Diya gave Shivansh a glare, folding her arms.
“Tu pehle hi aa gaya matlab prank karne ke liye, na?” she narrowed her eyes.
“Yeh Yash Singh Chauhan drama zaruri tha kya? Mera BP high kar diya tujhe toh…”

Shivansh raised both hands in surrender.
“Arey re chipkali, gussa kam kar. Tujhe aise darte hue dekhna se mera stress burst ho gaya,” he teased with a wink.
“Waise… ab toh aadat daal le. Bhaiya bhi aa rahe hain.”

Diya rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Mujhe kya milta hai tum dono bhaiyon ke beech mein…”

Just then, Arohi walked up to them, curiosity written all over her face. She looked at Diya like she had a thousand questions saved.

“Arohi, milo… yeh hai Shivansh Singh Chauhan. Yash Singh Chauhan ke chhote bhai,” Diya said, introducing them.
“Aur yeh hai meri best friend… aur room partner… aur meri headache… Arohi.”

Shivansh grinned.
“Hello, Miss Arohi,” he joked, giving Arohi a quick nod.

Arohi blinked twice. “Umm… hi,” she replied, clearly starstruck.
She whispered to Diya, “Tera Dost cute hai yaar…”
To which Diya whispered back, “Zyada sochna mat, dimaag ka dahi kar dega.”

All three of them walked back inside to pack Diya’s last few things. Diya grabbed her suitcase while Arohi stuffed her charger and notebook into her bag. Shivansh, meanwhile, lounged on the chair like he owned the place.

“Tum dono ladkiyon ko packing mein century lag jaati hai kya?” he groaned.

“Chup kar, football ke pump,” Diya retorted.
“Help karne aaya tha na? Tou suitcase le ke neeche chal.”

“Yes boss,” he saluted and grabbed the bag.

They handed over the hostel keys to the warden, signed the final check-out register, and finally walked out with their luggage, sunlight warming their faces.

At a Nearby Café

They stopped at a quaint little café near the college—a usual hangout spot for students. As they entered, Diya spotted Sachin already seated, waving at them.

Arohi’s face lit up, the way it always did when Sachin was around.

“Oye oye… Sachin baba aa gaya,” Shivansh whispered, elbowing Diya.

“Behave,” she warned him under her breath.

They walked up to the table. Arohi and Sachin exchanged shy smiles, the kind that made it obvious they hadn’t stopped texting all morning.

“Hi Sachin,” Diya greeted. “This is Shivansh… Ruchika's brother. And my worst enemy I ever had.”

“Pleasure,” Sachin said politely, shaking hands with him.

Shivansh grinned. “Same here. Suno, Arohi tumhari zimmedari hai ab Waise Diya ko zyada cheeni wali chai mat pilana, mood swings activate ho jaate hain.”

Diya gasped. “Sorry Sachin Actually I tell him and Ruchi everything thats the reason he knows but cant keep his mouth shut”

“Sachin,” Diya said sweetly, “Take her to Her Home and please drop her safe. Mujhe Meherangarh ke lie jaana hai.”

“Of course,” he replied with a smile.

A few more jokes were exchanged, and after a round of chai and light snacks, Arohi and Sachin left for college, waving goodbye.

Diya stood silent for a moment. She clutched her dupatta, nerves starting to rise again.

Shivansh turned to her.
“Ready ho, chipkali? Bhaiya bas ek ghante mein aajayenge.”

Diya took a deep breath.
“As ready as I can ever be…”

Diya's POV

The sun was almost overhead now. The heat wasn’t much, but my palms were sweaty.

I was sitting silently at the hostel café—too lost in thoughts to even joke around. Suddenly, Shivansh came running back.

“Bhai aa gaye hain. Let’s go,” he said cheerfully.

My breath caught. My body went still.

I didn’t know what to say or how to react. “Relax, Diya,” I whispered to myself. “It’s just a meeting. You’ve handled worse… right?”

Shivansh lightly tapped my shoulder. “Chale meri maa? Ya yahin murti ban ke khadi rahogi?”

