Happy Readingđź“– đź’•
Isha's POV
I woke up with the faintest smile on my face. The sunlight was being very shameless today - trying to sneak in from the window, like it wanted to join us. I blinked slowly, feeling that warm, heavy comfort of his arm around my waist. His chest rising and falling right behind me - slow, calm, safe.
For a moment, I didn't want to move.
Not because I was tired.
But because I was happy.
I shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, and turned around just enough to face him. And there he was - eyes open.
Already staring.
"You're awake?" I whispered.
"No," he said, voice sleepy. "Just dreaming with my eyes open."
I rolled my eyes and whispered again, "Don't flirt with morning breath."
He grinned, and I swear he looked like someone who had no idea that the world could break hearts. "Let's play a game."
"Hmm?"
"Staring competition," he said, propping himself up on one elbow, his hair still a mess - my favorite version of it. "Who blinks first loses. Loser completes one wish of the winner."
I laughed. "You do realize you're going to lose?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"
I got up a little, sitting cross-legged, facing him. "Yes, baby. Challenge accepted."
And there we were, both staring like idiots in love, eyes locked, faces ridiculously close. His gaze was too much. Too intense. Too everything. My heart was screaming, I was screaming, but my eyes were stubborn. I wasn't blinking.
But then... I cheated.
I leaned in and pressed a tiny, barely-there kiss on the tip of his nose.
He blinked.
Hard.
"What the hell," he said, laughing.
"I WIN!" I jumped on the bed, like literally bounced and stood with my hair messy and heart proud. "I win, I win, I win. Loser! You are the LOSER, Shivansh. Say it! Say I'm the queen!"
He sat up slowly, eyes squinted. "You cheated."
"Still counts." I pointed a victorious finger at him. "Rules never said you can't kiss."
"You are dangerous, janna."
"And you, janna ke ansh, are the loser." I twirled and did a tiny dance on the bed. "Loser, loser, no kisses tonight for the loser-"
And before I could finish my very mature chant, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me down.
Literally down.
Flat on the bed, with him hovering over me, arms on either side of my face.
"Say that again," he said, eyes narrowed, but smiling like a villain in love.
I froze. "Umm... you're a... v-very wonderful human being?"
He leaned closer. "No no. Say the other one."
I swallowed. "L-loser?"
His eyes locked with mine, intense, playful, loving, and before I could escape or tease again - he kissed me.
Not one of those soft, little, I'm-your-boyfriend kind of kisses.
But the kind that makes your toes curl and your heartbeat misbehaves. His lips pressed into mine with something deep, firm - like he had a secret he was trying to share through that kiss. My hands, now pinned gently by his, couldn't even hold him, but my heart... my heart was holding onto every second of it.
I don't even know how long we stayed like that.
When he finally pulled back, he was breathless. So was I.
"I guess I lost," he whispered against my lips.
"No," I said softly, cheeks flushed. "We both won."
He let go of my hands and tucked a hair strand behind my ear. "What's your wish, though? You won, remember?"
I looked at him - messy hair, sleepy eyes, full lips, and that look... the one that said you're mine even without saying a word.
So I whispered the only wish that mattered.
"Don't let this moment fade."
He didn't reply.
He just kissed me again.
This time - even softer. Slower. Like sealing a promise.
And that morning - that small, stupid game, and that sweet cheating - it became one of those memories I'd hold tight to... when everything would fall apart later.
But that's not today.
Today, I won.
After that kiss - I mean that kiss - I was breathing like I just ran a marathon through my own emotions.
My heart was flipping inside my chest like it had no idea how to be normal anymore. His face was still hovering over mine, his eyes sleepy and teasing, like he knew what he was doing to me.
"I think... I need to go to the washroom," I whispered, trying to wriggle out from under him.
"Nope," he replied, casually, his voice thick with sleep and smugness. "Permission denied."
I blinked at him. "Excuse me?"
He grinned. "Why go alone when we can go together?"
I smacked his arm. "Shivansh!"
"What? Saves time. Saves water." he said with the straightest face.
I stared. "You're a--"
"You started it," he said, still not moving. "You kissed me mid-game. That's a criminal activity."
"Ughhh, let me goooo," I half-laughed, half-pleaded. "Please. I'm serious. I really need to-"
"No, I'm serious. Let's just use the shower together," he said, eyes glittering with wickedness. "I'll even let you go first. I'm a gentleman."
I gasped, trying to fight the blush climbing up my neck. "You're impossible."
"You're beautiful."
"Shivansh!"
"Fine, go," he finally said, moving aside dramatically. "But if you take too long, I'm breaking that door."
I stuck my tongue out at him, grabbed the nearest pillow and threw at his face and bolted into the washroom before he changed his mind.
The warm water felt like a soft hug around me. I stood there longer than necessary, letting the droplets run down my skin, trying to calm down the chaos he had stirred inside me. My cheeks were still warm. My lips still remembered his. And my mind... it was far from still.
I wrapped myself in the towel, standing in front of the mirror, looking at the fogged glass and the girl behind it. You look different, I told myself. Like someone who belongs.
When I stepped out quietly, my eyes fell on my walk-in closet, and something pulled me into a memory.
Last night.
I had woken up feeling uncomfortable, the blanket halfway off and the cold air sneaking under it like a thief. The palace, the chamber was too silent, and for some reason, too big that night. I had felt... weird. Not scared. Just a little out of place.
I had slipped out of bed gently, not waking him up, and tiptoed to the his huge wardrobe. And there it was - the soft, plain, slightly oversized grey t-shirt I had seen him wear once.
Without thinking much, I had taken off my own layers, slid into his shirt, and instantly... instantly felt like I was hugged.
