Sold to the Thakur's

Do all men have nipples???

The dammm hilarious chapter here????

Sometimes you'll get long chapters, sometimes short ones it's not fixed.

It entirely depends on my emotions and how much I can think at that moment.

So, I really hope you guys understand me. ??

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As soon as Adi bhaiyya left, I slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside.

For the first time that day, my heart didn't feel like it was racing to escape my chest. The room looked so beautiful soft white curtains swaying gently with the evening breeze, walls painted in cream and ivory, the faint smell of jasmine lingering in the air.

It didn't feel like a hotel room.

It felt... peaceful.

Almost like it was made to calm me down.

My fingers brushed the edge of the bed soft, white sheets, neatly tucked, not a single crease out of place. Everything was clean, perfect, and warm.

It reminded me of his room... just without the darkness.

There were no black walls, no sharp edges no scent of danger.

"Hmm..." I whispered to myself softly, a small smile tugging on my lips.

"Yeh toh bilkul Pati Parmeshwar ji ke kamre jaise hai... bas yahan dar nahi lagta."

(It's just like my husband's room... just that here, I don't feel scared.)

I walked slowly to the balcony, my anklets making the faintest sound on the marble floor. The cool wind brushed against my skin as I stepped outside. The night sky was vast and quiet stars scattered everywhere like little diamonds.

For a moment, I forgot everything.

The shouting. The fear. The memories of Bapu.

Everything just... faded.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, feeling the wind against my face.

"Pati Parmeshwar ji," I whispered softly, "you don't like me, I know... but I still... I still like praying for you."

A tiny tear slipped from her eye, but this time it wasn't pain it was a strange kind of peace.

"Please be safe... please don't scold me," she murmured.

Then she wiped her cheek quickly, smiled again, and whispered to herself,

"Adi bhaiyya said I'll be okay. So, I'll be okay."

I stood there quietly, eyes lifted toward the endless sky.

The stars shimmered softly countless tiny lights scattered across the dark.

"Maa..." I whispered, a small smile trembling on my lips, "you're watching me, right?"

The wind brushed against my face, like her gentle hands.

I smiled again.

"Maa, I wish you were here to listen to my small complaints.

.. to hold me when I cry."

My throat tightened as the words slipped out.

"I wish... you could take me with you. Why did you leave me alone, haa?"

The smile faded, and a single tear rolled down my cheek, glistening in the moonlight.

"But it's okay, maa..." I murmured softly, "I'll come to you soon.

You know, when people die, they go to the clouds na?

Then we'll live happily there. You'll feed me, braid my hair, cook for me.

.. and I'll just sit beside you and listen to your stories all day. "

Her voice broke at the end, a soft sob escaping before she could stop it.

She pressed her hands together, looking up.

"I almost forgot, maa," she whispered shakily, "I don't belong here. I'm from a small village a small girl who doesn't even know the ways of this big world."

Her smile returned weak, broken, but still innocent.

"That's why... pati ji hates me. And he should, right? He's like a king, and I'm just a maid in front of him. He's still keeping me, maa... I should be grateful for that."

Her fingers curled tightly around her saree pallu, knuckles white.

"Don't feel sad, Devyani," she whispered to herself, "just thank God that he didn't hit you like Bapu... he just scolded you."

Her voice trembled as she continued softly, almost like reciting a promise.

"From today onwards, you won't talk to him much, okay? Stay in your limits... only one year left. If he breaks the marriage before that, Bapu will kill you."

Her lips quivered, eyes filled with tears again but this time, she smiled faintly through them.

"So... choose a peaceful death, Devyani," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

"Peaceful... like sleeping on the clouds with maa."

She looked up again, the stars blurring through her tears.

"I'll come soon, maa... I promise."

And with that, she placed her hand over her heart the same trembling heart that still hoped for love, even when all it ever received was pain.

After standing in the balcony for long, I finally walked back inside.

The room felt calm, soft, and quiet unlike the heavy silence of that big haveli.

I changed into a simple cotton frock I had brought, something loose and comfortable.

Wrapping a shawl tightly around me, I went and stood before the tall mirror.

For a moment, I just looked at my reflection.

The girl in the mirror looked like me... but she didn't feel like me.

My fingers touched the edge of my shawl as my eyes travelled down slowly to my chest.

My body... it looked so different.

"Why am I not like others?" I whispered softly.

I thought of Payal, Jinal, and Aaradhya.

They wore their clothes so confidently dresses without dupattas or heavy shawls and they looked so perfect.

But me? I felt strange... as if something was wrong in how I was made.

My chest... it always confused me.

Why does it look bigger than theirs?

Why do clothes fit differently on me?

