She didn't wear a bra?
Rivan entered his room, loosening his cuffs, only to pause at the unusual sight before him. A pair of messy strands of hair peeked out from behind the curtains—his little wife clearly failing at whatever "secret mission" she thought she was on.
His eyes darkened. What now?
Before he could say a word, Devyani moved the curtain slightly and peeped out. The moment her gaze landed on him, her lips curved into a mischievous smile. She lifted her tiny finger and crooked it toward him, as if summoning a servant.
Rivan's jaw clenched. Damn her audacity to call me like that.
He strode toward her with long, purposeful steps. Instead of being intimidated, Devyani made another hand gesture, this time telling him to bend down. He narrowed his eyes but complied, lowering himself until his face was level with hers.
Devyani leaned in, her breath warm against his ear, and whispered dramatically, "Shhh... don't make any noise. Kaizan is searching for me."
Before Rivan could process the absurdity of her words, she suddenly tugged at his hand with surprising determination, pulling him behind the curtains with her.
He found himself pressed in the narrow space, his tall frame towering over her as she clung to him with wide, nervous eyes, the faint scent of her hair filling his senses.
For a moment, the ruthless Thakur could only stare at her childish attempt to hide—half annoyed, half... strangely drawn in.
Still clutching his hand, Devyani once again tugged at his sleeve, motioning for him to bend lower. He sighed in irritation but leaned down anyway, his sharp gaze meeting her mischievous one.
Devyani tilted her head, her lips barely moving as she murmured, "Aap itne lambe kyun ho?"
("Why are you so tall?")
RIVAN smirked.
RIVAN: "Aap itni chhoti kyun hai?" (Why are you so short?)
Devyani pouted, crossing her arms.
Devyani: "Battameez hote hai woh log jo sawaal pe sawaal karte hai." (Rude are those who answer questions with questions.)
RIVAN narrowed his eyes, raising a brow.
RIVAN: "Toh hum battameez hai?" (So, I am rude?)
Devyani quickly shook her head.
Devyani: "Nahi toh... humne kab kaha?" (No... when did I ever say that?)
For a moment, RIVAN froze. His chest tightened as he studied her innocent face.
Damn... she's different, he thought.
Devyani leaned closer, whispering.
Devyani: "Suniye..." (Listen...)
RIVAN lowered his head slightly.
RIVAN: "Sunaiyye." (Say it...)
She looked up at him with pleading eyes.
Devyani: "Aaj hume gussa mat kariyega na." (Please don't scold me today.)
A smirk tugged at his lips.
RIVAN: "Badle mein mujhe kya milega?" (And what will I get in return?)
Devyani blinked innocently.
Devyani: "Aapko kya chahiye?" (What do you want?)
His voice dropped lower, almost betraying him.
RIVAN (softly): "Ek... kiss mil jaati toh..." (If I could just get... one kiss...)
Devyani's eyes widened.
Devyani: "Ji? Kya kaha aapne?" (What? What did you say?)
RIVAN immediately looked away, scratching his neck nervously.
RIVAN: "Nai... kuch bhi toh nahi kaha." (No... I didn't say anything.)
Inside, he cursed himself. Fuck... stop it, RIVAN.
Meanwhile, Devyani just blinked at him, utterly confused by her impossible husband, while outside, unaware of the storm and sweetness hidden behind the curtains.
A deep growl filled the room as Kaizan padded in, his black coat glistening under the faint light. His golden eyes locked instantly on the curtains, catching the betrayal of two pairs of legs.
His tail lashed once, the muscles under his sleek body rippling with restrained rage.
Kaizan's mind: I don't like women. I hate them. She doesn't matter to me. I can see clearly, dad, she doesn't matter to you either. But last night... when she slept beside me, you dragged her away. You scolded me. And then... you......
The panther's lips curled back, exposing sharp fangs. The growl deepened, accusing, questioning.
Rivan stepped forward immediately, broad shoulders shielding Devyani from Kaizan's heated glare. His voice was cold steel.
"Kaizan... enough."
But then—something unexpected.
