💖 Ishita's Perspective

The beautiful, sun-drenched days of our escape passed entirely too quickly, and before we knew it, the SUV was gliding back through the massive gates of the Rathor Raj Mahal. The quiet, romantic bubble of Jaisalmer and Udaipur gently popped as the familiar grandeur of the palace welcomed us back.

As we walked into the grand hall, the palace felt significantly quieter. Dhristi, Akshat, and little Krish had already packed up and headed back to Delhi. With the festival of Holi just around the corner, they had to return early to oversee the preparations and settle back into their routine.

Siya Maa met us in the lounge, a warm, relieved smile on her face as she saw us back safe and sound.

"I'm so glad you both came back today," Maa said, gently patting my cheek before turning to her son. "Akshat and Dhristi have already left for Delhi. We were just waiting for you two. We all are going back to Delhi now so we can celebrate Holi together as a family."

Rudra nodded smoothly, his expression shifting back to his grounded, reliable self as he wrapped an arm around my waist. "Okay, Maa. Then we are ready to leave as well. We'll just change and get the bags moved."

"Don't worry about the Raj Mahal here," Maa reassured us, glancing out toward the courtyard. "Vikram will handle the Raj Mahal here, as always."

Vikram Rajawat, the main security manager of the Raj Mahal, was already standing near the entrance, conferring with the staff. His entire family had been fiercely loyal to the Rathor lineage for generations, earning the absolute trust of the family. He was the backbone of the estate, completely capable of running and securing the vast palace grounds in the absolute absence of the Rathors.

Because the primary global corporate headquarters of both Eternity and The Rathor Company were based out of Delhi, Rudra, Akshat, Vardaan, and Jay spent the vast majority of their time living in the capital. They only traveled down to Rajasthan occasionally when major corporate or royal matters demanded the King’s direct presence.

Otherwise, it was mostly Ram Singh Rathore and Siya Maa who preferred the peaceful, historic expanse of Rajasthan, living permanently at the Raj Mahal unless a major family festival called them back to the Delhi mansion.

Rudra caught Vikram’s eye, giving him a sharp, respectful nod of acknowledgment. Vikram bowed his head deeply in return, silently assuring his King that the palace would remain pristine and heavily guarded until their next return.

Turning back to me, Rudra's ocean-blue eyes softened just for a second. "Let's get changed, Janna. It's time to head back home to Delhi."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The transition back to our Delhi mansion had been smooth, and the past few days had been going incredibly well. But with Holi just a week away, the festive energy in the house was shifting. I had been completely buried under a mountain of backlogged corporate files, leaving for the Eternity office early and returning late to make up for my days off.

Tonight was no different. It was past midnight when I finally pushed open our bedroom door, my tie completely loosened, my blazer slung over my arm, and my body running on pure exhaustion. I expected to find my Janna asleep or reading on the bed.

Instead, the room was a minor zone of chaos. Two massive luxury suitcases were splayed open on the chaise lounge, and Ishita was standing right in the middle of it all. Her long curly hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her red bridal *chooda* was jingling frantically as she folded kurtis and packed her designer makeup kits.

I froze by the doorway, my ocean-blue eyes narrowing into a sharp, confused stare. "Janna? What is all this? Are we going somewhere?"

Ishita jumped slightly, turning around with a stack of clothes in her arms. "Oh, Ru! You're back. I didn't hear the door." She walked over, placing the clothes down, and looked up at me with a soft, slightly hesitant smile. "My mother called this morning. said I have to come home for Holi."

My brow furrowed. "To the Sharma house? We can just invite Papa and her here to the mansion for the festival. Maa and Papa Ji would love to host them."

"No, Ru, you don't understand," she explained gently, reaching up to unbutton the top collar of my shirt, her small hands a warm comfort against my skin. "It's a strict tradition. The first Holi after marriage is always celebrated in the girl's *mayika* (parental home). And according to the custom, the bride stays at her parents' house for a week or maybe even fifteen days before the actual festival."

