Throne and Thread

Chapter 50 Warranty on Happiness

Happiness isn't eternal, it's rented - and the due date never delays.

- emptyyourfeelings (Author)

"Mam, the club is sealed," said Sudarshan Rao, hesitantly standing before her desk.

"Good," Vedashree replied without looking up. "How did you get the proof?"

"Our experts were working on it," he said quickly.

"No," she said, closing the file and finally raising her eyes to him. "Our experts were working on something else."

The air thickened. Sudarshan swallowed hard as he realized the Prime Minister had caught the lie.

"Wipe your sweat, Sudarshan ji," she said calmly, leaning back in her chair.

"Last week, I redirected our Assam team. They were already in the field. So tell me-" she paused, her voice dropping an octave, "-which team helped you?"

"Mam, as you asked, I... I asked for some extra men to follow Vritant baba and-"

"And you found out he gambled," she finished his sentence, tone slicing through the room. "Yes, I've heard that story. Now tell me-how did you get the proof?"

He shifted, fumbling with his pen. "Mam, our other team was working on it."

"How many clubs have we shut down this year?" she asked.

"Seven," he answered instantly.

"And one thing was common in all seven-fake currency and drugs," she said, each word crisp and deliberate.

"Our team is expert, ma'am," he repeated, desperate to hold his ground.

"So what you're saying," she said softly, almost mockingly, "is that my son spends his nights gambling, loses money, and somehow-miraculously-we get airtight evidence every single time?" She looked up from her desk. "Do you think I'm stupid, Sudarshan ji?"

"N-no ma'am, but Vritant baba-"

"Are you serving the nation," she interrupted, her voice cold as marble, "or him?"

"You ordered to close all the clubs, ma'am," he tried defending himself.

"Yes, I ordered closures," she said evenly. "But I asked-how did you get the proofs?"

This time, he said nothing.

"He was providing them, wasn't he?" she stated, not asked.

"No ma'am, I-"

"I didn't ask you a question," she cut him off. "He goes to the clubs, pretends to lose, and suddenly the government raids them. And every single time-fake currency, drugs, illegal betting rings-all handed to me on a silver platter."

Sudarshan's shoulders dropped. "He didn't want anyone to know, ma'am," he admitted quietly.

"Leave," she said.

When he left, Vedashree opened the file again. The photographs, transaction lists, and bank slips-every detail precise. Too precise.

A small smile curved on her lips. "What a player," she murmured, pride and irritation tangled in her tone.

Her phone buzzed - Samarjeet Deshmukh, her brother, calling.

"Tai," he said the moment she picked up.

"Samarjeet," she replied.

"Tai, I think Vritant has Ashish."

"Why do you think that?" Vedashree asked, voice carefully neutral as if she hadn't already guessed.

"He hasn't called me in a week," Samarjeet said, the worry plain through the line.

"Listen," Vedashree replied, cool and steady, "Agar Ashish Vritant ke paas hota toh samajh lo Shaurya janta hai kaha hai woh aur shaurya ko toh tum jante hi ho he doesn't believe in keeping he just kills them."

"That's why I'm scared," Samarjeet admitted.

"Don't worry," she said, cutting through his panic. "Ashish will call. And Samarjeet - Vritant may be many things, but he loves you. He wouldn't do something so... pointless." She ended the call.

Then she dialled Vritant.

"Where are you?" she asked when he answered.

"Under the same sky," he replied.

"Don't be immature."

"What's the problem - you want me under the same roof?" he shot back.

"Samarjeet called. He thinks Ashish is with you."

"And what did you tell him?" Vritant asked.

"That if Ashish were with you, he'd be dead by now. But he will call soon."

"Ah," Vritant said dryly. "Proud of you PM. The country's in safe hands." He hung up.

??? V ? A ???

Adhrita stepped into the bungalow, her eyes widening as they caught the glint of white marble floors and high glass ceilings that spilled sunlight like liquid gold. The air smelled faintly of sea salt and jasmine - fresh, alive.

"It's so beautiful," she breathed, running her fingers along the cool marble wall.

Vritant watched her quietly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. She was glowing - not because of the light, but because of how easily she let herself fall in love with moments.

