The golden Mediterranean sun spilled through the villa's floor-to-ceiling windows, but the morning light did little to naturally ease the residual chill from the previous night's events.
As Rajveer and Devika stepped into the grand dining area, they were greeted by the loud, exaggerated sounds of the sibling brigade's fake laughter. The younger brothers and sisters were frantically trying to loosen the suffocating tension in the air, trying everything to comfort Sugandha. She sat rigidly in her chair, staring down at her untouched plate with sad, exhausted eyes, occasionally offering tight, fleeting smiles at their jokes.
Neither Rajveer nor Devika had slept a single wink the entire night. The massive strain of the situation had kept them both awake, and judging by the heavy, sleepy eyes of everyone else at the table, no one else had rested either.
For hours in the dark, they both had been meticulously plotting their next steps regarding Shlok. They had openly traded calculated ideas on how to economically ruin his family's enterprise, dismantle his reputation, and ensure his lineage could never pose a threat to the Rathore name again—both of them subtly ignoring the urge to hide their own inner demons and dark pasts from one another.
The moment Sugandha saw them approaching, her head dropped even lower in pure, burning shame.
Devika's expression softened, a weak, genuine smile gracing her lips as she took in her sister-in-law's slumped posture. She completely bypassed her own designated seat, walked straight over to Sugandha, and sat down right beside her.
Without a single word, she wrapped her arms around her in a tight side-hug, leaning over to press a warm, reassuring kiss onto her pale cheek.
Sugandha's eyes instantly welled up with a fresh wave of quiet tears.
"Haye, humari rotlu behna!" Devika teased with a bright, dimpled smile, using her fingers to gently tilt up Sugandha's chin, which she was desperately trying to hide.
The heavy wall of tension in the dining hall collapsed in a single millisecond. The siblings all let out collective, silent sighs of relief, their smiles turning warm and genuine.
Jai immediately seized the opportunity to pivot the attention, pointing a fork at the royal couple. "Bhaiya-Bhabhi ki aankhen dekh rahe ho? Puri raat nahi soye lagta hai!" he joked, wiggling his eyebrows suggesting a completely different reason for their exhaustion.
"Ab honeymoon pe aake bhi soyenge, to kya fayda itni dur aane ka!!" Devika shot back instantly with a wicked, playful smirk, flawlessly backing up his joke to clear the air.
The entire table instantly burst into a wave of giggles. The siblings kept their eyes covertly on Sugandha, watching with immense relief as she finally let out a soft, beautiful laugh that reached her eyes. The heavy cloud was officially gone.
"Are, Avani! Zara ek barista Sugandha ke liye bhi dhundo!" Devika added with a mischievous wink, keeping the rhythm alive.
The response boomed across the marble table in a flawless, synchronized flash from all four brothers—Rajveer, Vikram, Harsh, and Jai: "Koi zaroorat nahi hai!!"
Sugandha giggled softly at the thunderous wall of brotherly protectiveness, her shoulders finally relaxing completely.
---
Just when the environment had finally returned to normal, filled with the usual chatter, teasing, and loud debates about which Greek beach to conquer next, the sudden, sharp ring of Devika's phone sliced through the laughter.
She excused herself quietly, slipping away from the long dining table to answer it out on the sunlit balcony. When Rajveer glanced out after a few minutes, his mind stalled. Devika was standing perfectly still, watching the laughing group inside with wrapped, hyper-focused attention from behind the glass, as if calculating her next move. Her hands were gripping the iron railing of the balcony from behind so tightly that her knuckles were stark white, as if she were physically holding herself together to prevent a complete break.
He silently walked out to the balcony, closing the distance between them. "Aap theek hain?" he asked softly, placing his hand gently on her rigid shoulder.
She slowly turned her face up to look at him, and Rajveer felt a cold dread settle in his chest. Her big, round eyes were wide with raw shock, unadulterated fear, and absolute confusion.
