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Dattatriya's eyes were still fixed on the four people at the temple entrance - sharp, cold, and burning with a hatred that seemed etched deep in his soul.
His jaw was clenched so tightly that I could see the strain in his muscles.
That look... it wasn't just anger. It was betrayal. A wound long buried, still bleeding.
I gently slid my hand into his and rubbed his arm softly.
"Calm down," I whispered.
The moment my touch reached him, he turned to me. The fire in his eyes softened just a bit. He took a long, steady breath, then nodded - a silent gesture of restraint he offered only to me.
I turned to the guards, who were still holding the four of them back.
"Let them in," I told them gently.
They hesitated for a moment, glancing at Dattatriya, clearly unsure. But before I could speak again, his cold voice sliced through the air.
"Didn't you hear your ma'am?" he said icily. "Never disobey her."
Instantly, they stepped aside.
The four walked forward slowly, uncertain, but grateful. I stood quietly beside Dattatriya as they approached.
"Please, go have prasad," I said with a warm smile. "It's all been arranged... by my Datta."
His father - the man who had caused him so much pain - reached out and gently caressed my head, his touch trembling. He didn't speak much, but the small smile on his face carried the weight of what he wanted to say.
The woman beside him, who I now knew was his father second wife, stepped closer. She looked at me with soft, kind eyes, and to my surprise, leaned in and kissed my forehead.
"Always be happy," she murmured sincerely.
Then the two younger ones - the boy and girl who had called Dattatriya "bhaiya" just moments ago - came forward. Their smiles were small, tinged with sadness, but warm.
"Bhabhi..." they both said together and wrapped their arms around me.
I blinked, a little stunned by the gentle affection. Still, I returned the hug and patted their backs softly, saying nothing - because this moment didn't belong to words.
I signaled to the guards, who respectfully guided the four of them toward the food area.
I turned back to look at Dattatriya. His face hadn't changed much - still calm, but distant. Whatever peace this act of kindness brought, it wasn't enough to undo the past.
Adya came and stood beside me. Her eyes were locked on the scene ahead - her father, her half-siblings, the woman who replaced her mother. Her jaw was tight, but her voice was composed.
"I'll go directly to the penthouse," she said.
I turned to her. "But Adya-"
"Please, bhabhi," she whispered, and there was something in her eyes - a vulnerability she didn't want the others to see. I understood.
I nodded gently, touching her cheek. She didn't say more. Just quietly turned and walked toward the other car.
I turned back to my family.
Bhairava bhaiya hugged me tightly, then stepped back to rest his hand protectively on Arya bhabhi's shoulder. She smiled and nodded softly, as if to say go ahead.
Gyan bhaiya and Dyan bhaiya stood by quietly, and Utsav - my little laddu - came and hugged me tightly around the waist. I stroked his hair and whispered, "Take care of Arya bhabhi, okay?"
He nodded sweetly, burying his face into my shoulder for a second before stepping back.
Papa kissed my forehead. "Bless you, beta. Always."
I smiled softly and went to the car. Sheraa was waiting inside - my sweet little snow leopard cub, now curled into a ball. The moment he saw me, he perked up, rubbing his eyes with his paw sleepily.
"Aw, my sweet little prince," I whispered and picked him up. He yawned and snuggled against my chest.
I settled into the car with Sheraa in my lap, and Dattatriya joined me, silent and unreadable as always.
But when our eyes met, I saw it - not pain. Not anger. Just exhaustion from a past he never wanted to face... but did, only because I asked him to.
And that, in his language of silence, was love.
As we sat in the car, I gently placed Sheraa on his cushioned seat, wrapping him snugly in his little blanket. He curled up like a ball of white snow, his soft tail twitching with contentment. I turned to Datta, watching his profile as he drove, his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the road.
"Datta, you fine?" I asked softly.
He gave a brief nod, still silent, but that silence screamed a thousand emotions.
"Datta," I repeated, gently placing my hand on his arm.
Suddenly, his voice erupted, strained and full of fury. "I hate them, Sunshine. I hate them with all I have! I don't want them near me, but they somehow always manage to crawl back into my life. I hate them!"
His voice echoed in the car, leaving a heavy silence behind. I didn't flinch. I just slid my hand down to his, resting on the gear box, and slowly caressed his knuckles - grounding him.
He looked at me, his eyes dark and conflicted. That storm he never let anyone see was now swirling right in front of me.
"I know you hate them, Datta," I whispered, my voice steady.
"I know you hate your father... for pushing you away like you never mattered.
I know you hate your stepmother... because she took your mother's place when she was supposed to be her best friend.
And I know... you hate your half-siblings.
.. just for the sin of being born in that family that shattered yours. "
His eyes softened just slightly, his breathing deeper now, not so harsh.
"I know, Datta. I know you hate them," I said again, holding his gaze, letting my voice wrap around his rage like a balm.