"Which place is this?" she asked, turning to him with wide eyes.

"It's a private island," he replied casually.

Her brows rose. "We have islands like this in India?" she asked, half in wonder, half in disbelief.

He just tilted his head, amused. She wandered upstairs, her footsteps echoing softly, until he opened the door to their room. The vast glass windows invited the ocean inside - blue and endless.

Adhrita walked to the balcony, the breeze tangling through her hair as she leaned against the railing. The rhythmic crash of waves filled the silence, calm yet commanding.

He came up behind her, his hands bracketing hers on the railing, his voice low against her ear.

"It's yours."

She turned slightly, searching his face - half expecting a smirk, half hoping for one. But he wasn't joking. His eyes were steady, serious.

Still, she wasn't one to melt that easily. "Yeah right," she laughed and shouted into the sea breeze, "this island belongs to Adhrita Vardhan!"

His rich, warm laugh echoed against the waves - the kind that made the air itself feel lighter.

Then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, and together they stood watching the sun dissolve into the horizon - a man who owned everything, and a woman who unknowingly owned him.

"What's the name of the island?" she asked softly, still taking in the view.

"Vedspurha Dweep," he said, eyes fixed on the horizon.

She turned toward him, curiosity lighting her expression. "What does it mean?"

"I don't know," he replied quietly.

She studied his face, the sea breeze lifting his hair, the setting sun glazing the water in gold. He didn't look at her-only at the waves that seemed to echo something unspoken.

And in that silence, she understood.

He wasn't naming a place.

He was keeping a promise.

??? V ? A ???

Shweta sat on the balcony, dusk settling into the sky. Anamika came up the steps and approached quietly.

"Didi?" she said.

Shweta looked up, folding her hands around her cup.

Anamika hesitated a beat.

"What happened... it wasn't random. It's obvious the twins were taken when they were with us. People will ask-how come Aryan and Aaradhya weren't kidnapped, but Shaurya-bhai's children were? Security was tighter because bhabhi's father was the PM. Of course they'd be suspicious of us."

"Why now?" Anamika pressed.

"Someone's raised the question again," Shweta said, eyes narrowing. "Vedant died, Vritant left India, and for years it lived in silence. Now someone's opening the file."

"First the riots with Adhrita, then Ashish harassing her... something doesn't add up," Anamika said. "Either Veda bhabhi is hiding something, or Vritant is."

"He's been in the news a lot lately," Shweta said. "But not for politics-always business, always strategy.Vritant is playing a game."

"You sure?" Anamika asked.

"Veda-bhabhi keeps her calm-she acts rather than shouts. But Vritant... he's unnervingly calm too." Shweta's voice was low.

"Still, he'd never go against Samarjeet-bhau. Samarjeet saved him twice; he owes him everything."

"I don't know," Shweta said. "Shaurya-bhai also seemed oddly composed. Veda-bhabhi may be political, but Shaurya bhaiya never tolerates injustice. Why did he let Ashish go?"

"I hated Ashish for what he did to Adhrita," Anamika snapped.

"She's our bahu-my bahu, in a way. If I were Veda-bhabhi, I would've ended him.

He touched something that wasn't his to touch.

And Adhrita... she should have done whatever it took.

I'd have backed her. She's too naive, didi" Anamika muttered.

Shweta's face hardened. "We need to see Vedashree bhabhi. Ask direct questions. If there's something buried, we need to know."

"You're right," Anamika agreed.

??? V ? A ???

The waves brushed against their feet, retreating only to return again - as if the sea itself wanted to listen. Vritant pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and handed it to her.

"What's this?" Adhrita asked, curiosity glinting in her eyes as she unwrapped it. Inside lay a delicate ring - elegant, minimal, yet undeniably hers.

"A ring?" she smiled softly, then her eyes widened with realization. "Shringar..." she laughed and stretched out her hand.

He slid the ring onto the finger of her right hand - her left already carried their engagement band.

"Dadu said you were adamant to marry me," she said, admiring the ring glimmering in the fading light.

"Sab ladke ki zidd hoti hai mummy ko pasand wali ladki chahiye," he said with a smirk. "Vritant ki zidd thi, jo mummy ko pasand na ho... wohi meri hogi."

