Page 55

Iwas breathless as he hovered over me, his body claiming mine, our hands entwined above my head.

My back arched in surrender, my strength long abandoned.

I had lost count of my cries, my shudders, my releases, everything.

My body trembled beneath him like a frail thread unravelling, my senses reduced to a storm of sensations.

His movements were relentless, sometimes slow, deliberate and deep, sometimes wild, overwhelming, until I gasped for breath.

When he sank fully inside me, it felt like he was carving his place into my soul, and sometimes, tears would escape my eyes, unbidden, from the intensity of it all.

But there was no stopping.

That night, I understood the true meaning of his strength.

He was not just a man.

He was a force.

And it didn’t feel like I was being loved by one man, but by the unstoppable will of many.

I was nothing in front of him; I was not weak, not lesser, and just entirely undone.

My hair was in disarray, my cheeks and chest flushed a deep crimson.

My body burned — not from pain alone, but from the ecstasy of being wholly claimed by him.

Everything else faded, only sensation remained, and the heat of his skin against mine, the thunder of our heartbeats colliding.

The air in the chamber thickened with our moans and groans.

The sheets, the crushed flowers, the scattered petals, all bore witness to what passed between us.

I felt the crushing weight of his body on me.

Still, he persisted until he poured his final breath of energy into me, until he collapsed with exhaustion, or until he felt satisfied.

That night, I saw a different Rudra.

Not the man I had always known — but the king.

The warrior, like a storm, a man greater than life.

His eyes had no regrets, no hesitation.

Yet I saw the fury of ten years of restraint break apart before me.

I saw him fall apart.

I saw him sweat and tremble.

I saw him roll his eyes, writhing in pleasure.

I saw his tangled, messy hair. I saw him shaking, desperate for release.

I wouldn’t tone down the true experience.

It was not tender; it wasn't easy, and it hurt and shook me at times.

But it was real, something painfully, gloriously beautiful.

Satisfying a man’s hunger in this way felt like an experience beyond this world.

The pleasure was doubled when it was with the man who was not only your lover but also your husband, your everything.

It was a night that shattered every expectation, every boundary, every ounce of courage I thought I had.

I felt him unravelling, losing himself in the moment.

When he grew restless with being over me, he would pull away, shift his weight to his knees, and, with a forceful grip on my ankles, flip me over onto my stomach.

I could feel the warmth of the bed against my skin as he entered me from behind.

My fingers clenched the sheets, my face buried in the crushed flowers, my eyes clenched shut.

Each thrust, deep and relentless, drove me further into submission.

His hands pressed into the mattress as his hips ground against mine torturously.

As the night wore on, each moment seemed to stretch further, his movements becoming wilder, more frantic.

The need in him had become almost painful, and with every release, I could feel his control slipping further.

I lost count of the positions he tried.

One moment, I was beneath him, the next, I was above him, then on all fours, bouncing against his fierce thrusts.

Sometimes I was in his lap, his fingers threading through my hair, pulling at the loose strands of my braid, other moments when I struggled for my release, my body pressing into his, legs tightly wound around his waist, my hands clutching his shoulders, our lips, locked in a heated breath.

He moved like a beast, not a wild, animalistic force, but a powerful, controlled presence—a beast of desire, of strength, of unrelenting hunger.

Through it all, his hand never touched my neck, never restrained me.

He let me fall apart beneath him.

He let me become a trembling, moaning mess, senseless and out of control.

His hips were grinding relentlessly.

My hands fisted the sheets, my breasts bouncing with every movement, my back arching against the softness of the flowers and the bed beneath us.

The air was thick with the scent of roses, lavender, and our sweat, an intoxicating mix that filled the room.

We did not sleep.

He didn’t let me sleep, not until the first light of dawn crept into the room, and even then, he gave one final, deep, intense release—his third, while I had no idea how many I had reached.

He had drained all my strength, all my energy, which I had carried for twenty-two years.

All of it vanished in that single, intense night.

