Rajveer stepped into the dimly lit bedroom, his boots making no sound against the thick Persian rugs. His shoulders were heavy with the dark, suffocating reality of the last few hours. Before walking up those stairs, he had personally cross-verified the forensic charts with three trusted medical specialists, combed through the encrypted CCTV feeds of the entire palace perimeter from the exact day of his grandfather's death, and planned to covertly interrogate the terrified doctor who had conducted the post-mortem first thing tomorrow morning.
The transition from the clinical coldness of his investigation to the warmth of his room was instant.
Devika was fast asleep on the couch, her small frame curled up awkwardly. Her midnight-blue chiffon saree was slightly rumpled, and it was entirely evident that she had been stubbornly waiting up for his return before accidentally losing her battle to exhaustion.
A wave of deep, protective tenderness washed over Rajveer's sharp features, a sad pout pulling at his lips as he looked down at her. He leaned over, handling her like she was made of the most fragile glass, and carefully lifted her weight to lay her down comfortably against the cushions. Instead of retreating to the bed, he smoothly sat down cross-legged right on the floor beside the couch, his long fingers resting on the edge of the cushions as his eyes began adoring her beautiful, calm face in the shadows.
Perhaps she felt the sheer, magnetic intensity of his gaze cutting through her light sleep, or perhaps her instincts simply anchored her back to consciousness the moment he was near.
Devika slowly opened her eyes. The moment her vision focused on his incredibly handsome husband sitting on the floor beside her, her radiant, bright, and bubbly smile returned to her face in a beautiful, breathless flash. Without a single trace of her hesitation, she lifted her upper body slightly and opened both of her hands wide into the air like a sweet child, looking straight into his eyes as she openly expected a comforting hug from her King.
Rajveer looked up at her for a lingering second, a soft, intensely adoring, dimpled smile breaking across his face. He leaned over, effortlessly scooped her small, saree-clad frame into his long arms, and crawled toward the massive bed to lay her down comfortably against the plush pillows.
Once she was settled, he smoothly sat back down on the wooden floor right beside the mattress, his arms resting on the edge. Devika propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him with curious, questioning eyes.
"Hume pata hai aapko humara maafi maangna pasand nahi, par phir bhi aaj ke liye sorry," he said in a low, raspy voice, his eyes swimming with a genuine guilt for ruining their first date.
Devika narrowed her eyes into a dangerous, running mischief, a brilliant smirk playing on her lips. "Hum sorry-vorry mein nahi maante! Saza milegi!"
Rajveer let out a soft, breathless laugh. Without a single trace of his usual restraint, he lowered his chin, bowing his head deeply against the mattress in a complete, willing show of mock surrender.
"Jo hukum, mere aaka!!" he said dramatically, his deep voice thick with an intense, quiet affection.
"Accha... Kya saza dein... kya saza dein..." she began to ponder out loud, placing a finger against her soft cheek as her gaze wandered toward the ceiling.
"Aa haan!" She snapped her fingers, her face illuminating with a brilliant, wicked spark as she looked back down at him with wiggling, playful eyebrows. "Aapko humare liye gajar ka halwa banana hoga!!"
"Gajar ka halwa? Hum?" Rajveer asked, his jaw dropping a fraction in absolute, comical shock. Who would have thought that the strict King of Jodhpur, the business head of such a vast empire would be ordered to grate carrots.
"Ji, Aap! gajar ka halwa! Hum itne saal bana sakte hain, to aap ek baar bhi nahi? Kal hi chahiye hume. Birthday gift hai humara!" she declared, throwing her hands wide with a theatrical, bubbly finality.
Rajveer's dark eyebrows shot up, a warm, completely stunned smile breaking across his features. "Aapka birthday hai kal?" he asked softly, his heart doing a sudden, breathless flip at the realization.
Devika nodded in an aggressive, happy yes, the soft curls of her hair swaying beautifully against the sheets.
"Chaliye, ab aake so jaiye. Subah tension lena!" she ordered gently, patting the empty space beside her on the mattress. Rajveer stared up at his uncomplaining queen, the dark, suffocating secrets of his grandfather's forensic charts fading entirely into the background for the night as he prepared to crawl onto the bed to hold his girl close.
---
The palace kitchen was an absolute disaster zone. Flour was dusted across the marble island, milk had boiled over the stainless steel rims, and grated carrot skins littered the floor like orange confetti.
Jai, Harsh, and Vikram were lined up all across the space—one sitting cross-legged on the granite counter, another leaning heavily against a marble pillar, and the third hovering near the spice racks. In the absolute center of the chaos stood the King of Jodhpur, wearing a oversized linen apron over his crisp white shirt, staring at a giant brass pot with intense panic.
