SAANVI'S POV

"Owner is here too, pearl."

My body goes still. His breath hits my ear, warm and close enough to send a current down my spine. I glance sideways and see his hands, sleeves rolled up, veins visible, palms resting on either side of the bike, boxing me in.

He's here. Right behind me.

Fuck.

I take a slow, sharp breath and turn around. My stomach drops the moment I meet his eyes, blank, cold, and unblinking.

I'm so screwed.

My hand slips toward my purse tucked behind my thigh, fingers brushing the car keys.

"I can explain." I murmur.

He tilts his head slightly. "And I really admire that audacity."

Hell, he's actually scaring me.

Before I can think twice, I shove him back and sprint toward my car. My heart's thudding so hard I can barely feel my hands as I press the unlock button. I just need to get away. Let him cool off. He'll calm down by morning.

My hand shakes as I grab the car handle. I risk one glance back, he's standing there, rubbing his forehead, watching me. I slide inside, buckle up in a rush, and start the car.

"Don't make it worse for yourself, Saanvi."

He uses my name. That's never a good sign. He only says it when he's either hurt or furious and judging by his face, it's definitely the latter.

I drive off, the tires screeching lightly against the asphalt. The streetlights blur past, the city quiet except for the sound of my own breathing. I keep my eyes forward, trying to calm my breathing, rubbing my forehead with one hand.

Then I glance at the rearview mirror and my eyes widen.

The fuck! He's actually coming behind me.

I press the accelerator harder, but who the hell am I kidding? He's a rider. This is his terrain.

I see his bike slide up beside my window, his head turning toward me through the visor. Then he speeds ahead and cuts across the lane, stopping dead in front of my car.

"Shit!"

I slam the brakes. My body jerks forward, the seatbelt digging into my chest. My breath comes out uneven as I look up.

He gets off his bike, removes his helmet, and sets it on the seat. Then he looks straight at me. I grip the steering wheel tighter, knowing damn well this time, I really fucked up.

He starts walking toward me, and I notice he's still in his formal outfit, just without the blazer. His sleeves are rolled up, veins visible on his forearms.

I snap out of my thoughts and reach to lock the car but it's too late. He yanks it open so fast I nearly topple sideways. My stomach twists. He leans in, unbuckles my seatbelt, and I press myself back into the seat, barely breathing as his scent hits me.

"Rudra-"

"Don't." He warns.

Before I can process, he scoops me up effortlessly. My hands wrap around his neck, not entirely voluntary, I'm part panicked, part in awe.

"Where are we going?" I manage, glancing back at my car. "My car-"

"You should be worrying about how I'm going to deal with you." He presses me closer.

My eyes snap back to his face. What the hell does he mean by that?

And why does my brain choose this exact moment to wonder if we're about to have angry sex? Not that I'd stop it. Fuck, what's wrong with me? How am I even thinking about that when he looks like he's about to commit a murder or kiss me until I forget my name?

He sets me on his bike, places his helmet over my head, and lowers the visor. His fingers linger for a second on the edge of it before he steps back. Then he swings a leg over, starts the engine, and the roar fills the silence.

As he speeds off, the wind slaps against us, and I tighten my arms around him, clutching his shirt.

--------------------

He stops the bike.

Perfect. My one shot to get inside before he starts the inevitable lecture.

I jump off, yank the helmet off my head, and start running toward the door.

I punch the password into the gate. It unlocks with a soft click, and I rush inside, tossing the helmet on the couch. I glance back, fuck he's following. Not fast, not angry. Just walking. Like a predator that knows the prey will tire before it does.

I take the stairs two at a time and slam my bedroom door shut, locking it before he reaches the landing. My forehead hits the wood, breath shaky, heart thudding in my chest.

"You know I'll get in sooner or later," the way he says it makes my stomach drop. That tone, calm, certain is far scarier than if he'd yelled. "So open the door, Pearl."

"I don't want to talk to you. Just... go sleep in your room," My voice doesn't sound half as confident as I wish it did.

"You don't get to hide behind a locked door after screwing up like that. Open it."

I squeeze my eyes shut. I hate this. I hate that he's right. If the roles were reversed, I'd have dragged him into a conversation by now, forced him to face it. But when it's me, I bolt. I act like a damn coward. Hypocrite doesn't even begin to cover it.

"I'm serious, Rudra. I don't want to talk tonight."

Then the taps stop. I hold my breath and press my ear to the door. His footsteps move away, fading down the hall.

He left? Just like that? I thought he'd break the damn door before letting me run from him. I step back, frowning.

Maybe he's really done this time. Either way, I'll apologize tomorrow. He always forgives when I say it right, when I smile.

My skin prickles at the faint sound near the balcony. I turn, frowning at the glass door. The curtains sway slightly, and then he appears from the side.

Fuck.

I rush forward, reaching for the lock, but it's pointless. He slides the door open in one smooth motion and steps inside. I spin toward the main door, grab the knob, twist it open but his palm slams hard against it, shutting it again with a force that makes me flinch.

Before I can react, his arm wraps around my waist, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing. My knees fold against him. "Rudra! Wait-"

He doesn't answer. He turns, moves a few steps away from the door, and sets me down. I stumble slightly, my back brushing the wall. He's blocking the only exit.

"Listen," I start quickly. "I can explain. I swear I didn't mean to go outside, it just-"

He scoffs, cutting me off. "Oh really? So your pretty legs just accidentally walked you there? Must be nice having limbs with a mind of their own. Tell me, should I deal with your brain or your legs?"

My cheeks flush hot. "Rudra, you can't talk to me like-"

"Shut up."

Damn, he's even shouting in lowercase. What a softie.

He steps closer, and I keep backing up until his hand catches my wrist. I could pull away, but I don't. I know he wouldn't hurt me. Not even like this. Even his anger feels... safe. He tugs me closer, fingers sliding up to my jaw, tilting my face up. His breath brushes my skin when he speaks. "What did I tell you this morning?"