I was sure I had lost weight, not from hunger, but from the sheer physical exertion, the stretching, the relentless pace of our bodies moving against each other.

We had gone beyond what we knew, beyond any sense of shame.

Every wall between us had crumbled.

Every secret, every trace of hesitation, had vanished.

He collapsed beside me, exhausted, his body heavy against the bed.

I was already lying there, frozen, unable to move.

My legs ached, my knees shaking, not in pleasure, but in raw exhaustion.

I could barely lift my body.

I remember closing my eyes, willing myself to sleep.

When we finally fell asleep, it was well into the morning.

We were tangled together, naked and spent.

For the next day and night, no one disturbed us.

We slept deeply, recovering.

His arm draped around me, my head resting on his chest. We didn't talk. We were too tired, utterly drained.

Even changing position was an effort.

My body ached, sore from the intensity, and though I was hungry, I couldn't find the strength to ask for food.

All I wanted was sleep.

“,”

I heard his low, caring voice, followed by the warmth of his arm wrapping gently around me.

We were both under the covers, and I lazily responded. “Hn?”

I felt the weight of his chest against my back as he pulled me closer, inhaling deeply.

“Get up, love.

You have to eat,”

His voice was husky, and I groaned softly, my body still heavy with exhaustion.

“I’m tired...

I just want to sleep,”

I could barely stay awake, my body feeling light and chilled, as if floating in another dimension.

I felt him place a soft kiss on the back of my head, his warmth retreating as he shifted away.

Within seconds, I was asleep again.

***

“,”

a gentle call pulled me from my sleep again.

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the light.

Rudra was sitting beside me on the edge of the bed, a plate of food in his hand.

He slid a strand of hair from my face, and I stretched lazily, my body still aching.

“I hate you,”

I muttered, too tired to form anything else.

He chuckled lightly, his thumb brushing my chin as he asked, “Why so, love?”

I pulled the comforter up over my face, hiding my tired expression.

“You...

you fucked me so badly, Rudra,”

I mumbled from underneath it, and I heard his light chuckle again, this time softer.

He gently pulled the comforter away, and I met his eyes, tired but still full of a mix of emotions.

I noticed the broken bangles on my wrist, half of them shattered.

“Come here, love,”

His voice was soft but insistent, and he helped me sit up slowly.

A painful cry escaped me as my spine straightened and a dull ache coursed through my body.

“I hate you,”

I cursed, pressing my hands to my chest to keep the comforter in place.

My lips were dry, the remnants of sleep and the night still lingering.

I looked at him.

He was wearing white, his hair damp as if he had just showered.

I could feel the hours passing; we’d slept the entire day.

He leaned closer, but I instinctively pulled back.

“I’m dirty, Rudra,”

I whispered, embarrassed.

He smiled, cupping my jaw gently before kissing me softly.

“Dirty or clean, beautiful or ugly, well or sick, you’re mine.

My little wife, my little bird,”

he said softly.

I lowered my gaze, suddenly feeling timid under the weight of the night’s memories.

I didn’t know how many ways he had seen me, how many layers had been stripped away.

I face-palmed myself, letting out a soft sigh.

I was so loud.

Too loud.

I wondered if the whole kingdom had heard.

He shifted behind me, pressing his chest against my back.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me as he wrapped his arms around me and held the plate of food before me.

I pulled my knees up, fingers absentmindedly tracing the blanket’s edges.

He kissed my bare shoulder, and I felt him feed me silently with his hands.

After I finished eating, he helped me drink some water.

“Thank you,”

I muttered softly, looking over my shoulder.

“Have you eaten?”

He smiled slightly, nodding as he placed the empty plate aside. “Yes,”

I leaned back against him, his chin resting on my head, his fingers tracing lightly over my arms.

It felt so beautiful, so peaceful.

“Are you hurt, little bird?”

His voice was soft, and I inhaled a shaky breath.

I nodded gently, my fingers brushing his wrist in reassurance.

I felt him carefully remove the remaining bangles from my wrist.

I also noticed he had already gathered the broken fragments from the bed.