Devyani didn't shrink behind Rivan. She peeked past him, her wide eyes meeting Kaizan's golden ones. And instead of fear, there was only calm... almost childlike innocence.
"Kaizan..." she whispered softly, as if calling to a restless child. Her small hand lifted, trembling not from terror but from hesitation, as if she truly believed the beast wouldn't harm her.
Kaizan's ears twitched. The growl in his throat faltered. His blazing gaze softened—if only for a heartbeat—confused by her lack of fear.
Rivan froze, watching. His wife, the fragile girl he thought would crumble, stood calmly before the predator no man dared approach. And the panther... paused.
The tension thickened.
Kaizan's golden eyes turned back to Rivan, an unspoken challenge flickering there. She doesn't fear me... but you do. You fear what she's becoming to you.
Kaizan's golden eyes locked with Rivan's, the silent growl vibrating in his chest like thunder. That gaze was not just animal—it was accusation, fury, betrayal.
And Rivan... understood.
His jaw clenched, the truth hitting him harder than he liked. Kaizan wasn't angry at her—he was angry at him. Angry that Rivan had snatched her away, when he himself pretended she meant nothing.
Rivan tore his eyes away, fists tightening at his sides. His voice was low, almost a murmur meant for no one but himself.
Without another word, he strode out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him with a restrained fury.
The moment his heavy steps faded, Kaizan's form shifted. The anger melted, and in its place came an innocent tilt of the head, eyes softening as he turned toward Devyani.
She had already crouched down, her gentle fingers sliding into his thick black fur, stroking as though she were soothing a child. Kaizan purred low in his throat, pressing his head into her touch, his dangerous frame folding into something almost harmless.
"Kaizan... are you angry?" Devyani asked softly, her big eyes searching his.
The panther only huffed once before leaning forward and licking her cheek with a wet swipe.
Devyani squealed and giggled, pulling back slightly but then laughing again, her hand playfully pushing his face.
"Ewww, Kaaliya! That tickles!"
Kaizan's tail swayed lazily, his golden eyes gleaming with contentment. For the world, he was a predator. But in that moment, with her, he was nothing more than a spoiled child enjoying his mother's affection.
There, on his couch—Dev-yani lay fast asleep, her delicate arms curved protectively around Kaizan's sleek body. The deadly black panther, feared by all, was curled into her chest like a spoiled cub, purring faintly, their bodies entwined as though they belonged to each other.
Rivan's jaw flexed, fury igniting in his veins.
"Kaizan..." he murmured, low and threatening, a warning meant to split the silence.
The panther's ears twitched, but he didn't move. Instead, Kaizan nestled closer into Devyani, his massive head pressing against the curve of her neck, golden eyes sliding shut again in defiance.
Rivan's nostrils flared. His own panther was ignoring him.
He stepped closer, voice cutting sharper now.
"Kaizan."
Still nothing. Only the sound of Kaizan's content purr as he buried himself deeper into Devyani's warmth.
That sight—his son curled so peacefully in her arms, taking what he had denied himself—fueled Rivan's anger even more. His hand reached down, prying Devyani's small fingers away one by one from Kaizan's fur. She stirred faintly but did not wake, her sleep heavy, unbroken.
Kaizan's golden eyes shot open instantly, glowing in the dark, confusion flooding them.
Kaizan's mind: Mumma... mummaaaa... Mumma, wake up. He's taking me away. Mumma...
His body resisted, claws flexing against the sheets, a low whimper caught between growl and plea. But Devyani remained still, lost in her slumber.
"Mumma... wake up..." Kaizan's cry was helpless, desperate, but it lived only in his thoughts.
After pushing Kaizan away from Devyani, Rivan's voice cut through the silence, cold and edged.
"Didn't you have manners, Kaizan? Sleeping with someone else's woman isn't right. Understand?"
Kaizan's golden eyes flared, his tail thumping hard against the floor. His mind burned with unspoken words.
Kaizan's mind: Someone else's woman? Dad, say it. She's your woman. Why can't you even accept it? Instead, you get angry at me. And yes—I'll sleep with her. Because she likes me more than you.