I swallow. "To not leave the residence."

"And what did you do?" His voice drops lower, quiet but heavy. "You stepped out anyway. You think this is a game?"

I shake my head, though honestly, my thoughts aren't helping. Because all I can think is, how does he manage to look so dangerously good when he's angry? His scent, his closeness, his voice, it's criminal. My heart's in freefall and my brain's fangirling. I'm supposed to be scared. Why the hell am I turned on?

"Stop it."

I blink. "Stop what?"

"Stop digging into my past."

So he knows.

I pull away from him. "I won't. Because apparently, you won't tell me anything about your past. So I did the only thing I could.

His jaw locks. "You left the residence alone. You even understand the gravity of that? Yashwant's men are out there looking for you. You could've been taken, and you think this is the time to play detective?" He exhales hard, rubbing his forehead. "For a neurosurgeon, you've got a dangerously underdeveloped sense of logic."

My mouth falls open. Did he just-? The fuck? He might not hurt me in anger, but he's roasting me alive and it's insulting as hell.

"Watch your mouth," I snap, pointing at him. "Just because I made a mistake doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that. I'll do whatever I want. I'm not some slave trapped in your world or Yashwant's. I refuse to hide behind walls for the rest of my life."

He lets out a dry laugh, sharp and humorless. "You'll do whatever you want? Great. Maybe next time you'll also hand yourself over to them." His voice turns colder. "Do you even hear yourself right now?"

I cross my arms, defiant. "I don't care. And if I have to, I'll find out everything about your past myself."

He steps closer. "You won't. Because I don't consent to that. And if you do, you'll regret the method more than the result."

I tilt my head, meeting his stare. "Yeah? And how many fucks do I look like I give?"

"Careful, Pearl. You're crossing a line." His composure snaps.

"Oh, I crossed it long ago."

"Clearly." He scoffs. "What else do you want to know? I told you already. Anvika was my ex. She cheated on me with her best friend, Mahir. I found out on our anniversary. That's it. End of story. You're a doctor, not a spy so start acting like one and learn to respect boundaries."

I let out a breathless laugh, disbelieving. "Boundaries? You're talking to me about boundaries? You, Rudra Singhania? You dug into my past, about my mother, about everything I tried to bury and you did it behind my back. You think I don't know? Or do you want me to believe you just magically found me by coincidence? What's next you going to deny you were tracking me?" I narrow my eyes. "Are you stalking me?"

His gaze flicks to my wrist before meeting my eyes again.

"Stop diverting the topic," he says. "I did what I had to do. And don't forget who I am. I'm not just your husband I'm a field agent for the NVC. Tracking, digging, protecting, that's my job."

I raise a hand, cutting him off. "Don't insult my intelligence. That was after you found out Yashwant is Alfred. But before that? You were already researching me, Rudra. You were obsessed with knowing things I wasn't ready to share."

His jaw flexes. "Yeah, I did." He steps closer. "Because I fucking love you. And when you love someone who keeps locking every door, you find another way in. You wouldn't talk to me, you wouldn't trust me, and I was scared I'd lose you to whatever the hell you were hiding." He exhales. "But that doesn't give you the same right. I had a reason. I love you. That's why I did it. You don't get to dig into my past behind my back and act like it's your moral duty to fix me. It's not. My demons aren't your burden, and I don't need you trying to save me. I already took care of it."

I feel trapped. I want to tell him how much I love him, that his pain isn't something I carry out of pity but because it's a part of him and I've already accepted every piece of him, even the broken ones. That should be reason enough to want to know his past. But I can't say it. If I do, it'll sound like pity, and that's the last thing I want him to feel. That would only make him retreat further.

"Listen, Rudra," I say carefully, trying to keep my tone calm. "We're giving our marriage a real chance this time. And that means being transparent. You know everything about me, but I don't know everything about you. If we want this to work, we can't keep walking around things that still hurt. I'm not asking to judge you. I just don't want to repeat what happened before."

He exhales slowly, his eyes drifting away before settling back on me. "Have you still not forgiven me?"

"Rudra," I stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhaustion. "Please, that's not what this is about. You're-"

"No, you're the one not understanding. I said I'd trust you no matter what. I learned from my mistakes. I'm not repeating them. I trust you more than anyone, Pearl. That should be enough."

"I know," I say quietly. "I know you trust me now, and I believe that. But this isn't about trust. It's about what that trust costs you. What if something from your past still affects you, even if you pretend it doesn't? You can't keep it buried forever just to prove you've moved on. That's not healing, Rudra. That's hiding. And I don't want you to keep hurting silently just because you think you have to protect me or this marriage."

He looks at me flatly. "No."

I let out a sharp breath. "You're impossible sometimes. You do realize silence won't make it disappear, right?"

"Stop it. Please." The tremor in his voice catches me off guard. He looks away, blinking hard as if he's trying to swallow the emotion building in his throat. "Why can't you just accept me as I am? Why do you need to dig into things I'm trying to forget? Is that so important to you?"

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Rudra," I say gently, stepping closer and taking his hand. "I just want to understand what you've been through."

His eyes lift to mine. "You are hurting me. I've made peace with it. I don't want to go back there again."

I stare at him for a long moment.

It hits me then. Rudra isn't hiding from his past. He's terrified of it. Rudra. Rudra Singhania, the man who faces threats and danger like it's nothing, he's scared of something from his past? It doesn't fit. Not in the way I know him. But if even he can be broken by it, then whatever happened with Anvika must have been far worse than I ever imagined. Worse than anything I can picture.

And it terrifies me too, because it means that even now, the man I love is carrying something he can't share, something that has the power to hurt him again. I need to be careful. I need to be patient. But I also know, with absolute clarity, that I can't turn away from this.

Taking a sharp breath, I look at him. "So you want me to stop?"

"Yes."