"Bhaiya, ab cheeni daaliye," Harsh instructed, his thumb scrolling furiously through a viral online cooking video on his phone screen.
"Bilkul bhi nahi! Abhi paani daalna hai, Bhabhi aise hi banati hain. Humne dekha tha!" Vikram countered at once, pointing a dramatic finger at the steaming pot.
"Bhaiya, inki baat pe dhyan mat do. Abhi do minute pehle cheeni pehle daalne ko bol rahe the," Jai scoffed from his perch on the counter.
"Vo tab hum bhool gaye the! Abhi hume acche se yaad hai—" Vikram quarreled back.
And just like that, for the fifteenth time in the last two hours, the three younger brothers erupted into a loud, simultaneous shouting match, completely drowning out the bubbling noise of the milk.
Rajveer aggressively wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his irritation reaching a rolling boil. He closed his eyes for a brief second, deeply questioning every single life choice that had led him to this moment. Why on earth had he allowed these fools to enter this new mission of him under the guise of "helping" him?! He should have quietly woken up his mother or asked his sisters, not these three disasters.
"Are, chup!!" Rajveer suddenly shouted, his deep, commanding voice cutting through the kitchen like a sonic boom.
The three brothers froze mid-sentence, Jai dropping his spoon, flinching.
"Sar dard ho gaya humara!! Devika theek kehti hai, teeno ke teeno nikamme hain!" the Maharaj scolded them fiercely, pointing a finger at them accusingly.
Instantly, all three of them tucked their chins down, pulling identical, deeply apologetic puppy-dog faces for the fifteenth time today, looking at their big brother like guilty schoolchildren while the carrot halwa continued to steam dangerously on the stove.
---
Sugandha, Avani, and Nandini entered the kitchen, their voices blending in a wave of lighthearted chatter and laughter, only to instantly freeze and freak out at the absolute monumental catastrophe before them.
The exact millisecond their figures crossed the threshold, Rajveer lunged toward them with an expression of pure, unadulterated desperation, as if his very survival depended entirely on their presence.
"Kahan the tum log? Kab se bula rahe hain hum!!" he complained aggressively. He didn't even wait for an answer, immediately reaching out to pull Nandini's arm and dragging her straight toward the giant brass pot.
"Kya karein iske saath? Halwa kam, khichdi zyada lag raha hai!!" he pointed at the pot dramatically while desperately asking for help, his eyes silently pleading with her to perform a life-saving miracle.
The ladies looked at the once-cold Maharaj of Jodhpur in pure, happy shock, grinning widely as they peered into the boiling disaster with highly raised eyebrows. It was looking absolutely anything but halwa, they were entirely sure of that.
Giggling at his sheer panic, Nandini adjusted the flame on the stove beneath the pot, while Sugandha swiftly moved to pour a fresh stream of milk into the mixture to salvage the consistency. The entire brigade of brothers—Rajveer, Jai, Harsh, and Vikram—watched the women with wrapped, hyper-focused attention. To the four men, the stove and brass pot were no longer a kitchen setup; it had officially transformed into a critical operating table.
"Vaise aapko aaj halwa banane ka khayal kaise aa gaya, Bhaiya?" Nandini asked with immense amusement, stirring the carrots smoothly.
"Are, Bhabhi ki farmaish hai!!" Jai blurted out at once, his face splitting into a teasing, wide grin.
"Haye! Ab Bhabhi humare Maharaj se ye sab bhi karane lagin! Daant lagayein kya unhe?" Sugandha teased, tossing an eyebrow up at him.
"Bilkul bhi nahi. Janamdin mein sab manzoor hota hai," Rajveer replied flatly, his eyes completely fixed on the pot as he watched the milk blend into the carrots.
The entire kitchen fell into an immediate, suffocatingly dead silence. Every single sibling stared at him with wide eyes, their jaws dropping in pure shock.
"Kya?" Rajveer asked, his dark eyebrows narrowing, entirely failing to comprehend the sudden, dramatic shift in the room's atmosphere.
"Bhabhi ne aapse ye halwa birthday gift ke taur par maanga hai?" Vikram asked, his voice dropping into a low, cautious frequency.
"Haan. To?" Rajveer replied, his curiosity thoroughly piqued by their heavy expressions.
"Bhabhi apna birthday nahi manati. Hume pehle din se mana kiya hua tha," Avani said softly, her playful mood vanishing.
