30
I had still been hugging him tightly, lost in that warmth I craved for days. But then my pride kicked in-ugh. I pushed him away with a dramatic huff.
"Hmph! I'm still pissed at you," I declared, grabbing Sheraa from his arms. "Come, baby. Mama will feed you mutton today," I said, walking off like I hadn't just melted in his arms a second ago.
Also... yeah, I had totally forgotten to brush or change out of his shirt. His scent still lingered on it, and despite how big it was on me, it felt... nice. No, Katha. Focus.
I came downstairs holding Sheraa and spotted Adya near the dining area. "Hi, Adya!" I called out warmly.
She turned, smiling at me, but then her eyes narrowed slightly and a teasing smirk crept across her face.
"Oh, oh... bhaiya's shirt and all, huh? Didn't know your suhaag raat would be so rangeen," she said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
My eyes widened in horror. "Oh God, shut up, Adya! Nothing happened!" I protested. "I just wore his shirt because it was... comfortable!"
"Comfortable, right," she laughed, clearly not buying it.
But then my eyes caught something-just under the collar of her kurta.
A smirk slowly stretched on my face.
"Oh ho... what's that, Adya?" I teased, stepping closer. "Someone has a hickey, huh? Who gave it? Spill the tea."
Her laughter vanished instantly. Her eyes dropped, and she turned away, cheeks pale. She didn't say anything.
My smile faded. "Hey..." I walked to her, softening my tone. "Is everything okay, Adya? I didn't mean to upset you."
She shook her head quickly, forcing a smile. "It's nothing, bhabhi. Just... not something I want to talk about right now. Please."
I nodded, respecting her space. "Okay. I'm here if you do."
With that, I walked into the kitchen, placed Sheraa's bowl on the floor, and watched him happily munch away on his mutton like he ruled the house.
Which, honestly, he kind of did.
But in the back of my mind, something about Adya's reaction... and the way Gyan bhaiya had dragged her away during my bidaai-it all sat uneasily.
Something was going on.
And I would find out.
I had just stepped out of the shower, water droplets still clinging to my skin as I towel-dried my hair. And yes-for the record-I did brush, so you can stop saying "eww." I swear, sometimes I can hear your judgement.
I opened my wardrobe, and after some thought, I reached for a beautiful yet simple saree-my mama's saree.
Just touching it made something inside me ache and smile all at once.
It smelled faintly of old jasmine and time.
I draped it carefully and looked at myself in the mirror. The reflection made me pause.
I looked... perfect.
I applied a little kajal, some nude lipstick, then took my mangalsutra from the drawer and clasped it around my neck.
Finally, I filled the partition of my hair with sindoor.
It was strange how a few marks could change your whole identity-and yet, I didn't feel like a stranger in this reflection.
I looked like someone's wife. Like his wife.
I turned around-and froze.
Dattatriya stood at the door, dressed in a simple cream kurta, his gaze fixed on me like I was something divine. His expression held reverence, softness, awe.
"What?" I asked, a little uncomfortable under that intense gaze.
"You look... perfect, my sunshine," he whispered, slowly approaching. His eyes never left mine. "Especially the vermillion and nuptial chain... they make you look like mine."
He reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. I gulped, unable to respond for a second.
"You... you cleaned up well too, Datta," I said softly, smoothing the collar of his kurta. My fingers lingered a second longer than needed.
Suddenly, my phone rang, making me blink out of whatever daze I was slipping into. It was Arya bhabhi.
I picked up, "Hello, bhabhi!"
"Katha, meri jaan, I'm looking for that crimson red shawl I gave you for winters, remember?" Arya's voice came, sounding distracted.
"It's in my Mumbai closet, I think. Why?"
"Because Bhairava says it's 'too dramatic' for Mahakal Mandir and now I absolutely want to wear it just to spite him," she huffed, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Bhabhi, you're such a drama queen."
"Excuse me, I am a married drama queen. Anyway, we're all set and will meet you guys at the temple. Gyan, Dyan, Utsav-all are coming. Even Baba wants to attend. So don't be late, okay?"
"Okay, okay. We're just heading out," I said, smiling warmly.
"Oh, and Katha... take care of Dattatriya, hmm? You're the only one who can handle him."
My smile faltered just a little. "I will, bhabhi."
After ending the call, I walked to the corner where Sheraa lay curled like a spoiled prince. I carefully scooped him into my arms-he was still half-asleep, giving a soft growl of complaint.
Dattatriya walked up silently and picked up Sheraa's essentials bag-food, water bottle, his leash, and that tiny lion plush he liked to carry.
Adya was going to join us directly at the temple.
Together, the three of us stepped out of the mansion: me in my mother's saree, sindoor shining bright; Dattatriya at my side, strong and quietly proud; and Sheraa, the little prince, yawning in my arms.
We were heading to Mahakal Mandir-to the place where it all began, where prayers were made... and maybe, today, they'd finally be answered.