---
When they walked back inside together to join the group, the siblings at once began to pull them back into the conversation, shouting about jet-ski rentals. But Devika stopped them softly, her voice uncharacteristically flat. "Hume... hume vapas jaana hoga. Aaj hi. Thoda kaam aa gaya hai," she said, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
Rajveer stood right beside her like a silent shield, staring down at his phone, intensely trying to appear busy to avoid their prying eyes.
The younger siblings immediately broke into a chorus of loud complaints and heavy persuasion. "Are, Bhabhi! Bas ek aur din!" Jai groaned. "Humne volcanic springs to dekhe hi nhi!" Avani pleaded.
"Nahi kar sakte. Aaj hi jaana hai," Devika repeated, her tone dropping into that strict, unyielding register that brooked no argument, earning frustrated groans, disappointed glares, and murmuring complaints from the table.
But Vikram was paying attention. His sharp eyes were tracking the suffocating, heavy cloud settling over both Devika and Rajveer. He could see the micro-tremor in her hands.
"Kya hua hai, Bhabhi?" he couldn't help but ask, his voice cutting through the siblings' whining.
"Bola na, zaroori kaam hai. Tickets katao aaj ki. Aur haan, agar is baar galti hui to aeroplane ke bahar phenk denge!" Devika said, desperately forcing her usual bubbly, threatening rhythm to mask the breaking edge in her voice.
The younger siblings finally managed to see the strange, hollow heaviness behind her words. Their smiles faded, and they looked at each other in deep, anxious confusion.
Devika turned to walk toward the grand staircase to pack, but Vikram stepped into her path, his fingers firmly but gently holding her wrist to anchor her.
"Kya hua hai, Bhabhi?" he asked again, his voice dropping into a strict, deadpan frequency as his gaze drilled back and forth between Rajveer and Devika.
Devika stopped. She took a long, ragged breath, her chest heaving as she looked at the faces of her brothers and sisters.
"Dada sa ki... tabiyat kharab thi. Unhe... unhe phir se heart attack aaya tha kal raat," Devika said, her voice small, cracked, and completely devoid of life. She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat before delivering the final blow. "Unhe dead declare kar diya gaya hai."
The grand hall of the villa fell into a terrifying, dead silence. Every single sibling froze in their seats, their breaths catching in their throats as the fragile paradise of Greece shattered completely, leaving them staring at their Bhaiya and Bhabhi in absolute, silent shock.
---
Rajveer had plunged himself directly into operational damage control, his phone practically glued to his ear for three hours straight as he managed the crisis from the villa's lower courtyard.
He had spent the afternoon speaking to Jodhpur, keeping his voice steady and low to calm his sobbing mother and a completely shattered Dadi Sa. He had coordinated with the palace administration to ensure the state funeral preparations were running smoothly, while simultaneously handling the immediate cancellation of their remaining Greek bookings.
When he finally stepped back inside the villa's grand hall, the suffocating weight of reality hit him.
The initial shock had dissolved into raw, agonizing grief. Jai and Avani were still crying hysterically, their hands clutching tightly onto Devika's linen dress as if she were their only anchor. Devika sat perfectly still on the couch between them, her face a mask of absolute, professional control as she delivered slow, grounding, and calm strokes to their backs. Across the room, Sugandha, Nandini, Harsh and Tara were quietly packing their luggage with teary eyes, the absolute silence broken only by the occasional sniffle.
As Devika's sharp eyes found him standing at the threshold, she didn't speak. She subtly shifted her head, signaling him with a sharp glance toward the far end of the balcony area, where Vikram's rigid back was visible through the sheer curtains. He was standing alone, a thin wisp of grey smoke curling around his shoulder—he was likely smoking a cigarette to process the shock.
Rajveer understood her silent command in an instant. He gave her a weak, grateful nod and walked out through the heavy glass doors into the cool afternoon air.