His scent was everywhere on it - that familiar, comforting, slightly woody, slightly spicy scent of his that could melt me faster than butter in summer. I stood there for a second, letting it soak into my skin.
Then I went to the kitchen to grab something cold because why not? And well... the rest he knew. He caught me. Literally red-handed with a spoon of ice-cream. My little midnight heist had failed.
And yet, he hadn't scolded me.
He had just... smiled.
Like I was the only chaos he'd ever wanted in his calm life.
Now.
I walked out of the washroom quietly, drying my hair with the towel, wearing a fresh pair of soft lilac pajamas, but I had kept his t-shirt. Again.
And there he was.
Sitting on the bed, leaning back on his palms, eyes lazy, but fixed on me like I was his favorite view.
"You wore my shirt again," he said, pretending to pout.
"I like it," I said softly, hugging myself.
"You look better in it than I ever did," he murmured, his eyes trailing over me slowly. "Come here."
"I'm not giving it back," I warned, walking toward him.
"Who said I want it back?" he smiled, tugging me closer the second I was within arm's reach. "I want you in it. Always."
I sat beside him, the towel still in my hand, hair damp and smelling of lavender. He reached out and gently took the towel, starting to dry my hair like it was the most important thing he had to do that day.
"I'll dry it," I said.
"I'll do it better," he replied.
I closed my eyes for a second and let him.
"Shivansh?"
"Hmm?"
"You remember the last night I went to the kitchen?"
"I do. You looked like a five-year-old caught stealing candy."
I laughed softly. "I was cold. And your shirt helped."
"I should give you all my shirts."
"No," I smiled. "Just the one that smells like home."
He paused for a second. Then whispered into my hair, "That's because you are home."
My heart did a little somersault, then sat quietly - smiling like an idiot.
He kept drying my hair, softly, slowly, like he was writing something with his fingers. Something only I could understand.
And in that moment - wrapped in his T-shirt, his arms, and his silent warmth - I forgot that heartbreak was waiting around the corner.
I forgot the trip that was about to end.
Because this moment - this moment - was mine.
And no one could take that away.
After he finished drying my hair and kissed the crown of my head like he owned it, I leaned back slightly and smiled up at him.
"Okay," I whispered softly, looking into his deep, thoughtful eyes. "Today... you choose what I wear."
He blinked, caught off guard. "Me?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. I want to wear something you like. Something you'd want to see me in. So choose, Mr. Shivansh. "
A slow smirk crept across his lips. "You sure about that, but btw I am the only one who chooses your clothes nowadays, Mrs. Shivansh?"
I laughed. "Yes. But okay do that today also. "
"No problem," he murmured, already rising with that mischief in his eyes.
I watched him walk toward the door of the closet. The wardrobe here wasn't just a shelf - it was practically a room walk-in. Almost every shelf of it was mine now, thanks to all the clothes him, maa sa, choti maa sa and dadi sa had ordered for me without asking. Suits, dresses, lehengas, sarees, skirts, even nightwear... everything sat in neat rows, categorized like a boutique display.
I was still stretching my arms and wrapping the towel tighter around my hairs when, before I realized, he turned and came back.
"What are you-?"
He didn't answer.
He bent, scooped me into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, and carried me inside the wardrobe alcove - where a plush half-sofa lay in the middle of walk-in closet. The moment he placed me there, I blinked in surprise.
"Ansh" I raised a brow.
He leaned down, close to my ear. "Sit still. Don't distract me. I take this mission seriously."
I smiled, crossing my legs slightly, watching him as he stood in front of all those hangers - one hand running through his hair, the other one on his waist. He looked like a man on a war mission.
He scanned everything - starting from the traditional section. A soft peach saree caught his attention first. Then a blush pink lehenga. Then a navy blue anarkali. He held them one by one, turned back to me for reactions, only to find me silently grinning.
He moved to the western side - some gowns, Indo-western fusion kurtis, even a black strappy dress that made his eyebrow twitch.
"Who bought this?" he mumbled under his breath.
"Ishika," I coughed.
He placed it back like it was on fire. "Rejected."
"Biased."
"Protective," he corrected with a wink.
He kept switching back and forth - traditional to western, western to suits. I could see he was confused but enjoying it, secretly picturing each one of them on me.
Finally, he stopped.
His fingers landed on a white cotton Patiala suit - elegant and simple, with delicate silver embroidery around the neck and sleeves, paired with a soft net dupatta with a shimmer border.
He stared at it longer than the others. Something about that white struck him.
"This," he said, without turning around.
I smiled. "This?"
He finally looked at me, eyes softer now. "Yeah... this. You'll look..."
He didn't finish.
He didn't have to.
I already felt it.
"Okay," I said, reaching my hand for the hanger. "Now turn around. Or better, go outside. I need to change."
He raised an eyebrow. "I've already seen all of you, Isha. Remember last night's"
I narrowed my eyes. "Shivansh."
"What? I'm just saying facts. Changing in front of me shouldn't be an issue anymore."
"Out," I said, pointing to the door.
He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Your loss."
I rolled my eyes. "It's morning. Behave."
He stepped back, but just as he reached the exit, he added, "I'll be waiting. And judging the final look very seriously."
Once he left, I changed into the suit slowly. The fabric felt soft against my skin. Airy. Pure. The dupatta shimmered faintly when I moved. I stood in front of the mirror and smiled at the simplicity of it.
It wasn't royal.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was just... soft. Like a memory you didn't want to fade.
Just then, a knock came.
"Come in," I called, fixing the pleats of my dupatta. "I've changed."
The door opened slowly, and he stepped in.
