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Dattatriya sat beside me in the mandap, the sacred fire crackling softly between us as the priest began chanting the mantras. Neither of us spoke. His presence next to me was overwhelming - not in weight, but in emotion.

Every few seconds, he glanced at me - his jaw clenched, his hands resting stiffly on his knees, as though unsure if he was dreaming or not. But his eyes... they screamed everything he didn't say.

Arya bhabhi stood nearby, her face glowing with barely concealed mischief. Her smile said it all: "You're exactly where you were meant to be."

Then came the moment.

The priest announced the most sacred ritual - the nuptial chain and vermillion.

Dattatriya held the mangalsutra with trembling fingers, his hands brushing the edge of my skin as he tied it tightly around my neck.

As he secured the final knot, his head rested gently on my shoulder.

I felt his warm breath shake - a rare crack in the armor of the unbreakable Dattatriya Agnivanshi.

That tiny, human crack in his soul whispered everything he'd buried all these years.

He leaned back as the priest handed him the vermillion.

Slowly, delicately, he filled the parting of my hair with the deep red - his hand still trembling. A few grains of vermillion slipped down and brushed the bridge of my nose.

He was about to lift his hand, instinctively moving to wipe it off - when Arya bhabhi quickly reached out and stopped him with a smile.

"Don't," she said softly. "It's a sign - when vermillion falls on the nose, it means the husband will love his wife deeply."

Dattatriya paused, eyes locked on mine, then slowly nodded - not at Arya, but at me.

The priest raised his hands in completion.

"From this moment, you are husband and wife."

I turned slightly to look at him.

And he looked right back.

For a moment, time stopped. The crowd, the fire, the chants - they all blurred away.

It was just him and me.

And in my heart, I repeated the words like a vow only I could hear:

"I am finally...

Katha Dattatriya Agnivanshi."

A small, victorious smirk tugged at my lips - soft but sharp, dangerous but divine. A queen crowned not by chance, but by fire.

Arya bhabhi saw it.

And she smiled like she always knew this would happen.

We stood as the priest concluded the final chants. Dattatriya gently held my arm and helped me rise, his touch careful, almost reverent. My legs felt weak, not from tiredness, but from the heaviness of everything that had unfolded.

We walked slowly toward my family. Papa stood tall, his eyes slightly misty - a mix of emotions swirled behind them. We both bent down to take his blessing. He placed his hands on our heads, murmuring prayers, and then - he looked at Dattatriya and motioned him aside.

I watched them move to a corner, Papa's tone stern, Dattatriya's face unreadable. I didn't need to hear it to know Papa was laying down the unspoken rules of loving me.

I turned back to my brothers.

Bhairava bhaiya opened his arms first. I crashed into him, hugging him tight, finally letting my shoulders drop.

"You sure about this, bacha?" he whispered.

I nodded silently.

He pressed a soft kiss on the top of my head. "If he hurts you, I'll bury him alive. No court, no mercy."

Next was Utsav - my laddu. He threw himself into my arms. "You look so pretty, Di... but I'll still bite his leg if he makes you cry."

I laughed, holding him. "Deal."

Gyan bhaiya stepped forward next. His eyes were red, but he tried to keep his smirk. "Mrs. Agnivanshi now, huh? You better not forget us. Or I'll hack into your honeymoon plans."

"You wouldn't dare," I chuckled, wiping his tears.

Then came Dyan bhaiya. He didn't speak - just pulled me into a bone-crushing hug and held me like he didn't want to let go. "I'll kill him if you ever cry again," he whispered fiercely.

"I know," I said softly. "But you won't have to."

Finally, I turned to Arya bhabhi. She was glowing - not just from her joy, but from the pride in her eyes. I hugged her tightly.

As she held me close, she whispered with a playful tone, "You did what you had to do, didn't you?"

I smirked, my lips barely moving.

"It wasn't a big deal to kidnap Gowtham, bhabhi," I whispered like it was nothing more than a lunch plan.

Her laugh burst out, warm and delighted - and confused everyone around us.

No one knew. Not Papa. Not my brothers. Not even Dattatriya.

Only Arya bhabhi.

And me.

Because if Dattatriya Agnivanshi wouldn't fight for me...

I'd make damn sure he had no choice but to win me.

Adya walked toward me with the brightest smile on her face, her cream lehenga swaying slightly as she approached. There was so much warmth in her eyes - the same warmth I had seen in Dattatriya's only once before.

"So now I have a bhabhi!" she squealed excitedly and threw her arms around me.

I chuckled, hugging her back. "Looks like you're stuck with me now."

She pulled back, holding my arms, her face glowing. "Stuck? I've prayed for this! Do you know how many times I told bhaiya to stop acting like a stone and marry you? But no! Mr. Mafia Prince had to drown in self-pity first."