I got up slowly, nerves swirling in my stomach. Not because I was scared. Okay… maybe a little. But mostly because the one man I had tried so hard to forget was about to stand in front of me again.

This time… not in a dream. Not in memories.

But in flesh. And blood.

“Diya Diiiii!”

Before I could process more, I heard a cheerful voice from the road.

Ruchika.

She came running toward me—kurti, leggings, ponytail swinging, smile wide and unstoppable.

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Ruchikaaa…” I whispered, as tears formed in my eyes. My handbag slipped from my hand.

Ruchika crashed into me, hugging me tightly. “I missed you so much, Diya Dii! It’s been forever!”

I hugged her back, my hands trembling slightly. “Only six months,” I whispered.

“For me, it was like six years!” she sniffled. “No one to scold me, no one to save me from bhai’s taunts… life without you is so boring.”

“Shut up,” I laughed softly, wiping her tears. “You still cry like a baby.”

“And you still talk like a maa,” she smiled through her tears. “But I’m not leaving you this time.”

“I promise… I’m not going anywhere,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

Shivansh, standing by the car, wiped imaginary tears and spoke dramatically, “Haye re! Dosti, bandhan, milan ke aansu! Saalo baad bichde aashiq mil gaye!”

“Shut up, bandar,” I shot back, laughing. “Lucky for you, I’m not in the mood to punch you today.”

“Main tou bas background music baja raha tha,” he winked. “But sach mein, Jaipur ki chipkali is now going to be Meherangarh ki Maharani!”

I blushed. “Shut up, Shivansh. And stop calling me chipkali!”

Ruchika giggled. “It suits you, though.”

“Haan haan, main chudail hi sahi tum dono ke liye,” I murmured.

But before I could say anything more, Shivansh suddenly straightened.

“Arrey lo… Raja Ji bhi aa gaye. Sab line mein aa jao.”

I frowned. “Kya—?”

Then I heard it.

The sound of slow, confident footsteps. Leather shoes meeting the ground with calm precision.

And then… that familiar scent.

Woody. Musky. Unmistakably him.

My heart skipped.

My throat tightened.

And then I saw him.

Yash Singh Chauhan.

Steel-grey shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, black trousers, dark sunglasses covering those deep eyes. His walk was steady, every step holding silent power.

He took off his sunglasses… and looked directly at me.

And for a moment, the entire world paused.

I forgot where I was. Forgot Ruchika. Forgot Shivansh. Forgot to breathe.

He hadn’t changed. No, he had become something else entirely.

More powerful.

More unreadable.

More dangerous.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. Just… stared.

Like I was the only person in the universe worth looking at.

I couldn’t look away.

Until Shivansh cleared his throat loudly, making me blink back to reality.

I looked down quickly, heart pounding like a drum.

He stepped closer, just a foot between us now.

Ruchika and Shivansh had gone quiet. Watching. Waiting.

“Diya,” he said, his voice deep, calm, and even.

I looked up. “Ji…”

He looked at my handbag lying on the floor. “Ready?”

He bent down, picked it up like it was nothing, and dusted off the strap gently.

I nodded silently.

He didn’t say anything else. Just walked towards the car with my bag in hand.

Shivansh called out, “Bhaiya! I would’ve carried that—”

“I’ll do it,” Yash said, not turning back.

One line. Shivansh shut up instantly.

Ruchika quickly held my hand. “Chalo dii… warna bhai humein bhi utha lenge.”

I laughed nervously and followed behind.

At the SUV, Yash already had the back door open.

I stepped in. Ruchika sat beside me.

He handed me the handbag and placed it gently on my lap. Then, without saying a word, he bent down, picked up the end of my dupatta that had been dragging on the road, dusted it off… and placed it neatly over my lap.

My breath hitched again.

He looked at me—just once. That unreadable gaze.

I quickly looked away, pretending to fix my dupatta.

He walked around and got into the driving seat.

Shivansh took the passenger seat and instructed Vikrant to take the other car.

Vikrant nodded and left.

Inside the car, silence fell.