He stood still for a second - eyes slowly roaming over me from head to toe. And then... that smile appeared again. The quiet one. The smile that reached his eyes.
I turned toward the mirror again, picking up the small vanity tray I had kept by the dresser. I wasn't in the mood for heavy makeup. Just a bit of freshness.
I squeezed a tiny pump of moisturizer into my palms, rubbing them gently, then patting them onto my face. He was still standing silently beside me, watching every movement, arms crossed.
I dabbed a soft rose-tinted blush on my cheeks, barely noticeable. Then picked up the bindi - a small silver one to match the embroidery - and pressed it gently between my brows.
And finally... the lipstick.
I chose a deep pinkish-red - not bold, but not subtle either. The kind that makes a statement without speaking.
I uncapped it slowly, and as I looked at myself in the mirror... I noticed him move closer.
Now he was standing right beside me.
Close enough that I could feel his breath on my shoulder.
"You're staring," I said, beginning to apply the lipstick.
"You're teasing," he replied.
I dragged the lipstick slowly across my lower lip, pressing it with care - just to annoy him.
He watched the curve of my lips like they were doing magic.
"Apply that lipstick in front of me again, I'll be the one taking it off--" he whispered. "Slower."
I turned to him slightly, smirking. "Why?"
"Because," he said, his voice huskier than before, "No mercy, no pause and in every way you won't forget, jaana, and if I leave even one smudge of that lipstick on your lips today... I'll feel like I ruined art."
I stopped applying.
My hands still went.
He stepped even closer, gently resting his hand on my waist. I felt his thumb brushing softly against the fabric of my dupatta.
I looked at his reflection - his eyes weren't just looking anymore.
They were devouring.
I tried to apply the upper lip now, but my hands trembled just enough to make me bite my lower lip nervously.
He noticed.
"Oh God," he murmured. "Do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"
I swallowed.
"You're not even trying," he added, his voice rough, low, intimate.
My blush - the actual one on my face - had nothing on the pink that bloomed on my cheeks.
He leaned in, his lips hovering near my ear.
"You're lucky I'm controlling myself. Because if I wasn't," he whispered, "that mirror would've had a whole different view right now."
"Shivansh!" I half-whispered, half-gasped, covering my face.
He chuckled and took the lipstick from my hand.
"You missed a spot," he murmured, holding my chin softly and finishing it himself - precise, slow, delicate.
I stood still.
Frozen.
My lips were parted slightly.
When he finished, he whispered, "Perfect."
And then, without touching the lipstick again... he leaned in and pressed the softest kiss just beside my lips - not on them - so that not a trace was ruined.
I nearly collapsed.
"I said I wouldn't mess up the art," he smiled.
But
I can ruin right!?
He didn't kiss me.
He almost did - lips brushing the edge of mine, like a whisper he wasn't ready to say out loud.
But then he stopped. He pulled back. Just a breath away.
And smiled.
"I said I wouldn't ruin the art," he murmured, his voice low, deep, laced with temptation.
I just stood there - heart beating like it was made of thunder and fireworks and breathless prayers.
And then he did that thing again.
That look.
The way he stared at me - like I was his whole world and he couldn't believe I was real. Like every inch of me belonged to him and yet he was scared to touch. Like he was loving me with his eyes, because words were too weak for what he felt.
I couldn't take it.
I couldn't.
No one had ever looked at me like that.
Not with lust.
Not with desire.
But with love - the kind that sees your soul and says I choose you anyway.
And before I knew it, before I could even think, I moved.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
Soft. Sure. Sinking.
I kissed him.
I kissed him.
And he froze - just for a second. A sharp inhale. A tightening of his hand around my waist.
Like he wasn't expecting it.
But then... he melted into me.
Or maybe I melted into him.
His hands gripped me tighter - one at my lower back, the other sliding up to cradle the side of my face like he was scared I'd disappear. His lips moved against mine, slow at first, like he wanted to memorize every angle, every breath.
Then faster.
Then deeper.
He pulled me flush against him, my dupatta slipping slightly from my shoulder as he walked me backward toward the wall - not breaking the kiss for even a second.
I let my hands wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer - greedy, desperate, dizzy.
It wasn't about lust.
It wasn't even about romance.
It was about everything.
The weeks of tension.
The love we never said out loud.
The way he looked at me like I was everything.
The way I kissed him back like I never wanted to belong to anyone else.
And the moment he bit my lower lip - just enough to make me gasp - I felt his smile against my mouth.
"You started this," he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead against mine.
"And I'll finish it," I breathed, still catching air.
He looked at me again - that same look.
And just when I thought my heart couldn't take more... he kissed me again.
Not desperate.
Not rushed.
But slow.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Like he had already decided...
I was it.
His tongue brushed against my lower lip-a bold move that made me gasp softly, my fingers instinctively tightening in his hair. He didn't hesitate, deepening the kiss, his tongue moving against mine with a mix of curiosity and raw need. It was perfect-our noses bumped, his teeth grazed my lip.
Shivansh's lips moved with a possessive hunger, now sucking on my upper lip, then the lower, his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth so boldly it sent a shiver rippling through me. My fingers curled tighter in his hair, tugging slightly-a small, involuntary plea that made his breath hitch. I tried to match his intensity, my lips pressing harder against his, needy.
When we finally pulled apart, we were gasping for breath, our foreheads resting against each other. My cheeks were burning, my lips swollen and parted.
Then he slid the step of my Kurti and his lips found my shoulder, sucking harder now, leaving behind a faint mark that made my heart skip. His hand slid to my thigh, pulling me even closer until my chest pressed fully against his chest. His warmth bled into me, igniting every inch of skin he touched.