My entire body went completely rigid. *Fifteen days?*

"Fifteen days?" I rumbled, my voice dropping into a dangerously low, gravelly register. I caught her wrists, stopping her movements as my heavy gaze locked onto her brown eyes. "You expect me to sleep in this room alone for two whole weeks, Ishi? Who authorized this?"

"Maa did," she whispered, matching my intense gaze with a sweet, sympathetic look. " Maa was right there when the call happened. She's the one who told me to start packing my things today. She said a daughter's right over her first post-marriage Holi belongs to her mother."

I let out a low, frustrated breath, pulling her by the waist until her slim figure was pressed completely against my chest. The thought of coming back to a silent, empty bedroom for half a month didn't sit well with the King at all.

"I don't care about the customs, Janna," I murmured flatly against her lips, my grip tightening possessively. "Your place is right here. With me."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I couldn't help but giggle at his possessive tone, my red *chooda* jingling softly as I gently patted his chest and wriggled out of his tight grip. "Ru, stop being dramatic. It's only for a few days, and it's a very important custom!"

Completely ignoring his dark, brooding glare, I turned right back to my open luxury suitcases and resumed folding my designer kurtis. I was practically vibrating with excitement. This was the first time since our beautiful wedding that I was going back to the Sharma house to stay for an extended period, and I couldn't wait to see my parents, Mohan Papa and Gayatri Maa, and catch up with everyone.

Behind me, the room went entirely silent.

I glanced over my shoulder, and the sight nearly made me drop the clothes in my hands. The great, towering **6'3" muscular Greek god** of a man was standing by the edge of the bed, sulking like a toddler whose favorite toy had been confiscated. His sharp jawline was tight, his arms were crossed over his broad, taupe-brown shirt, and absentmindedly—completely without realizing it—his lips had pushed forward into a heavy, distinct pout.

*The cold, ruthless prince was actually pouting.*

A massive, wicked grin spread across my face. I couldn't resist. I walked over to the sturdy wooden vanity chair right next to him, stepped into my house slippers, and climbed straight up onto the seat just to bring myself above his eye level.

I looked down at his stunned, ocean-blue eyes and pointed my finger right at his face, my pink bow-detailed extensions catching the light.

"Oh my God! Is there a pout there? Let me look closer," I teased loudly, my voice echoing in our bedroom. "Wow! Look at this, everyone! The great Rudra Singh Rathore! The King of Rajasthan! The man who ranks in the top five businessmen in the entire world!"

Rudra’s eyes narrowed, a dark flush hitting his ears as he realized what he was doing, but I didn't stop.

"The man whom the entire corporate world knows as completely ruthless, emotionless, and heartless..." I dramaticized, placing a hand over my heart before dropping my voice into a sweet, affectionate coo. "...and my absolutely sweet, cooperative husband, is currently pouting because his wife is going to her *mayika*!"

"Janna, get down from the chair," he rumbled, his deep baritone laced with a mix of embarrassment and intense warning, though he didn't step back. He looked incredibly handsome, his cold facade completely shattered by my teasing.

"No, I won't!" I laughed, leaning down slightly and gently cupping his face, my thumb brushing over his stubble. "Admit it, Ru. Rajasthan's cold-hearted prince is officially defeated by a one-week vacation."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I locked my jaw, instantly snapping my head to the side to look away from her. I tried to pull my features back into my usual expressionless mask, but her sparkling brown eyes were tracking every single twitch of my face.

"There is nothing," I muttered, my voice tight as I tried to clear my throat. "No... no pout, Janna."

Ishita gasped loudly from her vantage point on the chair, her hands flying to her cheeks. "Liar! And wait... did you just stammer? The great Rudra Singh Rathore is actually stuttering!"

She didn't let up for a single second, completely enjoying my rare moment of vulnerability. She threw her hands in the air, her red *chooda* jingling wildly as she repeated my corporate titles back to me with absolute, dramatic flair.

"The great Rudra Singh Rathore!" she announced to the empty room, looking down at me. "The King of Rajasthan! The man who ranks in the top five businessmen in the entire world! The man whom the entire corporate world knows as completely ruthless, emotionless, and heartless..."