Only the quiet hum of the engine… and my heart’s loud thudding filled my ears.

Ruchika leaned close. “You look pretty today, dii,” she whispered.

“Thanks,” I whispered back, still stealing glances at the back of his head.

Yash adjusted the rearview mirror… and our eyes met again through it.

His stare was direct. Steady. Possessive.

I averted my gaze immediately.

My fingers gripped my dupatta.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

His silence had always spoken louder than words.

And sitting behind him again…

It felt like stepping into a world I had tried so hard to escape… but maybe never could.

Because Yash Singh Chauhan wasn’t just a person.

He was a storm I had once survived.

And now, I wasn’t sure if I’d survive it again.

“Arre chipkali, tune aaj kitni green tea pi hai?”
Shivansh suddenly asked, looking at me suspiciously.

“Umm… zyada nahi… bas 4 cup.”
I said, trying to sound casual.

“Arey meri maa! Tu hai kahan se? Dikhti toh hai nahi, ab gayab hone ka bhi iraada hai kya tera?”
He dramatically clutched his chest.

“Shut up!” I rolled my eyes. Then mumbled under my breath,
“Khud toh bhains ban gaya hai, mujhe bol raha hai…”

“Oye sukhi haddi!” he smirked. “Main bhains nahi fit hoon… aur tu toh nutrition ki mareez lag rahi hai. Dekh rahi hai kitni kamzor ho gayi hai.”

“Bakwas band kar!” I gritted my teeth. “Main tere baare mein nahi, bhaiya aur future bhatija/bhatiji ke baare mein soch raha hoon!”He replied back to me

That line made Ruchika burst out laughing.

I gave her a side-glare. “Iss gadhe ko toh main ghar jaake dekh lungi.”

As I stole a glance toward Yash ji, I noticed his eyes… fixed on me.

Again.

That intense, unreadable gaze.

I quickly looked away.

But before I could get too lost in thoughts again, he finally spoke, his voice calm but commanding.

“Woh sab chhoro, bahut late ho gaya hai. Kuch khaya hai kya tumne?”
He looked at me directly, his tone serious.
“Kyuki I think ab hum directly Meherangarh hi jaayenge.”

I blinked. “Umm… nahi… woh… main bhool gayi. Packing mein busy thi na…”

“Dii! What the hell!” Ruchika scolded me. “Why are you joking with your health?!”

She turned toward Yash.
“Yash bhaiya, please let’s go to some restaurant right now. Dii hasn’t eaten anything since morning!”

He didn’t reply immediately.

Instead, he just looked at me again—this time, longer.

Then finally, he said in his usual deep, calm voice,
“We’re going back to the penthouse. Tum dono fresh ho jao, rest karo. Evening tak nikalenge for Meherangarh.”

His words were simple… but the way he said them, it was clear:

He wasn’t asking.

He was deciding.

Just like always.

And I… didn’t have the courage to argue.

The car came to a smooth halt in front of the grand gates of The Regal Walks, Jaipur.
Even though I had seen this hotel before… something about standing here again, this time beside him, made my heart beat faster.

A valet opened the door. I stepped out silently.

Ruchika hopped out next to me, stretching like a cat. “Finally! Mera back tut gaya.”

“Tumhara back ka kya, mera patience tut gaya tum dono ke drama se,” Shivansh muttered, getting down from the front seat and winking at me.

I didn’t reply. My eyes had already drifted to Yash ji, who had taken off his sunglasses and was speaking with the hotel staff—calm, direct, commanding.

His tone wasn’t loud. But every word made people stand straighter.

Even the manager, Rajeev, looked like he was sweating bullets.

“Penthouse ready hai?” Yash asked, looking him dead in the eye.

“Ji-ji sir… sab tayyar hai…” Rajeev stammered.

I shook my head a little—same Yash Singh Chauhan. Five years had passed, but his aura… had only gotten more intense.

We all entered through the private lift, leading straight to the top floor.

The penthouse.

It was beautiful. Elegant. Classy. Glass walls, white curtains, a private balcony overlooking the pink city skyline. But I couldn’t enjoy the view. Not when I felt his presence so close.