Vikram heard the heavy, powerful stride of his older brother and spun around instantly. In a panicked, guilty reflex, he dropped the half-burnt cigarette onto the floor and violently smacked it with the sole of his foot, grinding it into the stone. He kept his head lowered, entirely refusing to look Rajveer in the eyes. Instead, he bowed his head deeply in a stiff, formal show of royal respect—a stark contrast to the playful younger brother who had been laughing in the garden just yesterday.
Rajveer returned the formal bow with a calm, heavy nod.
He did not say a word about the cigarette, nor did he use his commanding elder-brother voice. Instead, he stepped into the remaining wisp of smoke, reached out, and pulled Vikram into a sudden, crushing hug.
Vikram's entire body went rigid with shock. He had expected a lecture, a corporate checklist, or the cold mask of the future King. He had not expected this.
"Bhaisa..." Vikram choked out, his voice instantly straining against the heavy knot in his throat. He tried to pull back, his royal training screaming at him to remain stoic and strong in front of the head of the family.
"Bas," Rajveer murmured, his deep, raspy voice low and incredibly firm against his brother's ear as his hand anchored tightly behind Vikram's head. "Humare beech mein, tum chote ho. Isiliye, tumhaara haq hai apne emotions ko bahar laane ka. Khabardaar jo humare saamne acting ki to."
That was the absolute breaking point.
The rigid, defensive posture Vikram had maintained since the phone call completely shattered. His broad shoulders violently collapsed, and he clutched the back of Rajveer's white linen shirt with split, raw knuckles, burying his face squarely against his older brother's shoulder. A ragged, heavy sob tore from his chest, followed by the quiet, shaking tears.
---
The searing heat of the Jodhpur sun beat down ruthlessly on the white marble courtyards of the palace, but the air felt entirely frozen. The rhythmic, heavy beats of the royal funeral drums echoed off the ancient sandstone walls, a somber, devastating cadence that announced to the entire state that the old King was gone.
Thousands of grieving citizens lined the iron gates outside, their low, weeping murmurs carrying into the inner courtyards. Inside, the grand courtyard was a sea of stark, unadulterated white. Traditional white sheets covered the polished stone floors, and the heavy, thick scent of burning camphor, pure ghee, and fresh white marigold garlands filled the air, thick enough to choke the lungs.
At the center of the courtyard sat the royal family, surrounded by high-ranking politicians, diplomats, and extended royal branches who had flown in from across the country.
The younger siblings were entirely broken. Jai sat huddled in a corner, his face resting on Tara's shoulder, his shoulders violently shaking with silent sobs. Beside them, Avani and Sugandha were clinging to each other, their eyes swollen and red, their weeping covered only by the soft, mournful chants of the white-clad priests hovering over the sacred fire. Harsh and Vikram sat rigidly on the floor, their faces pale masks of pure grief, their split knuckles from Greece tightly clenched into their white linen trousers.
But at the absolute front of the gathering stood the two unyielding pillars of the Rathore dynasty.
Rajveer and Devika stood side by side, completely serving as the anchors of the family.
Rajveer looked every bit the incoming monarch—stoic, unbending, and imposing. He was dressed in a traditional, crisp white cotton sherwani, his broad shoulders squared, his jaw locked into a rigid, icy line that refused to let a single tear slip past his defenses. His eyes were perfectly focused on the funeral pyre preparations, carrying a heavy, quiet dominance that told the grieving state and their watching enemies that the throne of Jodhpur was far from vulnerable. He bore the suffocating weight of the crown on his shoulders without flinching once.
Right beside him stood Devika, the future Queen, holding the other half of the empire together.
She was wrapped in a simple, unadorned white chiffon saree, her long hair pinned back neatly, entirely stripped of her usual vibrant pink lehengas and jingling jewelry. Her face was pale from the exhaustion of the flight and the lingering weakness of the poison, but her eyes were sharp, alert, and burning with a fierce, protective steel. She wasn't hopping or dancing today; she stood like an absolute statue of grace and resilience. While Rajveer anchored the state, Devika anchored the hearts of the family. With one hand held tall, she extended her other arm backward, her fingers gently but firmly resting on Sugandha's trembling shoulder, providing a silent, grounding strength that kept the younger girl from completely collapsing.