Adhrita shook her head, half amused, half hurt. "You hate her so much."

"Look at my father," he said quietly, eyes fixed on the horizon, "and you'll understand why."

He got up and walked toward the water, his footprints sinking into the wet sand. Adhrita rose and placed her feet in his prints, following until she reached him, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

"Sorry..." she whispered.

He held her hands against his chest. "Forget everything. For the next few days - just you and me."

The wind lifted her hair and the waves hummed softly around their feet.

She nodded against his back, her heart whispering, "Anyone can fight the world for love. But he fights himself for me."

"Come on," he said after a while, turning to face her. Their fingers intertwined naturally as they walked back to the bungalow.

When he opened the door, the soft scent of roses drifted out. The room was filled with petals and flickering candles, warm light dancing over the marble. Adhrita froze at the doorway, overwhelmed. Her eyes glistened before she could stop the tears.

"Hritaa..." he said softly, stepping forward to hug her.

"Thank you," she whispered, hiding her face in his neck.

"Why?" he smiled. "This is Hritland. Your land."

She pulled away, wandering toward the bed and running her fingers through the petals. "I always craved a home... and a family," she murmured.

"Aah," he teased, crossing his arms. "And someone was cursing me while marrying me."

"I never cursed you!" she turned, pointing a finger at him. "More than my family, I trusted you."

He bent down and bit her finger lightly. "Ouch! Stop behaving like Karma!" she scolded, turning away - but before she could take another step, his arm circled her waist and he pulled her back against him.

The waves still echoed outside, but inside - it was just them.

He buried his face in the soft curve of her neck, tracing a line of soft kisses across her skin, lingering on the small, familiar moles that dotted her smooth skin. A shiver ran through her, and she closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh.

Then, he gently swept her long hair aside, letting the strands fall over her shoulder to reveal the delicate line of her shoulder and collarbone.

He trailed a path of featherlight nips and kisses along the exposed skin, from the slope of her neck down toward her shoulder, making her breath catch in her throat.

Slowly, she turned in his embrace, her eyes meeting his.

In the soft, flickering candlelight, their gazes held-a silent promise.

He tenderly kissed her forehead, then, in one smooth, swift motion, he lifted her into his arms. He carried her to the bed, setting her down gently amidst the scatter of rose petals, and then hovered above her.

He kissed her eyelids, one by one, then moved to the gentle curve of her cheeks.

Finally, with his index finger, he began a slow, mesmerizing caress across the contours of her face-from her temple to her jawline.

He lowered his head again, finding the hollow of her throat and the sharp line of her collarbone, leaving a warm, fervent trail of kisses there. The sound of the ocean was a distant rhythm, but in the heart of the room, only their intertwined presence remained.

He reached for her right hand, bringing it to his lips.

He kissed each of her fingers, one by one, with tender reverence, pausing to give a gentle, playful nibble to her thumb.

Then, he took her left hand and repeated the slow, deliberate action.

She responded by wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, pulling him closer.

He lowered his head slightly and, instead of kissing her, used his thumb to lightly trace the full, soft shape of her lips-a featherlight promise.

With a sigh, he slowly turned her so her back was to him, gently sweeping her hair over one shoulder. He leaned down, his breath warm against her skin, and used his teeth to carefully pull down the zipper of her dress.

As the fabric fell away, revealing her bare back, he let his eyes linger for a moment.

He reached out and let the back of his hand caress the smooth expanse of her skin, a soft, deliberate touch.

Then, he bent his head and pressed a soft, devotional kiss just below the nape of her neck, an intimate gesture of complete tenderness.

"Hritaa..." he whispered, his voice a warm breath against her ear, sending a tremor through her.

"Ant," she whispered back, the pet name soft on her tongue.

He shifted his weight, his foot lightly pressing against hers beneath the petals on the marble floor. Slowly, deliberately, he began to caress the top of her foot with his big toe, a silent, intimate conversation.

"I want to fulfill each dream of yours," he murmured against her skin.

He then gently turned her to face him. His gaze held hers as he slowly, reverently, slid the top fabric down her shoulders, revealing the smooth, bare skin.