His touch moved to my tangled braid, working through the knots with patience, making my eyelids heavy.

I was slipping back into sleep, his fingers weaving through my hair, soothing me.

It took an entire week for my body to recover.

The ache in my knees lasted, and the pain in my bones lingered, but the soreness in my core was the worst.

Even the touch of the cloth felt like a burn.

It took days to heal, and the sting when I urinated made me wince, sometimes bringing me to tears.

But slowly, it passed.

Rudra took care of me the whole time.

I could see the subtle guilt in his eyes, but I felt none.

I was proud of what we shared, happy that I had given him something no one else could.

He didn’t touch me again for the next fifteen days, but the days we spent together were peaceful, filled with love.

In the day, for the world, we were Ranaji and Ranisa, but in the night, we were Rudra-, two people who burned for each other, who were the fuel and fire for one another, who were each other’s world.

Things in the kingdom began to settle, and peace treaties were gradually established.

I tried to talk to him about his Maasimaa, and after four months, he finally told me.

“What happened to her?”

I asked, my curiosity growing.

He looked at me, irritated.

“You don’t want to know, ,”

“I do,”

I insisted.

He exhaled in frustration and lay back on the couch, his head resting in my lap.

His fingers intertwined with mine over his chest.

The size of the couch made him look cramped, and his legs hung off the edge.

He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking, “She killed herself,”

I froze, shocked. “What?”

He opened his eyes, looking at me with pain.

“It was ugly,”

I was stunned.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He inhaled deeply, his gaze lowering to somewhere beyond me, and then he began.

“The one who opened the doors to the ninth chamber for Surgami Dev Singh was her.

She ran away after that, and it took a month for our soldiers to find her.

When they did, they brought her to me.

I tried to make her see the gravity of what she’d done.

She wouldn’t listen. She said that you were the reason I changed. She hated you and even me. I wanted to forgive her. After all, she was like a second mother to me. But she asked me to choose between her and you. It tore me apart, . I never wanted to be in that position. But I chose you. I chose my future. I chose our life together,”

He paused, his gaze distant.

“I know it was selfish.

I felt guilty for abandoning my past, but the moment I came back from that river, I was a different man.

I couldn’t live in two worlds anymore.

I was ready to forgive her, but she couldn’t let go of her hate for you. And for me. She never forgave me, and I had no choice but to keep her under watch. Three months ago... she killed herself,”

“And you didn’t even tell me,”

I said, anger bubbling in me.

He sighed and sat up, his posture tired.

“Because the fire wasn’t yours to handle,”

he said quietly.

I felt a tight knot in my chest.

“But I didn’t want her dead.

Yes, it was my burden, but I could have talked to her.

She was important to you.

She was someone in my life, too, even if only as a negative figure.

Still, she meant something,”

I said, my voice soft but laced with anger.

He stared at me, his frustration thickening the air between us.

“What could you have said to her? She made me choose between you and her.

She wasn’t sorry for a damn thing she did.

She flooded our minds with hate.

She ruined the lives of three kids,”

he spat, his words heavy with resentment.

I clenched my fists, trying to control my rising anger.

“The hate she built was the very fire that forged you, Rudra.

It made you who you are today.

God knows where you'd be if she hadn’t given you that reason to live,”

“I didn’t want that reason!”

he thundered, standing up abruptly.

“I never wanted that fire.

If I’d known my father was such a bastard, I would’ve killed myself before becoming the man I am.

I didn’t want that life, not the struggles, but the title.

I didn’t want that hate. If I could, I would’ve erased it all, disappeared, and never been known as the son of Surya Dev Singh,”

His voice trembled with raw pain, but I pushed forward.

“But she deserved something better from you, Rudra.

Despite everything, she raised you.

She fought for you and your brothers.

And you, you just let her die like that, alone,”

He glared at me.

“And now you’re taking her side?”

“No,”

I snapped, “I’m taking the side of a woman who gave her everything to you.

A woman who, yes, made mistakes, but who raised you and protected you, sleeping with, god knows, how many men.