I quickly pulled the shawl tighter around myself, as if hiding would make the question disappear.

Then I remembered the sarees Yashodha maa gave me.

Thank God for them... those layers of cloth hid everything well.

The blouses she stitched for me always covered me properly not like the ones the younger girls wore. They wore fitted ones, short ones, even dresses that showed their shoulders.

I bit my lip, frowning slightly.

"Maybe their shapes are... right," I mumbled softly. "And mine... mine must be wrong."

A small sigh escaped.

Once, Jinal had even handed me a small piece of clothes something tiny and said, "Wear this inside, you'll feel better."

But when I looked at it, my face burned with embarrassment.

"It's so small," I had thought, "how can anyone wear this inside?"

I had folded it quickly and hidden it in the cupboard.

Still, the question remained, tickling my mind every time I saw them.

Why do they wear it?

Does it make them look beautiful?

Does it make the shape right?

I stared at myself again, confused, innocent eyes full of wonder.

Maybe... I was not made like them.

Maybe that's why pati ji always looks away in anger.

Maybe something about me is wrong.

My throat tightened, but I tried to smile.

"It's okay, Devyani," I whispered to my reflection, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You don't need to be like them. You're fine like this. Yashodha maa said modest girls are the most beautiful."

And yet...

somewhere deep inside, the questions stayed quiet, small, and innocent

just like the girl asking them.

After standing before the mirror for long, Devyani finally decided to step out her shawl wrapped tightly across her chest, as if it were her shield against the confusing world around her. She tugged at the ends to make sure nothing could be seen through her frock.

Her little pout returned the one that always appeared whenever she was confused or thinking too much. She walked slowly down the corridor, her mind still occupied with one very big question: what was that small thing the other girls wore inside?

As she turned a corner, she spotted Aditya standing near the reception, talking to the security staff about arrangements. Her face instantly brightened.

"Adi bhaiyyaaa!" she called softly, hurrying toward him.

Aditya turned with a faint smile. "Yes, bhabhi?"

She stopped in front of him, clutching her shawl, her eyes big and hesitant.

"Ummm... can I ask you something?"

Aditya, still in conversation mode, nodded. "Haan, sure, bhabhi. What happened?"

He waved a hand at the guards. "Carry on with the checks," and then turned back to her.

Devyani looked around as if the walls might hear her secret.

"Wo... bhaiyya... can you tell me what those small things are... you know, the ones girls wear... maybe boys too?"

Aditya blinked. Once. Twice.

"What... small things, bhabhi?"

She tilted her head, thinking hard, her cheeks turning pink. "Ummm... I don't know the name, but Jinal and Payal wear it. They even gave me one. It's really small... and they said to wear it inside!"

Aditya's brows shot up.

Inside?

Oh. Maybe she was talking about... accessories?

Something like a chain?

A smile of relief spread across his face.

"Ohhh that! Yes, bhabhi. You want one? I'll get it for you!"

Devyani gasped softly, eyes wide in shock. "You will?! You mean... you'll buy it... for me?"

Aditya nodded casually, hands in pockets. "Of course! Why not? It's quite common now, men and women both wear it."

Devyani's mouth fell open.

"Both?!" she whispered, looking absolutely scandalized. "Men also wear that?"

Aditya chuckled. "Yes, bhabhi. Before it wasn't so common, but now... everyone wears it."

And that was it. Her innocent imagination took a wild turn.

Her brain instantly pictured her pati Parmeshwar ji her Rivan wearing that tiny, confusing thing.

Her cheeks went crimson.

She quickly turned around, clutching her shawl tighter, mumbling under her breath,

"Chi chi chi... men also wear that... how shameless this century is..."

Aditya, seeing her sudden reaction, stood there absolutely clueless.

"Bhabhi?

Devyani tilted her head, still not understanding a thing.

Her gaze slowly drifted toward Aditya's chest.

He didn't even have one like girls did just flat!

Then why would he need to wear that tiny thing inside?

She frowned in confusion, her big eyes studying him from head to toe.

Aditya noticed her curious stare and cleared his throat.

She's looking at my neck... maybe she's searching for the chain, he thought.

He smiled kindly, trying to help.

"Ohh, you're looking for that, right, bhabhi? I do wear one, but only on special occasions, not every day."

Her eyes blinked rapidly.

"Ohhhh... so it's worn only on special occasions?" she asked innocently.

Aditya nodded, still unaware of the volcano of misunderstanding ready to erupt.

"Yes, bhabhi. You can wear it daily too, but some people wear it just for functions or parties."

Devyani hummed softly, still staring at his chest in complete confusion.

Her small pout appeared again.

Aditya noticed her gaze and chuckled.