“Diya, Aap apna room Dekh lo. Tumhare comfort ke hisaab se sab arrange kar diya hai,” he said, walking past without even looking directly at me.

Why does he say it like this? So casually… as if he still has the right?

Ruchika ran inside like a little kid.
“Omg Diii look at thisss! Ye room mera sapna hai!” she squealed, jumping on the bed in the guest room.

“Main bathroom check karun?” Shivansh added, already sliding across the marble floor with his socks.

“Shut up dono,” I muttered, trying to stay normal.

“Diya,” Yash’s voice came again—deep, close, from behind me.

I turned.

He was holding out a plate.

A simple plate. With poha and a glass of juice.

I blinked. “Ye kya…”

“You said you didn’t eat,” he replied, not meeting my eyes. “Yahan ki chef tumhara taste jaanti hai. Eat.”We will all be having Lunch within 30 minutes.

I stared at him. So this was the same man who once cleaned mud from my face without blinking… now serving me food like it was part of his job? Whatdoes he mean by having lunch in 30 minutes? Does he think I am bhookar?

My throat tightened. “I can eat later…”

“No,” he interrupted gently but firmly. “Now.”

I nodded quietly and sat down at the dining counter near the kitchen area.

He turned around, walking away without waiting.

As I slowly ate, Ruchika joined me with toast in her mouth.
“Dii… can I say something?” she mumbled with a full mouth.

“What?”

“Yash bhaiya… scary bhi hai, lekin sweet bhi,” she whispered.

I sighed. “You don’t know him, Ruchi.”

“I don’t know everything, but I know he brought your favorite poha without asking.” She grinned. “Aur aapne khud mana ki aapko bhookh nahi lagi thi…”

I rolled my eyes.

Fifteen minute later, I was in one of the bedrooms, sitting by the large window.

Shivansh and Ruchika had gone to change. We were to leave for Meherangarh by evening.

The pink light of Jaipur sunset was slowly filling the sky. But my mind was only filled with him.

What does he want?
Why now?
Why this sudden visit after five years of silence?

A soft knock broke my thoughts.

I turned. Yash ji stood by the door.

My heart skipped again.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

I nodded.

He stepped inside, hands behind his back, his gaze serious.
He looked at the bed, the small bag I was yet to unpack, and then finally at me.

“You’re scared of me,” he said flatly.

My breath hitched.

“I’m not—” I tried to lie.

He cut me off with a slow shake of his head.Taking a step ahead

“You still stammer when I’m near. You look at the floor when I speak. And your fingers… they haven’t stopped fidgeting since you sat down.”

I looked away. My fingers froze.

He came closer. Not invading. Just… near enough.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Diya,” he said, voice softer this time. “But I will not lie to you either.”

I stayed quiet.

“Our marriage—” he began, and I immediately looked at him.

“—wasn’t your choice,” he said. “I know that.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“But Diya… I kept my promise to your mother. I waited. I gave you five years. I stayed away.”

I nodded slowly.

“Now it’s time to come home.”

I swallowed. “I still have one year left to finish MBBS.”

“I know,” he said. “And you will. From Jodhpur. We’ve already arranged your transfer.”

I stood up, shocked. “You what?!”

“You’ll have the best hostel, best library, personal mentor if needed. Everything.”

I stared at him, unable to process.

“You planned all this without telling me?”

“I don’t need to ask, Diya,” he said, his voice quiet… but hard as steel. “I only do what’s mine.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

He was already walking out.

At the door, he paused.
“You’ll be safe, Diya. I’m not the monster you think I am. But I will never let go. Remember that.”

The door closed behind him.

And I stood there, shaking.

This is exactly what I hated about him.

He never asked. He just decided.
He’d already arranged my college transfer… planned everything without once asking what I wanted.

“Does he really expect me to live like this? Always scared, always agreeing? Is this what the rest of my life will look like?”

Before I could spiral further, a polite knock came on the bedroom door.

“Ma’am, lunch is being served. Please join us,” a maid informed with a bow.