He bent his head and pressed a warm kiss to her left shoulder, lingering on the delicate bone, then moved to the right shoulder, repeating the tender gesture.

He continued the slow descent, planting soft, warm kisses on her collarbone and the upper slope of her chest, marking her with his devotion.

As Vritant kissed her, Adhrita slowly began to work on the buttons of his shirt. With each button she undid, her breath grew shallower.

"Pro, huhhh..." he whispered against her skin, a low, teasing sound.

She blushed deeply and her hands paused, but he gave her no chance to feel shy.

He quickly slipped out of his shirt and tossed it onto the floor.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he scooped up a handful of rose petals from the bed and showered them over her body.

Then, he leaned close and gently blew a breath of air over her skin where the petals rested.

A deep sigh escaped her lips and she whispered his name, "Ant," closing her eyes against the sudden rush of sensation.

He carefully took her hands and placed them flat against his bare chest. She moved her fingers, feeling the firm muscle beneath the skin, and then instinctively leaned forward to press a soft kiss right over his heart.

He leaned to the side, opened the nearby drawer, and pulled out a single, perfect lotus flower. He used its soft petals to lightly caress her cheek.

She was utterly surprised, her eyes widening at the sight of her favorite flower. She took the lotus, holding its cool petals, and looked up at him.

"How did you manage?" she whispered, still admiring the flower.

He bent his head, his voice a low rumble. "What do you want?"

"Just your love," she whispered back, and the lotus, forgotten in her sudden sincerity, slipped from her hand to the bed.

He bent down and his lips brushed her ear. "Hu tamne prem karu chhu," he whispered-I love you in Gujarati. He sealed the confession with a tender kiss to her cheek.

Adhrita was beyond shock. He had just confessed his love, not just in words, but in her own native language. The depth of his effort and feeling stunned her into immobility.

Then, she felt his lips on hers. She was too overcome to move her own, so he took the sweet command. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her with a deep, consuming passion, erasing the shock and melting away everything but the present moment.

He lifted his head just an inch, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling.

He looked into her eyes-a dark, unreadable intensity.

Then, his gaze dropped to her throat, and he traced a line of fire down to her chest. He bent his head, his mouth finding the smooth skin, leaving a lingering, fervent kiss.

With an undeniable tenderness, he slowly slid the dress completely off her shoulders, letting it fall silently to the petal-strewn floor. He admired her body in the soft, dancing light-a moment of pure adoration.

He whispered things only meant for her-tender promises and deep truths. He told her she was the light that finally banished his shadows; he called her his peace and his fiercest desire.

He then dipped his head to kiss the delicate area just behind her earlobe, before moving back to her lips, making every touch, every kiss, and every word feel like a sacred pact between them.

He continued his tender devotion, his hands moving to the small of her back, holding her with a fierce, protective gentleness. He shifted, pulling her closer until no air remained between them, letting her feel the strong, rapid beating of his heart against her.

His lips left hers, traveling down the smooth line of her neck and settling warmly on her sternum, right where her heartbeat pulsed strongly. It was a kiss of possession, but one steeped in reverence.

She arched slightly, her fingers digging gently into the muscles of his shoulders, urging him on. He slowly moved his hands to cup the soft curves of her waist, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles on her skin, sending shivers rippling across her body.

He began to trail soft, deliberate kisses down the length of her leg, from the top of her thigh to her ankle, treating every inch of her skin with a possessive devotion.

His mouth then found the arch of her foot, pausing there to kiss her toes, one by one, mirroring the tenderness he had shown to her fingers earlier.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark with emotion and certainty. The silence in the room was electric, broken only by their ragged breathing and the soft flicker of the candles. Everything else was communicated through touch-the language they both understood perfectly.

With a profound tenderness, he moved to the elegant curve of her hip, his touch featherlight yet firm, mapping the contours of her body as if committing them to memory. His eyes, dark and heavy with love, never left hers.

He began to whisper again, the sweet nothings transforming into deep, soul-stirring truths, his words a soft counterpoint to the rush of the ocean outside. He told her she was the only future he ever wanted, his redemption, his reason.

Adhrita pulled him closer, her love a silent force, accepting his devotion and offering her own completely in return.

