The evening of the party had arrived, and the room was filled with the familiar, comforting hum of preparation. In the eyes of Rajveer, she looked like an absolute British princess today.
She was wearing an elegant, structured skirt that flowed gracefully to just below her knees, paired with sleek dark stockings and matching high heels. Her top was tailored from expensive, heavy silk, adorned with intricate, delicate floral designs. She was currently styling the look with that set of pearl jewellery, her hair done up in a beautiful, half-closed butterfly hairstyle with small, wavy flecks of curls framing her face perfectly.
She was busy adding the final touches to her makeup, entirely unaware that Rajveer was busy adoring her like he always did. He was sitting on the bed, pretending to be utterly absorbed in his laptop, though his eyes barely tracked the screen.
He was already fully dressed in a sharp, tailored three-piece suit that she had personally chosen for him. Right now, Devika was aggressively rummaging through his collection on the dressing table, entirely focused on finding a suitable luxury watch that would perfectly match her pearls and coordinate their outfits.
Rajveer smiled quietly behind the screen of his laptop. He deeply loved how she always got so genuinely excited at every single gift of his, trying to wear or use them as soon as humanly possible.
This exact pearl jewellery set had been given to her by him just this morning. The moment she had opened the box, she had started adoring it like a child, twisting and turning in front of the mirror with a radiant, breathless glow.
He remembered how she had looked at him lovingly after receiving the pearls, holding his hand as she said, "Hukum sa, har baar itne mehenge gifts laane ki zaroorat nhi. Ek chota sa chocolate ya ice cream bhi chalega."
Her words had stayed with him all through his corporate meetings. Wanting to be an attentive husband, Rajveer had immediately instructed his assistant to procure the finest, most exclusive box of imported chocolates available in the city. The moment he returned from the office that afternoon, he had proudly presented the luxury chocolate box to her, expecting a sweet, romantic reaction.
Instead, Devika had stared at the box, looked up at his completely serious, proud face, and had burst into a violent fit of laughter. She had literally clutched her stomach, howling and gasping for air on the couch for almost half an hour while Rajveer stood there completely baffled, holding the chocolates in utter confusion.
He genuinely didn't understand what he had done wrong. 'How much cheap things does she really want?' he had wondered to himself. 'Wasn't she a princess of such a massive, wealthy empire?' He didn't realize that her request for 'chocolate' meant a simple, ordinary treat from a local store, not a rare, gourmet selection flown in from France.
"Mil gaya!" Devika's triumphant voice snapped him completely out of his thoughts.
She turned around, holding up a classic silver-rimmed watch with a mother-of-pearl dial that matched her necklace flawlessly. She marched over to the bed, her heels clicking purposefully on the wooden floor, her butterfly hairstyle bouncing with her steps.
"Chaliye, haath aage kijiye," she ordered brightly, her face illuminating with that familiar, bubbly energy.
Rajveer closed his laptop and set it aside, extending his forearm toward her. Devika leaned over, carefully strapping the watch onto his wrist.
---
The grand hall was a masterclass in classic opulence, bathed in the soft, warm glow of massive crystal chandeliers that threw long shadows across the high-profile crowd. Devika walked by his side, her hand resting lightly on the sleeve of his suit. She was the picture of royal grace, offering a perfectly poised, professional smile to the stream of politicians, diplomats, and industrialists who lined up to welcome the Crown Prince back to Jodhpur.
Rajveer moved seamlessly through the crowd, clapping shoulders, shaking hands, and pulling old family friends into formal hugs. When the heavy tide of greetings finally slowed, he turned his attention back to his wife. Devika was uncharacteristically quiet, her head bowed slightly, a beautiful, shy smile playing on her lips. Right beside her, Jai and Nandini were huddled close, whispering something into her ear with matching, wicked grins that spelled trouble.
Rajveer wiggled his dark eyebrows at her, a silent question in his eyes. 'What are they up to now?'
Devika looked up, her face flushing a deep pink as she leaned closer to him. "Vo hume chida rahe hain, Veer," she murmured in a low, breathless voice meant only for his ears. "Ki aapne ek second me liye bhi humara haath nhi choodha, jab aap sabse mil rahe the!"
Rajveer looked down at her, his brow furrowing in genuine, comical confusion. He tilted his head as if silently asking, 'Wasn't this supposed to be my duty? To hold onto what is mine?'.
He truly didn't understand why the siblings were making a scene out of a husband keeping his wife close. Reading the sheer innocence in his strict mind, Devika let out a bright, shy giggle, her hand tightening around his forearm in a soft squeeze.
As the party progressed smoothly, a prominent local business tycoon approached them, politely offering two tall, elegant glasses of what looked like an exotic mixed fruit beverage. "Welcome back to the homeland, Yuvraj Sa," the guest smiled warmly, engaging Rajveer in an immediate conversation about a new maritime shipping project.
Devika accepted her glass and took a slow, casual sip, her sharp instincts running a background check on the taste. Before Rajveer could even lift his own glass to his lips, she smoothly reached across, wrapped her fingers around his crystal tumbler, and took it right out of his hand, seamlessly continuing her brilliant smile toward the guest.
