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Here is the proofread and polished version of your chapter. The story, narrative flow, and overall word count have been strictly maintained, while polishing grammatical structure, punctuation, subject-verb agreement, and overall phrasing to enhance clarity and literary impact.
In the Hooda mansion, the environment was filled with excitement and warmth at the thought of the family's future bahu. It was the first marriage in the family after years of silence; of course, everything was supposed to be the absolute best for the day.
The living room was the area filled with the liveliest noises. Gauri Hooda sat upon the expensive leather sofa set, looking through the gorgeous silk and chiffon sarees that one of her trusted sellers had brought for them to choose from. She wanted only the best for Jayasvi and her closet.
"This color would suit her very much, Mummy ji," Vandana Hooda spoke, sitting beside her and examining the blush pink silk saree in her mother-in-law's hands.
"I know, beta. Pink is surely her color. I am just so happy with this marriage. Honestly, initially, I was so critical about a girl from a middle-class family marrying Raghav, but after seeing them together, they are like a Ram-Sita Jodi to me.
My heart bursts with happiness every time I see them together," Gauri Hooda spoke with a bright smile, checking the border of the saree carefully while imagining Jayasvi wearing it on the first day of her marriage.
"Dadi, I thought you would be the last person to be happy about Bhaiya meeting Bhabhi this frequently before marriage. You are usually so strong-willed about old traditions," Dhara mumble in a low voice as she entered the hall,
looking at the spread of sarees across the grand marble coffee table in the center.
Gauri frowned at her words before twisting her lips.
"They are smart kids. They know what is good and what is not. If Jayasvi had been some dramatic, clingy girl, I would have put restrictions upon them. But she is a good kid; she is the calm to Raghav's aggressive flow," Gauri spoke with pride,
her eyes shining with affection for both her beloved grandson and his future wife.
"Mummy ji is completely right. They both are introverts; they don't speak their minds out much. If we as the elders don't give them the space to open up, it will get awkward for them. And it's their time.
These will be the memories they'll hold close for all their lives and even tell their kids about," Vandana gushed with excitement at the very thought of her grandkids one day roaming in these very halls.
"Hold your horses. Time is a rush of water that never waits for anyone. See for yourself. It feels like yesterday when I was preparing for Gajraaj's and your marriage, and then Raghav happened. It feels like everything is happening so quickly,
" Gauri spoke with a sad smile as the memories of the past flashed in front of her eyes—the image of Vandana coming into this very mansion as a shy bride dressed in a red saree alongside her son.
Her gaze shifted to the grand oak doors. Her eyes grew glassy at the memory of Gajraaj walking in, supporting his tired wife with their newborn son in their arms. It was the day Gauri had truly celebrated; she had danced for days in the happiness of having a grandson.
People say it right: one loves their children, but the love for one's grandchildren can never be measured.
And that, for her, was Raghav. Even though Dhara was also her granddaughter, Gauri could never give her as much love as she had for Raghav.
Maybe it was because Raghav came first and filled these once-silent halls with his bright laughter.
"You are right, Mummy ji. I also think about it. Jayasvi's mother called me up to ask if we had any demands. My heart actually shook at the thought. They are literally giving us their lifelong collected treasure in the form of their daughter; I feel like a beggar in front of them.
I don't know how they hold up their hearts to make this difficult decision. Letting go of their only child isn't easy," Vandana whispered in a soft, solemn tone, shaking her head at the weight of such traditions.
"Mummy, it's not like Bhabhi is the only woman who will ever get married. She will come into this palace-like home and stay here as a queen. I bet you she won't even remember her home after a few days," Dhara interjected, rolling her eyes.
She still remembered visiting Jayasvi's apartment for her birthday.
It was no match for the luxury she would get in the Hooda mansion.
"Hush, girl... That isn't the way to talk about your bhabhi. No matter what conditions she comes from, a girl always looks forward to seeing her home and family. She has spent her whole life there. You will understand when your day comes. You shouldn't speak such big words. No matter rich or poor,
every mother faces the same pain during delivery and loves her child as dearly as she can. These concepts of rich and poor are created by us humans. We give her luxury because we owe her that. Every girl's life changes after marriage.
Do you think the freedom she lives with now can stay the same after marriage? Even if we don't impose anything upon her, in some corner of her mind, she will still feel like a stranger in this house that is supposed to be hers," Vandana gently scolded Dhara,
shaking her head strictly to end that line of thought.
"Exactly, Vandana is right. It's our responsibility to make her feel comfortable and at home. And most of all, stop rushing to your brother all the time. He will be married soon and will have responsibilities toward his wife. It won't look good if you run to his room over every small thing.
Jayasvi will think we have taught you no values. You are old enough to understand the bond between a husband and wife," Gauri continued.
Dhara realized there was no point in speaking further.
They were far too lost in their adoration for Jayasvi.