I couldn't hold back anymore. My resolve-whatever was left-cracked completely. My hands slowed as I leaned into him, my body responding to his every movement. "Ansh," I breathed, barely a whisper, more like a surrender than a protest. But I wasn't resisting anymore. I didn't want to.
His lips grazed the base of my neck, sucking harder, his tongue flicking against my skin in a way that made me moan softly, the sound barely audible over the music. His hand slipped under my kurti, his fingers playing across the bare skin of my stomach, tracing circles that made me tremble. I wrapped my hands around his and guided him higher-giving in.
"You started," he murmured, voice low and husky, teasing.
"Toh?" I shot back, breathless, daring him.
"Do you have your makeup products with you?" he asked, turning me around with that infuriatingly casual tone.
I frowned, confused. "Haan... but why-"
"Good for you..." he growled, and before I could blink, his lips crashed onto mine in a kiss so hungry, so suddenly, it stole the breath from my lungs and all the thoughts from my mind.
He pressed me harder against the wall, his chest flush against mine, heat radiating through the thin fabric of my kurti. The kiss turned rougher, more urgent. Possessive. Like he was claiming me with every stroke of his tongue.
My hands, slick with clay, instinctively wrapped around his neck. The cool, sticky feel of the clay smeared against his warm skin. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. I moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, my body arching, helpless against the fire building inside me.
His lips slowed, kissing down my collarbone. Every kiss was a mix of tenderness and raw need. He sucked gently on my skin, his tongue flicking right beneath my shoulder. I gasped. "Ansh," I whispered, my voice trembling.
His lips trailed upward, brushing along my throat. When he kissed the hollow of my neck, I felt myself melt. He sucked harder, then bit gently-enough to make me gasp, my head falling back against the wall.
Then lower. His mouth found the skin of my shoulder, the strap of my kurti having slipped down in our frenzy. He kissed me there too, slow and deliberate, before biting softly again, making me moan. "Ansh," I breathed again, helpless.
His lips shifted to my other shoulder, tugging the second strap down. My kurti slipped, baring more of my skin to him. The cool air met the heat of his mouth as he kissed along my collarbone, coaxing my lips open again with his tongue as he kissed me once more.
He finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his hands cupping my face. My cheeks were hot, lips tingling, slightly swollen, glistening in the low light.
With a low growl, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the nearby sofa. My kurti steps are on the way down to shoulder as he walked. He laid me down gently, his body hovering above mine, one hand braced beside my head, the other tracing the length of me.
Then he kissed me again-hard. Desperate. The kiss reignited the fire inside me. His lips were teased and pressed, pulling soft moans from me with every nip. His lips found the spot below my ear, firm but teasing.
I gasped. My fingers gripped his maroon kurta tightly. My breath hitched as his kisses trailed down my neck, hot and open-mouthed. When he reached the base of my shoulder, he sucked gently-then harder. I moaned again.
His tongue flicked the same spot he'd just kissed, savoring the jasmine scent of my perfume. My head tilted back. My pulse raced under his lips. I shifted under him, restless. One leg brushed his calf as I arched into him. "Ansh..." I whispered, the need to be heavy in my voice.
The sound of his name seemed to ignite something in him. He bit my neck softly, then licked the sting away. My hands slid down his back, nails scraping gently, urging him closer. He obliged, pressing harder against me.
He found a sensitive spot near my collarbone and lingered there, sucking until I whimpered, my body trembling. My fingers tangled in his hair, needing more. He groaned against my skin, the sound vibrating through me. His hand moved from my hair to my waist, gripping the curve of my hip through the heavy lehenga.
I arched into him again, barely breathing. His mouth traced back up to my neck, pausing to nip my earlobe, soothing it with his tongue. I shivered.
Then his lips were back at my neck, kissing down to the hollow of my throat. His tongue dipped there and I gasped, arching into him again. His hand slid up my side, brushing the edge of my bra. My skin tingled under his touch. Each kiss he placed on my neck now was harder, leaving behind a trail of warm, tingling marks.
His breath was warm against my lips, his closeness intoxicating. When his tongue brushed my lower lip, a soft gasp escaped me before I could stop it. My fingers instinctively tightened in his hair, gripping him like he was the only anchor I had at that moment.
And he took that opportunity-deepening the kiss, his tongue coaxing mine with a boldness that sent a ripple of heat through me. It wasn't perfect; our noses bumped, his teeth grazed my lip once in an awkward attempt, but none of that mattered. We were clumsy, breathless, and exploring. And gods, it felt real.
His lips moved with a kind of possessiveness that made my pulse stutter-kissing my upper lip, then the lower, slow and claiming. When his tongue traced the seam of my mouth, I shivered. I tried to match him, pressing my lips harder against his, wanting to keep up, to not lose this thread between us.
Then we broke apart, panting, our foreheads touching. My cheeks burned, lips tingling and slightly swollen, my breath shallow. I couldn't look at him. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to.
He finally looked into my eyes, softened, and took my hand, pressing a kiss to my fingers. I bit my lip, smiling shyly. My cheeks burned as I gently pushed him back. "Bas karo," I murmured, breathless, and got up, adjusting my dupatta and fixing my messy hair.
He stood too, stretching lazily, then helped me to stand up and reach to fix the kurti and then part of my dupatta that had slipped off. That small act-so tender after so much intensity-made my heart flutter all over again.
His breath still lingered on my skin, his lips having just left a trail of warmth across my neck, cheek, and jaw. My heart was racing in a rhythm that didn't feel like my own anymore. My fingers were tangled in the fabric of his kurta, and my knees... I wasn't even sure they could hold me up if I tried to stand.