With practiced elegance, she flagged down a passing waiter. She placed Rajveer's untouched glass onto the silver tray, offering a sweet, polite smile to the server. "Non-alcoholic drink, please. Fresh orange juice will do," she ordered softly.
She turned back to face her husband, lifting her own half-empty glass to take another sip to safely finish it off.
But Rajveer had been paying attention. He caught the base of her glass, gently but firmly lifting it straight out of her grip. He turned to the same waiting server, placing her drink right beside the first one.
"Non-alcoholic drink, please. Make it two," Rajveer commanded smoothly, his deep, raspy voice leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.
Devika froze, her eyes narrowing playfully as she threw him a sharp, highly amused gaze that said, 'You have no idea what you just did, Hukum sa.' Rajveer simply stared back at her with a steady, unyielding intensity, his strict face melting into a small, incredibly proud smirk.
A chorus of adoring giggles broke out among the surrounding guests.
---
The warm, amber glow of the chandeliers did little to mask the sudden shift in the air. Rajveer stood in a relatively secluded corner of the grand hall, half-listening to Jai and Vikram aggressively complain about Harsh trying to steal an extra plate of kebabs before the formal dinner commenced. But his focus shattered entirely when he felt the sudden, crushing pressure on his right hand.
Devika's fingers had tightened around his with a desperate, iron grip. She brought her left hand over, anchoring herself to him as a visible, violent shiver ran right through her body.
Rajveer immediately turned his frame toward her, looking down into her face. In the dim, moody lighting of the ballroom, he couldn't completely decipher her expression, but her jaw was rigid and she was forcing a remarkably tight, strained smile for the benefit of the younger siblings.
"Kya hua hai? Aap theek hain?" he asked her, his deep voice dropping into an immediate, hushed frequency of concern.
The sharp shift in his tone acted like a siren. The siblings cut their chatter mid-sentence, their playful expressions vanishing as they converged on her with worried eyes.
Devika hesitated under the sudden barrage of focused attention, her chest heaving slightly under her heavy silk blouse. "Vo... thoda sar ghum raha hai humara," she confessed in a low, almost apologetic voice, dropping her gaze.
Before Rajveer's brain could process the gravity of her words, the siblings instinctively fell back into their protective layer of humor, trying to lighten the mood.
"Are? Abhi to Bhaiya ke aaye hue hafta nahi guzra aur aapko chakkar aane lage?!" Jai teased with a wide grin, throwing a suggestive look at Harsh.
Rajveer's face darkened, a harsh reprimand rising in his throat—this was absolutely not the time for their relentless bedroom jokes. But Devika, stubborn to her core, tried to force her usual bubbly rhythm to mask her weakness. "Accha! Tum log—"
She didn't finish the sentence. Her knees completely buckled beneath her structured skirt. Her balance snapped, and her body tilted sideways.
Rajveer's reflexes kicked in with terrifying speed. In a single, fluid motion, his large hand locked around her waist from behind, his other arm catching her shoulder, dragging her dead weight flush against his solid chest before she could hit the polished marble. The siblings erupted into instant, suffocating chaos. Vikram lunged forward to pull a heavy velvet chair into position, while Jai frantically flagged down a waiter to snatch a fresh glass of water.
Devika clamped her eyes shut for a brief, agonizing second, her jaw tightening violently as she fought the waves of vertigo crashing through her brain.
"Are, chup ho jao!" she ordered, her voice weak, shaky, but carrying enough authoritative bite to instantly freeze the siblings in their tracks. "Camera hai chaaro taraf, gadhon!" she scolded through gritted teeth, reminding them that a single snapshot of the Crown Princess collapsing would trigger a media firestorm.
Rajveer carefully lowered her into the velvet chair, trying to mask his supreme tension. He leaned down, his hand reaching out to press his palm firmly against her forehead, then down to the side of her neck.
The heat radiating from her skin was alarming.
"Damn it! You are so hot!" Rajveer barked in a deeply worried, strained tone, his corporate calm completely shattering at the discovery of her raging, high-grade fever.
Devika opened her tired eyes, a weak, incredibly fragile smirk pulling at the corner of her lips despite the throbbing pain in her skull. "Oh my! Aapko ek hafte baad pata chala?!" she tried to tease him, her voice barely a whisper.
But none of them were in the mood for her jokes anymore.
"Parso jo chot lagi thi, us vajah se?" Rajveer suddenly remembered and the siblings almost jumped with sorry, "Chot? Kisko? Aapko chot lagi hai? Kahan?"
"Kisi ko kahin nhi lagi!" Devika replied while glaring at Rajveer.
Vikram stepped forward, his posture shifting into the strict, unyielding lines of an elder brother. "Bakwaas nahi karo, Bhabhi! Aapki tabiyat theek nahi hai. Ghar jao. Hum log yahan dekh lenge," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
The rest of the siblings nodded in fierce, protective agreement, surrounding her chair like a human shield. Devika looked up at the wall of faces with helpless, frustrated eyes. Everyone knew how she absolutely hated showing vulnerability.