Who fought for your survival, for all of you,”

my voice cracked as I spoke.

His nostrils flared as he stepped closer.

“She played with my life, of three innocent kids’ lives, using them for twenty years.

We were just a pawn, even so, I was ready to give her everything,”

His words were sharp, cutting through the air.

“You should’ve told me, Rudra,”

I said, my voice quieter but filled with intensity.

“No,”

he retorted sharply, “This was my battle to fight.

She messed with my life, and I had to make a choice.

I couldn’t let anyone else in,”

“And I am your damn wife, Rudra! Not just a wife, but the Queen of this kingdom.

You think I didn’t need to know?”

My voice rose, a battle of wills escalating between us.

His expression hardened.

“Yes, you are the queen, but this was mine to handle.

You’ve always hated her, so why act like you care now?”

I recoiled, my heart pounding.

“Yes, I hated her.

But that doesn’t mean I wanted her dead.

She killed herself, and you did nothing to stop it.

For god’s sake, she was the woman who raised you. Where was your gratitude? She might have hurt us, but she didn’t deserve to die like that,”

The room fell silent, his anger simmering as I watched him, waiting for his response.

But instead of words, he stood up abruptly, his expression hardening.

“It feels like I’m talking to a bipolar right now,”

he muttered, his tone venomous.

“Bipolar!”

I shouted, unable to hold back the surge of anger.

“You just called me bipolar?”

I was shaking with fury.

He ran his fingers through his hair, pacing toward the door.

“Don’t walk away from me like this!”

I screamed after him, but he didn’t stop.

He didn’t even look back.

Frustrated, I grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him, watching as he turned just in time to avoid it.

He stared at me, teeth gritted, his jaw tightening with rage.

I felt a storm of emotions brewing inside me as he turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing in the hallway.

I was left standing there, seething, my thoughts a whirlwind.

“What the hell?”

I whispered to myself, feeling my heart race as I struggled to understand.

How could he just walk away like that? Was it so hard to talk to me, to let me in?

I flopped onto the bed in frustration, my mind whirling.

My father was a king and used to share everything with my mother.

They were partners, never keeping secrets, always united.

And here I was, married to a man who couldn’t even talk to me, who couldn’t see me as an equal.

My heart pounded wildly with anger.

I wanted to kill him.

I kept thinking—should I use a dagger or a sword?

I could have accepted anything, but not this for Chandramukhi.

That woman had only ever suffered.

Yes, her ways were wrong with my father and mother, but when it came to Rudra and his brothers, she had done everything for them when they needed her most.

And yet, he hadn’t even tried to talk to her, to sort things out.

I didn’t know why, but it was haunting me.

Being a woman, I could understand possessiveness, discomfort, and all the thousand little mistakes we make in the name of care and love.

They aren't always right, but they come from a place of love.

And she cared for them.

I lifted my head and stared at the door, waiting for him to return.

But as the minutes passed, a strange calmness started invading my furious thoughts.

Was I wrong? Should I not have said those things? Was it even my place to speak about it?

I inhaled deeply and palmed my face.

My racing heart began to settle, and my mind drifted to sleep.

When I woke up with a jerk, my first instinct was to turn and look beside me.

But the spot was untouched.

Pain stabbed through me when I realised he hadn’t come back.

I lifted my gaze to the window, trying to see through the darkness.

It was still a deep night, maybe just past midnight.

Throwing the comforter aside, I stepped down.

I would definitely kill him.

I walked out to the courtyard, but he wasn’t there either.

Concern started clawing at my chest.

Where the hell did he go?

The sound of my anklets echoed loudly in the night's silence.

I stepped out into the corridor, heading toward the stairs leading to the terrace.

My heart was pounding again, but this time from fear.

I wasn’t fond of walking around at midnight, especially on a new-moon night, when everything felt heavier and darker.

Clouds covered the sky, hiding even the stars.

The wide staircase was lit by wall-mounted lamps burning dimly on either side.

