Two days had passed in a jiffy since the Rathores arrived.
Their arrival brought a wave of emotions — happiness to some, and dread to others.
Akshat was on cloud nine. His joy knew no bounds. He couldn't find the right words to express his happiness — so he just prayed quietly each night,
“Bhagwaan, meri Didu ko kabhi dard na ho. Bas khushi mile, har kadam par.”
Meanwhile, those two days were unnaturally silent in the Sharma household — Kamini and her tribe hadn’t even dared to look at Mishti, let alone touch her.
But don’t mistake that silence for a change of heart.
No, dear reader. They haven’t changed.
It’s not love. It’s not guilt.
It’s fear.
Flashback:
“Mrs. Kamini.”
Kamini jolted out of her greedy daydream as she heard a deep, dominating voice — so cold and sharp that it sent chills down her spine.
She turned around slowly... and froze.
There stood Shivank singh Rathore, hands in his pockets, eyes colder than ice, staring directly at her.
For a moment, Kamini forgot how to breathe.
Yet she somehow mustered courage.
“Ji... ji... ch-chhote Hukum...” she stammered.
A wicked smirk tugged at Shivank’s lips as he walked towards her, slow and deliberate.
“Arey mrs. Kamini... abhi toh maine kuch kiya bhi nahi, aur aapke chehre ka rang udne lage.”
She gulped hard. Her throat felt dry, words stuck in her mouth. She had already crossed the line once — and if she said something wrong now, she feared she wouldn't live to cross it again.
But Shivank was enjoying her discomfort far too much.
Perks of being the elder brother in a mafia family.
If the younger brother’s shadow brings fear... what should one expect from the original storm?
“Mrs. Kamini,” he said, voice still casual but laced with danger,
“Aapko ek bat pta hai. Bhai jab kisi ko maut dete hai, toh poore vidhi-vadhan ke saath antim sanskar karta hai. Par main... main toh uss insaan ko antim sanskar ke laayak bhi nahi chhodta. Wo kya hai n Yamraj ko bhi thora rest milna chahiye, hai na? Toh...Main kaam aasaan kar deta hoon — taki unhe takleef na ho...logo ke liye swarg ya nark decide karne ki zarurat hi nahi padti hai.”
Kamini’s eyes widened. Sweat formed on her forehead. She was staring at him like she had seen Yamraj himself.
Shivank tilted his head and said with a mocking chuckle,
“Arey arey... aap kyun darne lagi, Mrs. Kamini? Yeh toh bas... general knowledge tha. Tension na lijiye.”
“Ye maut ki dhamki de ke isse general knowledge bol raha hai,” Kamini thought in panic.
Shivank leaned in close. His tone dropped to a whisper — deadly and low:
“Meri nazar aap par hi rahegi, Mrs. Kamini. Toh behtar hoga apni zubaan, niyat aur harkatein sudhar lijiye... warna ho sakta hai...”
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn’t need to.
The devilish smirk he gave before turning away said enough.
Flashback end
✦⋆｡˚﹕﹕˚｡⋆✦
Evening, 7 PM.
Everyone stood in the living room, ready to leave for Rathore Mansion.
Kamini and Rakesh were quiet as stone. Shivank’s warning still echoed in their heads.
Sneha, however, had taken a different approach. Wearing a short, revealing black dress, and caked in layers of makeup, she was lost in her delusions.
“Mom, relax! You just wait and see — I’ll attract Ekaksh’s attention today. Once he sees me, Mishti will be history. I’ll become the Queen of Rajasthan, and we’ll rule in luxury.”
Kamini nodded approvingly, while Akshat rolled his eyes so hard, he almost saw his past life.
“Sapno ki duniya se bahar nikliye, Sneha didii,” he muttered sarcastically.
“Kahin Rani ke jagah naukrani na ban jaayein aap.”
Sneha glared and pointed a finger at him.
“You—!”
“Bas, chup dono!” Rakesh barked.
“Chalo, der ho rahi hai.”
Akshat smiled smugly, took his Didu’s hand, and left — leaving the mother-daughter duo fuming.
Within an hour, the Sharma family reached the grand Rathore Mansion.
Sumitra ji and the others welcomed them warmly. Mishti and Akshat touched everyone's feet, receiving blessings with grace and smiles.
Sumitra ji gently caressed Mishti’s head.
“Beta, kaise ho?”
Mishti felt warmth rise in her heart — a forgotten emotion. Something about the touch reminded her of a mother’s long-lost affection.
She controlled her emotions and replied softly,
“Ji... Hukum rani sa, main theek hoon. Aap kaise hain?”
Sumitra’s eyes sparkled.
“Main bilkul theek hoon. Aur yeh 'Hukum Rani sa' hum sabke liye hai. Aapni beti ke liye hum unki maa hai, to hume maa keh kar bulaaiye.”
Mishti’s eyes welled up again, but she held back tears and smiled.
“Ji, maa...”
But not everyone was feeling the love.
Sneha — standing nearby — was burning with jealousy. She couldn’t tolerate the attention Mishti was getting.
Faking the sweetest smile, she stepped forward and bowed lightly.
“Hukum Rani sa, pranam. Main Sneha — Mishti ki behen. Wo us din office mein thi, toh aapse mil nahi payi. Warna... main toh itni sanskaari hoon ki aapke charnon mein sir rakh ke pranam karti.”
Her voice was soaked in fake honey.
Shivank and Akshat both rolled their eyes in perfect sync.
“Atyachaari bani sanskaari,” Akshat muttered under his breath.
“Acting bhi kitni gandi karti hai, chi. Isse acchi toh main kar loon.”
Shivank bit his lip to stop a laugh.
Sumitra glanced at Sneha from head to toe and replied with a sweet sass,
“Haan beta, woh toh dikh hi raha hai.”
Sneha’s fake smile froze on her face. She hadn’t expected such a slap-in-silk reply. Now she was just waiting for Ekaksh to arrive.
And just then...
“Lo, Ekaksh bhi aa gaya.” Sumitra ji said, turning towards the stairs.
All eyes followed.
And there he was — Ekaksh Singh Rathore — walking down the stairs like a dark storm.
Black shirt, black trousers, polished shoes, a black watch, and a smirk that could bring kingdoms to their knees.
Devilishly. Handsome.
Mishti’s heart skipped a beat. Her breath hitched.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He, too, had forgotten to breathe.
Her light pink Anarkali, silver bangles, a delicate bindi, braided hair cascading down her back — she looked like poetry wrapped in grace.
Ekaksh clutched his chest playfully and whispered under his breath,
“Uff... Mishti, aap toh hamari jaan hi le lengi.”
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