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Author's POV
By noon, the palace no longer felt silent.
The palace hadn't felt this alive in years.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
Just... warm.
It felt alive.
Sunlight poured in through the tall arched windows of the main living hall, slipping through white curtains, settling lazily on the marble floor and marble floors, half-finished cups of tea,. The air smelled of cardamom tea, fresh fruits, and something sweeter-anticipation.
A living room that was overflowing with people, laughter, and opinions no one had asked for but everyone was giving anyway.
Isha sat cross-legged on the carpet, her dupatta loosely draped over her shoulder, a glass of nimbu pani in her hand. Shivansh sat beside her-not stiff, not guarded-just there. His knee brushed hers, his arm resting behind her, casual but protective, as if his body had finally learned where it belonged. Her hair tied in a messy braid that kept slipping forward every time she laughed.
And she was laughing.
A lot.
"So let me get this straight," Ishika said, waving her phone like she was moderating a debate. "We have three cities, two families, one bride who refuses to wear heavy lehengas, and one groom who thinks traditions are optional."
And the family?
Oh, the family was in full form.
"First of all," shivansh mother said, clapping her hands once to get everyone's attention, "let us decide one thing very clearly-this wedding will not be small."
Isha blinked.
Shivansh sighed knowingly.
"Maa sa," Shivansh said carefully, "we never said-"
"No, no," Dada sa interrupted, waving his hand. "This is not up for discussion. The last time, you two married in different atmosphere, like it was a चोरी-छुपा affair."
Isha coughed, almost choking on her drink.
Shivansh muttered under his breath, "It was kind of a kidnapping."
Isha elbowed him immediately.
Ranveer snorted. Aviyansh burst out laughing.
"Bhai sa," Aviyansh said, leaning forward, eyes shining, "I still remember how she looked at you for days after that."
"I was planning your murder," Isha replied sweetly.
Shivansh smiled. Not smug. Not teasing. Just... fond.
Shivansh's mother leaned closer to Isha.
"This time," she said softly, "we will do everything properly. Every ritual. Every function. No rushing. No forcing."
Isha's throat tightened for just a second-but she smiled.
"Yes, Maa sa," she replied. "That's all I want."
"Venue," chote papa announced, tapping a notebook. "Jaipur or Delhi?"
On the other side of the room, Isha's family had settled in comfortably - her parents exchanging amused looks, her mother already mentally planning outfits, her father quietly listening while pretending not to care but absolutely caring.
"yess," Isha's mother finally spoke, clapping her hands once. "Delhi, Jaipur, or somewhere neutral?"
Jaipur's name hung in the air.
Shivansh's grandmother spoke gently, without pressure.
"Jaipur is our home. But this wedding is theirs."
"Jaipur," shivansh father said instantly.
"Delhi," isha's father countered.
Everyone started talking at once.
"Jaipur has tradition-"
"But Delhi has convenience-"
"What about Udaipur?"
"Too cliché."
"What about Pushkar?"
Shivansh leaned down slightly and whispered, "I think they'll plan three weddings if we let them."
Isha whispered back, "I won't mind."
He looked at her, surprised.
She smiled softly.
"For once... I don't want to hide."
All eyes turned to Isha.
She blinked, momentarily overwhelmed - not by fear, not by hesitation - but by the simple fact that her choice mattered.
"I want Delhi," she said softly.
Shivansh turned to her.
"Delhi?"
She nodded.
"It's where we... began first. It feels right."
No one argued.
"So it's decided," Shivansh's mother said warmly. "One week before the wedding, everyone moves to Delhi."
"Exactly," Isha's father added. "Isha will stay with us."
"And Shivansh," his grandmother said pointedly, "will stay with his family."
A pause.
Then-
"Wait," Isha said, blinking. "That means-"
"No seeing each other," Ishika said sing-song.
"Tradition."
Shivansh looked offended.
"Who made that rule?"
"Generations of people who survived without WhatsApp," Aviyansh replied.
Isha laughed, hiding her face.
"You'll survive."
He leaned down, murmuring just for her,
"I don't want to."
Her ears turned pink.
His hand found hers under the table.
Shivansh raised an eyebrow.
"I never said optional."
"You absolutely did," Aviyansh replied instantly. "Yesterday. Word to word. 'Why do we need seven functions?'"
"That was a valid question."
Isha tilted her head, looking up at him with a mock-serious expression.
"You also said, 'I'll survive with two.'"
A chorus of oohs erupted.
Shivansh sighed dramatically.
"I am being bullied."
"No," his grandmother said calmly, sipping her tea. "You are being prepared."
Everyone laughed.
"Functions," Shivansh's chote maa announced.
"Haldi, Mehendi, Sangeet-no negotiations."
Ishika suddenly straightened.
"Wait-can I plan the Mehendi?"
Everyone turned to her.
Aviyansh raised an eyebrow. "You?"
"Yes," Ishika said confidently. "I know what Isha likes."
Isha smiled at her. "I trust you."
Aviyansh glanced between them, amused-and just a little too attentive.
"And the dates," Raj purohit ji said finally, entering the room with calm authority.
The chatter died down instantly.
He opened his almanac, adjusted his glasses, and said,
"According to the stars... the most auspicious date is-"
Everyone leaned in.
"-the 18th Oct."
Isha's breath hitched.
Shivansh squeezed her hand.
Isha's fingers curled slightly into Shivansh's sleeve.
He felt it.
And this time - he didn't tighten in fear.
He smiled.
Raj purohit ji continued, "Before that, the bride must return to her मायका. Proper rituals. No seeing each other."
Shivansh groaned.
"I'm already married to her."
Shivansh grandmother smiled sharply.
"Exactly. So now you'll learn patience."
Isha laughed-soft, genuine, unguarded.
Her mother-in-law turned to her.
"So," she asked gently, "this time proper everything?"
Isha nodded.
"Yes. This time... properly."
Shivansh looked at her, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face.
She leaned closer and whispered, "It's just a few days. You'll survive."
He whispered back, "Barely."
That alone said everything.
"Delhi it is," Shivansh's grandfather declared. "During the holidays. The palace there will be perfect."
Aviyansh leaned toward Ishika, whispering loudly,
"Called it."
She elbowed him.
"You call everything."
"Because I'm usually right."
She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.
Shivansh's grandmother smiled knowingly.
"This wedding won't just be grand," she said softly. "It will be right."
The room hummed with agreement.