I give a small, sarcastic smile. "And you really think I'm going to obey like some good little wife?"

His jaw tightens. That flicker in his eyes, it's anger. I'd take that over the hurt any day.

"This arrogance of yours," he says through his teeth, "is getting out of hand."

I raise a brow and trace my fingertip along his jaw. "Oh, come on, Rudra. Don't act like you don't remember what you said before our marriage. 'I don't just tolerate your arrogance, I crave it. It's part of who you are, and I wouldn't change a damn thing about you.' Ring a bell?" I tilt closer until my breath brushes his lips. "Back when I asked you to call the wedding off. You said you wanted this. But look at you now. Seems like you finally met your limit."

His throat bobs as he swallows, gaze flicking away, his fists curl at his sides.

I grab his jaw, forcing his face toward mine. "Some things never change, Rudra. You and your goddamn ego. Me and my defiance. And no matter how many times you try to tame me, I'll still enjoy tearing that ego of yours apart."

He exhales harshly and pries my fingers off firmly. He steps back, creating distance.

I chuckle under my breath. "What's wrong? Sassed by your wife again?"

His eyes lift to mine. "Keep running that mouth and I'll have no choice but to shut it."

I tilt my head lazily. "With what? Another lecture?"

"With my fingers. My tongue. Or..." He pauses and my eyes drop to his crotch. "-yeah, that too."

My jaw nearly hits the floor before I recover, scoffing, trying to sound unaffected even as my face burns. "Is that the best you can do? Shut me up?"

He scoffs. "You know what? Fuck it, I'm done playing fair while you are being arrogant." He walks closer to me again. Before I can even register a full thought, his hand is under my ribs, and he lifts me easily with one arm, my feet dangling uselessly.

He crosses the small distance to the bed, not bothering to set me down gently, and I go flying onto the mattress, bouncing once with a startled oof. I frown, pushing myself up on my elbows, a spark of pure annoyance igniting inside me. I try to scramble back toward the headboard, but he already placed a knee on the bed, closing the gap. Before I can crawl an inch, his hands wrap around my ankles and yank, a rough, possessive pull that throws me back down flat.

One second he's standing, the next he's a heavy, breathing weight on top of me, his chest pressed hard against mine. His breath is coming in ragged bursts, warm against my neck. This is it. This is exactly the scene I used to devour in paperbacks, a cliché made terrifyingly real. I stare at him, close enough to count the fine lines of tension around his eyes, and my stomach is a mess of frantic butterflies, excitement, a deep, sickening thrill. My hands stay braced on his shoulders, a flimsy barrier that I don't try to strengthen.

"If you are so in love with defying me, then I hope you like the aftermath too." His words barely leave his mouth before his lips crash onto mine. My eyes close instantly and my hands stop pushing, instead curling around the back of his neck, locking him to me. What a magnificent, oblivious idiot. Who in God's name is going to tell him I'm not just liking this aftermath, I'm practically craving it?

He pulls back just enough for his lips to drag a searing line down under my jaw. ​"Let me be clear," he murmurs, "that leg you love crossing with attitude? I'll be the reason it stays wide open and trembling next time you try to sass me." He punctuates the threat by suddenly thrusting his knee between my legs, pressing firmly into the throbbing, sensitive spot I've been trying to ignore. I gasp as my fingers clench his shirt into tight, desperate wrinkles.

"Fuck you, bastard." I manage, the words a raw blend of pain and pleasure.

"You want to?" he whispers right into my ear, his breath hot and moist. My head rolls back, arching my body into his soft, husky voice.

"S...stop talking," I whisper.

"Or what?" He whispers again, the question simple, arrogant, and devastatingly effective. I can't help the reflex, my thighs clench around his knee. "Hmm?"

"Rudra, please stop... talking," I say, the plea stolen from me as my head falls completely back, exposing the vulnerability of my neck.

"I keep wondering... what would happen if we actually crossed that line." He mutters, his lips moving down my collarbone, then latching onto the sensitive skin of my cleavage, biting down lightly.

I push hard against his chest, catching him slightly off guard, and using the momentum, I twist. In one awkward scramble, I'm on top, straddling his hips, still breathing hard, my chest rising and falling violently. He looks up at me, a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes, but it's quickly replaced by a slow, infuriatingly pleased smirk.

"You enjoy my misery, don't you?" I demand.

He gives the slightest shrug and lifting his hands places them on my inner thighs, his thumbs beginning to rub soft, circular motions. "Don't blame me. Looking at you pleading sometimes, when you are at my mercy, is kind of satisfying when I always see you dominating me."

I let out a soft scoff and lean into him planting my mouth on his, kissing him with a sudden, bruising force. His hands slam onto my waist, gripping tight enough to bruise, pulling me down until I'm glued to his center. I deepen the angle, twisting my mouth against his, pouring every ounce of the adrenaline and frustration. Our chests press together, a solid barrier of bone and muscle. His hands don't pause, they move, a scorch mark tracing the curve of my hip, then riding up my ribcage.

I break the connection, dragging my lips down his throat. His hands tighten on my waist, grounding me to him. I track down, past the prominent line of his Adam's apple, and stop where the lipstick tattoo rests. I bite down and I hear his deep, soft, throaty moan.

The sound goes straight through me. It vibrates in the air in my body, a low, masculine thrum of pure surrender. Never in my life did I think I could feel such a potent, electric surge of triumph and pleasure just from the sound of a man moaning.

I move to the hollow of his collarbone, sinking my teeth in hard enough to mark him, then soothing the spot with a gentle, possessive suction. His hands leave my waist, shooting up to tangle in my hair.

I pull back, gasping, our breaths mingling in the confined space above us. We both stare. I study the evidence, a vivid red mark blooming over the lipstick tattoo, and a darker, swelling bruise near the curve of his other collarbone. It's the first time I've actively claimed him this way.

"You sometimes become... an animal," he whispers.

