49
It's been a month since that emotional day when everything finally came to light-when truths were shared, tears shed, and hearts healed. And now? Life feels like it's dipped in bliss.
Mom and Dad-yes, Pooja and Shiva Agnivanshi-visit us often.
We offered to move in with them or have them stay with us permanently, but they just smiled and said they didn't want to disturb "the newlyweds.
" According to them, me and Datta need our space to be madly in love without distractions. I mean, they're not wrong.
Mom is honestly the best. If I stayed at their place for just a week, I swear I'd gain five kilos minimum.
Her food? Divine. The woman pours love and magic into every single dish she makes.
And Dad... well, he still tries to act all stoic and reserved, but one puppy-eye look from me or Adya, and he melts like butter on a hot paratha.
Athira and Garud have become part of my regular chaos.
They come over often, and we go absolutely wild.
There's laughter, teasing, games, and everything in between.
At first, they were scared of Sheraa. I mean, who wouldn't be?
He's a majestic snow leopard cub with intense eyes.
But soon, even Sheraa got used to them, and now he lets them cuddle him if he's in a good mood (which is rare, but we take it).
And oh, my side of the family? Don't even get me started.
Papa, Bhairava Bhaiya, Dyan Bhaiya, Utsav, and Arya Bhabhi show up at our place like it's their second home.
The house is always echoing with chaos and laughter when they're around.
Dyan Bhaiya still pretends to be the angry grump, but we all know the moment Swarna calls, he becomes a complete softie.
Yes, Swarna Patel. The woman responsible for taming the beast.
And speaking of beasts...
Datta. My Datta.
My sexy, dangerous, tattooed, overly possessive, insanely loving Mafia CM husband.
I swear, this man doesn't just love me-he worships me.
He wakes up early to cook my favorite food, even at midnight if I so much as blink in hunger.
He never forgets a date night, and oh, those dates?
They're not just outings-they're events. Every single one is unforgettable.
And the love-making? Sweet heavens.
Let's just say... my legs don't always work the next day.
The man's stamina is not human, and I've told him that multiple times.
Does he listen? No. Does he smirk like a devil every time I limp?
Yes. But am I complaining? Never. Because I'm not just loved-I'm adored, ravished, and cherished.
He makes sure I never forget that I'm his. In every possible way.
But enough about my very satisfying married life.
Right now, our house is in chaos again because we're packing. Why? Because we're flying to Gujarat. Yes, you heard me right-Gujarat.
Why, you ask?
To meet our Gujju Bhabhi. Swarna Patel. I call her Gujju Bhabhi because she's a fierce, beautiful Gujarati woman with a brain sharper than a katana. And guess what? She's going to be Dyan Bhaiya's wife.
Shocked? Don't be.
They've been secretly in love since college. Yes, college. The great, violent, rage-filled Dyan Bhaiya? Fell in love in the middle of campus chaos with a woman who gives him hell and heaven both. Honestly, I'm obsessed with them.
Now you might be wondering about my college love story.
Well... I didn't have one.
Why? Because I didn't have time. While everyone was busy doing love stories and living like it's a Bollywood film, I was buried under law books, court cases, and murder trials. My life was a courtroom drama. Sad, right?
But not anymore. Because now, I have the most happening life with the hottest Mafia CM husband who spoils me like a queen and wrecks me like a storm. I'm not complaining.
Now, back to the chaos.
"DAATTTAAA, PACK YOUR BAGS! WE HAVE TO LEAVE!" I yelled from the hallway, trying to zip my overstuffed suitcase.
I heard a groggy sound from the living room. Datta, half-asleep, sat up on the sofa, his hair all messy and his kurta slightly twisted. His eyes blinked open slowly.
"Haan, sunshine," he mumbled and then nodded, standing up like an obedient soldier.
Without another word, he stretched, ran a hand through his hair, and went to pack his bags.
And with that, Gujarat-here we come.
We were all inside Dyan Bhaiya's private jet-because of course, he insisted we take his.