Sheraa was curled up like royalty on his custom-made seat in the back, tucked in with a soft blanket that matched his snowy fur. He let out a little snore, completely oblivious to the world and the sacred journey we were on.
I sat in the passenger seat next to Dattatriya as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly on his lap.
The morning sun filtered through the windshield, casting a golden glow on his face.
I turned to look out of the window as the city slowly gave way to open roads and ancient trees.
There was a calmness in the air, but also a weight-like the universe was silently watching.
"You're quiet," he said, his voice low.
"I'm thinking," I replied, fingers trailing the window glass. "It still feels strange."
"What does?"
"This. Us. Being married. Heading to a mandir like we're... normal."
He glanced at me sideways, a small smile playing on his lips. "Do you want normal?"
"No," I answered honestly. "I never wanted normal. I wanted real."
He was silent for a moment, then said softly, "You are the only real thing in my life."
My throat tightened, but I didn't respond. I just watched the trees pass by.
"You know," he added, smirking faintly, "you look different when you smile now."
I looked at him. "How?"
"Like you're not carrying the weight of the whole world on your shoulders," he said.
"That's rich coming from the man who is the weight of the world," I quipped, and he chuckled under his breath.
We drove in comfortable silence after that, with only the hum of the car and the occasional snore from Sheraa filling the air. Then finally-we reached.
The mighty Mahakal Mandir rose ahead like a blessing carved in stone and time.
As soon as the car stopped, I opened the door and stepped out. My eyes scanned the temple courtyard-and there they were.
My family.
Bhairava bhaiya . Gyan bhaiya . Dyan bhaiya . Utsav. Arya bhabhi. And then-Papa.
A grin broke across my face without permission, and before I could stop myself, I ran.
"Papa!" I cried, and he opened his arms instinctively.
Sahadev Choudhury, the lion of the mafia world, bent slightly just to catch his daughter in his arms as I threw myself into him. His arms wrapped around me like a fortress.
"My little girl," he whispered into my hair, his voice heavy. "My brave, brave girl."
And for a moment-just a moment-I was no longer Queen of Justice or wife of the feared CM.
I was just Katha, Papa's little girl, home where she belonged.
Bhairava bhaiya was the first to pull me into his strong arms after Papa let me go. He hugged me like I was still his baby sister, the one he used to carry on his shoulders during temple fairs. "You okay, Katha?" he asked, his voice low but filled with emotion.
"I'm more than okay now, bhaiya," I said, pressing my forehead against his chest for a second. He gave my head a soft kiss.
Then came Gyan bhaiya-his hug was firm, protective, and I knew even in silence he was saying 'I got you, always.'
Utsav-my little laddu-ran into my arms next, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
"Di!! I missed you so much, like, I swear the house was dead boring without you!" he whined, holding onto me tight.
"I missed you too, meri jaan," I laughed and kissed his cheek. "Still hacking into everything or took a break for me?"
He grinned, "Break? Never. But I did change Papa's ringtone to animal sounds-got caught though."
I laughed again.
Then came Dyan bhaiya. He didn't say a word, just wrapped his arms around me in his usual rough style-but his hand gently patted my head. A small gesture, but from Dyan, it meant the world.
And finally-Arya bhabhi. She stepped forward with that warm smile of hers and pulled me into a soft, long hug. "My lioness bride," she whispered in my ear. "You really made history."
I chuckled, "You say that like I started a war."
"You practically did," she teased.
Just then, I noticed everyone's attention shift-Dattatriya had stepped out of the car.
He'd switched on the AC, handed Sheraa's essentials bag to a security officer, and told them, "Keep him comfortable. No flashes, no noise."
And then, he walked toward us.
My entire family turned to face him like they were ready for judgment. But instead of cold glares or awkward silence, something unexpected happened.
They hugged him.
One by one. Papa clapped a hand on his shoulder. Bhairava gave him a pat on the back. Gyan gave a nod of approval. Even Dyan... hugged him.
Arya bhabhi smirked beside me. "Quite a welcome, right?"
"What did I miss?" I asked her, confused.
She shrugged innocently, "Oh, just the man who supposedly saved the entire Choudhury reputation by stepping up when your runaway groom vanished."
Ah.
So that's the story they all know.
I leaned toward her, dropping my voice into a whisper only she could hear. "No one knows, right?" I asked, carefully.
She turned her eyes to me, lips tugging into a mischievous smirk, and gave a slight nod. "Not a soul."
Good.
No one knew that I had personally orchestrated Gowtham's kidnapping so Dattatriya would have to marry me. No one knew that this whole scandal was crafted, not saved.
Only Arya bhabhi knew.
I smiled, satisfied, and turned just in time to catch Utsav pouting.
I pulled him into my arms again. "Kya hua, laddu?"
"You were whispering without me. I'm jealous," he huffed.
"Oh ho!" I laughed, hugging him tightly. "My ladlaa's place is safe. No one can replace you."
He beamed and nestled closer, while I looked around at my gathered family-and at him, the man who was now mine.
And the ancient bells of the Mahakal Mandir began to chime.
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