I let a slow, satisfied smirk bloom across my face. "Then think before you provoke the animal from now on."

He pulls me forward again, right against his chest. I shift my weight, settling perfectly astride his hips. "Then I guess I'll always provoke the animal," he murmurs, "because I love that animal behavior."

I can't help the low, genuine chuckle that escapes me. I lean my head down, resting my temple against his chest.

•NEXT DAY•

"Done?"

His voice comes from the door just as I finish adjusting my bindi. I glance at the mirror once more, making sure everything is in place, the light pink saree with its delicate floral blouse, the embroidered waistband that hugs my waist, and the pearl pendant resting against my collarbone.

I turn slightly. "Yes, I'm done."

He walks in almost immediately, like he's been waiting for that word. I catch his reflection in the mirror and laugh softly. "You're not even going to pretend to wait outside, are you?"

"Not when you look like that," he says. He's wearing a dusty pink kurta that matches my saree a little too well to be coincidence. "You know, you look beautiful in that."

I smile. "That's the point of dressing up, isn't it?"

He moves closer, his gaze lingering on my face before stopping near my forehead. His brow furrows. "You applied vermilion?"

I nod slowly. "Yeah. How does it look?"

"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to. You'd look beautiful either way."

"I know," I say, meeting his eyes. "But I wanted to try it. My mumma used to wear it on special occasions... it reminds me of her."

Something in his expression eases. He gives a small nod. "Then keep it. It suits you. Especially because you chose it."

I realize something as I look at my reflection, these ornaments were never meant to be cages. They were once symbols of beauty. The vermilion, the mangalsutra, the jewelry, they're all stunning in their own way. But over time, people twisted their meaning, wrapping them in conditions and control until they became weapons to measure a woman's purity and devotion. When women who wanted to wear them were praised, and those who didn't were shamed or labeled as disrespectful.

It's about hypocrisy. The idea that a woman's identity must always be visibly attached to her husband's name, while his existence remains untouched. It's the imbalance that makes women hate these ornaments, not the ornaments themselves. Because no woman minds adornment what she minds is being told what her adornment should represent.

It's almost ironic. These things were created to celebrate womanhood, yet somehow they became tools to control it. They were never the villains our society's mindset made them so. If they had simply remained choices instead of expectations, women wouldn't feel the need to reject them to protect their autonomy. Because truthfully, there's nothing wrong with embracing something traditional, as long as it's on your own terms. If these symbols were treated as choices instead of duties as something a woman wears because she wants to, not because she's supposed to then they'd still be beautiful.

And that's why I respect Rudra, he never made me feel like I had to prove I'm his wife. He wears his wedding ring, he wanted to. I don't wear mine, and he never questioned it. He even tattooed my lipstick mark with "wife's claim" written but it wasn't to mark ownership. It was his way of saying he chose me without asking for proof in return. That's the bare minimum every man should meet and yet, somehow, it feels rare enough to be worth appreciating. For the first time, I feel like I can embrace tradition without losing myself in it.

"I hate to pull you out of your thoughts, Pearl, but we're running a little late. Your brother hasn't stopped calling," Rudra says, his hand brushing lightly against mine as he catches my wrist.

I glance at him. "Why is he acting like this all of a sudden?" I mutter, rolling my eyes as I grab my purse.

"Because he's a father now. Today's his son's naamkaran and they're waiting for us, he's allowed to panic a little." he says, letting his thumb brush across the back of my hand.

Right. My brother and bhabhi, parents to a two month old, finally back in India after her delivery in Houston. It's been barely a week since they landed, and today's the baby's naming ceremony.

"Shit, my medicines," I say, slapping my forehead. I start reaching for the drawer, but Rudra catches my wrist again.

"I've got them. Don't worry," he says softly, giving my wrist a reassuring squeeze. "Let's go."

We step outside together, and I instinctively loop my fingers through his as we walk. "What about Maa and OG? They reached?"

"Yes," he replies, pulling me a little closer so his chest brushes against mine as we fall into stride.

AUTHOR'S POV

"Finally."

Saanvi's smile fades the moment she sees her brother standing at the door.

"Itni jaldi kyun aa gayi aap, Maharani? Aram se ati," Vikram says, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

(Why did you come so soon, Your Highness? You could've taken your time.)

She rolls her eyes and glances at Rudra, who stands beside her, awkwardly. "Don't mind him. He just barks," she says, pushing Vikram aside and pulling Rudra inside, their fingers still loosely intertwined.

Inside, Abhiraj and Anubhav sit on the couch, mid conversation. The moment Anubhav spots her, his face softens into a broad smile. He was about to stand when Saanvi hugs Abhiraj first, making Anubhav quietly settle back.

Abhiraj lets out a small, secretive smile and hugs her back. "How are you, stupid nurse?"

Saanvi looks up, smirking. "As always, beautiful."

He exhales a laugh. "Delusional? Still?"

She pulls away, giving him a pointed glare.

"Dad, why do you always mess with her?" Rudra's voice comes from the couch where he's now sitting beside Anubhav.

Abhiraj shrugs. "What? I didn't say anything wrong."

Before Saanvi can respond, Vikram joins them. "Where's the lie? Look at her. She takes extra hours just to look like a witch."

Saanvi stares at him in disbelief. "How dare you?" She turns away before he can add another comment, her eyes finding her father across the room. Without another word, she moves toward Anubhav and sits beside him, wrapping her arm around him.

He hugs her back instantly, his shoulders relaxing as if the gesture brings him a quiet comfort.

"How are you?" she asks softly, pulling back.

"I'm good," he replies, smiling. "What about you?"

Her gaze shifts toward Rudra, sitting next to him. "Much better," she murmurs. Rudra meets her eyes briefly, a small smile tugs at his lips, the kind that says more than words.

"Saanvi!"

She turns at the familiar voice just in time to see Falak rushing toward her, her face glowing with excitement. Saanvi's expression softens immediately. She stands and pulls Falak into a hug.