But then he stood.
Effortlessly.
Like he hadn't just stolen every breath out of me.
And with a gentle tug of my hand, he pulled me up with him-his movements quiet, but his gaze anything but. There was a strange tenderness in the way his fingers brushed over my arm, smoothing the strap of my kurti back onto my shoulder. It felt like he was trying to piece me back together after he had unravelled me.
His hands moved to fix my hair next. He didn't say anything. Just calmly tucked the strands behind my ear and then used both palms to gently straighten the sides of my tousled hair. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks, wiping away any remnants of smeared lipstick or... whatever mess we'd made in those few moments.
I couldn't meet his eyes. I didn't know how. I felt everything all at once-shy, overwhelmed, breathless, shaken.
Still, he leaned in just a little and murmured, voice low and raspy, "Apply some makeup on this, Isha... or at least a bit of concealer on your-"
Knock knock.
We both turned toward the closet door, startled.
He stepped back slightly. His sentence remained unfinished. I could tell he wanted to say something else, but I lifted my palm up, gently stopping him. "Go... take a bath. I think someone's at the door," I said, my voice softer than I expected it to be.
His brows pulled slightly together, like he didn't want to let me go just yet.
He smirked, and I turned on my heel before he could make a cocky comeback. "Take a bath and come downstairs fast, okay? Don't take an hour like last time," I called out, walking out of his closet, then into the bedroom.
I straightened my kurti again as I passed the mirror, then reached the bedroom door, fixing my expression and brushing my fingers over my flushed cheeks.
As I opened the door, Aviyansh stood on the other side, waiting with a half-smile and the patience of someone who had clearly been standing there for a while.
"There you are," he said. "Let's go. Everyone's waiting for you and your husband."
I gave him a look. "First, he's not my husband yet. And second, he's just about to take a bath. He'll join us soon. Let's go-I'll come with you."
He held his hands up in mock surrender, "Fine, fine. Not your husband yet," he said with a grin.
We started walking toward the stairs, our footsteps echoing quietly through the hallway of the grand palace wing.
As we reached the lower floor, I caught sight of the open glass doors leading to the garden. A soft breeze was drifting through. The sunlight lit up the entire area in a warm glow, and everyone was already gathered outside-seated around the long outdoor dining table under the canopy of trees.
I slowed down and turned to Aviyansh. "Okay, you go ahead and join them. I'll just check if something's ready in the kitchen or..."
He raised an eyebrow, cutting me off. "Or?"
"Or if you want to eat something made by me," I said, nudging him lightly.
"Actually..." he tilted his head, thinking. "I was just going to say no, but now that you've brought it up-I do want poha. Like the one you made last time. I still remember the taste."
I laughed. "Of course you do. Okay, you wait here or... you know what, go outside, join them. I'll come join shortly after I make it."
But he shook his head immediately. "No. I'll come with you. We'll talk too. It's been a while since we've had a good conversation."
I smiled softly at that. He was right.
We made our way through the marble corridor, heading toward the large royal kitchen.
When we walked in, I saw that the butlers were already at work-cleaning the counters, putting utensils back, wiping surfaces spotless like they always did in this palace. It felt too polished, too professional. Not like home.
I stepped in and waved my hand gently. "Hey... umm, you all go rest for now. I'll do this myself."
One of the older butlers looked up, slightly alarmed. "No no, rani sa. We'll handle it. You don't have to-"
"I want to," I said, cutting him gently. "I'll just use the stove for a bit. You all have a lot to prepare for later, don't you? Go."
After a little hesitation and some back-and-forth, they finally gave in, bowing slightly before walking out of the kitchen, murmuring soft "yes, rani sa."
I turned to Aviyansh. He was already sitting on the counter, swinging one leg slowly, a slight grin on his face.
"I swear," he said, "You fit into this palace more than anyone I've ever seen. Including your future not-yet-husband."
I rolled my eyes, grabbing the ingredients I needed-flattened rice, onions, mustard seeds, curry leaves, green chilies, turmeric, and a little lemon. "Shut up and help me. You're the one who wanted this."
"Yes, chef," he teased, jumping down and pulling over a small bowl.
He started peeling the onions while I prepped the rest. The sound of oil sizzling filled the air as I dropped the mustard seeds into the pan. It was strange, how peaceful this felt. Just two people in a massive royal kitchen, surrounded by gold-rimmed tiles and marble floors, casually making poha like it was our own apartment back in Delhi.
"So..." he said after a minute, handing me the chopped onions. "How are you really doing?"
I glanced at him. "I'm good."
"Don't give me the Isha-standard answer. I mean really. With all this-bhai sa, this place, this family, the expectations..."
I stirred the onions slowly, watching them turn golden. "It's... a lot. But it's also something I chose. And I think, somewhere in all this chaos, it's teaching me more about myself than anything else ever has."
He nodded quietly. "I know you'll handle it all. You've always had fire in you."
I smiled at that. "Poha with a side of life wisdom. What a combo."
"Only the best when I'm around," he said dramatically, reaching for the salt like a trained assistant chef.
We both laughed, and for a moment, everything felt light-simple. Like we weren't in the middle of a royal palace, navigating relationships, secrets, and responsibilities.
Just I and Avi. Friends. Talking. Cooking.
And waiting for the not-yet-husband to appear freshly bathed and (hopefully) with concealer on his neck.
The air inside the kitchen was still scented with the hint of turmeric and mustard seeds from the poha I had just finished making. Avi was sitting cross-legged on the marble counter, aimlessly swinging his legs like a school kid, as I stirred the final batch in the pan.