As the high priest handed Rajveer the sacred torch to begin the final fire rituals, Devika subtly stepped a fraction closer to his side. Her hand brushed against his linen sleeve.
Rajveer didn't break his stoic gaze from the pyre, but under the cover of the heavy white drapes, his long, veiny fingers slid down to firmly grip her hand. He squeezed her fingers with an intense, breathless finality, drawing from her raw, unyielding warmth. Devika squeezed back with equal force, her gaze sweeping the crowd of grieving royals, silently promising her strict prince that they would protect this family and this throne together, step by step, through the fire.
---
The grand court was bathed in a heavy, reverent silence. The twelve days of mourning had officially concluded, and the stark white funeral drapes had been replaced by the majestic, deep saffron banners of Jodhpur. The air in the palace still carried the faint trace of burning sandalwood, but the atmosphere had decisively shifted from crushing grief to the monumental weight of the future.
At the front of the court stood Baba Sa, his wheelchair positioned beside the heavy silver throne, his face carrying a solemn, unyielding dignity. Beside him, Maa Sa stood tall, her traditional royal poshak elegant yet sharp, her eyes sweeping over the gathered council of ministers, royal elders, and the entire sibling brigade who stood lined up along the marble pillars.
Rajveer and Devika stood directly before them at the center of the court.
"Vriddh Maharaj ki aatma ne hamare purvajon ke sath shanti paa li hai," Baba Sa's voice boomed across the high-arched pillars, carrying the calm, absolute authority of the crown. He looked directly at his eldest son, his eyes burning with an intense paternal pride. "Kintu Jodhpur apni dhal ke bina nahi reh sakta. Jab tak hamari seemaon ko shakti ki avashyakta hai, tab tak raj-sinhasan rikt nahi reh sakta."
Maa Sa stepped forward, a formal parchment bearing the royal seal held firmly in her hands. She looked at Rajveer, then at Devika, a soft but fiercely protective smile gracing her lips.
"Jodhpur Darbar ke aadeshon aur buzurgon ke aashirwad se," Maa Sa announced, her voice ringing clear and authoritative, "Yuvraj Rajveer Singh Rathore ka aupcharik rajyabhishek aane wale Raviwar, paanch March ko hoga"
A collective breath swept through the council, followed by deep bows of absolute compliance. Sunday. It was less than five days away. The plot had officially pivoted; the palace was about to erupt into a grand whirlwind of national security deployments, international diplomatic arrivals, and the massive, traditional preparations required to crown the new King of Jodhpur.
Rajveer stood tall, his broad shoulders squared beneath his dark, formal bandhgala suit. His jaw was locked into a rigid, icy line, his eyes steady as he accepted the heavy timeline without a single blink. He looked every bit the incoming monarch—stoic, unbending, and prepared to carry the suffocating weight of the entire dynasty.
---
But the true shift hadn't happened in the crowded courtroom. It had happened days before, on the very night the funeral rituals had concluded.
The night had been impossibly heavy. Rajveer had been sitting on the absolute edge of their bed, the crushing silence of the empty suite clawing at his throat. He had spent hours desperately trying to calm himself down, practically choking on his own thoughts as he gave himself fake, logical advices.
'It's not that hard,' he had whispered fiercely to the dark walls. 'It just looks worse than it is. It's fine. Don't be an idiot, Rajveer. You can handle this.'
He had been so profoundly lost in his panic that he hadn't even heard the bedroom door click open. He didn't know when Devika had entered the room, or how long she had been quietly standing there, calling out his name.
Before he could pull up his frozen wall, she closed the distance. Without a single word, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head securely against her chest. Rajveer's carefully practiced, calm demeanor cracked for a brief second, the raw vulnerability bleeding through, but he fiercely tried to mask it.