Plans began flying - mehendi themes, music nights, guest lists, debates over food menus that somehow turned into arguments about dessert first or dinner first.
Isha watched it all with a quiet smile.
Not because everything was perfect.
But because everything was real.
The room filled with laughter again.
Teasing. Planning. Arguing over flowers, outfits, guest lists.
But beneath all of it-
There was peace.
No one spoke of the past.
No one pretended it didn't exist either.
It simply... rested.
Quietly.
Finally.
And as Isha looked around-at the family arguing over menus, at Ishika animatedly explaining themes, at Aviyansh pretending not to listen while listening to everything, at Shivansh beside her, relaxed, present, real-
She realized something.
This wasn't just a wedding being planned.
This was a life being rebuilt.
Together.
Later, as the afternoon drifted toward evening, Shivansh found himself standing beside her near the window.
Delhi was decided.
The wedding was decided.
The future was no longer a question mark.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She nodded.
"For the first time... yes."
He didn't say anything.
He just laced his fingers with hers.
And somewhere between laughter, planning, teasing, and quiet moments like this -
their happiness didn't arrive loudly.
It settled.
By the time the decision was made-Delhi, winter wedding, proper rituals-the palace forgot what silence felt like.
It was as if the walls themselves had started gossiping.
Phones rang nonstop. Laptops appeared on dining tables. Files replaced teacups. And somewhere between excitement and exhaustion, everyone forgot who had suggested "a simple wedding."
Because this-
This was anything but simple.
Isha sat curled on one side of the couch, a cup of tea forgotten in her hands, watching the madness unfold in front of her with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Shivansh stood near the center table, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Aviyansh leaned back casually, clearly enjoying the chaos.
Ishika sat beside him, pretending not to listen-failing miserably.
"Okay," Shivansh's grandmother said, tapping her stick lightly on the floor, voice calm but commanding
"Haldi should be intimate," Shivansh's aunt announced.
"Yes," his mother nodded. "Only close family."
"-which includes at least sixty people," Aviyansh added helpfully.
Ishika shot him a glare.
"Stop enjoying this."
He grinned.
"How can I not? I survived one wedding already. This is round two."
Shivansh looked at Isha.
"Tell them you want it small."
Isha blinked.
"...I want it happy."
Everyone froze.
Then his grandmother smiled.
"Good answer."
Shivansh exhaled. Defeated.
"So," Shivansh's father said, adjusting his glasses, "we go to Delhi one week before the wedding."
"Shivansh stays at the palace," his mother continued.
"And Isha," her grandmother said gently, turning toward her, "will stay with her family."
Isha nodded.
"Yes."
Shivansh frowned instantly.
"What do you mean yes?"
She looked at him, eyes soft but playful.
"Proper wedding means proper rules, babyyy."
"I don't like these rules."
"That's because you're the groom."
Avyansh snorted.
"Welcome to tradition, bhai sa."
"So," Ishika said innocently, sipping her juice, "no seeing each other before the wedding."
Shivansh's gaze snapped to her.
"Who invited you?"
She smiled brightly.
"You did. Into the family."
Aviyansh leaned closer to her, murmuring,
"She's enjoying this too much."
Isha tilted her head toward Shivansh.
"You'll survive."
He leaned closer, voice low.
"Barely."
Her cheeks warmed.
Later, amid the noise, Shivansh quietly pulled Isha aside to the balcony.
Jaipur winter planning had begun in full swing behind them.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She nodded.
"I'm happy."
He studied her face-the calm, the glow, the peace that hadn't been there for years.
"I don't want chaos to overwhelm you."
She reached for his hand.
"For the first time... chaos feels safe."
He swallowed.
"I'll count days," he admitted.
"Till I can officially call you my wife again."
She smiled.
"You already are."
"Still. I want everyone to see."
Across the room-
Ishika flipped through a wedding planner, brows furrowed.
"This is ridiculous. How does anyone remember all this?"
Aviyansh leaned over her shoulder.
"They don't. They just pretend."
She laughed softly.
He paused.
It was not the first time he really noticed how her laughter softened her entire face.
"Careful," he said quietly.
"You'll end up planning weddings for a living."
She looked up.
"And what if I do?"
He met her gaze.
"Then I hope I'm invited."
Something unspoken lingered there.
Brief.
Quiet.
Promising.
By evening, the living room looked like a war zone-papers everywhere, schedules written and rewritten, voices overlapping.
Shivansh's grandmother finally raised her hand.
"Enough."
Silence fell.
She looked at Shivansh.
"You waited years."
Then at Isha.
"You survived hell."
Her voice softened.
"This wedding will not be about royalty.
It will be about returning joy."
Isha's eyes shimmered.
Shivansh squeezed her hand.
And for the first time, neither past nor pain stood between them.
Only anticipation.
Only love.
Only a wedding that promised not just vows-
-but a new beginning.
A week later, a week which was full of preparation, notice and love.
Isha parents and ishika went back to Delhi for preparation.
The palace that morning felt... unsettled.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
Just quietly restless - like even the walls knew something was about to change.
Suitcases stood near the door. Neatly arranged. Too neatly.
Isha was sitting on the edge of the bed, folding her night suit slowly, carefully, as if time would pause if she did it gently enough. Shivansh leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes fixed on her every movement.
He hadn't said a word in ten minutes.
That itself was alarming.
"Isha," he finally spoke, voice low.
She didn't look up. "Hmm?"
"You're really going?"
She smiled faintly, still folding. "Shivansh... we discussed this."
"That discussion was hypothetical," he replied instantly. "This is real."
She laughed under her breath and finally looked at him. "You're acting like I'm leaving the country."
"You are," he shot back. "Emotionally."
She rolled her eyes. "Delhi is not another planet."
"For me, it is," he muttered, walking in and sitting beside her. "Because you won't be there."
Isha placed the dupatta aside and turned fully towards him. "You'll be in Delhi too."
"In the palace," he corrected. "And you'll be at your home... elsewhere."
"With my family," she said softly.
Silence stretched again.
Then, suddenly-
"Cancel it."
She blinked. "What?"
"I'll go with you," he declared. "I'll stay there."
Isha stared. "Shivansh."
"I'm serious."
"I know," she sighed, "that's the problem."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was planning a rebellion. "Why can't I stay with you? We're married."
"Because," she said patiently, "we're getting married again."
"That makes even less sense."
She smiled. "Proper rituals. Proper traditions. Remember? No seeing each other before the wedding."