I laughed again, a small but real smile on my lips. "He's dramatic like that."

Adya gave a mock sigh. "God help you, bhabhi. He doesn't even know how to say I love you properly. I hope you're fluent in decoding grunts and blank stares."

"Don't worry," I smirked. "I'm fluent in Dattatriya."

She giggled, shaking her head. "You're perfect for him. You're the first person who's ever made him feel something other than rage or pain." She paused and added more softly, "Thank you... for not giving up on him."

Just then, Dattatriya came closer, silent as ever, his sherwani slightly shifted from the earlier hug Papa had given him. His eyes were only on me.

Papa turned, placing his hand gently on my back before pulling me into his arms. I leaned into his chest, the familiar scent of sandalwood and his heartbeat calming me instantly. He rested his chin atop my head.

"I always prayed to see you like this," he murmured. "Not just as a bride... but as someone who chose her own path with strength."

I looked up at Dattatriya, whose eyes hadn't left me. His expression was unreadable to everyone else, but I saw it-the softness behind his stoicism. That silent promise.

We stood like that for a while-Adya on one side grinning, Papa beside me, and Dattatriya watching me like I was still a dream he didn't believe he deserved.

And finally, Bhairava bhaiya came from behind. "Enough of this emotional overload," he grumbled, though his voice had that telltale huskiness.

"Let's eat before Gyan starts crying about missing dessert," Dyan added, dramatically.

We all laughed.

With my hand still in Papa's, we walked toward the dining area. Sheraa trotted ahead proudly like he just won a war himself.

I was no longer just Katha Choudhury.

I was Katha Dattatriya Agnivanshi.

And for the first time in a long time, I was exactly where I belonged.

I sat in the middle of my family, trying to eat but barely tasting anything.

Utsav sat on one side, constantly placing sweets on my plate like it would distract me from the pain of leaving.

Papa was quiet, his eyes watching me every few minutes, as if trying to memorize my every move.

Dattatriya was sitting across the hall, surrounded by a few political aides and distant relatives, but his eyes? Always on me.

Finally, he leaned a little toward me and whispered, "Katha-"

"We'll talk later," I cut him off flatly, not even glancing at him. "We have a lot to talk."

He blinked, a little taken aback, and nodded like a child being scolded by their teacher.

"Aww... cutie," my subconscious cooed.

"Shut up," I mentally scolded her, adjusting my pallu with a sigh.

Finally, the dreaded moment arrived.

It was time to leave.

The music had softened, the chatter hushed down, and the soft whisper of the priest calling it an auspicious hour echoed as I stood up.

Papa came forward first. My strong, unshakable father. He opened his arms, and I instantly collapsed into them.

"Papa," I sobbed into his chest.

"My bacha..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "You've always been the light of this house. You're not going away, you're just... making another place your home now."

I felt his tears on my hair. My Papa was crying.

I broke away only to fall into Bhairava bhaiya's arms.

"Bhaiya..." I choked.

"You'll always be my little girl," he whispered, hugging me tight. "If he makes you cry, I won't kill him. I'll make him wish he never existed."

"Subtle, Bhaiya," I managed a watery chuckle.

Then came Utsav, my ladla. He was already crying, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his kurta.

"Laddu..." I said.

"I'll hack into all his phones if he ever makes you sad," he mumbled.

"Don't do illegal stuff... at least for one week," I chuckled, kissing his forehead.

Arya bhabhi hugged me next, "stay carefully mera bacha if he hurts you ill make sure his organs will be replaced again"

And i laughed nodding.

Dyan bhaiya crushed me in a hug next. "If he ever shouts at you..." he began.

"I'll shout louder," I whispered, and he finally smiled, hugging me tighter.

And then Gyan bhaiya pulled me into his arms. He didn't speak, just held me like he wasn't ready to let go. I rubbed his back gently. "Don't scare my husband on day one," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"He'll be scared enough for a lifetime, don't worry," Gyan grunted.

Finally, I picked up Sheraa from the floor. My little cub curled into my arms instantly, sensing my emotions.

Then I turned.

Dattatriya was already waiting near the car, his usual silent self. I walked toward him, held Sheraa close, and without a word, sat inside the car. He joined a second later, closing the door behind him.

Just as we began to drive away, I turned my head to see my family waving-red-eyed, emotional, and smiling through tears.

But my eyes suddenly caught something strange.

Gyan bhaiya was holding Adya's arm and dragging her away somewhere in the garden.

I frowned.

"What now..." I murmured under my breath but stayed quiet.

The car continued down the road.

I was officially Katha Dattatriya Agnivanshi.

And I was heading to my new home... with the man I kidnapped a groom for, fought destiny against, and still hadn't forgiven.

But oh, we were far from over.

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