I nodded, holding back the storm building in my chest.

As I entered the dining area, the long mahogany table was already shining under the warm golden chandelier lights.

Ruchika and Shivansh were seated across each other, chatting and throwing occasional napkins like school kids.

And then there was him.

Yash ji. Calm. Composed. In control.

I could feel his eyes on me even before I looked up.
As soon as I stepped closer to the table, he stood from his seat and gently pulled out the chair next to him. Wordlessly.

I hesitated.

But I couldn’t create a scene here. Not now.

I sat.

“Ohooo! Ye sab aapko hi pasand hai, chipkali!” Shivansh started immediately, narrowing his eyes.

“Bhaiya mujhe karela khilate hain, aur chipkali ke liye itna pyaar?”

“Do you even know what I like to eat?” he asked dramatically, folding his arms.

Yash ji didn’t even blink. He just gave him a single deadly glare.

That was enough to make Shivansh shut up and pick up his spoon like a punished schoolboy.

I tried to hide my smile.

Then I glanced at the dishes in front of me. And… oh god.

Chicken Biryani. Noodles. Chilli Chicken. Rogan Josh. Paneer Kadhai. Veg Pulao. Chicken Curry. Mushroom Chilli. And even pakode…

My stomach did a happy flip.

I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I saw this.

Ruchika leaned toward me, whispering, “This is not a meal. This is a wedding buffet.”

“Ruchi…” I hissed softly.

But my eyes betrayed me. I couldn’t stop scanning the delicious spread.

Yash ji served rice and curry on my plate himself. Calmly. Silently.

I stared at my plate, then at him.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at me directly now.

As if feeding me was something… expected.

Something promised.

“Thank you…” I murmured, unsure.

He nodded once and took his plate of Salad.

We started eating. Or at least, I tried to eat while ignoring how close he was.Diya focus on this food. Dont focus on him,but how can he eat salad with this lovelies.

His presence had always been… heavy. Like gravity. Like something I could never escape, no matter how far I ran.

“Bhaiya…” Shivansh said with a mouthful of pakoda. “Just saying—agar yeh royal treatment mujhe bhi milta, I would’ve gotten married long back.”

“Then do it,” Yash replied calmly, not looking up. “I’ll send the rishta tonight. And your honeymoon tickets tomorrow.”

Shivansh choked. “Main toh mazaak kar raha tha, bhaiya!”

“Main nahi kar raha,” Yash said.

Ruchika burst into giggles while I focused on not letting the rogan josh go down the wrong way.

Despite everything, this felt… normal. Comfortable. A slice of warmth I didn’t expect.

But the ache inside me didn’t fade.

I still hadn’t forgotten what happened earlier. About how he made decisions about my life, my career, my freedom—without even asking.

After lunch, as I was getting up, I paused.

He was looking at me. Steady. Quiet. Dangerously unreadable.

“Rest for a while,” he said softly. “We leave by five.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

As I turned to walk back to my room, I whispered to myself,

“What kind of life is this… where every moment feels borrowed, and every smile feels stolen?”

He cared for him like no one else but his cared feel like a burden to me

Time: 5:10 PM | Location: The Regal Walks, Jaipur

The last bag was loaded.

Ruchika was happily skipping around, her earphones swinging around her neck as she took selfies with Shivansh near the lobby fountain.

And me?

I was silently sitting on the edge of the hotel couch, my palms pressed together, nails digging lightly into my skin, trying to steady my heartbeat.

I watched as Yash ji gave some final instructions to Vikrant. The way he stood—back straight, head slightly tilted, eyes sharp and unwavering. It was like watching a general prepare for battle. Except the battlefield this time… was me.

Ruchika came running. “Dii, chalo! Vikrant bhaiya is taking Shivansh in the second car. We three will go together—just like old times!”

I nodded with a small smile. My lips moved, but my heart wasn’t ready yet.

The SUV was parked right outside the grand entrance. Sunlight cast an orange hue across the sky, bathing the city in soft warmth—a farewell glow.

