 'cold' before she arrived. My son was like a stone statue—emotionless and ruthless. But your daughter? She brought the color back. She’s the only one who can talk back to the 'Cold Prince' and make him smile."

I felt a lump in my throat. Hearing Siya Maa defend me to my own mother was the greatest "welcome" I could have asked for.

"Pareshan toh yeh humein nahi, **Badi Bua** ko karti hai," (She doesn't trouble us, she troubles Badi Bua,) Siya Maa added with a playful shrug, making **Kriti** let out a loud snort of laughter. "But don't worry. As long as she is here, the Rathor family feels like a *family* and not just a business empire."

Mummy let out a long breath of relief, her eyes shimmering. "Bas, yahi sunna tha. I knew my Ishu would find her place, but knowing she found a second mother in you makes my heart at peace