Suddenly, a heavy crash of thunder roared through the sky, and I jumped, shivering uncontrollably.

I would absolutely kill him for this.

Frightened to my core, I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to gather courage.

After what felt like endless steps, I finally reached the terrace.

The first thing my eyes caught was the thick, dark sky, blanketed in clouds.

“Rudra,”

I called out, but my voice barely left my throat.

The fear was overwhelming.

Suddenly, cold droplets tickled my arms and face, and I looked up at the sky, catching glimpses of tree-root-like lightning designs.

Another loud thunderclap sent my heartbeat racing beyond control, and I felt an overwhelming urge to run away.

But my heart told me he was here.

I inhaled a deep breath and tried to look around.

It was dark; I could barely see anything.

The only moments of visibility came when the lightning struck.

I stepped forward.

It was a vast terrace bordered by high walls.

During wartime, soldiers would occupy the terrace.

But right now, no one was here—our chamber was in the innermost part of the palace, the most secure area, and we were not at war.

Another flash of lightning, and I spotted a sleeping figure.

My throat dried up with fear, and I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to walk toward it.

I could hear my wild heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Rudra,”

I called softly, but the figure didn’t move.

“Rudra, you’re scaring me. Please,”

I said, raising my voice slightly.

He shifted a little.

“I don't want to talk,”

he replied.

Relief washed through me in a wave.

“Why?” I asked.

“My choice,”

he said, turning slightly.

I gritted my teeth, blinking into the dark.

“It’s pouring.

You should come down,”

I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but he gave no reply.

Another bolt of lightning, and I saw him lying on his back, on a carpet, dressed in a dark kurta.

He wasn’t listening to me.

I stepped closer, irritation rising.

“Rudra, I am talking to you,”

I said, louder now.

“, I’m not talking to you,”

he shot back with the same edge.

God, his tantrums!

I bit my lower lip, knelt beside him, and hit his midriff lightly with a clenched fist, frustrated.

“What do you mean, you're not talking to me? I’m your wife.

You will talk to me whenever I want,”

I insisted.

He moved my hand away.

“Don’t touch me.

You’ve already crossed your limit,”

he said sharply, and my anger surged.

“What do you mean 'don’t touch me'? You touch me all the time—you kiss me, you have sex with me—and now you say not to touch you? You’re bipolar,”

I snapped, and touched him again.

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me beneath him.

A shiver shot down my spine.

My angry eyes met his, and his hand gripped tightly around my wrist, making my stomach twist.

“Rudra,”

I said, my voice lowering.

My tone had shifted from lioness to kitten in a second.

“Leave me, Rudra,”

I exclaimed, but his grip tightened.

“You don’t care what I say,”

he murmured, voice hoarse.

“And you don’t care what I feel,”

I threw back.

Silence settled between us, thick and heavy.

Raindrops still poured down, and the wind sent chills racing across my skin.

“Rudra, I think we sh—”

He crashed his lips against mine with sudden, urgent force, making my heart race wildly, my words muffled in his mouth.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was raw.

Intense.

Dangerous.

“Shut up,”

he muttered.

He shifted above me, pinning both my hands above my head with one hand.

I moaned into his mouth as his free hand moved down my body.

I instinctively lifted one knee, and he took advantage, slipping his leg between mine.

The rain grew heavier, the winds colder.

His lips moved to my jaw, and my head tilted back in response.

Fear and excitement surged through me when his fingers touched my thighs and moved upward between my legs.

My breath hitched.

I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut, heart pounding wildly.

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

“Rudra,” I gasped.

“Hnn-hnnn,”

he hummed, sending vibrations through me.

The rain intensified, soaking us completely.

My teeth chattered from the cold, and I tried pushing him slightly.

Suddenly, he bit my neck, making me gasp and shiver violently.

My head fell back as the feel of his fingers slipping inside me crossed my mind.

I moaned softly as his lips descended to my chest.

“Next time you hit me, I’ll rip your clothes off and make you walk naked back to the chamber,”

he growled.

His words sent a sharp thrill through my core.