The room, filled with the scent of crushed roses and warm wax, became their sanctum-a place where only their love existed.

The intimacy deepened, becoming a beautiful culmination of their journey to find each other, their bodies finally telling the story their hearts had been whispering all along.

The whispers stopped, replaced by soft sounds of devotion and shared breath The flickering candlelight cast long, dramatic shadows, making the moment feel eternal, sealing their love in the soft, warm silence of their Hritland.

He was fighting only for her, and she was accepting every piece of him.

Outside, the sea continued its tireless song, but inside, in their Hritland, a profound, perfect silence had settled.

??? V ? A ???

Adhrita woke first, slowly. The scent of roses had mingled with the salty air drifting through the open window. She found herself curled securely against a warm, solid chest. Vritant's arm was draped protectively around her waist, his slow, steady breathing brushing softly against her ear.

Her gaze swept across the room - marble floor still scattered with wilted petals, the sheets a tangled memory of the night they had shared. Everything was a beautiful mess - quiet proof of the storm that had finally stilled between them.

A small smile touched her lips. She reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He stirred faintly, his arm tightening around her, pulling her closer in his sleep. When his eyes finally opened, they met hers with that unguarded tenderness he rarely let the world see.

"Morning, Hritaa," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning, Ant," she whispered back.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips - unhurried, sincere.

"Good night, jaan," he murmured next, his words laced with the same sleepy affection that had ended their night.

He tugged the silk sheet over both of them, wrapping them in warmth as the early light filtered in. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled her scent - the peace, the familiarity - as silence settled again.

After a while, he stirred, propping his head on his arm to look at her. The drowsiness had faded from his eyes, replaced by that quiet devotion only she could draw out of him. His fingers traced the curve of her cheek.

"I should probably move," he whispered, then smiled faintly. "But I don't want to."

Adhrita's lips curved. Her fingers traced his collarbone, soft and unhurried.

"We don't have to," she said simply. "We have nowhere else to be."

"Then let's play ghar-ghar," he said, his voice playful now as he hovered over her, his grip gentle but sure.

"Antttt," she laughed, half protest, half surrender - and before she could say another word, he kissed her again, drawing her into another storm of warmth and laughter and love.

??? V ? A ???

The next time Adhrita woke, it was already past noon. A lazy yawn escaped her lips as she pulled the silk sheet up to cover herself properly.

She turned to her side - he was still asleep, his back bare under the soft light spilling through the curtains. A faint smile tugged at her lips. She reached out and began tracing her name with her fingertip across his skin, letter by letter.

Her smile faded when she noticed a faint scar running across his neck, disappearing into his hair. Something inside her softened - she traced the scar gently, as if she could erase it just by touch. Then, leaning forward, she pressed a delicate kiss over it.

Vritant stirred in his sleep, turning toward her. His arms instinctively pulled her in.

"Don't," he murmured in a husky voice, still half-asleep.

"I don't like it," she whispered, her breath brushing against his collarbone.

He opened his eyes, gaze steady but calm. "You should accept me with my scars," he said softly, then placed a kiss on her forehead.

"If I love you, I love your scars too. It's just that I..." she trailed off, unable to finish.

"It made me sleep for two years," he said with a dry chuckle.

She frowned lightly. "Wasn't it two days? Your reports-"

"No," he interrupted, eyes distant. "Last thing I remember was him hitting me with a rod on my neck. I hit the ground... and when I opened my eyes, two years were gone."

Adhrita just smiled faintly, trying to mask the unease that crept in.

"Why did you say two days?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

He nodded, letting it slide. Then, in a gentler tone, "Hungry?"

She nodded silently.

He got up, wrapping the sheet around her carefully before pulling another around himself. Without saying a word, he took her hand and led her to the washroom - the quiet between them thick with unspoken truths.

??? V ? A ???

Adhrita filled her maang with sindoor, watching her reflection shimmer softly in the vanity mirror. Behind her, Vritant's voice flowed low and calm as he spoke on a call.

Her eyes fell on a small gift box placed beside the mirror. Ah, the fifth one.

She smiled and unwrapped it carefully - inside lay a slender kohl pencil. Her smile deepened. She applied it to her eyes, the black tracing her calmness into something bold. When she looked up again, he was watching her through the mirror. He winked. She blushed.