Yash ji opened the right door for me. Ruchika took the left seat. I slid into the right.

Then he walked around and took the driver’s seat again.

Always in control.

As the car pulled out of the hotel and onto the main Jaipur road, I clutched my dupatta a little tighter.

The road signs passed in a blur.
"Meherangarh – 5 hours."
The same roads I’d taken years ago. When I left that place after my summer holidays. Never knowing I’d be dragged back into it one day.

Ruchika was humming beside me, already starting her “Spotify road trip” playlist.

Meanwhile, I looked out the window, the familiar dusty trees and wheat fields rushing past us.

We had barely crossed the outskirts when Ruchika dozed off, head leaning slightly against my shoulder.

The car was quiet.

Too quiet.

And that’s when the memories started.

FLASHBACK

I was twelve. Sitting on the palace swing with Ruchika, eating aam papad. Shivansh was chasing butterflies in the garden, yelling something about catching one for Diya didi.

And him…

Yash.

Sixteen. Reserved. Already different from the boys his age. He stood by the corridor, hands behind his back, watching me.

Always watching.

That day, I spilled water on the marble floor and slipped. My knee scraped. I was about to cry.

But before a sound came out, he was already there.

He didn’t ask what happened. He just bent down, examined the wound, and then—without a word—carried me inside.

My heartbeat that day? I thought it would explode.

Not because of the pain.

But because for the first time… I was afraid of what his silence meant.

Back to Present

I blinked and shook my head slightly, pushing the memory away.

But my eyes moved to the rearview mirror. And he was watching me again.

That same stare.

Not demanding.

Not kind.

Just... claiming.

I immediately looked away.

“Comfortable?” he asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

“Haan…” I mumbled.

“You didn’t eat much during lunch,” he said calmly.

“I was full,” I lied.

He didn’t reply.

Instead, he reached toward the console and handed me a small bottle of water. I hesitated but took it.

Our fingers brushed.

And I swear, my entire soul shivered.

The sun began to set slowly, painting the sky in shades of crimson and lavender. Birds returned to their nests. Villages passed by, fields glowing golden in the evening light.

And still—not a word.

He didn’t need them.

His silence was louder than most people’s screams.

7:45 PM

“Stop here,” I said suddenly.

Both Yash and Ruchika looked confused.

“There’s a temple here,” I whispered. “I want to stop for two minutes.”

Yash didn’t ask questions. He just slowed down and pulled over.

It was a tiny roadside Hanuman temple. The bell was old and rusted. A single diya flickered at the foot of the idol.

I stepped out, touched the steps, and folded my hands.

“Hey Hanuman ji… aap sab jaante ho. Aapke samne toh sab sach hai. Jo ho raha hai, jisme meri raza hai ya nahi… uss sab mein meri suraksha aapke haath mein hai.”

My eyes filled, but I didn’t let a tear fall.

When I turned back, Yash was leaning against the car door. Watching me.

Again, without a word.

Seriously, what the hell is this man’s problem?

Why does he stare like that?

Like he’s trying to read every layer of my soul—or worse—eat me alive like I’m his favourite meal served hot.

Calm down, Diya. Breathe.

I quickly stepped back toward the SUV, pulling the dupatta tightly around myself. The palace was glowing under the moonlight, and the wind was light—but my inner turmoil was screaming louder than any storm.

“Chipkali, sun wou !” Shivansh shouted from the other side, waving his hand like a man on a mission.

I turned. “Godzilla!” I replied sharply, already exhausted from this circus of emotions.

“Mujhe neend aa rahi hai,” he yawned dramatically, stretching like a lazy cat.

Tou mai kya karu? Apni goud mein sulau kya? I snapped.

Suddenly—laser beams.

Okay, not real ones. But the way Yash ji looked at me—sharp, irritated, silently commanding—I could feel my cheeks burning like I’d just confessed my sins on national television.

I shut my mouth instantly.

Dead silence.

Kaash. But no. I had to open my big mouth.

“Bss tu aage baith jaa,” Shivansh said, waving me off like a royal order, “main peeche so jaunga araam se.”