"Arrey, wait bhabhi! I'll show you how it looks on men. Just one second!"

Before she could reply, he started unbuttoning the first button of his shirt.

The next second —

"ADIIIITTTTT BHAAAIYYAAAAAAA STOPPPPPPPP!!!!"

Her shriek echoed through the hallway, making the nearby security guards freeze in confusion.

Aditya jumped, nearly tripping back. "What—what happened, bhabhi?!"

Devyani's face turned red like a tomato. She immediately covered her eyes with both hands, peeking through her fingers in embarrassment.

"Bhaiyyaaa! Why are you opening your shirt in front of me?! Chi! Chi! Chi!"

Aditya's jaw dropped. "What?! I was just showing!"

Devyani stood there for a second, her heart still racing. Then she suddenly remembered something and stammered,

"Bhaiyya... actually... I have to go!"

Before Aditya could even respond, she clutched her shawl tightly around herself and darted off like a frightened rabbit. Her dupatta flew behind her as she disappeared down the corridor, cheeks flushed and thoughts running wild.

Chi... chi... what did I even ask! she scolded herself in her head. Now Bhaiyya must be thinking I'm mad! Oh God, please hide me somewhere...

Meanwhile, Aditya stood frozen for a moment, utterly baffled.

He slowly looked down at the chain he was holding in his hand and sighed.

"I was literally just showing her a chain...," he muttered, shaking his head with a small laugh.

Then, his expression softened.

"At least she looks relaxed now," he said to himself, feeling relieved that her earlier fear had eased a bit.

He tucked the chain back inside his shirt and walked off toward his own room.

Back in her room, Devyani locked the door and leaned against it, exhaling heavily.

Her heart was still fluttering from embarrassment.

She sat on the bed, pulling the shawl closer around her.

Maybe I'll ask Pati Parmeshwar ji, she thought innocently. He knows everything, he can tell me...

But the next moment, Rivan's cold, angry voice from earlier echoed in her mind

"I'm not your husband... stop calling me that!"

Her lips quivered. She immediately shook her head, curling up under the blanket.

She closed her eyes tightly, hugging the pillow to her chest as if it could protect her from her own thoughts.

Sleep slowly took over her fragile mind, her shawl still wrapped around her shoulders, her face buried in tears that never fell

and somewhere, in her dreams, she was again that small girl searching for her mother's embrace in a world that never felt safe.

I was sleeping peacefully when suddenly... I felt something warm beside me.

That same warmth I crave every night the one that wraps around me whenever I close my eyes.

Without even thinking, I turned towards it, my fingers clutching the blanket softly.

And then... I felt him.

Those same arms that always come in my dreams the ones that pull me close with such care, as if I'll disappear if he lets go.

His chest pressed lightly against my back, and I could hear his slow breaths brushing against my neck.

My lips curved into a sleepy smile. He came again...

Every night, when the world sleeps, he comes in my dreams.

He always holds me the same way his hand on my back, his fingers gently tracing circles that make my heart beat faster, my body feel strange.

It's like something starts fluttering deep inside me, and I don't know what it is, but... I like it.

When his fingers touched my lips this time, I trembled a little.

When his hand moved up to tuck my hair behind my ear, I could feel my cheeks burn even in sleep.

And then that same soft whisper brushed my ear the one that always makes me feel safe.

But tonight... something felt different.

Too real. Too warm. Too close.

Thank God Pati Parmeshwar ji doesn't know about that man who exists in my dreams. He might scold me for thinking of another man thank God he exists only in my dreams.

My heart started racing fast faster than it ever did in my dreams.

I slowly opened my eyes, half expecting the moment to disappear like always.

But it didn't.

He was right there.

So close that I could feel his breath mixing with mine.

So close that I forgot to breathe for a moment.

My eyes widened, my lips parted, but no words came out.

My heart was fluttering so wildly I thought he might hear it.

I didn't know if I should move away or stay still — because the moment felt like a dream...

and I didn't want it to end.

I blinked slowly, my vision hazy. Pati Parmeshwar ji?

How come he's here?

Oh... maybe I was so terrified that my mind brought him into my dream instead of that other man.

Yes, that must be it.

My eyelids grew heavy again, and before I knew it, I slipped back into my dreams. I'm such a heavy sleeper just like Kumbhkaran; even an earthquake couldn't wake me once I drift off.

He was still there beside me, his gaze fixed on me with that same unreadable look.

"Pati Parmeshwar ji," I murmured.

He only answered with a quiet "hmmm", his eyes never leaving mine.

We were so close that I could count his breaths — each one warm against my cheek.

"You shouldn't come into my dreams," I whispered, my lips forming a pout. "You're a monster. I hate you."