"Come on! Itna bhi kuch nahi hua. Theek hain hum!" she protested, planting her heels firmly on the floor to stand up, but Rajveer didn't let her complete the movement.
His hand locked around her wrist with an absolute, possessive dominance. He pulled her up and practically began dragging her toward the VIP exit, his broad shoulders clearing a path through the crowd.
"Are, Rajveer! Kuch important logon se milna hai hume!" she whispered frantically, thinking of those contacts which Dada sa had instructed her to meet with.
But the siblings answered in a flawless, thunderous whisper behind them: "Baad mein mil lena!"
Just as they neared the edge of the corridor, a high-profile society journalist separated from the crowd. She carried a sleek smartphone and a sly, calculating smile that screamed tabloid headline. "Good evening, everyone," she purred, her eyes scanning Devika's tired look and Rajveer's rigid posture. "Kisi ko chot lagi hai kya?"
Devika didn't even pause. The exact millisecond the threat appeared, her professional mask snapped right back into place. She flashed a stunning, dazzlingly bright smile that hid the absolute agony inside her head.
"Ji, humare dil ko! Kya khoob lag rahi hain aap aaj!" Devika countered instantly, her voice smooth and brimming with charm.
The siblings didn't miss a beat. Following their Bhabhi's brilliant lead, they all turned toward the reporter, pasting identical, wildly fake, and terrifyingly wide smiles across their faces.
The journalist's calculating edge immediately crumbled. She flushed pink, visibly acting shy after the unexpected compliment from her, and eagerly began to chatter more, stepping closer to Devika. Devika kept her head high, nodding along with tired, deeply bored eyes that were rapidly losing their spark.
Rajveer didn't waste a single second. He cut his dark eyes toward Jai, giving him a sharp, disciplinary nod.
Jai caught the command instantly. Stepping into the reporter's line of sight, he wrapped a smooth arm around her shoulder, laughing loudly as he began to aggressively drag her away toward the bar counter.
With the path cleared, Rajveer's grip tightened around Devika's waist, lifting her weight slightly against his side as they finally broke through the palace exit doors and into the cool, silent night air.
---
The moment they stepped out of the suffocating heat of the hall and into the stark, bright floodlights of the parking lot, Rajveer finally saw the full extent of her condition.
Devika's face was completely pale, her hands shaking and her eyes were heavily bloodshot, struggling to stay open against the glare. Her steps faltered, her heels scraping awkwardly against the asphalt as she walked with immense difficulty.
Rajveer didn't waste a single second. He stepped into her path, bent down, and effortlessly scooped her up into his arms, cradling her dead weight securely against his broad chest.
"Are! Ye kya kar rahe hai aap!" Devika instantly argued, her fingers weakly clutching the expensive fabric of his three-piece suit as she tried to squirm.
Rajveer didn't say a word. He merely fixed her with a visibly annoyed, stern look that completely silenced her protests, his jaw locked tight as his long strides ate up the distance toward his car.
Devika took a deep, shaky breath, realizing that trying to fight the absolute stubbornness of the Rajveer Singh Rathore while running a triple-digit fever was a losing battle. She looked around the parking lot with sharp eyes.
"Accha, accha. To kam se kam muskurate hue chaliye!" she whispered frantically, her voice cracking with exhaustion.
Rajveer slowed his pace for a fraction of a second, looking down at her with deeply confused, questioning eyes. 'Why on earth did he need to smile while his wife was burning up in his arms?'
Devika used her remaining strength to tilt her head toward him, forcing a radiant, brilliant, and perfectly natural smile across her own pale lips to demonstrate. She subtly cut her eyes toward the distant perimeter wall. Following her gaze, Rajveer's sharp eyes caught the faint, unmistakable glint of a long-lens camera hiding behind the decorative palace bushes. Paparazzi.
Understanding her tactical move in an instant, Rajveer looked straight ahead. He forced his rigid, strict jaw to relax, breaking into a weak, perfectly calculated smile for the hidden lenses, though his heart was hammering with absolute terror for her health. He shifted her weight, accelerating his pace into an almost athletic run toward his car.
Reaching the passenger side, he unlocked the door with his key fob. He carefully, gently lowered Devika onto the leather seat, handling her like she was made of fragile glass. He leaned deep into the cabin, his forearms brushing against her silk top as he pulled the seatbelt across her chest, securing the clasp with a solid, reassuring click.
Devika leaned her head back against the headrest, her eyelids immediately fluttering shut as her body finally gave up the fight.
Rajveer lingered for a split second, gently brushing a stray, wavy fleck of hair away from her burning forehead with the back of his hand. His thumb lightly traced her lower lip, ensuring she stopped biting it in her pain. Then, he shut the door firmly, rounded the hood of the car in three swift, powerful steps, and threw himself into the driving seat, ready to tear through the night to get his wife safely home.
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