“Are you challenging me?”

I asked in a breathless, shaken voice.

“You can try,”

he muttered, and his fingers slipped into my core, thrusting slowly.

I moved in sync with him, the sensation making my entire body tense and coil.

Rain hit my face in strong, cold droplets, and I was wet, through and through.

I took a deep breath and reached up, slapping his cheek lightly.

He inhaled sharply and straightened up, hands sliding over my chest.

Before I could react, he tore my blouse, baring my breasts.

A shock ran through me.

“Rudra!” I gasped.

I looked around in panic, trying to see if anyone was nearby, but the pitch-black darkness made everything invisible and scarier.

He pinned both my elbows down and took my nipple into his mouth.

My body arched involuntarily.

He released one of my hands, only to hike up my skirt.

“Rudra, someone might see!”

I protested.

Before I could finish, he straightened, grabbed my waist, and turned me onto my stomach.

“You deserve punishment,”

he said lowly, pulling his kurta off.

“Are you mad? This isn’t our chamber,”

I said, panicking as I felt him removing my blouse entirely.

Rainwater hit my bare back, and his palm pressed me down.

“Calm down, ,”

he said in a hushed voice.

I closed my eyes.

It wasn’t him who scared me; it was the environment—the darkness, the exposure, the risk.

His hand slipped to the hem of my skirt and slowly pulled it down.

I felt utterly timid, completely naked under the rain and on the terrace in the middle of the night.

What if someone walks up? Well, this wasn’t even on the list of my wildest dreams.

He cupped my hip, his breath hot on my skin as he bit me softly.

I moaned, fisting my hand on the soaked carpet.

It was pouring heavily.

He widened my legs apart, and I buried my face low when he hovered over, his hardness brushing against me.

Adjusting my legs even wider, he slowly pushed in from behind.

And a loud cry escaped my lips; I bit down to suppress it.

He filled me completely, and slowly, I lifted my face, propping myself up on my elbows.

His hand cupped the back of my neck, angling my head back.

It was insanely sensual as he thrust into me, his lips brushing against mine, and my midriff stretched with tension, adding a sharp edge to everything.

“Good,”

he muttered, then placed both palms on either side of my shoulders.

My eyes shut tight with the growing intensity, the way he caged me under his body.

His hips began to move faster, and I felt like I was going to explode, crying and moaning from the knot building inside me.

Loud moans escaped me, but the sound of heavy rain drowned out my voice.

Suddenly, he knelt, grabbed my waist, and pulled me back until I shifted onto all fours.

He thrust into me at such a wild pace my brain stopped processing.

I was about to collapse until the release washed over us.

He wrapped his arms around my restless, tired self, pulling me to him.

The rain had slowed down, and the cold air filled my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

I had already slipped on my wet skirt and wrapped my dupatta around my chest.

“You said you’d make me walk back to the chamber naked if I slapped you,”

I giggled, teasing him.

He inhaled deeply and bit my cheek.

“Yes.

You are naked...

only metaphorically,”

he said, making me chuckle more.

I pressed my face into his chest as he carried me back to the chamber.

“Not the bed,”

I warned as soon as we entered.

“It’ll get wet because of us,”

I said, and he set me down.

He disappeared into the dressing room and returned with a towel, tossing it at me.

“You didn’t really care about Maasimaa.

You just wanted a topic for a fight.

I guess the last few days seemed to bore you,”

he said.

Slipping his lower garment off, he wrapped a towel around his waist.

I inhaled deeply.

It was partially true, partially false.

Well, I had wanted him to tell me before I had to drag it out of him.

And besides, there was no point in fighting anymore—the person was already gone.

I didn’t respond and walked toward my trunk.

“I’m sorry, .

I should’ve told you earlier,”

he said, his voice soft.

I turned to him as he continued.

“But, you see, I wanted to give her the chance she deserved.

But she clearly said—her or you, and it was obviously you.

So that triggered me to an extent, her demise didn’t even bother me. Maybe rage took over me, but as time passed, I realised I’d lost her. And that... made me feel guilty,”

he said, walking toward me.