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth barely moving.

"Yes," he said in a voice low and calm, "I know, kitten. I'm a monster."

"Then why did you come to my dream today?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

He hesitated for a moment, then replied softly,

"Because... I was missing you."

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat.

"Oh... so you were missing me?" I said, narrowing my eyes like a little detective. "But that's not possible. You hate me, na?"

He didn't answer this time. His silence said something strange something that made my dream feel even more real.

Hmm... even in my dreams, Pati Parmeshwar ji has no answer.

I felt him so close, closer than ever before, like the warmth I'd dreamed of every night was finally real.

My fingers lightly brushed his face, tracing the curve of his cheek and the line of his jaw.

His eyes, usually so distant and unreadable, were soft now searching me, holding me, and somehow understanding me even without words.

My heart was pounding so fast I thought it might leap out of my chest. Every time our gazes met, I felt like the world outside vanished. Just us. Just this moment.

I leaned in, shyly, pressing my lips to his.

It was nothing bold, nothing daring just a gentle, lingering brush that made my stomach flutter in ways I'd never imagined.

His eyes closed almost instantly, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

The air around us felt electric, and even though we weren't speaking, I could feel his thoughts, his hesitations, and something softer. .. something almost tender.

When I pulled back just a little, he looked at me with an intensity that made me forget to breathe. I could feel the steady beat of his chest, the warmth of his hand near mine, and it all made me feel... safe, even in the midst of everything I feared about him.

"Kitten," he murmured, and even that single word made my heart stutter. It wasn't commanding, it wasn't harsh it was soft, careful, and for me alone.

I leaned closer again, pressing my forehead to his, letting our breaths mingle. My heart raced faster than ever. Every small movement, every brush of hands, every lingering look... it felt like flying without moving.

Even in my dreams, I'd never felt anything like this. It wasn't just closeness it was the way my world shifted the moment he was near, like gravity itself had changed, pulling me to him, to safety, to warmth.

I whispered softly, almost to myself, "I never want this to end..."

And he didn't reply with words, but his hand gently brushed my hair back, holding me closer. That was enough. That small, quiet gesture said everything I didn't know how to put into words.

I pressed my cheek to his, heart fluttering, feeling a warmth that made all the fear and uncertainty melt away if only for this moment.

Then he slowly opened his eyes, and we looked at each other for a few long seconds. I closed the distance and kissed him on the lips again. He closed his eyes, and I smiled, pulling back.

"Please don't scold me... I'll give you 100 kisses," I whispered. "I know kisses calm you. Aru told me this, that's why I tried to kiss you, but... why do you still get angry?"

He said, "I'm sorry... it's... it's tough for me. I feel... even guilty."

RIVAN, who never felt guilty before, was feeling it now. He never cared for feelings, but now... he was starting to care.

"This... this is new," he continued. "Fighting my inner demons is very difficult, kitten."

I just stared at him with my big, doe eyes, not understanding what he was trying to say. His words were difficult to grasp, so instead of replying, I pulled him closer to me and kissed him again.

This time it was longer. He pulled me closer, and my heart began racing. Even in dreams, I had never felt this. There was something... something I couldn't understand.

He drew me even deeper, our lips still locked, and my chest fluttered as if it would burst.

Then I pulled back and said softly, "Enough. Anyway, this won't keep you from getting angry. Since this is just my dream, I can do anything here... but in real life, I won't kiss you again. You only know how to scold me, that's it."

I pouted and looked away, but then my thoughts drifted toward that tiny thing men and women wear... and instantly, my eyes went to his chest.

Yes, I wanted to see how they wear it. Without thinking twice, I said, "Open your shirt button."

He looked at me, utterly confused.

I crossed my arms and glared. "You're in my dream! You can't disobey me. Do as I said."

A small smirk curved on my lips. To my surprise, he actually obeyed he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. In my dream, he seemed so calm, so innocent. So different from the scary monster I knew in reality.

He slowly unbuttoned his shirt. We were still lying on the bed, and finally, all the buttons were open. But due to our sleeping positions, I still couldn't see his chest clearly and that seemed to anger him.

Frustrated, I got up slightly and carefully turned him to lie on his back, then perched myself lightly on his stomach.

After all, this was my dream who cared if he felt my weight?

I could see his eyes widen like saucers, as if he was just as surprised in his dream as I was in mine. I ignored him completely.

Finally, I opened his shirt fully and saw his body. My eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't wearing that thing men and women usually wear... so why? His chest was flat.

But... Adi bhaiyya said both men and women wear it... then why is his chest flat? My mind whirled with confusion, curiosity, and that tiny spark of mischief only my dream allowed.