I rolled my ocean-blue eyes, unable to stop the small, defeated smirk from breaking through my defenses. "...is completely at his wife's mercy. Yes, I know the script, Queen," I finished for her, my deep baritone dripping with amused resignation.

Before I could tell her again to step down from the furniture, her small hands reached out, her pink bow-detailed extensions gently catching my jawline. She leaned all the way down from the chair and pressed a loud, lingering, and incredibly sweet peck right on my lips.

*Thud.*

The heavy, rhythmic sound of massive paws walking across the hardwood floor made us both freeze. I looked over my shoulder just as the heavy bedroom door was pushed wider, and a magnificent, huge black tiger slinked into the room.

It was Oscar. He paused in the center of the room, his piercing eyes scanning the zone of open suitcases before landing directly on Ishita, who was still standing triumphantly on the vanity chair. Oscar let out a low, rumbling huff—a sound that usually terrified international handlers, but in this room, it just meant he was demanding attention from his *mumma*.

A slow, wicked grin spread across my face as a perfect idea hit me. If my wife wasn't listening to me about this two-week separation, it was time to bring in my heavy reinforcement.

"Look, Oscar," I said smoothly, stepping back just an inch and gesturing toward the half-packed bags on the floor. "Your mumma is packing her things. She is leaving us alone in this big house for fifteen whole days."

Oscar's ears instantly pricked up. He looked at the suitcases, then looked up at Ishita, letting out a sharp, protesting chuff as he walked over and deliberately sat his massive, heavy body right inside the largest open luxury suitcase, completely squishing her neatly folded pastel kurtis.

"Ru! Oscar! No!" Ishita yelled, her jaw dropping as she looked at the giant black tiger invading her luggage. She glared at me, her brown eyes snapping fire. "Ru, tell your carbon copy to get out of my clothes! You planned this!"

"I didn't do anything, Janna," I rumbled, crossing my arms over my chest, completely deadpan as I watched Oscar comfortably close his eyes on top of her wardrobe. "The tiger has spoken. No one is

allowed to leave the palace."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I hiked up the pleats of my house clothes, took a deep breath, and jumped down from the vanity chair with a sharp *thud*. I marched straight over to where the massive black tiger was comfortably nesting on top of my designer wardrobe.

"Aeee! Chal hatt yaha se! (Aeee! Get out of here!)" I scolded, planting my hands on my hips, my red bridal *chooda* jingling furiously as my pink bow-detailed nails pointed right at his furry snout. "Mere bag todega kya? (Are you trying to break my bag?) Do you have any idea how much this luxury suitcase costs, you giant fur-ball?"

Oscar didn't even blink his blue eyes. He just let out a sleepy, heavy sigh and rest his huge chin directly on my favorite yellow cotton kurti.

"Ru! Bolo ise! (Ru! Tell him!)" I yelled, turning around to demand backup from my husband.

But when I turned, my jaw literally dropped. The great **6'3" King of Rajasthan** wasn't listening to me at all. He had completely walked away, completely ignoring my plight, and was already unbuttoning his crisp taupe-brown shirt to change into his night tracks. He was casually tossing his silver cross necklace onto the nightstand, acting like he hadn't just unleashed a literal apex predator on my packing routine.

"Osci!" I turned back to the suitcase, softening my voice into a high-pitched bribe. "Osci, baby... get up now. Mumma will give you your favorite treats tomorrow, okay? Just get your huge paws out of my pastel clothes."

Oscar completely ignored me. He didn't even twitch an ear. He truly was the carbon copy of his father—emotionless, heartless, and stubborn when he wanted to be.

My eyes darted from the sleeping tiger in my luggage to the dangerously handsome man casually pulling a black t-shirt over his broad, muscular shoulders. The sheer teamwork between these two to stop me from going to the Sharma house was hilarious but so frustrating!

I threw my hands up in the air, my *chooda* clinking loudly in the quiet bedroom. "Pitna hai kya tum dono baap-bete ko? (Do you both, father and son, want a beating?) I swear, if I miss my morning flight to my *mayika* because of this emotional blackmail, I am going to lock *both* of you out of this bedroom for a month!"