A low, angry growl escaped Kaizan's throat, vibrating through the room. His gaze was unyielding, daring, filled with challenge.
Rivan's lips twisted into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes remained deadly serious.
"Watch out, boy," he muttered, his voice dropping like a warning strike of lightning. "I know how to handle you."
The panther bared his fangs, the sound of his growl thick with defiance. The air between them crackled with silent war—father and son, both claiming the same fragile girl sleeping peacefully in the middle of their storm.
Kaizan's growl deepened, chest vibrating as his golden eyes glowed like embers. His body lowered, muscles taut, tail thrashing—a predator's warning.
The panther let out a sharp snarl, fangs flashing.
Rivan's smirk widened, dark and dangerous.
"Careful," he murmured. "One wrong move, and I'll remind you who's dad here."
The air thickened with tension—predator against predator, though one wore human skin.
But then, in the middle of that storm, a soft movement stirred.
Devyani shifted in her sleep, her small hand searching unconsciously.
Kaizan froze, his golden eyes narrowing with something almost human—hurt. His growl died in his throat, replaced by a low, broken huff.
Kaizan backed into the shadows, his gaze lingering on Devyani as if silently calling to her:
Mumma... I'll wait. Tomorrow you'll hold me again.
And with one last accusing glare at Rivan, the panther slipped into the darkness.
After Kaizan finally slipped away into the shadows, Rivan stood still for a moment, his chest rising and falling with restrained anger. His sharp gaze shifted back to the couch.
There she was—his little wife, curled up uncomfortably, her fragile body almost slipping off the edge.
With a quiet exhale, Rivan walked over, bending down. His strong arms slid beneath her with ease, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. Devyani stirred faintly but didn't wake, her head falling against his shoulder, her soft breath brushing his neck.
His jaw clenched at the strange tug that stirred inside him. Without a word, he carried her to the massive bed. Gently—almost carefully—he laid her down on one side, tucking the quilt over her small frame.
For a long second, he lingered, staring at her sleeping face. Innocent. Peaceful. Untouched by the wars raging around her.
He straightened abruptly, as though catching himself.
Rivan pulled off his shirt, changed into more comfortable clothes, then returned to the bed. Stretching out on the other side, he made sure there was a wide distance between them—space enough to remind himself of the line he wouldn't cross.
The bed was huge, and the silence heavier.
This had become his routine—every night, no matter where she fell asleep, he made sure she was brought to this bed. Covered. Safe. Within reach, yet still far.
And as his eyes drifted shut, he reminded himself of the lie he clung to.
It's nothing. She means nothing.
But in the middle of the night, Devyani stirred. Her small hand reached out, brushing the empty space where Kaizan should've been. Confusion flickered even in her sleep, and she shifted, searching for the warmth she found in the panther's fur.
Instead, she moved closer—towards Rivan.
He froze the moment her soft body leaned into him. His breath hitched, his chest tightening when her face nuzzled unconsciously into the crook of his neck, seeking warmth.
Her breath was soft, feather-light against his skin. The innocent brush of her nose, the weight of her trust—it pierced through him in a way no wound ever had.
Rivan's throat worked as he swallowed hard. His mind screamed commands to his own body.
"Control... relax... inhale... exhale..." he murmured under his breath, almost desperate.
He shifted abruptly, moving away to put distance between them again. Space. Walls. Control.
For a while, he thought he had managed to reclaim space. A few inches, a breath of relief. But then—she shifted again.
Like a stubborn little koala, she clung to him, curling herself into his body. Her small frame pressed so close that his chest rose and fell unevenly, the rhythm breaking under her nearness.
He stilled, frozen, when her head found its way beneath his arm, as though it was the most natural pillow.
Her cheek rested against him, and she burrowed further—snuggling into the hollow of his neck.
Her warm breath fanned against his skin, a soft, dangerous torture that made shivers crawl down his spine.
"Kitten..." he muttered under his breath, but sleep had claimed her fully. She didn't hear him. She only pressed closer.