"How are you, my baby?" Falak says, cupping her cheeks affectionately.

Saanvi laughs. "Good. What about you? No pain or complications, right?"

Falak shakes her head. "No, I'm doing fine." Her eyes catch Rudra. "Oh, Rudra! How are you? Feeling better?"

Rudra gives her a polite nod with a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, I'm good. And congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," Falak says, smiling warmly.

"Where's Maa?" Saanvi asks, glancing around.

"Oh, Adrika aunty's in the baby's room. She was with me," Falak answers.

Almost on cue, Adrika walks in. Saanvi's face lights up instantly. She walks over and hugs her tightly. Adrika returns the embrace with a smile, rubbing her back gently. "You look beautiful," she says, pulling back slightly.

Saanvi chuckles. "Thank you."

"Pandit ji is here. We need to start the pooja," Vikram announces, sounding impatient.

"Adrika," Abhiraj's voice follows, making Saanvi suppress a laugh.

"Go," she teases, smiling at Adrika. "He might forget how to breathe without you."

Adrika presses her lips together, trying not to smile, before walking toward her husband.

"Let's go, Saanvi," Falak says, taking her hand.

----------------------

The priest adjusts his shawl and looks at the family with a calm smile. "According to the custom, the child's bua will whisper his name into his ear first, after that, the parents may announce it to everyone."

Falak turns toward Saanvi. "Saanvi, go."

Saanvi looks toward the cradle placed near the small decorated mandir. The baby lies there wrapped in a soft cream blanket.

"Go," Vikram murmurs placing his hand briefly over hers, a silent nudge filled with warmth.

Saanvi glances at him and Falak, then nods. She stands, smoothing the pleats of her saree, and walks slowly toward the cradle. Her anklets make the sound against the marble floor. The soft scent of sandalwood and marigold lingers in the air as she kneels beside the baby.

When she leans over, the baby's wide black eyes meet hers, curious, she bends down until she's close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, and whispers the name softly into his ear. His tiny fingers curl up and brush her cheek, and she laughs softly, "You already approve, hmm?"

The priest nods. "Now, the parents may announce the name."

Falak looks at Vikram, he nods back with a proud smile. Together, they turn to the guests.

Falak's voice rings gently through the room. "Iraay," she says, her smile deepening as she looks at the cradle. "Iraay Malhotra."

The room fills with approving murmurs and soft smiles. Everyone's gaze shifts toward the cradle where little Iraay stirs, blinking at the light as if acknowledging the name that now belongs to him.

---------------------

Dhruv leans back on the couch, eyes landing on the vermilion at Saanvi's temple. He scoffs and points. "You started wearing these too? He's forcing you now? Come on, di, you lived in New York. You were the one who called out this stuff. Why let some man decide what you do?"

Saanvi meets his gaze. "Don't make him the villain, Dhruv," she says. "Rudra didn't make me wear this. I chose it. I decide what I wear, not him. And don't speak about my husband like he's a caricature. I won't tolerate that."

Dhruv shakes his head, more puzzled than angry. "I can't believe it. One man walks into your life and suddenly you're different. You used to be the one dishing out gossip, not this." He studies her as if trying to reconcile two versions of the same person.

"That was before," Saanvi says, rubbing her palms in her lap. "Now...now I love him."

Dhruv almost slides off the couch at the confession, then rights himself and stares at her. "You what?"

"Don't shout," she snaps, irritated. "He doesn't know yet. Don't ruin it."

His tone softens, but the worry remains. "Look, I'll admit he's done right by you sometimes. But you really love Rudra? That Rudra? How can you love someone who slept with-well, a lot of people? How do you reconcile that?"

"And that's why you think I shouldn't love him?"

He scoffs. "Of course."

She lets out a dry laugh and shakes her head, brushing her hair back. "You'll never understand, Dhruv. Because you've only seen him from a distance. You don't know what he's like when the walls are down. You don't know the man I know. So before you start listing what you've heard, maybe stop assuming you know what I've lived."

Dhruv exhales through his nose. "I just don't want you to get hurt, di."

She leans back against the couch, exhaling slowly, collecting her thoughts. Her fingers trace the edge of her saree before she looks up at Dhruv. "He wouldn't hurt me, Dhruv. If anything, he's the one who shields me from things I don't even see coming and yes, he calls himself selfish sometimes for keeping me in his life, but the truth is, he once let me go. He thought I loved Shaurya and instead of fighting dirty, he just gave up on his life." She lets out a breathy scoff. "You know what's funny? Everyone thinks I'm the one who got hurt in all this, but I was the cruel one too. I've said things to him no one deserves to hear. I've humiliated him, tested him, and crossed lines. I even became abusive too, I almost threw hot soup at him once." She lets out a dry laugh, shaking her head at her own absurdity. "I made him think I was seeing someone else just to watch him break. I chose another man in front of him because of my trust issues, tore his insecurities open when I knew exactly where they hurt, I lied and played with his feelings intentionally, I weaponized his past against him."

Her eyes flick back to Dhruv "And through all that, he didn't leave. He stood there and took it, not because he wanted to sleep with me, not because he wanted control, but because he understood that I was hurting too. That I was punishing him for what he once was."

Her voice softens. "I can see the man he's become. The way he listens. The way he shows up. I don't need a man to complete me, you know that. I never did. But I want him, because he's trying, because he respects the woman I am, and because when I stand next to him, I don't feel small. Loving someone doesn't erase my self respect. It's a choice I made with both eyes open."

Dhruv watches the white rose tucked behind Saanvi's ear. "And you won't feel insecure knowing what he was like before? Sleeping around?"

"Maybe I will, sometimes," she answers honestly. "But I trust Rudra. More than that, he understands me before I say anything. He reassures me."

He snorts. "His ego must be inflated. He got you, unlike him you waited-."