"You know what would be legendary?" he said, grinning. "If you start your own food vlog. Royal Rasoi with Rani Isha. What say?"
I gave him a mock glare. "Don't make me chase you out of here with this ladle."
"Ladle of justice?" he quipped, and then burst into uncontrollable laughter, making me roll my eyes and giggle despite myself.
It was light, easy. For once, the world outside didn't matter. Not Shivansh's dramatic moods, not Juhi's side-eyes, not even the weird silence of the rest of the household. Just laughter. Mine and his.
But then we heard footsteps—firm, slow, confident. Coming down the staircase.
Our laughter quieted as a voice filtered in from the hall—deep, calm, but serious.
Shivansh.
I instinctively stilled, placing the ladle down. Avi tilted his head. "Is he... talking to someone?"
We both leaned slightly to the side, just enough to peek from the open kitchen doorway.
Shivansh was coming downstairs, but he wasn't alone. Beside him was Ranveer bhai sa, and both were locked in an intense conversation. Their voices were low, but their brows were furrowed, expressions unreadable. Not the playful banter I'd usually see between them.
"Why do they look like they're plotting a war?" Avi whispered beside me.
"I don't know," I murmured, frowning. "But something's up."
Bhai sa looked visibly tense. Shivansh, on the other hand, had that calm-before-the-storm aura I was all too familiar with.
Just then, Dhruv bhaiyu entered the scene from the hallway, calling out casually, "Yo, what's going on here?"
Instead of answering, Shivansh just looked at him and continued the conversation with bhai sa in hushed tones. That's when it happened.
Bhai sa's eyes flicked up—and landed straight on us.
I immediately yanked my head back into the kitchen like a reflex, accidentally bumping into Avi. "Ow!" he muttered.
"Shh! They're looking!" I hissed, straightening up, brushing my hair down quickly as if that would erase the fact that we were clearly caught eavesdropping.
"I think they saw us," Avi whispered, trying not to laugh.
"You think?" I glared at him. "Be quiet!"
And then came the voice I was dreading.
"Isha?" Shivansh called out, his tone light but unmistakably amused. "Aviyansh?"
I closed my eyes for a beat. Busted.
I sighed, then peeked out again, trying to smile as innocently as I could. "Hey! Uh... we were just... umm... playing?" I winced internally at how dumb that sounded even to me.
Avi, clearly unbothered, casually walked out and said, "Yeah, hide and seek. Classic pre-breakfast cardio."
Shivansh raised an eyebrow. Bhai sa crossed his arms. Dhruv just grinned like he was enjoying this a little too much.
"What were you guys so serious about?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I stepped into the hallway, hands folded.
"We have somewhere to be," Shivansh answered vaguely, exchanging a glance with bhai sa.
"Oh?" I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes. "And what about breakfast?"
"We'll have it later," bhai sa said.
"No," I said firmly, planting myself between them and the exit. "You won't. Because I made poha. And avi tell maa sa and choti maa sa salad. And sandwiches. some chila and cold coffee. So, you're going to eat. Then go wherever this mystery mission of yours is."
Dhruv chuckled. "I like bossy Isha."
Shivansh looked at me for a long second—his eyes scanning my face, reading my resolve. He was about to say something—maybe argue—but then I saw that subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth. That faint, familiar smirk.
"I'm not going to make my baby angry," he said softly, to no one in particular.
"Exactly," I nodded triumphantly, then looked at the rest. "out. Now."
Bhai sa mumbled something under his breath, but bhaiyu was already walking, and Avi offered a playful salute before joining me.
As we all started moving toward the garden where everyone else had gathered, Shivansh caught up to me, walking a little too close.
"You know," he murmured in my ear, "that serious talk we were having… was actually about you."
I glanced at him sideways. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"
He smirked again, saying nothing.
"Shivansh."
"Breakfast first, secrets later," he said simply.
And then, without warning, his fingers brushed lightly over my back, right where he had tugged my dress straight earlier in the closet.
I blinked. "You—"
"You forgot to apply the concealer," he said.
I flushed, instantly remembering our moment earlier upstairs.
Before I could say anything, he casually walked ahead, joining the others near the breakfast table in the garden, leaving me behind, red-faced and speechless.
The breakfast table was bursting with laughter.
Avi had just cracked a ridiculous joke about dhruv's bhaiyu obsession with scented candles, and bhai sa nearly choked on his sandwich. Everyone, laughed at anything silly, was grinning. Everyone was relaxed, teasing, sipping on juice, stealing food from each other's plates like kids. It felt like one of those perfect mornings you'd bottle up if you could.
But then… something shifted.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Shivansh and Aarya, umm Aarya is his right hand in business, he told me that, Unlike the rest of us, they weren't smiling. Their heads were slightly bowed, voices low. They were talking… seriously.
Like actually seriously.
I couldn't hear the words, but I could read the tension on Shivansh's face like a second language.
Dadi sa said to shivansh "shiv eat something first then continue your work." gave a small nod and grabbed a sandwich. Shivansh look at me, barely glancing at the others, and took a few bites—more out of obligation than hunger. I could tell something was off, but I didn't press. Not yet.
A few minutes later, just when things were starting to feel a bit more normal again, Shivansh stood up.
"Avi," he said, his voice calm but commanding, "Eat quickly. We have to go somewhere."
I froze mid-bite.
Avi, who was about to stuff a piece of fruit into his mouth, paused and looked at me.
I looked right back.
In that silent exchange, I knew what he was thinking. What he wanted. He didn't want to go.
Neither did I want him to.
I turned sharply toward Shivansh and said in the most casual but firm tone, "No. He's not going anywhere. We have a plan to watch a movie together, remember?"