"Ye... Ye kya kar rahi hain aap?" he rasped out, his voice thick as he braced his hands against her waist, trying to gently pull her away. "Jaiye, so jaiye. Subah puja bhi hai."
Devika didn't budge. Instead, she leaned into him, hugging him even more tightly as her fingers threaded softly through his messy black hair, her other hand rubbing his tense, broad shoulders in slow, soothing motions. She didn't let him retreat; she smoothly lifted his rigid arms and placed them firmly around her own waist, keeping him anchored to her body while she continued to massage the heavy tension from his head.
The profound warmth of her embrace was a tidal wave. Rajveer let out a shaky, uneven breath, his resistance completely shattering as he sank deeper into her solid frame, hiding his face against her saari.
"Hum... hum nahi kar payenge, Devika," he finally confessed, the devastating admission tearing from his chest after a long, agonizing silence.
She didn't interrupt. She just kept her fingers moving through his hair, letting him bleed.
"Humse nahi sambhlega ye sab. Ye sab itna bada hai—"
"To saat saal Europe mein kya jaak maar rahe the aap?" Devika suddenly cut him off, her tone shifting into that sharp, unmistakably strict voice.
Before he could process the blunt reprimand, she brought both of her hands down to his face, firmly lifting his chin so his red eyes were forced to look straight into her fierce, unyielding gaze. "Jawab chahiye hume! Europe mein itne saal kya kar rahe the?"
Rajveer looked up at her through a blur of pure, bone-deep exhaustion, but his gaze was entirely overflowing with a quiet, breathless adoration. "Company bana rahe the," he replied softly, his voice a vulnerable whisper.
"Hmm," Devika agreed sharply, her eyes never wavering from his. "Sirf bana hi nahi rahe the, humare saare international business ko akele sambhal rahe the. Pata hai kitna bada hai humara business? Aap akele char logon ka kaam kar rahe the... kar rahe hain!"
She leaned down, her soft cheeks brushing against his as she held him. It was only when the cool fabric of her saree felt damp that Rajveer suddenly realized he was actually crying. The tears were silent, hot, and heavy, flowing down his cheeks after a decade of holding his breath.
"Itna bada international business sambhal sakte hain," Devika continued, her voice softening into an intense, quiet pride as she wiped his face with her thumbs. "Itne saare legal cases saath handle kar sakte hain, saath hi future ki tactical planning, mehal ka puri security system, and Jodhpur ki puri border network... sab handle kar sakte hain! Lekin ek gaddi par nahi baith sakte! Kyun? Boring jagah hai?"
Rajveer shook his head in a slow, helpless refusal, a small, choked sound leaving his throat.
"To? Itna sa hai Jodhpur! Hawwa bana ke rakha hai is insaan ne saat saal se!" she complained dramatically. She pulled her hands away for a split second to exaggeratedly gesture through the air, showing him with her hands a comically tiny circle to demonstrate how remarkably small the entire empire actually was compared to him.
The utter ridiculousness of her theatrical, bubbly gesture broke through his suffocating darkness. A genuine, breathless smile finally cracked across Rajveer's face. He looked at his wife, his heart expanding with a fierce, consuming love that completely terrified him.
Without a word, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her so tightly against his chest that the wind left her lungs. He buried his face into the soft silky waves of her open hair, silently letting her raw, unyielding fire burn away every single demon he had brought back from Europe.
"Hum akele kaise karenge?" He whispered in her neck, leading to the last needle pricking his heart.
He could feel her smile against him, "Kyun? Hume itni jaldi divorce dene ka irada hai? Bakwaas baaten mat socha karo, ek lagayenge na kaan ke niche, seedhe ho jaoge!!" She said in her usual mischievous tone, leading him to chuckle.
The future King of Jodhpur was finally ready to rule, because his Queen was already holding the crown.
---
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