Then her leg hooked over his, tangling them even more. His eyes flew open, wide in disbelief. "Ashleel ladki..." he hissed in a low whisper, staring at the ceiling as if it could save him from this madness.
Her softness molded into him, her body impossibly warm, almost too real against his hardened frame. Every inch of her presence screamed innocence, yet it ignited a storm inside him he struggled to contain. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his jaw tightening until veins popped at his temple.
Her soft boobs pressed against his chest, and that single contact was enough to shatter every wall he had built. His breaths grew heavier, harsher, almost ragged in the silence.
"Fuck... she didn't wear a bra? I can feel her... fuckkkkkk... stop it, Rivan."
Her soft body pressed tighter against him, making his breath ragged.
Damnnnn... do girls usually not wear bras at night? his mind wandered. Might be...
He cursed, whispering, "I should do a little research on this."
His mind instantly mocked back: Research? Oh, not bad. Mr. Rivan Thakur, mafia,killer of men... now Google scholar of lingerie habits.
"Fuck... stop it," he hissed under his breath. "I'm just curious why she didn't wear it. It's not like I'm liking it because she's not wearing..."
His inner voice laughed, sharp and wicked: Ohhh, I didn't mention 'liking' at all, Mr. Thakur. You said it yourself.
Rivan froze, jaw locking. "Fucking stop it."
What happened, big man? Losing control over a tiny little wife?
The same wife who you swore you'd keep at distance, now tangled around you like a damn vine?
Tell me, Rivan Thakur... is your heartbeat racing because of danger... or because of her soft chest against you?
His fists clenched in the sheets. "Bas... bas kar..."
But his inner self chuckled, merciless: You can fight the underworld, but not your little wife's no-bra rule. Waah, Rivan. Waah.
"Control, Rivan... relax..." he muttered to himself, shutting his eyes tightly, fighting against the pull. But her warmth seeped deeper, branding his skin, his blood, his very core.
It wasn't just temptation. It was fire. And for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure if he could douse it.
His body was stone, rigid with restraint, yet her softness melted into him as if she belonged there. Every time she shifted in sleep, her breath brushed against his neck, her fingers curled tighter into his shirt, her leg clung more firmly around him.
He stared at the ceiling, veins throbbing in his temple, fists clenched in the sheets.
You're Rivan Thakur... control yourself. Don't forget who she is. Don't forget what she is to you.
But when her lips grazed lightly against the side of his throat—just a sleepy, innocent movement—his entire body tensed. Heat surged like fire in his veins, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.
"Pagal ladki..." he whispered, voice hoarse, almost desperate. "Tumhe pata bhi nahi tum kya kar rahi ho..."
Her small sigh reached him, and instead of loosening, her hold grew tighter, burrowing further into his chest as if she could crawl into his very soul. He shut his eyes, inhaling sharply, her scent filling his lungs—sweet, pure, maddening.
Sleep abandoned him completely. Minutes passed, the night dragging endlessly, while she slept with such peace pressed against the man who was anything but peaceful.
Finally, with a sharp hiss, Rivan shoved the blanket off. He couldn't take it anymore. Every breath, every brush of her body against his—it was torture. His veins were on fire, his chest tight, his mind clouded with thoughts he shouldn't be having.
He disentangled her gently, prying her small hand off his shirt with far more care than he intended, and slipped out of bed. She murmured something in her sleep, searching for his warmth even as he pulled away, and he froze, jaw clenching.
His strides were quick, almost harsh, as he stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.
Why at midnight? God knows. Maybe the walls of that room weren't strong enough to cage the storm inside him. Maybe the ice-cold water he splashed on his face wasn't just to cool his skin but to drown the fire she had unknowingly set ablaze.
Or maybe... readers already knew why Rivan Thakur—the man who controlled empires—lost control in the middle of the night, locking himself in a bathroom to fight a war no one else could see.
(Haina readers pata hai na RIVAN itni raat me bathroom me kya kar raha hoga??)
The cold water hit his skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire roaring inside.