I leaned closer, my eyes glued to his chest. Flat.

.. why flat? My fingers, guided by pure curiosity, reached out.

I hesitated for a second, then, with the courage only dreams give, I touched softly, softly the tiny bumps on his chest. Are these.

.. nipples? But they are so small... why do they even exist?

Do all men have these? Why are they so hard?

As soon as my fingers brushed one, I felt something. A tiny shiver ran through him. My eyes widened. Oh no! I'm not supposed to do anything! But... why is it warm? And why are there veins popping?

I poked the other side, carefully, like I was examining a rare artifact. One... two... wait, do both sides have them? Why are they the same? How come Adi bhaiyya said both men and women wear the little thing... does it cover this? Why didn't he wear it?

I poked again, gently, and he let out a low sound. Uh-oh... did I hurt him? Or is he... feeling something? But I'm just touching, not doing anything...

I tilted my head, puzzled, tracing the outline with my finger. It's so... soft, yet firm. But why is it like this? Are they supposed to be hard? Is this why men are different from women?

I pressed lightly again, and his chest twitched under my hand.

My eyes went wide. Did I just make him shiver?

Oh no... should I stop? But... I just want to understand.

Are all men like this? Do they feel this when someone touches?

How did Adi bhaiyya explain? He didn't explain this! Why didn't anyone tell me???

I poked both again, comparing, moving my fingers in small circles. Soft... hard... warm... wait, Am I doing something wrong? Why do I feel something in my stomach? Is it supposed to feel this way? Oh no, I'm so confused...

He shifted slightly, his arms tightening as if he wanted to hold me, and I froze. My mind screamed, Oh no! Did I hurt him? Did I make him angry? But... his veins... are they... popping because of me? But I'm just curious! I'm not doing anything bad... right?

My fingers hesitated, then boldly poked one last time, tracing the little bumps gently. Are they supposed to feel like this? So warm... so... different... I leaned closer, staring, full of tiny ridiculous questions tumbling in my mind:

Do all men have nipples like this? Are they always hard? Is it supposed to make a person shiver? Why are they flat on him but round on me? Why didn't anyone tell me about this? Why do I feel... something in my tummy? Is it okay to feel this? Am I supposed to feel this?

I looked at his face, his eyes half-closed, lips slightly parted, veins standing out on his neck and arms. Oh no... am I doing something wrong? But I'm just... touching... innocently...

I pulled back my hand a little, only to see his chest still twitch slightly. Why is it still reacting? Did I do something wrong? Should I stop? But I... I just want to understand...

I couldn't help but touch again, just lightly, carefully, tracing small circles with my fingertips. Each time he shivered, my heart raced, and my mind went berserk:

I sat back a little, my hands frozen, my mind a tornado of curiosity, confusion, and a tiny spark of something I didn't understand yet. Every shiver, every twitch under my touch, made my heart race faster, and I realized... I've never been this curious, this cautious, or this bewildered in my life.

"Move." His voice was low, but sharp, a whisper that still carried authority even in my dream.

I froze, my hands still hovering near his chest, my mind spinning. Move? Who does he think he is? He's in my dream! I can do whatever I want!

"I... I'm not moving!" I said, puffing my cheeks, crossing my arms, my pout forming automatically. "You are in my dream! You can't order me around!"

His dark eyes narrowed, yet there was a strange softness in the corners. "I... I'm not ordering you, kitten. Please... just move." His voice carried a hint of pain, like something was tugging at him, even in sleep.

I blinked, my anger flickering with confusion. Pain? Was he really in pain? My fingers relaxed, and I slowly leaned back, tilting my head, my pout deepening. My heart softened seeing him like this vulnerable, even in my dream.

I moved just a little, sitting on my haunches, my shawl still wrapped around me, trying to cover myself but also wanting to watch him. My pout stayed, but it was softer now. "Fine... I moved... happy now?"

His gaze softened further, and a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him. I saw his lips twitch, like he was fighting some inner turmoil, and my heart ached a little. Even in dreams, he could make me feel everything so deeply.

I rested my hands on my lap, still pouting but now with a hint of curiosity. Why does he look like that? Even in my dreams, he can hurt me with just a look... or maybe... he just wants me to understand him?

I couldn't help but glance at his chest again, my mind still a whirlwind of questions. But for now... for now, I stayed put, pouting, yet moved, letting him find his peace in the dream world.

I frowned and pointed at his chest. "But why is yours so flat, pati?ji?"

He blinked, clearly thrown off. His voice came out hoarse, half?asleep. "Because I'm a man, kitten."

He rubbed his temple, sighing. "Because you're a girl. Girls and boys are made different."