"I realised I can't judge him, Dhruv. Rudra's past, his decision to sleep around or to stay celibate was simply his choice." She cuts him off. "And I didn't 'save' myself, Dhruv. I simply chose not to sleep around. And let me be blunt that choice was born from dread, not virtue. For years, I genuinely dreaded the slightest touch. If my emotional wiring had been different, if I'd had a normal life and wanted casual intimacy I would have slept around too. I don't need a man's future presence to validate my choices in the present. And let's talk about real life, Dhruv. Yes, we can appreciate people who choose to wait for a partner." She turns her head slightly to him. He frowns.

"But realistically, that isn't my worldview. I certainly don't believe some magical person is going to arrive one day and validate someone's existence," she continues, letting a small, dry laugh escape. "Not everyone holds onto that belief, and I am unequivocally one of those people. I live in the real world, not an expectation. Therefore, it's logically inconsistent and wholly unreasonable for me to judge Rudra for how he lived before he knew me. His past reflects his reality then, my respect is for the man he chooses to be now. I accept his history because I refuse to be judged by a standard I don't even believe in myself."

She gave him a small smile holding his hands. "But yes, once you find that person the one you truly love, the one who brings you peace, the whole dynamic changes. You choose to stop those old patterns. You commit to being loyal and faithful. That's the Rudra I see, Dhruv. Not the playboy of the past. And that choice is far more valuable than any 'clean' past."

Dhruv exhales, shoulders dropping as if he's surrendered the argument. "Fine. But if he even dares to hurt you, call me. I'll seriously-I'll rearrange his face." His voice has the familiar edge of hyperbole that somehow always reads as a sincere threat.

Saanvi laughs. "Sure. After all, you are my favourite brother." She leans into him without thinking, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders in a side hug.

"Of course I am," he says. "more than Vikram bhai."

"By the way," she says, arching a brow, "saw the rumours, apparently you're linked to that Spanish singer." she teases.

Dhruv rolls his head back against the couch. "Ugh. The media are the world's most persistent rumor factories. It's nothing just a collab and a couple of coffees. Next thing you know, I'm a tabloid romance." He scoffs, then shrugs it off. "Honestly, can they not?"

"No chance," Dhruv says, the defensiveness slipping in. "After getting cheated on? No way." He bucks his chin as if that settled it, though the line around his mouth suggests he'd rather not talk about the old wound.

Saanvi chuckles. "Hope you get your girl then, before the tabloids do."

He snorts. "Girl? No way."

Saanvi lifts a brow. "So you've switched your type since you got burned?"

He tightens for a second his hand on her shoulder going still then lets out a short, dry chuckle. "Maybe I'm just smarter now. Or more careful."

"But what if you fall for a charming Playgirl?" she asks, leaning back against his arm.

"No way," he replies without missing a beat.

"Saanvi?"

They both look around to see Falak walking toward them. "You didn't get to meet Iraay properly earlier. Come on, see him now and we'll drag Rudra along too."

Saanvi smiles, standing up from the couch. She glances at Dhruv, who's still lounging lazily. "Let's go."

Dhruv rises with a groan and shakes his head. "You two go ahead. I'll check on Vikram bhai, poor man's entertaining half of the city by himself."

"Alright," she says, and walks off with Falak.

Inside the baby's room Saanvi and Falak stop near the cradle where tiny hands clutch a stuffed toy.

"He's really cute," Saanvi says with a smile, leaning closer. The baby blinks at her with wide, curious eyes that almost seem to recognize her.

"I know," Falak says, grinning proudly. "He looks exactly like me. Thank God."

Saanvi smirks. "Of course, how could he not?" She straightens up and glances at her. "Bhabhi..."

Falak hums, smoothing a crease on the baby blanket. "Hmm?"

"Bhai treats you well, right" Saanvi asks softly.

Falak looks at her and chuckles, then reaches out to hold her hand. "Relax, Saanvi. Your brother's not as hopeless as you think. He's been really careful with me and with Iraay. Honestly, he takes care of Iraay every night so I can actually sleep." Falak says with a proud smile. "Even when he was buried in work, he'd still find time to call or show up during my pregnancy in Houston. I told him to stay back in India for Dad, but he'd somehow manage to fly in between work just to be with me and use to apologise for not doing enough." She shakes her head with a soft laugh. "Can you believe it? The man was managing my pregnancy, me and my tantrums, Dad, and the company, and he still said, 'I'm sorry for failing you.'"

Saanvi stares at her for a moment, her lips curving into a small smile. "You're happy with him then?"

Falak looks up from the cradle, her expression turning sincere. "More than I ever thought I could be."

Saanvi chuckles under her breath. "Well, to be fair, you didn't exactly give him a choice. You practically ordered him to marry you."

Falak laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because I loved him. And back in university, that man wouldn't even look at me properly. I'd try talking, and he'd just give me that polite little smile and walk away. So one day, I locked us both in the auditorium and confessed."

Saanvi's eyes widen. "That's new information."

"I know." Falak grins.

"And he said yes?"

She rolls her eyes. "No. He told me I deserved better. Said his life was a mess, that he didn't want to drag me into it. Typical dramatic Vikram. But eventually, I wore him down. We dated, and a few years later, he proposed."

"And now you have the result of all that persistence." Saanvi glances down at the baby, who's trying to chew his blanket.

Falak smirks. "Exactly. Don't worry, one day you and Rudra will have your result too."

Saanvi presses her lips together, trying to hide the smile that creeps in, and shakes her head. "How did Bhai react when you gave birth?"

Falak lets out a horrified laugh. "Oh, don't even ask. That man cried harder than I did. I'm there trying to push a human out of me, and he's holding my hand crying and blabbering, 'I'm never putting another baby inside you again!'" Falak mimics his panicked tone.

Saanvi bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach. "You're kidding! He actually said that?"

Falak nods, laughing with her. "Yup. The great Vikram Malhotra, reduced to tears."