Excuse me? I was about to protest but—

“But mai kyuu—” I started.

“Okay Chipkali, abhi 3 ghante ki journey hai. Byeee!” he sang, already climbing into the backseat, cuddling his neck pillow like a spoiled toddler.

And poof! I was abandoned. Left to share the front seat with his Khadoos King of Rajasthan brother.

I stood there for a second, frozen, questioning all my life decisions and mostly… Hanuman ji.

"Chala apna muh, Diya... kya Hanuman ji kuch toh sun lo meri baat please…”

In the Car – 9:30 PM

I sat stiffly in the passenger seat, as far away from Yash ji as physically possible.

He started the car without a single word, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. The lights of the palace faded behind us, and the only sound inside was the soft hum of the AC.

My mind?

It was shouting.

“Why does he always stare?”
“Why does he never smile?”
“Why am I sweating in 21°C?”
“Why didn’t I sit with Shivansh when I had the chance?”

I peeked at him from the corner of my eye.

Perfectly calm.

Like the intense silent storm he always was.

I sighed and turned my face towards the window, muttering under my breath, “Kya kahu mai iss khadoos se…”

“Tumne kuch kaha?” his voice suddenly cut through the silence.

I jumped. “N-nahi,” I squeaked.

He didn’t press. Just pressed the indicator and overtook a truck like a boss.

10:15 PM | Highway

I was fiddling with my fingers. Ruchika was half asleep in the back. Shivansh? Fully asleep. Snoring softly like a baby with a stomach full of gulab jamuns.

Yash glanced at me once. “Drink water,” he said, pushing a bottle toward me.

I hesitated.

“Drink,” he repeated, eyes still on the road.

Like some magic spell, I obeyed.

My lips touched the bottle, but his voice touched something deeper.

“Tumhara time-table waise bhi tight hai. Weak mat padna.”

I paused.

Did… did he just show concern?

I looked at him. “Mujhe kuch nahi hua hai,” I replied softly.

He didn’t respond.

Just kept driving, silently owning the road. Silently owning me.

11:00 PM | 45 minutes left

The car was slowing down.

“Hum kaha jaa rahe hai?” I asked, confused.

He parked beside a quiet roadside dhaba—not a big one, but neat, with warm lighting and soft folk music playing.

“Dinner,” he said shortly.

“But—”

“Tumne lunch properly nahi khaya tha. And dinner bhi skip karna tumhari habit hai. Come.”

He opened his door and stepped out. Before I could argue further, he was already opening my door like some Bollywood mafia gentleman.

I got out slowly. Ruchika stretched and joined, while Shivansh was being woken up by the fresh food smell.

“Arre khana? Main toh paida hi khane ke liye hua tha,” he announced proudly.

I laughed despite myself.

We sat down. The table was warm. The smell of tandoori rotis and dal makhni made my stomach growl like a lion finally freed from a cage.

Yash ordered without asking. Yet—everything I loved was there. From butter paneer to jeera rice, salad, and even my guilty pleasure—mirchi pakoras.

Ruchika looked at me. “Diya di, look at the spread. Royal treatment only!”

Shivansh chimed in, “Bhaiya aise hi hai. Khud nahi khayenge, par tujhe khila khila ke mota kar denge.”

I shot him a glare. Yash passed me the plate silently.

I took it, murmuring, “Thank you.”

He just nodded.

No words. But everything was said.

12:15 AM | Meherangarh Palace Gates

We finally entered the palace gates again.

This time, the palace looked different.

Maybe because I was no longer just a visitor.

Maybe because my past and future were both inside.

Yash stopped the car at the entrance. Vikrant was already waiting with staff.

He stepped out, opened my door again.

This time, I stepped out quietly and looked up at the grand structure of the royal palace. My home now.

He leaned slightly closer. Just enough that his breath touched my ear.

And he whispered—

“Welcome back, Mrs. Diya Yash Singh Chauhan.”

My knees wobbled.

But I smiled softly, hiding the chaos he always created within me.

Because deep down… I knew—

This is just the beginning.