I pouted, truly upset by the unfairness. "That's not fair! Yours looks so easy to carry. Mine makes it hard to breathe sometimes."

He opened one eye, confusion written all over his face. "You're... complaining about that?"

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.

He gulped and stammered, "No... I... I don't want to see it."

"Why???" I asked, genuinely confused. "It's different! I just want to show you so you can... you know... identify the difference."

His hands fidgeted slightly, his jaw tightening. "No... no... I don't want to see any difference," he muttered, almost to himself.

I noticed how nervous he looked. His face was slightly red, and he avoided my eyes. My curiosity only grew.

I said, "It's okay if you don't want to see it. I'm not showing it in real life—it's just that you are in my dream, so I thought to show you."

Then I told him to give me his hand.

He frowned and asked, "Why?"

I glared at him. "You're questioning me? How dare you! You don't get to question me, got it?"

He raised his hands slightly in surrender. "Okay, madam."

"Good. Behave yourself, you jangli aadmi," I shot back.

His eyes widened. "Jangli aadmi... main?... main??"

"Haan, tum! Aur kaun?" I snapped. "You're so ill-mannered, sometimes I feel like eating you alive!"

He gulped nervously, and I couldn't help but enjoy it. Watching him get scared was oddly satisfying. A smile almost crept onto my face, but I quickly masked it he shouldn't know I was secretly amused.

"Now," I said sharply, "give me your hand."

He simply gave me his hands, and I pulled them and placed them on my chest.

"See, they are very heavy and round."

I could feel his breaths grow heavier, and so did mine. Something stirred inside me when his hands touched my chest, and I instantly removed them.

I felt something... in between my legs. I'm not supposed to feel this, but I am. I think I've gone crazy.

I said in a hurry, "Shhhuuuuuuiu shuuuuuu... go, go, go! Leave my dream! I need to sleep and wake up early. What if everyone leaves me all alone here?"

He said in that deep, commanding voice, "No one has that daring to leave Rivan Thakur's kitten... absolutely no one. Or else, they'll face a wrath they can't even imagine."

Goosebumps ran down my arms as his words echoed inside me. For a moment, I almost wished he'd say that in real life.

I pouted and said stubbornly, "Even though you're in my dream, I'm angry with you. So just get lost from here."

But before I could turn away, he pulled me gently into his arms, his breath warm against my ear.

"Shhhh, kitten," he whispered, "sleep. I won't go anywhere... not leaving you. And you better sleep now, or else I might really raise hell if you stay awake any longer."

His voice softened at the end, the same man who once terrified me now lulling me to sleep like I was the most fragile thing he'd ever held.

Slowly, in my dream, I drifted off again... safe, warm, and lost in the arms of my monster.

Morning light gently spilled through the curtains, chasing away the traces of the night. Everyone in the Thakur family slowly began to wake up, the quiet hum of conversation filling the hotel suite.

Devyani stirred on her bed, her lashes fluttering open as she blinked at the sunlight touching her face. For a moment, her heart raced flashes of last night's dream ran through her mind, his voice, his warmth, that closeness. Her eyes widened and she instantly turned, searching the room for him.

Rivan wasn't there.

A deep breath escaped her lips as relief washed over her face. Thank God... it was just a dream, she thought, pressing her palm to her chest to calm the wild rhythm of her heart.

She quickly got up, fixing her hair nervously. Calling Jinal for help, she stood before the mirror as Jinal helped her drape the saree neatly. The layers fell softly around her the same saree she once complained about now somehow made her blush faintly.

"Ready?" Jinal smiled, adjusting Devyani's pallu.

Devyani nodded with a small smile. "Hmm."

Together, they headed for breakfast. The family was already gathered Yashodha giving instructions, Aditya busy on his phone, and Payal teasing Aaradhya about something silly. The table was filled with laughter and warmth, hiding all the storms that lay beneath.

Devyani quietly took her seat, stealing a brief glance around the room.

Soon after breakfast, everyone got ready to leave the hotel, their trip continuing as if nothing had happened. But deep inside Devyani's heart... that dream, that warmth, and those eyes refused to fade away.

Everyone else had left; only Aditya remained in the hotel, ostensibly to join the convoy later. He had told the others there was some business to take care of a lie that hid the real reason: questions no one else could be trusted to answer.

Down the corridor, the bodyguards waited in a small cluster outside his suite. Their faces were expressionless, trained to be unreadable. Aditya closed the door behind him, then turned slowly to face them.

"Listen," he said without preamble, voice low and hard. He pulled the pistol from the drawer and set it on the table with a soft thud. "Who the hell broke security and went into Bhabhi's room?"

Silence.