From across the room, Rudra stopped mid-movement, a slow, devastatingly handsome smirk spreading across his face as his ocean-blue eyes locked onto me.

"Don't look at me, Janna," he rumbled in that deep, gravelly baritone, completely deadpan as he walked back toward the bed. "I told you, the tiger has voted. He doesn't want his mumma to leave either. Right, Oscar?"

As if on cue, Oscar let out a loud, affirmative *chuff*, sealing the ultimate domestic conspiracy against my travel plans.

I huffed, my pink bow-detailed extensions nearly hitting my face as I stomped across the polished hardwood floor. If the soft approach wasn't working, I was switching tactics. I marched right up to Rudra, who was standing by the bed looking entirely too calm and handsome in his simple black t-shirt and track pants.

I didn't just stand near him; I completely wrapped myself around him. My red bridal *chooda* jingled loudly as my arms clung tightly to his waist, and I burrowed my face into his solid chest, looking up at his sharp jawline with the widest, most pathetic puppy eyes I could manage.

"Ru... *plz yrr* don't do this to me!" I whined, my voice taking on that specific high-pitched, childish tone that I knew drove him crazy. I squeezed his waist. "Bolo na ise! Please, my sweet, amazing husband, tell your large black cat to vacate my belongings!"

He didn't even look down. His ocean-blue eyes were staring straight ahead, his arms remaining crossed over his chest, though I could feel the faint vibration of a suppressed, amused sigh from deep within him. He was completely, actively ignoring me.

"Rudra!" I snapped, dropping the cute act and squeezing his torso harder to demand attention.

Slowly, he turned his head, his heavy, possessive gaze locking onto mine. A slow, mocking smirk touched his lips.

"What can I do, Janna?" he rumbled, his deep, gravelly voice washing over me with a wave of fake innocence. He made a pointed, dismissive gesture with his hand toward where Oscar was still comfortably nesting on my clothes. "He is your kid. You're the one who calls him 'Osci baby.' Handle your maternal duties."

I gasped, my jaw dropping in genuine disbelief. The sheer audacity of this man! My hands released his waist and moved up to aggressively grip the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him down just enough that he had to look me in the eyes.

"RUDRA SINGH RATHORE!" I shouted his full name in the quiet bedroom, my voice dripping with absolute, terrifying authority. "That is your tiger! That is your stubborness! And that is your manipulative brain at work! I am going to count to three, and if that suitcase is not cleared, I am changing the room , I am hiding your work files and you can sleep on the sofa with your large son!"

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The moment that full, roaring name—*Rudra Singh Rathore*—slammed into the quiet bedroom, my internal alarm system went into overdrive. Her voice carried that specific, terrifying tone of absolute authority that instantly let me know she was right on her verge. The thin, slim figure of my 5'3" wife suddenly felt like a towering force of nature, and her grip on my collar was tight enough to mean business.

I froze, my ocean-blue eyes widening just a fraction. I was the King of Rajasthan, a man who controlled global corporate empires, but right now? I was genuinely scared of this brown-skinned, curly-haired girl.

Behind me, the low, lazy breathing of the massive black tiger suddenly stopped. Oscar, who was supposedly my heartless and ruthless carbon copy, possessed enough animal instinct to realize his dad was in immediate, mortal danger. He knew that if Mumma actually followed through with her threats, there would be no treats, no soft head scratches, and a very miserable sofa sharing session for both of us.

Oscar's eyes snapped open. He looked at me, then darted his gaze to Ishita’s furious face, concluding that it was highly advisable to move right now before Mumma killed him too.

With a hasty, uncharacteristic scramble, the giant beast practically poured himself out of the luxury suitcase, his heavy paws making a mad dash for the safe zone under our king-sized bed. He didn't even look back, completely leaving me to face the music alone.

I cleared my throat, slowly raising my hands in a rare gesture of complete surrender as I looked down into her fierce brown eyes.

"See, Janna? He left," I rumbled, my voice dropping back into its deep, gravelly register, trying to soothe the fiery Queen standing before me. I gently wrapped my large hands around her waist, pulling her close against my chest. "The bag

is empty. Your kurtis are safe. No need to change the room