He scoffed. "I see you every day."
"That's because you're impossible."
"That's because I love you."
She softened.
Then hardened again. "And because of that, you'll follow the rules."
He frowned. "I don't like rules."
"I know."
"I especially don't like rules that take you away from me."
She reached out, holding his face between her palms. "It's only a few days."
"A few days too many."
"You'll survive."
"Barely."
She laughed quietly. "You're a king, Shivansh."
"And you're my weakness."
He rested his forehead against hers. "Stay."
She closed her eyes. "If I stay, you'll never let me go."
"That's the plan."
She smiled, kissed his cheek, then whispered, "I need to go. For us."
He pulled back slightly. "I hate that answer."
"I know."
He watched her resume packing, frustration written all over him.
"What if I come to drop you?" he asked suddenly.
"You will not," she replied easily.
"What if I come every day?"
"No."
"What if I accidentally pass by your house?"
"You won't."
"What if I miss you?"
She paused. Looked up.
"That," she said softly, "you're allowed to do."
He exhaled, defeated.
Then quietly, "Promise me something."
She nodded. "Anything."
"Call me before sleeping."
"Done."
"Message me when you wake up."
"Okay."
"Send me pictures."
She raised a brow. "Of what?"
"Of you. Of the sky. Of food. Of walls. I don't care."
She laughed. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're leaving me."
She stood up suddenly, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He froze for half a second before holding her like she might vanish if he loosened his grip.
"I don't like this," he murmured into her hair.
"Neither do I."
"Then why does it feel... right?"
"Because," she whispered, "we're choosing each other. Not running. Not forcing. Choosing."
He kissed the top of her head. "I don't deserve you."
She pulled back just enough to look at him. "Stop saying that."
"I mean it."
"I know," she said gently. "But I chose you anyway."
That broke him a little.
He kissed her - slow, lingering, full of restraint and promise - like he was memorizing her.
When they finally pulled apart, he rested his thumb against her cheek.
"Go," he said softly. "Before I change my mind and lock you in this room."
She smiled through the ache. "I love you."
He watched her walk away, heart heavy but steady.
Because this time...
She was leaving
not to escape him
but to come back to him.
And that made all the difference.
The palace felt... wrong.
Not empty.
Not silent.
Just wrong.
Shivansh stood at the main entrance long after Isha's car had disappeared beyond the iron gates. the palace gates, Shivansh knew-
this was going to be torture.
Not dramatic torture.
Not loud torture.
The quiet kind. The kind that settles in your chest and refuses to move.
The guards had resumed their posts. The engines had quieted. Life had moved on.
He hadn't.
His hands were still clenched behind his back, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the road like if he stared long enough, the car would reverse on its own.
"Rana sa..." one guard hesitated softly.
He lifted his hand without looking.
"Leave."
The guard immediately stepped back.
He stood near the entrance longer than necessary, hands shoved into the pockets of his kurta, eyes fixed on the empty road like the car might suddenly reverse.
It didn't.
Ranveer cleared his throat.
Very deliberately.
"She's not coming back in the next five seconds," he said helpfully.
Shivansh didn't look at him.
"She should've stayed."
Aviyansh raised a brow. "You said that while she was still here. She still left."
"She could've stayed," Shivansh repeated, jaw tight. "She didn't need to go so early."
Ranveer snorted. "You're acting like she's gone to another country. It's Delhi."
Shivansh finally turned, glare sharp.
"She's not here."
That was it.
That was the problem.
Shivansh exhaled slowly and turned around, walking back inside the palace with heavy, deliberate steps-like each one was a protest.
The corridor echoed.
Every step reminded him of the fact that she wasn't here.
Just a few hours ago, she had been walking beside him, arguing about luggage.
"I'm going for just 5 days, shivansh just 5 days and you will saw me 5 day."
"And that is exactly 5 days too many," he had replied flatly.
"You will survive."
"I will not."
She had laughed. Actually laughed.
That memory alone made his chest tighten now.
He entered her room.
Their room.
The bed was made, too neatly. Her pillow still carried a faint trace of her perfume-soft, familiar, painfully comforting.
He stood there for a full minute... then another.
Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed and muttered under his breath,
"This is ridiculous."
The room didn't argue back.
That annoyed him.
Downstairs, the family was already sensing it.
Shivansh's grandmother watched him descend the stairs slowly, shoulders slumped in a way no king's shoulders ever should be.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Why does he look like someone stole his crown?"
Aviyansh, who was scrolling through his phone, looked up once and smirked.
"Oh. That? That's just bhabhi sa withdrawal, and she said before going you can't come to my house everyone just to see me."
Ranveer choked on his juice.
"She's been gone less than an hour."
"And he's been miserable since one second," Aviyansh replied cheerfully.
Shivansh reached the living area, sat down heavily on the couch, crossed his arms, and stared straight ahead like a man deeply wronged by fate.
His mother placed a cup of coffee in front of him.
"Drink."
He didn't touch it.
"Shivansh."
"I'm not thirsty."
She sat beside him calmly.
"You haven't blinked in five minutes."
"I blinked."
"When?"
"Earlier."
No one believed him.
His grandmother leaned forward, voice sharp with amusement.
"She went her to her family to come back again for you. What did you expect?"
"I expected," he said stiffly, "that she would stay."
His grandmother, watching quietly from her chair, smiled knowingly.
"First rule of second weddings," she said calmly, "the groom suffers more."
Shivansh muttered, "I didn't agree to this rule."
His mother walked past him, adjusting her dupatta.
"You agreed the moment you let her go."
Aviyansh burst out laughing.
"She literally told you she's will met you in Delhi."
"She could have changed her mind."
Ranveer raised a brow.
"You tried emotional blackmail, didn't you?"
Shivansh shot him a glare.
"I call it logical persuasion."
"And what logic was that?" Aviyansh asked.
"we can go together there."
"She is happier with her family right now," his mother corrected gently.
He looked away.
That was the problem.
She was happy.
And he was proud of that...
Even if it meant being unbearably alone.
Later that evening, he returned to the room again.
This time, he didn't sit.
He lay down on her side of the bed.
Pulled her pillow closer.
Breathed in quietly.
"This is temporary," he told himself.
The silence answered, It still hurts.
He reached for his phone.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Shivansh: Reached safely?
The reply came almost instantly.
Isha: Yes. Mummy already started scolding me for come late,
Are you okay?
He stared at the screen.