Shivansh raised a brow, a ghost of a smile teasing the corner of his lips.
Before he could say anything, Dhruv bhaiyu groaned dramatically. "Seriously?! You two are ditching me? Both of you? I will take revenge for this betrayal!"
I giggled and stuck my tongue out at him like a child. "Revenge denied. Avi's staying here. I want to watch the movie with him."
Shivansh shook his head, amused. "Okay, okay. Enjoy your day." And then, in front of everyone, he leaned forward and kissed my forehead softly.
I tried to act unaffected, but my cheeks betrayed me with that warm flush. Avi noticed and grinned.
As Shivansh, byai sa and bhaiyu left, I leaned into Avi. "So, shall we? The movie marathon begins now."
"Only if you eat first," dadi sa called out from a distance, pointing dramatically at both of us. "Stop whispering and finish your food quietly and completely. This is my order."
We burst into laughter.
Once our plates were cleared and hearts full, we started walking toward the home theatre at the far side of the palace. The hallway echoed with our footsteps.
"Wanna race?" I challenged, bumping Avi with my shoulder. "The winner picks the movie."
"You're on," he smirked.
"Ready… set… GO!"
We bolted.
I was fast. I was winning—until a butler suddenly appeared in front of me, completely unaware.
"Whoa!" I yelped, swerving to avoid him and crashing slightly into baba sa and chore papa, who had just turned the corner.
Only to hear be careful bachha.
Avi zoomed past with perfect timing.
He reached the door to the theatre and slapped it with a triumphant grin. "I win! That's it. You're watching my favorite movie!"
I placed both hands on my hips, breathing heavily. "That was not fair. I got ambushed by your palace staff."
He chuckled. "Excuses, excuses."
I narrowed my eyes. "Do you want to go with Shivansh instead?"
His face dropped instantly. "No."
"Then we're watching my favorite movie."
He held up his hands. "Fine, ma'am. You win."
We settled into the plush velvet seats, the lights dimmed, and the movie began. Halfway through—just when the intermission screen popped up—Avi leaned over and hit pause.
"Isha," he said, eyes twinkling with mischief, "Let's make this more fun."
I shifted closer. "What now?"
"You have to make Bhai blush."
I blinked. "What?"
"If you can manage to make him blush, really blush, I'll do anything you ask."
A slow smirk spread on my face. "Anything?"
He nodded. "Anything."
I leaned back in my seat, grinning like the mischievous devil I was.
"Deal."
And just like that, the movie turned into a mission — and I was very ready to win.
The movie ended with credits rolling, and I stretched my arms out with a yawn. "That was perfect," I smiled, leaning into Avi's side. "Totally worth winning that race."
Avi shook his head with a half-smile. "I still say that butler should've been disqualified."
Just as I opened my mouth to argue back, the theatre door swung open.
And in walked trouble.
The end credits rolled across the screen, casting faint light in the otherwise dim theater room. I stretched my legs out, feeling that satisfying post-movie buzz. But that moment of peace didn't last long.
Avi, who was curled beside me like a smug little cat, suddenly sat up, remote already in hand. "Okay, now it's my turn. My movie."
I turned my head slowly. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope," he grinned. "That was your pick. I sat through The Royal Proposal. Three hours of sparkles, songs, and dancing. Now it's my movie night."
I rolled my eyes. "It was romantic!"
"It was unrealistic."
"It was fun!"
"It was pink overload."
"Oh please, you cried in the middle."
He scowled. "That popcorn was salty. It wasn't tears."
"Liar!"
He lunged for the remote as I grabbed a pillow and swatted at him. In seconds, we were mid-wrestle on the beanbag, pushing each other lightly, laughing and bickering.
"You're so difficult!" he growled, trying to snatch the remote.
"Says the guy who made me watch an entire documentary on ancient warfare last week!"
"That was educational!"
"That was torture!"
"I am your bhabhi, show me some respect."
" We are alone means you are Isha to me for now and your are ny buddy, best friend forgot about I will call you bhabhi. "
And right in the middle of our chaos—
Click.
The theater door creaked open.
I froze, hand raised mid-swat. Aviyansh looked up too.
Standing there, looking like they had walked in on a live sitcom, were Shivansh, Ranveer bhai sa, and Dhruv bhaiyu. Their shoes were still a bit dusty—they had clearly just come from outside. Shivansh had a jacket slung over one shoulder, bhaiyu had his phone in hand, and bhai salooked like he had barely taken off his sunglasses.
Bhaiyu blinked. "Why are you two fighting again?"
Aviyansh stood up like nothing happened, brushing off his shirt. "She's not letting me watch my movie."
"She's trying to force another Aviyansh-style movie," I argued. "Which means weapons, car chases, and explosions. I'm tired."
Bhai sa raised a brow. "That sounds like a solid plot to me." but I glared at him, he just shut his mouth.
Shivansh was quiet, leaning near the wall with that unreadable look he always wore—like he was observing the whole scene but wasn't sure whether to laugh or walk out.
That's when bhaiyu walked in behind them and flopped into the side chair, dramatically placing a hand on his head. "No, Don't even try to understand them. These two don't watch movies. They declare war over them."
Bhai sa gave us both a weary expression like he had seen this a hundred times before. "You two need a treaty."
Then bhai sa said " Let her choose the movie avi, be little mature. "
Mature that to him.
I again glared at him and said "that's mean you don't think I am mature. "
He came besides me and place his hand on me head and said "No, bachha it's not like that, umm forgot what I said for now just choose movie okay!? " I nodded silently and did not want to have a fight with him.
Aviyansh groaned and threw himself dramatically on the beanbag, half-slumped near bhaiyu. He covered his face with his arm.