"Kyun? Kyun nahi manati?" Rajveer demanded, his corporate calm slipping.
"Unki Maa ki death hui thi aaj. Isliye shayad. Hume Jaipur ke sevakon se pata chala," Harsh revealed quietly.
The weight of the realization hung heavy in the warm air, but Jai's eyes suddenly sparked with a brilliant, emotional clarity. "Are, to ye to acchi baat hai na!!" he replied enthusiastically, stepping off the counter. "Bhabhi apna past bhool kar aage badhna chahti hain!! Hume unka saath dena chahiye!!"
Everyone immediately exchanged looks and nodded in fierce, emotional affirmation.
"Chhoriye is adhmare halwe ko! Hum bakery mein order de dete hain. 10-tier gajar ke halwe ka cake!!" Jai declared proudly, mapping out his magnificent grand plan with his hands.
The entire kitchen collectively rolled their eyes in absolute unison.
"Tumhe kisne kaha hai apna chota sa dimag lagane ko? Bhabhi ko Bhaiya ke haath ka bana halwa khana hai, tum chup kar ke baithe raho!!" Harsh scolded, leading to an immediate, dramatically pouted face from a deflated Jai.
"Hume to laga tha Bhabhi inhe saza de rahi hain, apni date jo kharab kar di inhone!!" Vikram said, a wicked, knowing smirk taking over his face as he threw a look toward his older brother.
Rajveer's sharp eyes locked onto him with a fierce, warning glare. "HUMNE ki?" he asked, arching a dangerous eyebrow.
The younger brigade exchanged highly teasing, amused glances.
"Chi chi chi, Bhaiya!! Pehli-pehli date aapne kharab kar di!! Shame, shame!" Avani teased ruthlessly, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
"Are, main to soch raha hoon, ki agar ek mahine mein inka ye haal hai, to kuch time baad to ye puja karne lagenge Bhabhi ki!!" Harsh chuckled, stirring the pot further.
"Haan to? Galat kya hai? Laxmi ki puja karni chahiye," Rajveer stated with absolute, unbothered calmness. He didn't even blink under their scrutiny, focusing his eyes back on the simmering brass pot, where the rich, orange mixture was finally looking perfectly edible.
The entire kitchen erupted into a massive, shocked roar of laughter and whistling at the Maharaj's absolute, unyielding devotion to his wife.
"Ohooooo!!! Jiyo mere laal!!" Jai exclaimed at the top of his lungs, clapping his hands in pure ecstasy.
But the exact millisecond Rajveer arched a sharp, authoritative eyebrow at his audacity, Jai's survival instincts kicked in. He immediately raised his hands in a frantic surrender, smirking shamelessly as he backed away, "Sorry, sorry! Zubaan fisal gayi!!"
---
The tires of Rajveer's luxury sedan kicked up dry gravel as he pulled to the side of the quiet residential street, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. He and Vikram had expected a discreet, careful visit to the private residence of the post-mortem doctor. Instead, the entire perimeter was a chaotic flash of flashing blue and red emergency lights, barricaded by several local police cruisers, unmarked tactical vehicles, and a forensic team swarming the apartment building.
Before Rajveer could form a strategy, the heavy door of a black government SUV swung open a few paces ahead.Devika stepped out into the blinding afternoon sun, her movements fluid, commanding, and radiating absolute operational authority.
She was dressed in a sleek black button-down shirt tucked into dark tactical jeans, a leather weapon holster secured firmly to her waist. Over her clothes, she wore her signature long black leather jacket that extended down past her knees, its heavy sleeves rolled up to her forearms. Her long dark hair was tied back into a swift, messy ponytail, small curls sticking to her flushed temples.
The moment her boots hit the asphalt, a senior police officer stepped forward and delivered a crisp, respectful salute, which she acknowledged with a brief, professional nod as she demanded an immediate sit-rep.
"Devika!" Rajveer called out loudly, slamming his car door shut as he and Vikram strode quickly toward the police line.
She snapped her head around in genuine shock, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her husband and brother-in-law standing in the middle of an active crime scene. Around them, the swarming officers instantly recognized the Maharaj and fell into a synchronized, disciplined bow.
"Aap log yahan kya kar rahe hain?" she asked, her voice dropping into her official, rapid-fire police register. Without breaking eye contact with Rajveer, she blindly grabbed a clipboard from a trailing junior officer, scrawling a sharp signature across a state document without even looking down.
"Humare family doctor se milne aaye the. Suna unki tabiyat kharab hai, isliye vo khud nahi aa sakti," Rajveer answered smoothly.