Then typed-
Shivansh: No.
Three seconds passed.
Isha: What happened?
Shivansh: You left.
There was a pause this time.
Then-
Isha: Drama king.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
Isha: we will come back together now after a week.
Shivansh: That is unacceptable.
Isha: Shivansh.
Shivansh: I'm counting days.
Isha: You counted hours when I was still there.
He sighed, rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
Shivansh: Sleep well.
Isha: You too. Don't sulk too much.
He smirked faintly.
Shivansh: I will sulk professionally.
She sent a laughing emoji.
That was worse.
Later that night, his mother quietly entered his chamber.
She didn't say anything.
Just placed a folded shawl beside him.
"For when the palace feels too empty," she said softly.
He didn't reply.
But after she left, he pulled it over himself.
And whispered, barely audible,
"I am coming tomorrow, Isha."
Outside, the palace slept.
Inside, Shivansh Raghavansh lay awake-
not as a king,
not as a strategist,
but as a husband who already missed his wife too much.
Delhi welcomed them the way only Delhi could-
loud, alive, unapologetically awake even when the sun was still climbing the sky.
The convoy slowed as the iron gates of the Delhi Palace came into view, tall and ancient, standing like a silent witness to generations of joy, grief, weddings, wars, and now-another beginning.
Shivansh sat in the back seat, elbows resting on his knees, fingers intertwined so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. His eyes were fixed outside the window, but his mind wasn't here.
Not in Delhi.
Not in the palace.
It was still with her.
"Stop making that face," Aviyansh muttered from beside him, without even looking up from his phone. "Anyone would think you're being sent to exile, not Delhi."
Shivansh didn't respond.
Ranveer glanced at him through the rear-view mirror and sighed.
"Just say it."
Shivansh blinked once.
"She should have come with us."
There.
Out.
Aviyansh finally looked up, eyebrows raised.
"You mean... you wanted to break centuries of tradition, drag the bride-to-be into the groom's palace before the wedding, and get murdered by both families together?"
"Yes," Shivansh replied flatly. "Exactly that."
Ranveer chuckled.
"She's at her parents' house. Safe. Surrounded by people who love her."
Shivansh leaned back, jaw tightening.
"And I'm not one of them?"
The car fell silent for a moment.
Aviyansh cleared his throat.
"Okay, dramatic Rana Sa. You've survived worse."
"That's the problem," Shivansh said quietly. "I don't want to survive this part without her."
Before Aviyansh could reply, the car rolled through the gates.
The palace came alive instantly.
Staff lined up on either side, folded hands, bowed heads, murmurs of "Rana sa" echoing softly through the courtyard. The fountains were already running, petals floating on the water's surface, marigolds draped along the corridors.
Shivansh stepped out of the car, his grandmother weight of the palace settling on his shoulders.
Home.
Yet somehow... incomplete.
"Come let's go inside," his grandmother's voice rang out.
Shivansh turned.
She stood at the entrance, regal as ever, cane in hand, eyes sharp and observant. One look at his face and she knew.
She didn't say it.
Didn't ask.
She gesture with her hand to go inside.
"jus four days," she murmured, patting his back. "after that no oonewill snatched her from you and look at you, you look like the world has ended."
He exhaled shakily.
"She shouldn't be alone."
"She isn't," his grandmother said gently. "And neither are you."
Behind them, chaos had already begun.
His mother was issuing instructions faster than the staff could keep up.
"Curtains need changing in the east wing-no, not cream, ivory. And someone tell the florist I want peonies mixed with mogra. This is a wedding, not a condolence meeting."
His aunt walked in right behind her, laughing.
"You're acting like we're marrying off one son. We're marrying off the heir."
"And our isha," his mother added pointedly. "Who deserves everything done right this time."
Shivansh's jaw clenched slightly at that.
His grandmother noticed.
She placed her hand on his arm.
"Guilt will not prepare a wedding," she said softly. "Love will."
Inside the palace, the noise multiplied.
Ranveer disappeared almost immediately-"meeting with decorators."
Aviyansh was cornered by staff asking about guest lists.
Someone tripped over a roll of fabric.
Someone else argued over color palettes.
Shivansh stood in the middle of it all, strangely quiet.
His mother approached him, eyes softening when she noticed his silence.
"You're thinking about her again."
He nodded once.
"She's probably unpacking," she continued. "Arguing with her mother about clothes. Pretending she's calm."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips.
"She never is."
His mother smiled too.
"She'll be here soon enough."
Soon.
But not soon enough.
Later that evening, when the palace finally slowed, Shivansh retreated to the balcony of his room.
Delhi spread out before him-lights, traffic, life.
He pulled out his phone.
A message from Isha sat unread.
I will not be able to message you now. Don't sulk.
He let out a breathless laugh.
Typed back.
Too late. Already sulking. Palace feels empty.
Three dots appeared instantly.
You'll survive. Rana Sa.
He leaned against the railing, phone pressed to his chest.
"Barely," he whispered.
Behind him, the palace buzzed with preparations, laughter, arguments, plans.
Ahead of him-
a wedding.
A reunion.
A promise done right this time.
And somewhere across the city, she was smiling, knowing he was counting every second until he could stand beside her again.
Not as a man haunted by the past.
But as a groom walking toward his future.
Chaos had already begun.
The moment Isha stepped inside, luggage still in her hand, her mother gasped like she'd returned from a war.
"Look at her!"
"She's came finally!"
"Why is she carrying her own bag?"
Before Isha could say a word, the bag was gone.
Her father took it.
Her mother took her shawl.
Ishika and prisha dragged her inside.
"You're not lifting a finger," her mother declared. "You're getting married again."
Isha blinked.
"I'm already married."
Her mother waved it off.
"Details."
She was pushed onto the sofa.
A glass of water appeared.
Then juice.
Then snacks.
Prison mothers squatted in front of her, inspecting her face.
"Are you eating properly?"
"Yes."
"Sleeping?"
"Yes."
"Is he taking care of you?"
Isha smiled softly. "Yes."
Her mother folded her arms.
"Good. Because if he doesn't-"
"He does," Isha interrupted gently. "He really does."
That seemed to calm them... slightly.
Ishika leaned closer, eyes glittering.
"So... how miserable is he right now?"
Isha tried not to smile.
Failed.
At her house, Isha was already losing control.
Her mother placed a blanket on her shoulders.
"It's not cold."
"It might get cold."
Prisha's mother isha's aunt handed her sweets.