Aditya's patience snapped like a taut wire. "You're going to tell me now or should I start shooting?" His words were flat, every syllable measured, the danger in the room real and immediate.

One of the guards lifted his gaze, steady and unflinching. "Yes, sir. We're ready to die," he said quietly. "But we won't give name."

The reply landed like an anchor. For a breath Aditya felt the room tilt; then the truth slotted into place and with it, a cold, humorless understanding. These men were not scared into silence. They were silent because they served someone whose word outweighed their lives.

Aditya's expression hardened into a thin, knowing smirk. He nodded once. "You can go." The guards melted away, leaving only the echo of their footsteps behind them.

When the door clicked shut, Aditya moved to the window and looked out at the city as if it might tell him secrets.

He lowered his voice until it was barely more than a breath.

"Rivan bhai," he whispered

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The convoy of black SUVs came to a slow halt before the towering gates of the Oberoi Palace a modern-day fortress bathed in gold and ivory light.

The setting sun reflected off its tall glass fa?ade, and fountains flanked both sides of the driveway, their waters glimmering like melted diamonds.

Every inch of the palace screamed power from the towering marble pillars to the long velvet carpets that led straight to the grand staircase guarded by men in crisp black uniforms. The Oberois didn't just own luxury they defined it.

As the Thakur convoy stopped, attendants rushed forward to open the car doors.

From the first SUV, Virendra Singh Thakur stepped out tall, commanding, his presence enough to silence even the murmuring staff.

Behind him came Yashodha Thakurain, regal in her pastel silk saree, followed by Aaradhya, Aditya, and the rest of the family.

Standing at the entrance, Mr. Rajan Oberoi, the patriarch of the Oberoi family, and his elegant wife, Varsha Oberoi, waited with warm smiles and bouquets of fresh orchids in their hands. They bowed respectfully.

"Welcome, Thakur Sahab," Rajan said, extending the bouquet. "It's an honour to have the Thakur family grace our home."

Virendra accepted it with a faint nod, his deep voice echoing, "Your hospitality speaks for itself, Rajan."

Then, almost instinctively, his eyes moved toward one of the cars still standing in the line. He raised his hand slightly and said in his low tone,

"Devyani... come here."

From the car's rear seat, Devyani stepped out slowly, holding the edge of her saree. The gentle evening breeze lifted a few strands of her hair, brushing them across her face. She looked almost ethereal soft, innocent, her doe-like eyes reflecting both fear and awe at the palace's grandeur.

The cream-coloured saree draped around her glowed under the golden lights; her bangles chimed lightly as she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear and walked towards Virendra. He gave a proud yet subtle nod and placed his hand on her shoulder, signaling her to stand beside him.

And that was when for a fleeting second everything stilled.

Every pair of eyes in the Oberoi courtyard turned to her.

Not because she was dressed grandly she wasn't. Not because she was confident she wasn't.

But because there was something inexplicably pure about her presence something that didn't belong to the ruthless Thakur world yet glowed brighter than any diamond around them.

Whispers fluttered through the servants' line — "Who is she?"

And even the Oberois, who had seen countless royal guests, found themselves momentarily speechless.

Rudraksh oticed the sudden silence and smirk faintly, pride flickering in his eyes. Bhabhi doesn't even know what effect she has on people.

Meanwhile, Devyani stood quietly beside Virendra, her heart pounding. Her gaze was fixed on the marble floor

The moment Devyani stepped out, time itself seemed to stop.

Every pair of eyes from the guards to the guests waiting at the grand entrance froze on her.

Her skin glowed under the palace lights, so soft and flawless that it looked almost unreal.

Years of being shielded, untouched by the outside world, had preserved her like porcelain.

She wasn't merely beautiful she looked divine, like an angel who had somehow lost her way to heaven and wandered into a world that didn't deserve her.

Devyani's fingers trembled slightly as she clutched her saree pallu closer. The heavy silence and the weight of so many gazes made her chest tighten. Her heartbeat drummed loud in her ears, and she lowered her eyes, afraid to meet anyone's stare.

Virendra, noticing her nervousness, placed a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's alright," he murmured, his deep voice grounding her like an anchor in a storm.

She exhaled softly and nodded. Just that small gesture gave her enough courage to lift her eyes again and the sight before her left her breathless.

The palace shimmered with gold and ivory.

Massive chandeliers glittered above their heads; the air smelled faintly of roses and sandalwood.

Marble pillars reached up to a domed ceiling painted with old royal murals.

The walls glowed with soft golden light, and servants stood in two perfect lines, bowing deeply as the Thakur family made their way forward.

It felt like stepping into a king's court grand, intimidating, and unreal.