I untied the knot of my lehenga and pushed it low.

I caught him watching me closely as I took the dupatta off my chest.

“I understand.

That’s why I wanted to know.

Sometimes, the hate overpowers us so much that we forget the decisions we’re making,”

I said slowly, remembering the time I decided to marry his uncle.

I slipped into my nightwear and reached for my braid.

“Let me help,”

he offered, coming closer.

Gently holding my braid, he undid it slowly.

Breaking the silence, I said, “I’m sorry, I got angry.

I think the responsibilities, the workload, and everything happening have been exhausting and stressful for a while now.

I needed a break to recharge—and nothing works better than a fight,”

I chuckled at the end, and he laughed too.

“Buckle up, Ranisa.

The responsibilities are about to double,” he said.

I furrowed my brows.

“What do you mean?”

He smiled and gently kissed my forehead.

“Aapke bade Devarsa ke vivaah ki tithi nikat aa rahi hai,”

(Your elder brother-in-law's wedding is approaching.) he said.

I gasped.

“Oh yes! I almost forgot.

Only two months left—Oh my God!”

I squealed with excitement, my eyes wide.

He chuckled at my reaction.

“Oh my God, there's so much to do! The jewellery, the clothes, the decorations, the invitations—everything! OH MY GOD!”

A wave of stress and excitement hit me simultaneously as I imagined the grand wedding ahead.

“For now, you must sleep,”

he said, pulling me from my little whirlwind of thoughts and lifting me into his arms.

“You ruined my sleep,”

I complained playfully.

He laughed, setting me gently on the bed.

As he lay beside me, I tucked myself into his embrace, already lost in dreams of dances, celebrations, and all the magic the wedding would bring.

Things got even smoother between us.

Rudra and I hadn’t had any major fights since then, but that didn’t mean it was all peaceful.

Our sweet and spicy little arguments still popped up now and then.

Sometimes they were political, sometimes personal, and many times just because he got too caught up in kingdom matters and forgot to eat or sleep.

Reconstruction work on the outskirts and other royal projects consumed most of our time.

I had also begun working on women’s empowerment initiatives.

A majority of the workforce in the palace now included volunteers and hired workers.

Some old rules were revised, and newer, more flexible ones were introduced.

Meanwhile, invitations for Devarsa’s wedding had already begun going out, and we were just three days away from the big day.

The entire kingdom was glowing like a bride.

Ranaji seemed especially happy about it—maybe even more than he had been at our wedding.

It felt like he was fulfilling all the joys he had missed back then, through his brother's celebration.

I was getting ready for the Haldi ceremony when a sudden knock echoed on the door.

“Come in,”

I said, turning toward the dressing room door.

It creaked open, and Rudra walked in.

“Ab samay mila hai aapko apni patni se milne ka, Ranaji?”

(So now you finally have time to visit your wife, Ranaji?) I teased.

He looked ridiculously handsome in a yellow kurta, his fingers raking through his hair as he walked toward me.

“I think I’m freaking out,”

he confessed.

I inhaled deeply, sensing his tension.

“What happened?”

I took his hand and led him to sit on the chair.

“The workers aren’t cooperating.

The guests are on their way, and people are making careless mistakes.

I want everything to be perfect, but they’re driving me insa—”

“Shhh…”

I hushed him softly, watching him take a calming breath.

“It’s alright.

It’s the first wedding of its kind.

They're doing their best, just breathe,”

He looked at me with stressed, frustrated eyes, but gradually his expression softened.

“You look beautiful, little sunflower,”

he murmured.

I chuckled.

“Sunflower?”

He smiled and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

“Hmm-hmm,”

I playfully tugged at his lower lip with my teeth.

“I think you should stop calling me ‘little.’”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me closer.

“If we have babies someday, I doubt they’ll want their mother being called little,”

I said with a smile.

He chuckled.

“Babies? How many are you thinking of?”

A blush warmed my cheeks.