"You're glowing."
Prisha whispered, "He looks dead without you, doesn't he?"
Isha laughed softly.
"Probably."
Her phone buzzed.
Shivansh: Did you eat?
She smiled, typing back.
Isha: I've eaten enough for three people.
Three seconds later-
Shivansh: Good. I'll starve then.
She rolled her eyes affectionately.
Her mother peeked over her shoulder.
"Is that him?"
"Yes."
"Tell him," her mother said firmly, "that if he thinks of skipping meals, I will personally come to their palace and feed him."
Isha typed exactly that.
In raghuvanshii palace delhi, Shivansh sat at dinner, poking his food.
Ranveer watched him.
"You're pathetic."
"I'm committed."
"To sulking?"
"Yes."
Aviyansh leaned back.
"You'll see her in tomorrow."
"That's not now."
Ranveer sighed.
"You're whipped."
Shivansh didn't deny it.
In her house, Isha lay on her childhood bed, surrounded by familiar walls, comfort wrapping around her like memory.
Yet her hand rested on her phone.
Waiting.
Shivansh: Did you reach your room?
Isha: Yes.
Shivansh: Lock the door.
She smiled.
Isha: I'm safe.
Shivansh: I know. Still.
She turned onto her side, eyes soft.
Isha: I'll see you soon.
There was a pause.
Then-
Shivansh: Soon isn't soon enough.
Her chest warmed.
And that's how the chaos began.
One house too full.
One palace too empty.
One man learning how to let go-
and one woman learning that being loved didn't mean being held back.
Delhi awaited.
Jaipur prepared.
And somewhere between sulking and pampering,
a wedding was slowly, chaotically, beautifully being born.
The room was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind-
the kind that presses against your ears when your heart is loud.
Isha lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her phone still glowing faintly beside her. They had just finished talking. Nothing dramatic. Nothing heavy. Just small updates, teasing complaints, stolen smiles through words.
And yet... her chest felt full.
She had already locked the door. Checked the balcony latch. Drew the curtains halfway, not because it's her Routine.
Just because Shivansh ask her to do.
Comfort.
She turned to her side, pulling the blanket closer, whispering softly to herself,
"Sleep, Isha... you have a long day tomorrow."
That was when-
Tap.
She frowned.
Maybe the wind.
Tap. Tap.
Her heart skipped.
She sat up slowly.
The balcony.
Her breath hitched when the sound came again-soft but deliberate.
Knock.
Her feet touched the floor before her mind could catch up. She moved quietly, every step careful, pulse loud in her ears. Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled the curtain aside.
And there he was.
Shivansh.
Standing on her balcony like the most dangerous secret of her life, one hand resting on the railing, the other knocking softly against the sliding door. His hair was messy, jacket half-zipped, eyes dark with something between relief and madness.
Her breath left her in a whisper.
"...Shivansh?"
He smiled. Not smug. Not teasing.
Just tired of missing her.
She slid the door open quickly and hissed,
"Are you insane?! What if someone sees you?"
He stepped in immediately, closing the door behind him, locking it without looking-like he had done this a hundred times before. He turned to her, voice low, urgent, almost breaking.
"I miss you."
Just that.
No greeting.
No explanation.
"I miss you so much," he repeated, hands coming up to her face like he needed to make sure she was real. "I tried. I swear, I tried not to come."
Her voice softened despite herself.
"Then why are you here?"
His forehead dropped against hers.
"Because trying was worse."
Her breath tangled with his.
"I couldn't sleep," he continued quietly. "I kept thinking you're here... and I'm there... and it felt wrong. Like someone moved my heart out of place."
"Shiv-"
"I know," he cut in softly. "I know it's late. I know it's risky. I know I should've stayed away."
His thumb brushed under her eye, gentle, reverent.
"But I couldn't stop myself."
Her eyes burned.
"You climbed up here."
A small, guilty smile tugged at his lips.
"It is pretty normal and I did it many time before also and I used to do worse things for less important reasons."
She let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
"You're unbelievable."
"Say it again," he murmured. "Say anything. I just wanted to hear your voice without a screen."
Her hands found his jacket, gripping it like he might disappear.
"You could've called."
"I wanted to touch you."
The honesty hit her harder than any dramatic declaration.
Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her.
Not hurried.
Not desperate.
Just... full.
Like every hour apart had collected in that single moment.
She gasped softly against his lips, fingers curling into his hair as the world narrowed down to warmth and familiarity and him. When he pulled back slightly, his forehead still resting against hers, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry. I know I should not came here cause of that not-saw each other ritual. But I can't stay away. "
She smiled faintly, eyes shining.
"I also can't."
His lips curved.
"And yet, here I am. Standing in your room like a thief."
"A very bad thief," she murmured. "You didn't even steal quietly."
"I stole peace," he said softly. "Mine. And probably yours."
She shook her head, leaning into him.
"No. You gave it back."
They stood like that for a moment-no rush, no urgency. Just breathing each other in.
Finally, she whispered,
"You'll get caught one day."
He smirked, nose brushing hers.
"Then I'll tell them the truth."
"And what's that?"
"That my wife was alone... and I couldn't stay away."
Her heart stumbled.
"Still dramatic," she said softly.
"Still yours," he replied.
She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat-steady, sure, home.
"Stay for a bit," she murmured.
He tightened his arms around her instantly.
"I didn't come all this way to leave in five minutes."
The night air slipping away as Shivansh stood there, breathing her in like he had crossed oceans just to reach this moment.
Isha was still pressed against him, her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would make him disappear again.
"You're impossible," she whispered, though her lips curved into a smile she couldn't hide.
He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed.
"I know," he murmured. "But I'm your impossible."
She huffed a small laugh. "You could've waited. It's only been one day."
"One day," he echoed dramatically, pulling back just enough to look at her. "Do you have any idea how long that is?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Twenty-four hours?"
He pointed at her like she'd committed a crime. "Cruel woman. Heartless. Completely unaware of the suffering of her husband."
"Husband who climbed into my room through a balcony like a thief," she shot back, folding her arms.
"A romantic thief," he corrected instantly. "There's a difference."
She laughed properly now, the sound soft but full, and something in Shivansh visibly relaxed-as if that laugh alone made the entire trip worth it.
"I missed you," he said again, quieter this time, no drama, no teasing.
Her smile softened. She stepped closer, resting her cheek against his chest.
"I know."