"It's my sasural! How can we go there in anything less than my jet?" he had declared, chest puffed up with pride.
My dramatic Dyan Bhaiya, I tell you-such a terror to the world, but now? He's turned into a certified dulha-mode buffoon.
I was comfortably leaning against Datta's chest, who had one arm wrapped around me, the other lazily scrolling through his phone. His warmth, his calm heartbeat-it was my peace. He kissed the top of my head without even looking up.
Papa, the ever-regal Bhairava Bhaiya, was reclining in his king-sized luxury seat like a king who just won a war. Well, maybe he did-managing the entire Choudhury household and Arya Bhabhi's mood swings during pregnancy wasn't less than a war.
Arya Bhabhi was fast asleep, head resting on his chest, her hand in his, while Bhaiya softly caressed her baby bump, his eyes filled with a softness only she could pull from him.
Gyan Bhaiya was seated beside Adya, who had her head on his shoulder. They were whispering something to each other, but from the way Adya blushed, I knew my poor brother had found his entire universe in her.
Then, there was the epicenter of energy himself-Dyan Bhaiya.
He plopped down in the seat across from my ladla-Utsav-who was cradling Sheraa in his arms. Sheraa had grown a bit but was still very much a baby and very much spoiled. And the way he was staring at Dyan Bhaiya?
Pure judgment.
"Sasural jaa raha hoon, mujhe lag raha hai ki meri heartbeat badh rahi hai!" Dyan Bhaiya announced, clutching his chest.
Utsav raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to meet Swarna Bhabhi or fight in a boxing match? Calm down, Bhaiya."
"Tu nahi samjhega, yeh special feeling hoti hai! I've been waiting for this."
"You're acting like you're the bride," I teased from my seat. "Relax, Bhaiya. You'll scare her family more than impress them."
Dyan Bhaiya grinned. "Let them be scared. Then they'll know what kind of damad they're getting."
Papa shook his head with a small smirk. "If they don't throw you out within five minutes, I'll be shocked."
"Papa! Don't jinx it!" Dyan Bhaiya said dramatically, while Utsav chuckled.
Sheraa, clearly done with the theatrics, leaned in and licked Utsav's face as if to say, "Save me from this madness."
Utsav looked at Dyan Bhaiya and said deadpan, "Even Sheraa thinks you've lost it."
And we all laughed.
After a smooth flight and countless dramatic dialogues from Dyan Bhaiya later, we finally landed in Gujarat.
As the jet door opened... hell broke loose.
A fleet of sleek, black Escalades awaited us on the runway. And stepping out of them?
A black-suited security team, armed, towering, sunglasses on-even though it was cloudy.
"Umm... Bhaiya? Are Swarna Bhabhi family into the Yakuza or what?" I whispered to Dyan.
He smirked proudly. "Did I forget to mention? Swarna's family is mafia too. Gujarati Mafia. Top-tier."
Datta blinked. "That's the first time you're saying that."
"What?! No way-I'm sure I mentioned it. Okay, maybe not. Surprise!" Dyan Bhaiya grinned and opened his arms like this was a joke.
Bhairava Bhaiya just shook his head and muttered, "Great. This is going to be fun."
We were politely escorted to the cars, and the moment we all settled in, Dyan Bhaiya said with all the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning-
"Ab dekhna, meri Swarna mujhe dekhte hi pighal jaayegi. Damaad hoon main unka, asli wala don-type."
Adya whispered, "He's really lost it."
Gyan Bhaiya chuckled, "Wait till Swarna Bhabhi puts him in his place."
And I? I just leaned on Datta and laughed, whispering, "We're going to need popcorn for this drama."
He smiled, kissed my forehead, and said, "Let the Gujju chapter begin, sunshine."
As soon as we stepped out of the cars, I was hit with the sight of a massive mansion-no, not a mansion, a freaking palace. White marble walls, golden trims, intricate Gujarati carvings-if the Choudhury haveli was royal chaos, this was silent intimidation.
We stood in line like school kids as the main doors opened, and an old man stepped out, his posture upright and commanding.