But then… something changed.
I saw him glance sideways. At me.
And winked.
There was a flicker in his eye- and something had just clicked in my head.
And I understand the deal between us.
Without saying anything, i went to Shivansh slowly and looked across the room—towards aviyansh, and about Shivansh, he had now taken a seat on the sofa, sipping from a bottle of water.
His usual cool expression hadn't changed, but he looked more relaxed now, eyes following the scene in calm silence.
Then, I did something none of us expected.
I casually walked up to where Shivansh was sitting.
Shivansh looked up just as i stopped in front of him. We stared at each other for a second. I couldn't hear anything else or what others were thinking, but I could feel something shift in the air.
I leaned down slightly—and kissed him on the cheek.
Everything stopped.
Ranveer bhai sa's sunglasses nearly slipped off.
Dhruv bhaiyu's jaw literally dropped.
Avi coughed into his sleeve to hide a laugh.
And me? I just sat there with wide eyes, not knowing whether to scream or freeze.
Cause I literally kiss him in front of every one.
But.
Shivansh blinked. His body stilled.
The bottle in his hand paused mid-air. His eyes darted away, clearly trying to act normal, but I saw it—the faintest hint of pink rising up his cheeks. The smallest twitch of a smile tugging at his lips.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
I just pulled back like nothing happened and said casually, "I'll go tell someone to bring snacks, and for the movie. Choose whatever it is you people are watching."
Shivansh didn't move. His eyes were now fixed on the floor, a faint smile betraying him. Even he seemed unsure how to react to that.
Bhai sa broke the silence first, leaning against the wall. "Well… that escalated."
Avi started laughing. "He's so red."
"I'm not," Shivansh mumbled, voice barely audible.
But we all heard it.
And now we all knew.
Whatever just happened—it wasn't just teasing.
It was something more.
And I had a feeling this room would never let him live it down.
He was blushing.
Not a soft pink.
A full-blown scarlet glow on his cheeks.
His ears were red. He was trying to hide it behind his hand, pretending to sip water, but I saw it. And so did everyone else.
The room exploded.
"Areee, bhai! Blushing??" Dhruv bhaiyu gasped, clutching his chest like he'd just been attacked.
Ishika squealed and whispered something to Prisha, who immediately looked at Shivansh and burst out laughing.
Avi threw his head back and clapped. "Ladies and gentlemen, mission accomplished. Red alert!"
Shivansh covered his face and muttered something I couldn't hear.
By the time I came back into the room after giving kitchen staff instructions to send snacks in theater, the teasing hadn't stopped. He was still pink, and now it was trailing down his neck. He tried to play it cool—walked silently to the sofa and sat down like nothing had happened.
But the silence didn't help.
His eyes were on the screen, but his ears were still red.
I slid into the seat beside him, leaning closer with a grin. "So… was that a blush?"
He didn't say a word.
Which was enough of an answer.
I held back a giggle and whispered, "You know what this means, right? I win."
He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I'm never trusting you with this again."
And just like that… my day was made.
The sun was softer now, casting long shadows across the courtyard as if even the day itself was starting to wind down. Everyone had spent their time, their laughter echoing earlier like wind chimes.
After eating our dinner, avi, bhai sa and bhaiyu joined us in the courtyard but sat somewhere not close to us, and the elder one had shifted to their courtyard, and soon, it was just us—Shivansh and I. Sitting at opposite ends of a bench, but close enough to feel the quiet between us stretch and settle.
We didn't say much for the first few minutes.
We didn't need to.
"I have to go back," I finally said, the words slipping out like a confession.
He didn't flinch. Still looking at the moon but his hold is tightening on my waist.
"Some things at the firm are piling up… meetings, planning, and I can't just disappear for days. I love you, but I also love my work. That's part of who I am."
He looked at me—eyes calm, accepting. "I know. And I would never want you to stop living your life just because we're about to start ours together."
I smiled, relieved that he understood.
"And," I continued with a breath, "Mumma called me. Our wedding date is getting closer. She wants me to come back, finalize things, select my outfit, and meet some relatives I've been avoiding."
His lips twitched at that. "Sounds about right."
Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he pulled out his phone. "Let me call the pilot. We'll get the jet ready."
I blinked. "Already done. Dhruv bhaiyu handled everything. I didn't even ask—he just knew. My suitcase is packed, my I'd's ready. I just have to show up."
He nodded again, more quietly this time. "You've always had your world perfectly in place."
"That includes you now, doesn't it?"
That made him look up.
I stood, brushing off my dress. "Let me get my bag. I'll be right back."
"wait, let me get ur laguage. "
And he did.
When he returned with my suitcase, the silence between us had softened. There were no more heavy words left to say.
He took my luggage without a word, loaded it in the car himself. We drove without music, only the sound of the tires on the road and the hum of the world outside.
At the airport entrance, he turned to me.
"This isn't goodbye," he said.
I nodded. "Just a pause."
He leaned in, brushing his lips lightly on my forehead first… then lower, lingering a moment too long.
"I'll see you soon, Mrs. Shivansh Raghuvanshi."
I laughed softly. "You better."
And just like that, I was gone.
On the plane, as I rested my head against the window, I whispered to myself, "I'll miss you… maybe until I'm back in Jaipur againi."
Because even in the chaos, the plans, the packing, and the goodbye kisses—I was still me. And this was still our story.
----------------------------------------------------------------
How was the Chapter??
Aage kya hoga? Hmm?
Share your thoughts and don't forget to click on the star button below.
And follow me on Instagram for spoilers.
đź”—link in bio.
Love you all, bye
Ishđź’—