"Leave it, Mummy ji. She'll only understand when her time comes. Let me show you the jewelry I prepared for her. Even Raghav's papa got some pieces with him after his Italy visit for Jayasvi. He is also so happy about this marriage," Vandana spoke with a bright smile,
heading toward her room to retrieve the velvet boxes.
"Why wouldn't he be? After all, she will be his bahu," Gauri stated, nodding in agreement as she watched Vandana return with the jewelry boxes.
"Beta, this is your responsibility. The boxes for all the family heirlooms have gotten very old. Get them replaced with newer ones. They won't look good when we hand them over to her," Gauri instructed, checking the items carefully and counting everything to ensure nothing was missing.
"Of course, Mummy ji. I was also thinking of sending these boxes to Jayasvi on the wedding day so she can wear them for the ceremony. A wedding is the one time a woman can dress like a queen; she should enjoy it completely," Vandana spoke with fondness,
tracing the jewelry she had once received as a bride.
Dhara peeked in, observing the heavy gold necklaces, gold bangles, silver anklets, gold hathphool, and maang tikka.
"We did give her payal during the engagement as well, but those were lighter than these. She will be the new bride; she should have a choice in what she feels comfortable wearing," Gauri voiced her thoughts while carefully examining the heavy pair.
Dhara noticed the fine details of the jewelry, knowing she wouldn't receive anything close to it if she married Rishabh. And with the way her family was ready to hand everything over to Jayasvi, what could she possibly expect from them?
Jayasvi sat opposite Raghav, eating her meal while feeling his gaze boring into her. She looked up to meet his eyes, raising her eyebrows to ask what was going on in his mind.
"I have to take you somewhere after this," Raghav stated. She reached over to check the time on her phone; it was almost three o'clock. Her mother had already started messaging her to ask when she would return.
"Where are you planning to take me? My mother is asking when I'll be back. Raghav, she'll eat me alive if I return too late," she spoke, bordering on panic.
Raghav looked at her patiently before taking the mobile phone from her hand and calling her mother himself, much to Jayasvi's terror.
Her mother would skin her alive if she found out she was meeting Raghav.
"Maa, Jayasvi is with me," he said. A long pause followed as he listened to the voice on the other end, his eyes meeting Jayasvi's.
"I'll drop her back safely. My mother wanted her to choose a few things herself for the wedding. Once everything is bought, I will personally send her back," Raghav spoke like a responsible son-in-law, exactly the way her mother liked.
The next moment, he hung up and reached back out to take her hand, pulling her up to leave.
"I was eating," Jayasvi gasped, looking longingly at the last slice of her pizza. He glanced back at the remaining food.
"I think you've had enough to survive for a few hours. You eat too slowly. I'll have the food packed," Raghav responded without turning back as he paid the bill, while his men stepped in to have the remaining food packed for her to eat later.
"Raghav, you are so mean," she whined as he pulled her out toward his vehicle.
"Yes, I am the meanest man possible. You should have realized that by now," he stated, shrugging his shoulders as if it were the most obvious piece of information in the world.
Jayasvi glared at him. She hated it when anyone disturbed her while she was eating.
She followed him silently as he moved toward his bike again.
If his guards were following him everywhere anyway, why couldn't he just sit in their car instead of wasting fuel in the name of privacy?
The logic of rich people was entirely beyond her comprehension.
She let out a frustrated breath and settled onto the seat behind him.
"Hold on tight. I have to take you somewhere. And for God's sake, don't disturb me this time, or I will throw you off myself," Raghav spoke in a calm voice, though it carried an underlying threat of violence she wasn't ready to face.
She swallowed hard, knowing he was entirely capable of doing just that.
She leaned in close, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso as the engine came to life.
"Are you some professional bike rider? Is this speed even legal?"
she asked, seeing how comfortable he was at such high speeds.
The cold air hit her face like a sharp slap, instinctively forcing her to hide her face behind his back.
After all, if he wanted to be the man in the relationship, he should act as the shield.
"Biwi, jab sarkaar apne pitaji ki ho na, toh legal-illegal ka jhanjhat nahi hota hai," he quoted with full concentration on the road, though she could bet he was smirking at that moment. (Wife, when the government belongs to my father, there is no such mess as legal or illegal for me.)
"You know that's not something to be proud of. That's your father's success, not yours," she told him, disliking how entitled he sounded.
"Meri jaan, apni itni zindagi mein achievements toh maine bhi kare hai, toh success sirf papa ka toh nahi hai," he responded casually.
To him, owning a multinational chain of hotels and recently acquiring an airline was no big deal.
She wanted to point out that achieving all this was far easier for him because his father could pave his path without struggle.
But would that change anything for this thick-skulled, arrogant beast who thought the world was his playground?
It was people like him who controlled all the wealth without real hardship, owning most of the global economy, while the people who actually slaved away every day ended up burdened with loans, struggles, and lifelong pain, only to barely build a single home for themselves.
(My love, in my little life till now I have had fair share of achievements myself, therefore all my success isn't owed to my father.)