Soon falak's phone pings, and she glances down with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Without thinking much, she tilts the screen toward Saanvi. "Look at this."

Vikram🎀

I hope I see you in the bedroom resting there, Falak. And I'm seriously saying this.

Saanvi lets out a small chuckle, amused by how protective her brother sounds until another text appears.

Or should I refresh your memory about how last night went?

Her laughter halts. She presses her lips together and looks at Falak, deadpan. "Yeah, maybe you should take your phone back."

Falak frowns at her tone, then glances at the screen and immediately gasps. Her eyes widen as she quickly locks the phone. "Oh my god. You were not supposed to see that," she mutters, flapping her hand in front of her flushed face.

Saanvi scoffs. "Of course, bhabhi, I wouldn't want to see it because I'm not interested in my brother's sex life. But you were literally waving the screen in my face. Where exactly was I supposed to look? The ceiling?"

Falak groans, hiding her face in her palm. "Saanvi, shut up."

Before Saanvi can tease her more, they hear a knock.

"Must be Rudra," Falak says under her breath.

"Come in," Saanvi calls, still laughing.

Rudra steps inside, his gaze flicking from Saanvi to Falak. "Vikram was looking for you."

Saanvi shoots Falak a knowing look, lifting a brow. Falak pretends not to notice and clears her throat. "Right. I'll just...go see him. You two can play with Iraay."

As soon as the door shuts behind her, Rudra turns to Saanvi, his expression softens. He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.

"I missed you," he murmurs.

She tilts her head, smiling. "We were both here. It's been barely an hour."

"Exactly." His lips curve, unbothered by her logic.

Before she can respond, a soft coo breaks the silence. They both glance at the cradle where Iraay kicks his legs, babbling to himself.

Rudra smiles, walking closer, while Saanvi leans down and pokes the baby's cheek gently with her finger. The baby instantly grabs her hand, his tiny mouth closing around her finger.

She frowns. "Hey-no, you can't do that. Let go of my finger."

Rudra chuckles under his breath. "And you expect him to obey you?"

She carefully pulls her hand free, wiping it on her saree. But the baby's face crumples, and within seconds, he bursts into tears.

"Oh, no, no, no-he's crying, Rudra! What should I do?" Saanvi looks panicked, her hands hovering uselessly near the cradle.

"Relax." Rudra places a reassuring hand on her back. "Let me."

He leans over and with one hand supporting the baby's head he gently lifts Iraay into his arms, wrapping him securely in the blanket, rocking him lightly. Within moments, Iraay quiets down, staring at Rudra's face as if mesmerized, his chubby hands reaching out to touch his face before breaking into a toothless grin.

Saanvi's lips part slightly, her panic replaced by awe. "You're... actually good at this."

Rudra glances at her and shrugs modestly. "He just needed a little attention."

She steps closer, smiling at the baby, but as soon as Iraay spots her again, his lips wobble. Within a second, the tears threatened to return.

Saanvi frowns. "What the hell, why is he crying again? What did I even do?"

"Maybe he's still upset you took your finger away," Rudra teases, patting Iraay's back. The baby's small hands clutch at Rudra's kurta, his head nuzzling into his shoulder.

Saanvi crosses her arms. "So he likes you but not me? What a dumb creature."

Rudra presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. "He has good taste."

She shoots him a glare.

-------------------

Saanvi steps into the hallway with Falak and Adrika, her eyes sweeping across the group gathered there Anubhav, Abhiraj, Vikram, and Rudra. "What are you all talking about?" she asks, tilting her head.

"About you," Rudra says, a small smile tugging at his lips as he pats the space beside him on the couch. Saanvi smiles back and slides in next to him, while Adrika and Falak settle beside their respective partners.

"Stop lying. It was only you talking about her. The rest of us were just avoiding it," Vikram chimes in, sipping his juice.

Saanvi turns slowly and fixes him with a glare. "I wish I had just pushed you off that cliff on the school trip."

Vikram rolls his eyes, unfazed.

Rudra reaches over to pat her back gently. "Calm down, Pearl. Don't talk about killing. He just became a father," he mutters quietly, and Saanvi exhales with a sigh, letting her tension soften just a little.

Adrika, looking for a distraction, glances at the trophy cabinet. "I saw so many trophies here, whose are they?"

Anubhav smiles, nodding toward Vikram. "Those are Vikram's. He used to be good at studies and sports. That's his collection."

"Well done, Vikram," Adrika says warmly, patting his shoulder. He gives a polite smile in return. She looks at Rudra next. "You know, Rudra was a topper too, back in school and university. Not as sporty as you, though. But he had a knack for studies."

"Of course he was," Saanvi interrupts, turning to Abhiraj with an exaggerated wave of her hands. "After all, Rudra's father is OG." She spins back to the group, flapping her arms like she's about to take flight. "You won't believe it, I lived with him for a few months and he made me read newspapers, watch news channels, and even pick up general knowledge books. Who does that? And you, Rudra, how did you survive all that? I would have run away screaming."

Rudra chuckles awkwardly, glancing between his father and his wife. "Relax, guys-" he starts, hands raised slightly.

Abhiraj scoffs, cutting him off. "Now I really want to know how you were in academics, stupid nurse?"

Anubhav leans back. "Saanvi? She was a troublemaker, I won't lie. Always failing her unit tests in third grade. I had to beg her to study, and every week I ended up going to her school because even as a kid, she was violent-"

"Dad!" Saanvi snaps, her eyes wide, flustered as she tilts her head. "You can't just say that! Who even tells people that?" A few chuckles ripple through the room. Rudra presses his lips against the back of his hand, stifling his laugh.

Anubhav raises a brow, unbothered. "What? Remember once, I was begging you to learn the answers the night before your exam, and when I threatened to tell your future prince how terrible you were at studies? You just shrugged and said, 'As if I care, go tell him.'"

Saanvi's jaw drops. "Okay, I'm sorry! Now stop embarrassing me, Dad."