Standing at the entrance were Mr. Rajan Oberoi and his graceful wife, Mrs. Varsha Oberoi, both holding bouquets of white orchids. Varsha elegant smile faltered for a second as her eyes fell on Devyani that innocent face, those trembling lashes, the kind of beauty that didn't need jewels to shine.

Even Rajan, known for his composure, hesitated for a moment. He wanted to ask who is she? but pride and respect kept his question locked behind a polite smile. Perhaps she's a member of the Thakur family, he thought silently.

Meanwhile, Devyani was too lost in the grandeur to notice the ripple she'd caused. Her wide eyes darted from the golden walls to the silk curtains to the floor that gleamed like glass. She'd never seen such a world before.

Her innocent awe, her quiet beauty it made her look even more unreal.

Just then, the echo of confident footsteps filled the palace hall.

Rajveer Oberoi entered his phone pressed to his ear, his tone commanding yet calm.

"Make sure the shipment leaves by evening," he said firmly, his voice low but crisp. "No delays. I don't tolerate excuses."

Every pair of eyes turned toward him the instant he appeared.

There was something magnetic about him not just his sculpted features or tall frame, but the quiet authority that followed his presence. He moved like a man who knew power wasn't something to show off it was something that already belonged to him.

Even the air seemed to shift around him, charged with his aura.

Payal nudged Jinal sharply, whispering under her breath, "Damn, Jinal didi, you're lucky, bro!"

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she tried to control her excitement.

But Jinal didn't even glance at him. Her posture stayed perfectly composed chin up, eyes forward, face unreadable. Not a single trace of emotion escaped her calm exterior,Rajveer ended the call, slipping the phone into his coat pocket as he approached the elders.

He bent down respectfully, touching Virendra Thakur's feet first.

"Bless me," he said in a smooth, deep voice that carried both respect and confidence.

Virendra smiled faintly, resting a hand on his head. "You don't need blessings, Rajveer. You're already walking the path of success."

Rajveer straightened, greeting Yashodha Thakurain next, then folded his hands politely to the rest of the elders.

The younger generation watched silently some admiring, some curious.

Finally, Rajveer looked at them all and said,

"Come, everyone. You must be tired after such a long journey."

His tone softened into warmth. "Let's go inside — your rooms are ready."

The moment he said it, servants rushed forward, guiding everyone with folded hands.

And amidst all that movement, Rajveer's eyes accidentally brushed past Jinal.

For a fleeting second, he paused something in her calm, composed demeanor caught his attention.

Unlike the others, Jinal didn't rush or fidget; she stood quietly beside her father, her gaze distant, face expressionless as if she had mastered the art of hiding emotions behind serenity.

That quiet strength, that unspoken confidence it unsettled him.

But Rajveer quickly masked it, clearing his throat and straightening up, his expression once again turning professional as he gestured ahead for everyone to move.

Everyone began to move inside.

Rajan's wife stepped forward with a warm smile and hugged Jinal.

"Welcome, Jinal," she said softly.

Jinal smiled politely and replied in her calm, composed voice, "Thank you."

Something about her gentle tone so serene, so unbothered strangely calmed Rajveer too. For a moment, he found himself just watching her, before quickly looking away.

Rajan clapped his hands lightly. "You all should rest now. Tomorrow's the party, and I've got to make sure everything's perfect. Mr. Thakur, I hope our arrangements are fine? If you need anything, please call me I'll be happy to serve you."

Virendra chuckled and said warmly, "Come on, Rajan. You're behaving like we don't know each other. Relax."

Rajveer, standing beside them, looked around and then asked casually,

"Umm... Rivan didn't come?"

Virendra smiled faintly, shaking his head. "You know him, Rajveer. He won't come."

Rajveer's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. He knew exactly how Rivan Thakur was a man of few words, who never attended parties and never bothered to mingle with anyone.

Glimpse of new chapter:

Rivan blinked at her, still not understanding how he went from feeding her dinner to being accused of a mystery marriage.

He took a step closer, his voice calm but teasing, "Kitten, what did I do now?"

Devyani crossed her arms, pouting like a stubborn child, "Don't act innocent. I know everything."

He tilted his head, biting back a smile. "Everything? That's impressive. Then maybe you can tell me too what exactly do I know?"

she huffed, taking a small step forward. "You could've at least told me before. I had to hear it from others!"

He crossed his arms now, amusement glinting in his eyes.

Devyani crossed her arms, face puffed with irritation. She didn't even look at him.

"Don't talk to me."

Rivan blinked. "Okay... but what did I do?"

She huffed. "You know what you did!"

He took a step forward, trying to read her face. "No, I don't. Tell me."

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