They stood like that for a moment, the room wrapped in silence broken only by the distant city sounds and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Then, inevitably-
"You locked the door, right?" he asked casually.
She looked up. "Yes."
"Double locked?"
"Yes."
"Balcony too?"
She stared at him. "You literally came through the balcony."
He winced. "Right. Minor oversight."
She pushed his shoulder lightly. "Shivansh."
"What?" he said innocently. "I'm just making sure we don't get caught. I have a reputation to protect."
She laughed again and moved toward the bed, sitting down cross-legged. He followed immediately, dropping beside her like it was the most natural place in the world.
The moment he sat, he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.
"You're being very calm for someone who said he couldn't stop himself from coming," she teased.
"That was before," he said. "Now I'm here. Mission accomplished."
She tilted her head. "So what now?"
He leaned back on one hand, studying her face with an expression that was far too soft for someone who liked pretending to be dramatic.
"Now," he said slowly, "I sit here and remind myself that you're real. That you're okay. That you're home. And that I get to miss you properly instead of imagining worst-case scenarios."
Her teasing faded instantly.
She shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder this time. "You worry too much."
He kissed the top of her head. "Only about you."
They fell into a comfortable silence, legs brushing, fingers still tangled. The lamp cast a warm glow around them, turning the room into a cocoon.
After a while, she spoke again, voice lazy and quiet.
"Did anyone notice you coming here?"
He smirked. "Ranveer did."
"Of course he did."
"He said," Shivansh lowered his voice to mimic him, "'Shiv, enjoy your time with her, but if you're not back by morning, I'm telling Badi Maa sa you ran away for love.'"
Isha snorted. "Traitor."
"I said the same thing."
She traced small circles on his palm absentmindedly. "You really didn't have to come."
"I know," he said honestly. "But I wanted to."
That simple statement made her chest tighten.
She turned slightly, facing him now. "You're going to get caught one day."
He shrugged. "Worth it."
She studied his face-the calm in his eyes, the softness that had replaced the heaviness from weeks ago.
"You seem... lighter," she said quietly.
"So do you," he replied.
She smiled, then leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder again. "Stay for a while."
"I'm not going anywhere," he said immediately.
He shifted, pulling her gently into his lap, one arm wrapping around her back, the other settling at her waist. She didn't protest-just curled into him naturally, like this was where she belonged.
They fit together easily, no awkwardness, no hesitation.
"I like this," she murmured.
"Me too."
They swayed slightly, not dancing, just moving enough to feel each other breathe.
After a few minutes, she yawned softly.
He chuckled. "Tired?"
"A little."
He guided her down carefully, lying back against the pillows and pulling her with him, her head resting on his chest, his arm secure around her shoulders.
"Sleep," he whispered. "I'll stay."
She looked up at him, eyes half-lidded. "You better not sneak out without telling me."
He smiled, brushing her hair back from her face. "I'll knock dramatically this time."
"That defeats the whole sneaking concept."
"Then I'll just climb in again."
She laughed softly, eyes finally closing. "Good night, Shivansh."
"Good night, jaana," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.
As her breathing evened out, he stayed awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, holding her like something precious and fragile and strong all at once.
For the first time in a long while, there was no chaos waiting outside the room.
Just love.
Just quiet.
Just them.
Outside, the night stayed quiet.
Inside, two hearts refused to behave.
And somewhere between stolen kisses and whispered laughter, the distance between Delhi and home stopped mattering at all.
The room was wrapped in silence-the kind that only comes after midnight, when the world finally exhales.
Moonlight slipped through the half-drawn curtains, spilling softly over the bed where they lay tangled together, exhaustion finally winning over longing.
Isha slept curled against Shivansh's chest, her head resting just beneath his collarbone, one arm draped possessively around his waist as if even sleep refused to let him go. Her breaths were slow now, even-peaceful in a way she hadn't been in weeks.
Shivansh wasn't asleep.
Not fully.
He lay still, one arm instinctively around her back, fingers resting against her shoulder as though the moment he loosened his hold, she might disappear again.
He pressed a quiet kiss into her hair, barely there.
"I hate nights without you," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
She stirred faintly, her brows knitting as if she'd heard him through sleep.
"Hmm..." she mumbled, tightening her grip. "Don't go..."
His lips curved into a soft, helpless smile.
"I'm not. I promise."
For a few precious seconds, the world was only this-warmth, quiet, and the steady rhythm of two hearts learning how to beat together again.
And then-
A sound.
Footsteps.
Soft, but unmistakable.
Shivansh froze.
His entire body went rigid as his eyes snapped toward the door.
Footsteps outside the room.
Getting closer.
Isha shifted again, her face pressing further into his chest, completely unaware of the sudden panic racing through him.
"Shit," he breathed silently.
The doorknob turned.
But door didn't open, still lock.
Then
Tap.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
He didn't move. Couldn't. Even breathing felt too loud.
The door was lock but still someone knock. Again.
Then
A voice came from other side of door.
"Isha?" her mother's voice, gentle, sleepy. "Are you awake, beta?"
Shivansh held his breath.
Isha stirred at the sound, her eyelashes fluttering open.
Confusion crossed her face for half a second-then realization hit.
Her eyes widened.
She looked at him.
He looked at her.
Pure, silent panic passed between them.
We're dead, his expression said.
Don't move, hers replied instantly.
Before he could stop her, Isha shifted-rolling just enough so her back faced the door, her body blocking him from view. As her mother was standing inside. Shivansh flattened himself instinctively, barely daring to breathe.
"Yes, Mummy?" Isha called out, forcing sleep into her voice. "What happened?"
There was a pause.
Her mother knock her door again maybe asking her to open the door.
Shivansh squeezed his eyes shut.
This was it.
"I heard a noise," her mother said. "I thought maybe you were awake."
Isha yawned deliberately, slow and exaggerated.
"No, I was sleeping," she said. "I think it's just the wind. Balcony door maybe."
Her mother hummed thoughtfully.
Shivansh silently cursed the balcony door behind him.
"Open the door, I'll check," her mother said.
Isha's heart nearly stopped.
"No!" she said too quickly-then corrected herself. "I mean... I locked it earlier. I remember. It's fine."
Another pause.
The light lingered.
Shivansh could hear his own heartbeat now-loud, traitorous.
Finally, her mother sighed softly.
"Alright. Sleep, beta. Big day tomorrow."
"Good night, Mummy," Isha replied sweetly.
The door silently.