As he spoke, his broad frame naturally shifted a step closer to her, his shadow perfectly blocking the harsh, stinging sunrays that were causing her to squint.
Devika felt the shadow, her eyes softening for a fraction of a second at his silent, protective husbandly gesture, before her sharp gaze narrowed back into professional focus.
"Yahan kya hua hai, Bhabhi?" Vikram asked, his knuckles tucked into his trousers as his eyes tracked the forensic teams hauling heavy equipment into the lobby.
"Kisi ki to death hui hai humari doctor ke ghar mein. Suicide shayad, par confirm nahi hai," she answered flatly, casually sliding her left hand into her jeans pocket.
"Doctor ne suicide kar liya?" Rajveer asked, his heart doing a cold, dangerous flip as he calculated the sudden, convenient elimination of their primary lead.
"Nahi. Kisi aur ne kiya hai... kisi mard ne. Doctor gayab hai, shayad kal raat se. Chaliye, details dekhte hain," she ordered sharply, gesturing with her chin for the two Rathore brothers to fall in line with her as she strode toward the elevator.
The heavy metal doors of the lift slid shut, enclosing them with two local detectives.
"Madam, poora suicide ka case lagta hai," the lead officer informed her, nervously adjusting his cap. "Victim sharab ke nashe mein tha shayad, bahut se bottles pade hain poore apartment mein, aur usse boo bhi aa rahi hai. Phir victim ne khudko faansi laga li."
"Body chhui nahi na?" Devika demanded sharply, her fingers rapidly typing a classified data request onto her phone screen.
"Nahi, Madam. Lekin forensic waale neeche utaarne ko keh rahe hain baar-baar. Keh rahe hain ki vo log busy hain, hum unka time waste na karein!"
Devika's thumb froze on her screen. She slowly tilted her head, her lips curling into a cold, terrifyingly sharp smirk that made the detective visibly break into a sweat. "Unko bolo, thodi apni hadd mein rahein. Hum mood mein aayenge to time hi time rahega unke paas!" she hissed as the lift doors clicked open on the fifth floor.
The moment her boots hit the corridor, every uniform on the floor snapped to attention.
A split second later, a thick, sweet, and suffocating stench of advanced human decomposition blasted through the open door of the apartment. Rajveer and Vikram instantly scrunched their noses in pure, visceral disgust, their hands diving into their pockets to pull out white linen napkins to cover their mouths.
Devika, however, didn't even flinch.
"Badboo se to lag raha hai kaafi time ho gaya," she directed toward a senior forensic expert who had hurried over the moment he saw her jacket clear the threshold.
"Ji, Madam. Do-teen din to ho gaye hain. Pata nahi floor mein kisi ne report kyun nahi kiya," the expert explained, frantically handing over three medical white masks.
"Yahan jitne log rehte hain, sabko neeche ikkatha karo. Hum—" Devika's voice cut off mid-sentence.
The medical mask slipped from her fingers, fluttering uselessly down onto the floorboards. Her entire frame went completely, terrifyingly rigid, her eyes stretching wide with a violent, unadulterated shock as her gaze locked onto the center of the living room.
A man was hanging limply from the center ceiling fan by a thick, coarse hemp rope. He was dressed in disheveled, mud-stained clothes, his left arm hanging at an unnatural angle with thick, rotting, dark blood completely sticking to his torn skin. His face was hidden in a mask. The body was bloated, entirely numb to the world.
On the wall, just opposite to the door was written in blood-red ink, a large 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETHEART '.
---
Rajveer and Vikram stared at Devika, their expressions twisted in profound, absolute confusion.
They couldn't comprehend why their usually fearless queen was looking so thoroughly paralyzed.
The message on the wall just opposite the hanging body —HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART—written in dripping blood, was a terrifying psychological assault, but the level of raw, skeletal dread reflecting in her wide eyes went much deeper than a simple threat.
Without uttering a single syllable, Devika bypassed the forensic barricades. Her movements were mechanical, completely stripped of her usual grace as she stepped directly into the hot zone of decomposition.
Ignoring the standard SOG crime-scene protocol, she raised her bare hands and firmly gripped the edges of the thick charcoal mask sticking to the hanging victim's face.
With a single, violent wrench, she pulled it free.
The mask peeled away, and the dim overhead bulb illuminated the features beneath the grime and post-mortem bloating. Rajveer's breath hitched completely in his chest, his arms freezing at his sides as his eyes locked onto the revealed face. Beside him, Vikram staggered back a step, his jaw dropping in unadulterated, blinding shock.
It was the Crown Prince of Jaipur. Devika's own big brother.
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