We reached home in silence after that. The silence wasn't heavy anymore - it was something gentler. Exhausted, perhaps, but quiet. Peaceful in its own broken way.
He parked the car and stepped out. I followed, lifting Sheraa into my arms again.
The little cub nuzzled my neck sleepily.
As we entered the house, I placed Sheraa down and opened the back door so he could wander into the garden.
He purred happily, padding off to chase butterflies and sniff flowers, his tail flicking playfully.
I turned around and found Dattatriya sitting on the living room sofa, his head leaned back, one arm resting on the backrest, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He looked drained - not physically, but emotionally.
I didn't say anything. I just walked toward him, sat beside him, and gently rested my head on his shoulder.
For the first time since the temple, he leaned into me - not as the mighty CM of Rajasthan, not as the ruthless Italian mafia don - but as a man who had finally let someone see the shadows in his soul.
And I was not going anywhere.
I looked up at Datta, resting my chin lightly on his shoulder. He turned his face slightly, his eyes meeting mine, the hard lines of tension slowly melting into something softer-something only I was ever allowed to see.
"Relax, Mr. Husband," I teased with a playful smirk.
He blinked, then chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Mr. Husband, hmm?"
"Yes," I grinned. "You're officially upgraded from CM-sahab and mafia boss to full-time husband duty now. Expect pampering, drama, arguments... and a very bossy wife."
"Oh, God. Save me," he murmured dramatically, shaking his head. "What did I get myself into?"
"A lifetime of trouble," I whispered close to his ear.
He smiled wider now, and I could see his eyes sparkle-not with power or calculation, but something rare... warmth.
I leaned in and kissed his forehead gently. His eyes fluttered shut, like that single touch gave him the peace he didn't know he craved. Without a word, he lay his head in my lap, and I welcomed it instantly, my fingers finding their way into his thick hair, caressing his scalp slowly.
He let out a deep breath, a sound of complete surrender.
I smiled down at him, but a storm brewed behind that smile-quiet, hidden, buried.
What if he finds out?
What if he learns that I lied? That Gowtham never ran away... but I made him leave?
The thought sank its claws deep into my heart.
What if he hates me?
What if he walks away from me? From us?
My fingers trembled slightly before I steadied them against his hair again.
No, Katha. Stop. He can never find out. He should never find out. You did what you had to. He doesn't need to know.
I swallowed the guilt down like poison, forcing a smile as I looked at the man sleeping peacefully in my lap.
I'll carry this secret... forever. If it means keeping him close, I'll carry anything.
It was already night, the soft glow of the moon seeping through the sheer curtains of our room.
I changed into my night dress - a simple, satin set with soft lace along the edges.
Comfortable, breathable, nothing new. I stepped out brushing my hair back and found Dattatriya outside, near the garden door, crouched and feeding Sheraa a meat stick.
But the second he saw me, he froze... then dropped the meat stick like it had burned him.
"Datta?" I frowned, walking towards him. "What happened?"
He just stood there, wide-eyed, staring at me like I had descended from another planet.
"That-" he pointed vaguely in my direction, "You're wearing that?"
I looked down at my nightdress. "Uh... yes?" I said slowly. "I always wear like this to sleep. It's comfortable."
I walked past him and plopped onto the bed casually. "Why, you have a problem with nightwear now, Mr. Husband?" I teased, curling up and calling Sheraa to settle on his little sofa bed nearby.
Datta didn't answer right away. He just stared. Like really stared. And then he gulped - actually gulped - and slowly made his way to the bed.
He slid in beside me but didn't speak.
"What?" I asked, turning to face him.
He looked away, pretending to adjust the blanket. "Nothing."
"Dattaaa," I dragged his name with a playful pout. "Come on, say it."
He looked at me like a guilty kid. "You shouldn't wear things like that around me."
"Why?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because I'm a man," he said so seriously that I laughed.
"Oh my God, you're such a dramatic husband."
"I'm serious, Sunshine," he groaned. "You have no idea how hard it is to behave."
"You want me to wear woollen sweaters in May?" I teased, poking his cheek.
"Yes," he said flatly. "With three layers. And maybe a blanket too."
"Too bad," I smirked. "You married a hurricane, not a nun."
He groaned again and buried his face in the pillow while I laughed softly, watching his ears turn red.
"By the way," he mumbled into the pillow. "I ordered something today."
"Hm?" I asked, running my fingers through his hair lazily.
"A big frame," he said, turning his head so I could see his eyes again. "Of us. From the wedding."
I blinked, surprised. "You did?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "I want it in the hall. So everyone who enters knows who you belong to."
"Possessive much?" I teased, smiling now.
"Only when it comes to you," he murmured, reaching out to brush his thumb along my cheek.
I leaned into his hand and whispered, "Well, I belong to you anyway, with or without the frame."
We stared at each other for a beat too long before he leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine.
And there, in the quiet warmth of our room, with Sheraa purring softly in the background, the weight of the day melted away - replaced only by the rhythm of two hearts beating in sync.
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