His mind whispered slyly: Ohhh, so you're showering at midnight now? Waah Rivan Thakur. Big, bad mafia king undone by one soft touch. Tsk tsk...
He gritted his teeth, glaring at his reflection on the fogged mirror.
"Shut up. I'm not taking this shower because of her... I'm taking it because... because she touched me. And I hate women's touch."
His inner voice chuckled darkly: Hate, huh? Then why the hell were you feeding her last night? Why didn't you pull away when her lips brushed your fingers? You remember how you went hard instantly...
"FUCK—STOP IT," he slammed his palm against the marble. His breath came fast, uneven. "I don't like this. I hate her. I hate women. Especially those girls Mr Thakur brought into my life."
The mocking voice in his head only leaned closer, crueler:
Hate her? Then why do you remember the warmth of her more than the cold of your gun?
Why did her tiny kiss make your veins pop like you were seventeen?
He shut his eyes, water running down his face like punishment.
"Stop... stop it," he whispered, almost begging.
But his mind didn't stop. It purred: Face it, Rivan. She's not breaking you with power... she's breaking you with innocence. And you're fucking terrified of it.
(Aur phir hamare Thakur Sahab bathroom me apne aap se ladte ladte ladte raat ko din kardiye??)
.
.
.
Devyani, after chit-chatting with Kaizan, again went into Rivan's office and sat quietly on the couch, waiting for her husband to notice her with a cute pout on her face.
Finally, after half an hour, Rivan — who had finished his work — looked up and asked, "Tired?"
Devyani shook her head. "Nope."
He asked, "Then?"
Devyani hesitated. "Ummm... today you didn't fuck me."
Rivan put a hand to his head, murmuring, "This girl will be the reason for my death." He exhaled, got up, and sat on the couch beside her. "Can you stop using this word?" he asked.
Devyani, innocent, replied, "No."
Rivan blinked. No? Is she really telling me no? He asked, "Why no?"
Devyani said, "Umm, because you also use this word."
Rivan sighed. "Okay, I'll stop using it."
Devyani tilted her head. "But what's the harm? It's just used for caring."
Rivan's voice hardened. "Listen, kitten — it's not what you mean, okay? So keep 'caring' in the caring place and keep that word in its place. Stop mixing things up. And I'll seriously kill you if you go anywhere and learn new words, do you hear me?"
Devyani cried a little inside at the word "kill." It always made her scared and nervous.
Devyani looked at him with her big doe eyes, shimmering with something he couldn't quite read. Rivan frowned, confused. Now what happened to her?
But before he could ask, to his shock, she just stood up silently and left the office without a word.
Rivan leaned back, rubbing his forehead.
"Her and her tantrums..." he murmured, exasperated.
Later, when he moved to his room, Devyani had already wandered off into the hall where everyone was sitting together.
She walked quietly, almost like a child, and slipped down beside Virendra.
Without a thought, her small fingers began fiddling with the button on his sleeve, twirling it between her fingertips.
Virendra glanced down at her, his stern face softening a fraction at her innocence. He cleared his throat and said, "It's confirmed. We're going to Mumbai. So, make sure to pack your things. Only what's necessary. Outfits will be arranged in Mumbai itself."
Devyani blinked up at him, curious. "Mumbai?" she repeated softly, as though testing the word on her tongue.
Virendra gave a small smile. "Yes, Mumbai. A very big city. Busy... crowded... but also beautiful."
Rekha Thakurain added from the other side, "So much noise, so many lights. Nothing like our haveli. You'll see."
Payal leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Oh, Mumbai is amazing, Devyani bhabhi! The sea, the Marine Drive lights, the food—" she laughed. "You'll love it."
Devyani's eyes widened, wonder flickering across her face. "Sea? Like... water? So big?"
Virendra chuckled softly. "Yes, very big. Endless. When you stand in front of it, you'll feel small."
Virendra's gaze, however, stayed steady. "Don't get too carried away. We aren't going there for fun. Keep yourself close, understood?" His voice carried weight, and though Devyani nodded obediently, her mind was already painting pictures of glowing lights and waves crashing against rocks.