Footsteps retreated.
Silence fell again.
For three full seconds, neither of them moved.
Then-
Isha slapped a hand over Shivansh's mouth.
He blinked.
She leaned in, whispering furiously, "Don't. You. Dare. Breathe."
His eyes crinkled with barely contained laughter.
She glared at him.
"You think this is funny?" she hissed.
He shook his head, eyes shining.
"A little."
She smacked his chest lightly.
"You almost gave my mother a heart attack. And me a funeral."
He pulled her hand away gently, fingers threading through hers.
"But you saved me," he whispered. "My hero. No my heroine."
She rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her-curling into a smile.
"You owe me your life."
"I already gave you that," he said softly.
Her breath caught.
The tension melted into something quieter, softer.
She rested her forehead against his chest again, this time fully awake.
"I thought we were caught," she admitted quietly.
"So did I," he said. "I was planning my escape route."
She snorted. "There is no escape route. You'd be dead before you reached the balcony."
He smiled, brushing his thumb against her cheek.
"Worth it."
She looked up at him, eyes warm, shining in the dim light.
"You're impossible," she murmured.
"And you still let me in."
She sighed, nestling back into him.
"Sleep now," she whispered. "No more drama."
He kissed her forehead gently.
"As you command."
She smiled, eyes closing again.
Within minutes, her breathing evened out once more.
This time, Shivansh let himself relax-careful, protective, holding her like the world might try to steal her away again if he loosened his grip.
Outside, the house slept on.
Inside the room, two hearts stayed awake just a little longer-grateful, relieved, and quietly, deeply in love.
Morning had not yet decided whether it wanted to arrive or stay asleep.
The sky outside Isha's balcony was still painted in that soft, confused blue-where night hadn't fully let go, and day hadn't fully claimed its right.
Shivansh stood near the balcony door, already dressed, shoes in his hand, jacket folded over his arm.
And Isha-
Isha was still asleep.
Curled on the bed, one arm hugging the pillow he had abandoned barely minutes ago, hair sprawled across her face, breathing slow... peaceful.
Too peaceful.
He turned back to look at her for the fifth time in two minutes.
How does she sleep like this, he thought softly, after stealing my entire existence?
He walked back quietly, sat on the edge of the bed, and brushed her hair away from her forehead.
"I hate mornings," he murmured.
She shifted.
Not waking up-just instinctively moving closer, fingers catching the hem of his T-shirt.
Shivansh froze.
"...don't," he whispered. "If you wake up, I won't leave."
As if hearing him anyway, she frowned slightly in her sleep and mumbled,
"Drama king..."
He smiled despite himself.
Leaning down, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. Then another. And another.
"For the record," he whispered against her skin, "this separation thing is stupid."
She sighed softly, eyes fluttering open just a little.
"You're leaving?" she asked sleepily.
His heart sank instantly.
"I was trying to escape quietly," he said. "You weren't supposed to wake up."
She looked at him properly now, eyes still hazy, voice thick with sleep.
"You think I wouldn't know?"
She reached for his wrist, pulling him closer.
"Delhi palace. Missing me. Sulking mode activated, correct?"
He groaned softly.
"Don't expose me like that."
She smiled-soft, fond, dangerous.
"You're pouting," she said. "Again."
"I am suffering," he corrected. "There's a difference."
She sat up slowly, tugging the blanket around herself.
"You came at night. You'll leave at dawn. That's fair."
"No, it's not," he said immediately. "I want to leave after breakfast. With you waving dramatically from the balcony."
She laughed quietly.
"And give you away to your family?"
He leaned closer.
"You're cruel."
She cupped his face, thumb brushing his cheek.
"Go," she said gently. "Before you make this harder."
He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.
"I already hate the distance."
"I know."
"I'll call you."
"You always do."
"I'll miss you."
"You already do."
That earned him a small, helpless smile.
He kissed her forehead one last time, then finally stood.
At the door, he turned back.
"Isha?"
"Yes?"
"Lock the balcony after I leave."
She nodded.
He paused.
"...and don't smile like that."
She smiled wider.
By the time Shivansh reached the Delhi palace, the sun had fully risen-bright, unapologetic, and completely insensitive to his emotional suffering.
He slipped in quietly.
Or at least, he thought he did.
The morning light crept into the palace far too innocently for the crime Aviyansh was currently committing.
Shivansh had barely settled into his bed in his chamber-jacket on the bed, coffee untouched, mind very much not in Jaipur or Delhi logistics-when the door swung open without knocking.
Aviyansh leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes glinting with a smile that Shivansh immediately did not trust.
Shivansh didn't even look up.
"Get out."
Aviyansh chuckled. "Wow. Someone came back very early today."
That made Shivansh's pen pause.
Slowly, very slowly, he looked up.
"What are you talking about?"
Aviyansh walked in like he owned the place, plopped down on the sofa opposite him, and sighed dramatically.
"You know... most people who go for a morning jog don't come back smelling like someone else's smell."
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
Shivansh straightened. "Watch your words."
"Oh, I am. Very carefully." Aviyansh tilted his head. "Vanilla and jasmine, by the way. Suits Bhabhi sa."
Shivansh stood up so fast his chair screeched.
"You're imagining smells."
Aviyansh burst out laughing. "Bhai sa, please. You climbed a balcony at midnight like a tragic lover in a 90s film. You think I didn't notice the car missing? Or you sneaking back in before sunrise?"
Shivansh closed his eyes. Just for a second.
This was his punishment.
"What do you want?" he asked flatly.
Aviyansh's grin widened. "A favor."
"Absolutely not."
"Too late." Aviyansh leaned forward. "I keep quiet. You owe me."
Shivansh exhaled sharply. "What."
Aviyansh thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers.
"You'll help me convince Ishika."
Shivansh froze. "...Convince her for what?"
Aviyansh shrugged, suddenly less teasing, more serious.
"For us."
That made Shivansh soften-just a little.
"...We'll talk later," he said. "And if anyone finds out-"
"I'll deny everything," Aviyansh said innocently. "Except maybe tease you forever."
At Isha's house.
Chaos had already started-the comfortable kind.
Her room smelled like home. Familiar. Safe. And yet, empty in a way that still surprised her.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly, when it rang.
Aviyansh.
She groaned.
"Why is this man obsessed with me."
She picked up. "What do you want?"
Aviyansh's voice was far too cheerful.
"So... balcony windows are really useful, huh?"
Isha sat up straight.