Rising from the vanity, she walked over to him. Without a word, she reached for the kohl pencil and drew a tiny black dot just behind his ear. Standing on her toes, she leaned in and gave a playful bite on his cheek.

He froze mid-call, then instantly ended it. His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer.

"Reporters were right..." he murmured, eyes glinting.

She raised a brow. "About what?"

"That you really look like Goddess Lakshmi."

She laughed lightly. "So that makes you Vishnu?"

The humor in his eyes dimmed. A faint shadow crossed his face - the kind that came whenever faith was mentioned. She instantly regretted her teasing.

"Hey..." she said softly, brushing her hand over his shirt. "Don't ruin your mood. I know you don't believe in God. You came for the pooja just for me, and I love you for that. But don't go against your wish for my sake, please."

Her tone carried a quiet sincerity. He looked at her for a long moment, then exhaled.

"It's our honeymoon," he said finally, a wry half-smile returning. "Let's not get philosophical on an empty stomach."

He took her hand and led her outside for lunch, their fingers entwined - his disbelief wrapped around her faith in perfect, imperfect balance.

??? V ? A ???

She was asleep - peacefully, almost weightless against the soft sheets. Vritant stepped out of the bedroom and onto the balcony. The sea was whispering again, waves brushing against the shore in rhythm with the night breeze.

He switched on the soft yellow light and sat down. From his bag, he took out a small block of wood and a carving tool. His fingers moved with practiced precision - each stroke careful, controlled. Bit by bit, a shape emerged.

A small container. For vermillion.

He was just finishing the final curve when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

"Ant..."

Adhrita's voice - sleepy, fragile, but enough to make his pulse stutter. He quickly set the carving aside, tucked everything into his bag, and walked back inside.

She stirred slightly as he sat beside her. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close until her breathing evened out again.

"Nightmares?" she murmured.

He shook his head. "No."

"Tremors?"

"In control," he said with a faint smile - the kind that lived somewhere between exhaustion and affection.

She sighed softly and drifted back to sleep, unaware that her husband had spent the night carving a symbol of her place in his world.

??? V ? A ???

They had spent nearly a month there - away from everything and everyone. Days blurred into sunsets and nights into whispers; they had almost forgotten that a world existed beyond their world.

That morning, Adhrita was busy packing their luggage while Vritant was busy undoing her progress.

"Don't pack. I don't want to go back," he said, pulling out the clothes she had just folded.

She glared at him.

"Ant, please-not in the morning," she sighed, irritation laced with a strange wave of discomfort.

He instantly noticed the shift in her expression.

"What happened?" he asked, his tone suddenly softer.

"Nothing," she brushed him off and rushed into the washroom. Moments later, the sound of her retching echoed faintly.

"hrita?" He followed, concern flashing across his face as he gently held her hair back.

She rinsed her mouth and nodded. "I'm fine."

"You're not," he said, still frowning. Then, in his usual decisive tone, "We're leaving for home."

The journey back was quiet. She was unusually silent, staring out at the endless stretch of sea as the yacht cut through the waves. He didn't push-just reached for her hand once in a while, as if checking she was still there.

When they finally reached Mumbai, she stepped off the yacht and went straight to the car. Vritant sat beside her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes closed, the exhaustion of the day - or something deeper - catching up to her.

His phone buzzed. The screen showed a private number. He hesitated before answering. "Yes... okay. I'll meet you," he said curtly and hung up.

"Driver, Agnivanshi Palace," he ordered.

When they arrived, Iva came rushing toward them. "I wanted to surprise you, but looks like you two have a surprise of your own!" she said, grinning as she hugged them both.

"Congratulations," Vritant said with a knowing smile, hugging her back.

"How do you know?" she asked, laughing nervously as everyone went quiet.

"The glow on your face said it all," he replied, that teasing half-smile never leaving his lips.

Before Iva could respond, Adhrita stepped forward and embraced her warmly.

"Congratulations," she whispered. But as she pulled away, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in Iva's arms.

For a moment, the palace went silent-until Vritant's voice cut through it.

"Adhrita!"

Maybe love really does come with side effects.

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