Virendra leaned back, his voice firm. "Tomorrow morning, we'll leave."
Virendra's eyes narrowed instantly. "No, Rudra. Whatever you're about to ask, the answer is already no."
Everyone chuckled, already used to this scene.
But Rudraksh wasn't giving up. He slid dramatically from his chair and dropped to his knees beside Virendra, tugging at his leg with the most exaggeratedly innocent eyes. "Papa, please..."
Virendra scowled. "What are you doing? Get up!"
The hall echoed with laughter. Aradhya clapped her hand over her mouth, and even Rekha couldn't help smiling at the rare sight of Rudra pestering Virendra like a child.
Finally, Rudra grinned and shot his shot: "Bade papa, can we go by cars this time?"
Virendra's brows shot up. "Have you lost your mind? Do you know how long that will take? Almost one whole day! And by the time we reach, you all will be exhausted like hell."
"But Bade papa," Rudra pouted, widening his eyes, "it'll be fun! I'm bored of flights. Always the same chairs, the same view, the same boring air hostess smile. Cars will be fun—long drive, music, food stops—pleaseee!"
Payal, ever ready to support, bounced forward. "Haan, Bade papa! Even I want to go by car. It will be an adventure!"
Aradhya immediately joined, clasping her hands. "Please, Papa... one trip won't hurt. Let's go together, all of us. It'll be fun!"
Virendra looked around, glaring at the sudden wave of rebellion. "Absolutely not."
But then, to everyone's surprise, Devyani quietly raised her hand. "Me too."
The whole room went silent for a second.
Virendra turned his head slowly, staring at her. "You... too?"
Devyani nodded quickly, glancing at the others, trying to mimic their pouty faces. "Yes... me also. Please, car."
For the first time, Virendra looked utterly betrayed. His own daughter-in-law too? He groaned, muttering under his breath, "One Devyani was enough, now all of them want to test my patience."
The family burst into laughter again, while Devyani looked proudly at Rudra, Payal, and Aradhya as if she had done something very clever by joining the "car protest."
Yashodha finally spoke up, her tone calm but decisive. "Alright then. Baba sa and Maa sa can go by jet... and we all will go by cars. But with full security. You all know Rivan won't allow otherwise."
The younger lot jumped in excitement, clapping and cheering like children.
Virendra turned sharply. "Yashodha... you too?"
She only smiled sweetly. "Yes."
Virendra groaned, pressing his hand to his forehead. "Fine. We'll go by cars." The hall erupted in another round of cheers. "But first... who is going to tell Rivan? Do you people really think he'll allow this? Cars aren't safe."
Before anyone could answer, Rudraksh piped up mischievously, "But Bade papa... he's not coming na?"
Virendra gave him a long, withering stare. "He may not be coming, but he's sending his heart with us, Rudra."
The moment those words left his mouth, every single pair of eyes slowly turned toward Devyani.
"Ummmm..." everyone murmured in unison, their faces wearing the same cheeky expression.
Devyani blinked, utterly confused. "W...what? Why is everyone looking at me like this?"
Aradhya nudged her shoulder playfully. "Because only you can convince Bhaiya."
Payal giggled, "Yes, bhabhi. If you ask him, he'll never say no."
Devyani looked around helplessly at all the eager faces. For a second, she thought they were all asking for her help, and her heart swelled with a silly pride. Then, breaking into her big toothy smile, she clapped her hands together.
"Me! Me, me, me! I'll tell him! I'll tell him!" she chirped like a schoolgirl volunteering for a game.
The family laughed again, while Virendra muttered under his breath, "God save us... she'll be the reason my son throws me out of my own haveli one day."
I nodded earnestly. "Yes! I want your kind. It looks peaceful and flat. Can you give me yours?"
Now he sat up halfway, completely lost. "You want... my chest?"
I nodded again, serious as ever. "Yes. It doesn't even move when you walk. Mine does! How is that fair?"
I looked at him and said, "See my chest..."
His eyes widened instantly.
"You don't want to see it?" I asked, tilting my head innocently.