Rudra shakes his head, tugging her gently into his side. "It's okay," he murmurs. "I once failed a half yearly exam too."

Abhiraj frowns, surprised. "Really? When? I don't remember ever hearing you fail."

Rudra tilts his head. "Once. Just once, Dad." He grits with a force smile.

"Yeah, Rudra failed once, I remember." Adrika chuckles awkwardly, slapping Abhiraj on the arm. "He forgets things! He's getting old, poor guy."

Abhiraj just stares, confused.

"By the way Saanvi, did you eat?" Vikram asks.

"No, only you two are left. Take her and eat, she said she'd eat with you," Anubhav replies.

Vikram nods, standing and offering a hand toward her. "Let's go."

Saanvi smiles at Rudra, squeezing his hand briefly before letting go, and walks with Vikram.

After half an hour they are still talking when a loud voice cuts through the room.

"You little gremlin!"

Everyone jumps. Feet hit the floor as they rush toward the dining area.

"How fucking dare you call me that name again!"

They all gasp. Saanvi's fingers are tangled in Vikram's hair and his palms are pressed against her cheeks, half pushing, half trying to block. For a second it looks like they will tear each other apart.

Dhruv, who's been working on his laptop in the corner, drops everything and strides over. Anubhav rubs his face and sighs like the world has asked him to babysit two rabid puppies.

Rudra's lips part at the sight of Saanvi so livid. He moves to step forward but Dhruv blocks him. Rudra blinks, confused.

"Marna hai kya tumne phir se?" Dhruv scoffs.

(Do you want to die again?)

"We need to stop them, she will kill him," Rudra says, eyes fixed on Saanvi glaring and Vikram groaning.

Dhruv crosses his arms. "Listen, I do not like you much but my sister just gave a whole damn speech about you today because you matter to her. So I am saving you. Right now that woman is not Saanvi she is Vikram bhai's sister and her whole job is beating people. She will not hesitate. Stay rooted and let bade papa handle things."

Anubhav pushes forward and pries them apart. "Stop! What the hell are you both doing?"

"I will kill this gremlin today," Vikram says through clenched teeth.

"And you think you will be forgiven after calling me that?" Saanvi fires back equally furious.

Anubhav plants himself between them, hands on his hips. "Stop fighting like toddlers. Why are you even fighting?"

"He slapped my head," Saanvi accuses.

"Shut up. I only gave you a light smack. Not that you would fall over. Also you dug your elbow into my back and it hurts like hell," Vikram protests, rubbing at his spine like it is proof of his suffering.

"Then you pulled my hair hard," Saanvi shouts.

"You pushed me off the chair and I fell," Vikram answers indignantly.

Before Saanvi can reload with another accusation Anubhav bellows, "Enough! Both of you. Now apologize like humans not like two wrestlers in a roadside drama. Vikram you do not call your sister names. Saanvi you do not go around ripping people's hair out."

"So it all started with a smack," Dhruv mutters under his breath, watching the scene like it's live entertainment. He leans toward Rudra with a half smirk. "Word of advice, bro, remember this moment. Because next time, it might be you instead of Vikram bhai."

Rudra's head snaps toward him, horrified. "What the hell do you mean 'next time'? There shouldn't even be a first time."

On Rudra's other side, Falak folds her arms, shaking her head. "Well this is her normal mood. Trust me, it's nothing new." She pauses thoughtfully, then adds, "God help you Rudra if she ever gets pregnant. The mood swings will wipe out half the city."

Rudra swallows hard, glancing at Saanvi, who's now threatening to throw a spoon at Vikram. "What?"

Dhruv leans closer with a mischievous grin. "Welcome to the Malhotra kaleshi family, Rudra. You've officially been initiated."

Rudra doesn't even respond. He just stares, stunned, as Saanvi grabs Vikram's collar again.

"...And have you seen a monkey's red ass?" Saanvi yells. "Because your face looks exactly like that right now! Red. Round. And absolutely ridiculous!"

The entire room freezes.

Abhiraj's mouth parts in disbelief, Adrika quickly looks away, trying to stifle her laughter behind her palm. Even Anubhav blinks a few times as if questioning every life decision that led to this moment.

Vikram's jaw drops. "Did you just compare me to a monkey's ass?" he says, completely scandalized.

Saanvi crosses her arms. "I didn't compare, I confirmed it."

Vikram's face flushes bright red. "Dad! Look at her! How she's talking! I'm her elder brother! She could at least show some basic respect!"

Anubhav presses a hand to his forehead, exhausted. "Enough! I swear, I'm going to disown both of you one day," he mutters, turning to Falak first. "You, take your husband." Then to Rudra, with a tired sigh. "And you, take your wife."

Falak immediately grabs Vikram's arm. "Come on, hero. Before she turns you into a cautionary tale." She mutters as she drags him away.

Rudra exhales slowly and turns toward Saanvi, who's still glaring daggers at her brother. "Pearl," he says carefully. "We may... leave, if you allow?" His hand trembles slightly as it reaches for hers.

Saanvi rolls her eyes, still scowling at Vikram, then looks at Rudra making him gulp hard. "I...mean only if you allow."

"Yeah, let's go," she mutters, gripping Rudra's hand before tugging him out of the room.

Dhruv watches them leave and snorts softly. "And that," he says to no one in particular, "is what we call a typical family dinner."

______________________________________________________________________________

Daily journal

Lately, when you look at me with that quiet intensity, I swear my heart forgets how to beat at a normal pace. Congratulations, you've officially found one more way to make it race faster than ever. You have no idea how long I wished to be seen by you that way and now that you do, it feels like my wish finally came true.

And I noticed how you crossed out the words 'the end' I had written. You did it so fiercely, as if to defy even the thought of separation. It made me smile, because you're right, there's no ending anymore. We've found our way back to each other and this time I know it's not temporary.

No matter what comes next, it's you and me. Always.