“I don’t know…”

He kissed me again, a little longer this time.

“No matter how many kids we have, no matter how old you grow, how big you get… you’ll always be my little wife,”

I pulled back and narrowed my eyes.

“That’s not fair.” I pouted.

Another knock broke our moment, and Rudra called out, “Yes?”

“Ranaji, everyone is waiting for you and Ranisa,”

an attendant announced from behind the door.

I smiled.

“Let’s go,”

I said.

But before I could move, he pulled me into another kiss, deeper this time, leaving me breathless.

“Don’t you dare distract me,”

he warned, smirking.

I laughed.

“I don’t do anything.

I just breathe, and you get turned on,”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“See? You’re already doing it,”

I pushed him away with a laugh.

“We’d better walk out.”

He took my hand as we walked out of the chamber and into the open area, where preparations for Devarsa’s Haldi and Mehndi were in full swing.

Devarsa sat shirtless on a small stool, surrounded by women mixing haldi and sandalwood paste, singing and dancing.

The whole place buzzed with life.

Rudra walked ahead and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

I smiled at the sight of them laughing and talking.

“Bhabhisa!”

Agastya’s voice rang out, and I turned to see him walking toward me in his bright yellow kurta, looking radiant as ever.

“Let’s dance!”

he said with a playful grin, signalling the musicians to turn up their beats.

The sound of dholaks, anklet bells, and flutes filled the air, and I couldn’t help but twirl and jump along with the rhythm.

The other women joined in, spinning in sync with the beats of Ghoomar48.

My anklets jingled, my bangles clinked, and the whole environment vibrated with energy.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rudra watching me.

Agastya ran up to him, whispered something, and then shoved him gently toward me.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, I forgot we were surrounded by people and in the middle of a celebration.

Rudra raised one brow, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

My spinning slowed as he reached me, catching my wrist and making me spin again.

I fell right back into the rhythm of the music.

He moved clumsily at first, trying to mimic the dance, which only made me giggle.

Laughter erupted all around us.

Then I spotted Ranvijay sitting quietly.

I grabbed Rudra’s hand and pulled him with me.

We walked to him, and I knelt.

Scooping haldi paste onto my fingers, I gently applied it to his cheeks.

He smiled, turning his eyes down.

“Thank you, Bhabhisa,”

he said softly.

Rudra came forward with a mischievous grin.

And instead of applying the paste, he smeared it all over Ranvijay’s face.

“Bhaisa!”

Ranvijay yelled, spewing the paste off his lips, and Rudra burst out laughing.

I turned to see Agastya laughing too, holding his stomach, and before he could escape, Rudra grabbed him by the neck and did the same to him.

“Now laugh like that again!”

Rudra teased.

Agastya tried to protest, but it only made us all laugh harder.

Just as I caught my breath, I saw Rudra approaching me, hands full of haldi.

I took a step back.

“I swear, I’ll kill you if you try that on me!”

I tried to warn him, but he only smiled, amused by my empty threats.

As his pace quickened, I squealed and broke into a run.

“Rudra!”

I screamed, trying to escape him.

The jingling of my anklets echoed through the corridors as I darted through the crowd and reached the quieter galleries.

I turned to glance at him and shook my head frantically.

“No! I’ll have to take a bath if you do this!”

I pleaded, trying to reason, but he wasn’t listening.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, and I knew I had to hide.

I rushed toward our chamber, hoping to find a way to trick him.

But the Stupid anklets—they betrayed every step I took.

Then, a plan struck me.

The chamber had circular hallways—one entrance from the left and an exit from the right.

All the connected rooms led into it.

If I entered from the left and kept moving fast enough, I could loop back around and sneak behind him.

I kept running, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

My breath came in short gasps, and my chest rose and fell rapidly with every step.

I barely had time to marvel at how fast I was moving when—

Fingers closed around my wrist and yanked me back with a swift pull.

A breath escaped my lips as he spun me around and pressed me gently against the wall.

I gasped, heart pounding, and he looked down at me with that maddeningly soft smirk.

***