"...What?"
"Oh nothing," he said sweetly. "Just wanted to check if you slept well."
Her cheeks burned instantly.
"Aviyansh!" she hissed. "Did you-"
"Relax," he laughed. "I didn't see anything. But Bhai sa definitely looked like someone who hadn't slept alone."
She buried her face in the pillow.
"I will kill both of you."
Aviyansh laughed harder. "Tell my Isha I said hi."
She cut the call.
And then-inevitably-her thumb hovered over Shivansh's name.
She missed him already.
Which annoyed her.
He left six hours ago, she told herself. Get a grip.
But still she miss him and then she calls him.
Morning sunlight flooded the dining hall of the Delhi palace in soft gold, glinting off silver cutlery and crystal glasses. Breakfast here was never quiet-but today, it was louder than usual.
Shivansh sat at the long dining table, posture perfect, expression composed in a way that fooled absolutely no one who knew him well. His jaw was tight. His eyes were a little too focused on his plate. And Aviyansh-unfortunately-had noticed everything.
Around them, the family was settled comfortably.
Shivansh's grandmother sat at the head, sipping her tea calmly with his grandfather. His father skimmed through the newspaper. His mother supervised servants while discussing wedding menus. Ranveer was already on his second paratha. Shivansh chote maa and papa wasn't present-but Aviyansh was more than enough chaos for one table.
Just as Shivansh lifted his cup of coffee, his phone vibrated against the table.
Once.
Twice.
He froze.
Aviyansh's eyes immediately dropped to the phone screen.
"Ohhh," Aviyansh leaned forward, grinning. "Someone's popular this morning."
Shivansh shot him a warning glare. "Eat your breakfast."
Before he could silence the phone, it vibrated again.
Name flashing on the screen.
Jaana
His heart skipped-then immediately panicked.
His mother noticed the pause. "Who is it, Shivansh?"
He cleared his throat. "Work."
Aviyansh nearly choked on his juice.
"WORK?" Aviyansh laughed loudly. "At eight-thirty in the morning?"
Grandmother raised an eyebrow, amused. "Since when does work call you this early, beta?"
The phone vibrated again, insistently now.
Shivansh cursed inwardly.
Across the city, in another house filled with warmth and chaos-
Isha sat cross-legged on her bed, phone pressed to her ear, brows furrowed.
"Why is he not picking up?" she muttered.
Her phone buzzed with a message-from Aviyansh.
Avyansh: Good morning, Bhabhi sa 👀
Missing someone?
She groaned. "This man!"
She immediately called Shivansh again.
Back at the palace-
The phone rang.
Loudly.
This time, even his father looked up from the newspaper.
"Shivansh," his father said calmly, "your phone."
Aviyansh smirked. "Answer it. Maybe it's very... important work."
Shivansh exhaled sharply, stood up, and said, "Excuse me."
"Oh no," Aviyansh added sweetly. "Put it on speaker. Family believes in transparency."
"Aviyansh," Shivansh warned through clenched teeth.
Grandmother waved a hand. "Arre, answer it here only. What's the wrong or are you cheating on isha? that you can't answer phone call here?"
With absolutely no escape left, Shivansh tapped the green button-without realizing speaker was on.
Isha's voice filled the entire dining hall.
"Shivansh, are you serious? I call you five times and you-"
She paused.
"...why is there an echo?"
Aviyansh burst out laughing.
"GOOD MORNING, BHABHI SA!"
Silence.
Absolute, deadly silence.
Isha's soul left her body.
"...Bhabhi sa?" she whispered.
Shivansh shut his eyes.
His mother's lips curved into a knowing smile. His grandmother leaned back, delighted. Ranveer clapped once, dramatically.
"Ohhh," Ranveer said. "So this is work."
Isha panicked. "I-I'm sorry-was that on speaker?"
Aviyansh leaned closer to the phone. "Yes. And breakfast is very entertaining now."
Shivansh grabbed the phone. "Isha-"
She cut him off, mortified. "WHY DID YOU PICK UP ON SPEAKER?"
"I didn't know," he muttered.
Grandmother chuckled softly. "Good morning, Isha beta."
Isha swallowed hard. "...Good morning, Dadi sa."
Her voice softened immediately.
Shivansh's mother added warmly, "Did you sleep well?"
Isha relaxed a little. "Yes, Maa sa. "
Avyansh wasn't done. "Bhabhi sa, did someone disturb your sleep last night?"
Shivansh shot up. "AVIYANSH."
Isha froze. "...what?"
Ranveer raised both brows. "Last night?"
Shivansh's father folded his newspaper slowly. "Shivansh."
Isha's brain short-circuited.
"I-he-no-Aviyansh is lying!" she blurted out.
Aviyansh laughed like a villain. "Am I?"
Shivansh pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're dead."
Grandmother laughed openly now. "Relax, relax. We're not questioning anything."
Shivansh's mother smiled knowingly. "But beta," she said gently into the phone, "you sound like you wanted to complain."
Isha sighed, defeated. "Yes. Your other son's is blackmailing me."
Aviyansh placed a hand on his chest. "Exposing truths is not blackmail."
Shivansh growled, whisper to aviyansh and on one can hear them now. "Name your price."
"Hmm," Avyansh pretended to think. "I want front-row access to all wedding chaos. And-"
He looked at the phone. "-Ishika's number."
Isha's eyes widened. "WHAT?"
Shivansh snapped, "NO."
Aviyansh grinned wider. "Then I'll tell everyone how someone climbed balconies like a-"
"STOP," Shivansh barked.
The table erupted in silence
Isha covered her face with a pillow. "I hate you both."
"No, you don't," Aviyansh said smugly.
Grandmother stood up, satisfied. "Alright, enough drama for breakfast. Shivansh, eat properly. And Isha beta-"
"Yes, Dadi sa?"
Her voice softened again.
"We'll see you soon. Wedding is waiting."
Isha smiled despite everything. "I know."
Before the call ended, Shivansh finally spoke softly, just for her.
"I'll call you later."
She heard the promise beneath the words.
"I'll wait," she replied quietly.
The call disconnected.
Shivansh looked up to see his entire family staring at him-smiling, teasing, knowing.
Ranveer clapped him on the back. "Breakfast with entertainment. Best day ever."
Aviyansh whispered, "Balcony Romeo."
Shivansh took a deep breath.
This wedding... was going to be chaos.
And for the first time in a long time-
He didn't mind at all.
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