Beside him, an elegantly dressed woman with sharp eyes that could slice anyone in half.
Behind them, three well-built, dangerous-looking men stood like living statues.
I whispered to Datta, "Are they Swarna Bhabhi's parents and brothers? "
Before he could respond, Dyan Bhaiya nudged me and nodded with a proud, smug grin. "Haan. Welcome to my sasural."
But just when we were about to be greeted properly, a loud thud echoed in the air. We all turned just in time to see a full-grown man falling from the top floor, landing in the courtyard with a painful groan. The man whimpered, trying to crawl away.
Our heads jerked up and there she was.
At the edge of the top floor balcony, in all her glory, stood Swarna Patel. Hands on the railing, hair tied in a messy bun, wearing a blood-splattered kurta like it was a designer outfit. She looked down like she had just dropped a garbage bag.
Utsav blinked, looked at me, and asked, "Did she just... push that man?"
I nodded-vigorously. "I think she did."
Dyan Bhaiya's grin was so wide he looked unhinged. "That's my girl."
We all glared at him. "That's your future wife committing a felony," Bhairava Bhaiya muttered.
Swarna Bhabhi's parents-Mr. and Mrs. Patel-calmly walked forward like nothing just happened.
Mr. Patel said in a deep voice, "Welcome to our home. Sorry about the mess. That man touched our daughter's wrist without permission. So, well..."
Mrs. Patel finished without blinking, "She dislocated his shoulder and sent him flying. Hope the flight was nice?"
Bhairava Bhaiya coughed, hiding a laugh. "Lovely. 10/10 landing."
Her three brothers came forward, all dressed in black kurtas, clearly mafia-coded. The first one nodded at Datta, "We've heard of you."
The second one gave Bhairava Bhaiya a respectful bow. "The Choudhurys are legends."
The third one smiled at me and Adya. "And who might you angels be? The house suddenly smells sweeter."
I blinked. Adya blinked.
This man just tried to flirt with us.
Before I could reply, Datta silently stepped in front of me like a wall of stone. Gyan Bhaiya mirrored him for Adya, arms crossed and jaw clenched.
The flirty brother immediately put his hands up. "Peace! Peace! Just complimenting the guests."
I peeked around Datta and whispered to Adya, "He looked so smug before. Now look at his soul leave his body."
Adya giggled behind Gyan Bhaiya's back. "Poor man got caught in Agnivanshi laser beams."
Before anything more could happen, Swarna Bhabhi descended the stairs, wiping her hands with a white cloth that was... definitely stained with blood. She looked utterly unbothered, like she had just finished watering plants instead of breaking bones.
Her eyes scanned the room-and then landed on me.
Her entire face lit up.
"Aww my Katha!" she squealed.
I rushed forward and hugged her. "Bhabhi!! Finally!!"
She cupped my cheeks. "You look even more gorgeous than your pictures! And look at you glowing! Is this Datta's love or his cooking?"
I giggled. "Both. He feeds me too well."
She kissed my forehead. "I told you, the day I meet you, it's going to feel like I met my twin flame."
I rolled my eyes fondly. "Don't romanticize me, Bhabhi. Save that for your fiancé."
She snorted and walked right past Dyan Bhaiya.
His expression? Absolute betrayal.
"Swarna!" he called like a dramatic movie hero.
She didn't even glance at him. Instead, she turned to Arya Bhabhi and went, "Omg congratulations! You're glowing! Who knew mafia babies made moms this radiant!"
Arya Bhabhi smiled sweetly. "Thank you! The baby kicks every time Dyan yells. So basically, every 10 minutes."
Swarna winked. "Smart baby."
Dyan Bhaiya stood frozen, looking like a puppy abandoned in the rain. "She didn't even hug me..."
We all just laughed while Papa muttered, "Serves you right for saying 'main damaad hoon' every two minutes."
I leaned into Datta, whispering, "This is going to be one legendary wedding."
He kissed my temple and whispered, "With this family? It's already a movie."
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
Do vote