Devika looked at him closely from head to toe, her sharp eyes scanning her brother's lifeless form while everyone else in the room stood absolutely frozen in their positions. Out of the corner of his eye, Rajveer could feel the subtle movement of the junior inspectors and forensic staff—they were secretly clicking pictures on their personal devices, eager to capture a piece of a royal scandal that would rock the entire country by evening.
But Devika didn't fall apart. She was not broken, and she was not crying. The only two emotions Rajveer could trace within the dark depths of her wide, round eyes were a profound, bone-deep hopelessness and a lethal, simmering anger.
He watched her take a slow, agonizingly deep breath, her gaze remaining entirely locked on her brother's face as if she were silently talking to him, delivering a final, confidential vow to his departed soul.
Then, she turned her head toward the huddled inspectors, her voice slicing through the heavy, toxic air like a block of ice. "Agar photo session khatam ho gaya ho, to zara inhe neeche utaaro. Eklota bada bhai hai humara!"
The commanding snap in her tone broke the spell, and the terrified officers instantly lunged forward to work on the body. Rajveer didn't waste a single millisecond. He caught Vikram's eye, giving him a sharp, silent signal to take full command of the forensic team and secure the apartment logs.
Without uttering a single word, Rajveer stepped into her personal space, his large hand smoothly wrapping around her rigid shoulder to pull her entirely out of that heinous, blood-stained scene.
Devika followed his unyielding guidance absentmindedly, her boots clicking mechanically against the corridor floor as she stared blankly ahead.
---
The silence inside the car was suffocatingly heavy as the tyres ate up the miles back to the palace. Throughout the entire drive, Devika didn't utter a single syllable. She remained perfectly still, her face turned entirely toward the passenger window, her gaze fixed blankly on the passing desert landscape as her mind worked through the dark maze of the crime scene.
Rajveer had called her name a few times, his deep voice carrying a desperate, quiet worry, but she hadn't responded. He kept his left hand firmly extended across the gear shift, his long fingers wrapping tightly around her bare hand. Her palm was shockingly, unnaturally cold. He squeezed her fingers repeatedly, trying to anchor her to his warmth, but his brain failed to compute the right words to console her.
She was completely hollowed out, showing absolutely no emotion. She wasn't crying, she wasn't panicking, and she wasn't throwing out her usual snappy threats. For a woman whose entire presence was defined by a bubbly, untamable cyclone of energy, this complete absence of a reaction was a terrifying sign.
The moment they crossed the palace threshold, the younger siblings swarmed into the grand hall, greeting Devika with explosive enthusiasm. Jai and Avani were practically tripping over each other, eager to update her on the latest funny news from the morning and everything she had missed while out on the field.
But Rajveer stepped directly into their path, his towering frame cutting off their approach. He stopped them mid-sentence with a sharp, warning gesture of his hands, his eyes hardening as he signaled with a definitive, stern tilt of his head that screamed 'not now'. The sheer gravity on his face silenced the brigade instantly, their smiles faltering into anxious confusion.
Without offering a single word of explanation, Rajveer kept his arm securely wrapped around Devika's shoulder, silently pulling her past them and guiding her straight into the sanctuary of their private room.
He closed the heavy double doors, shutting out the rest of the world. Leading her over to the couch, he gently made her sit down, rushed to pour a fresh glass of water, and knelt right on the polished floorboards directly beside her.
Devika didn't move. She was just staring blankly at the silver glass in her hand, her fingers gripping it mechanically, her eyes completely vacant.
"Devika." Rajveer called her name, his voice carrying a heavy, desperate edge. She didn't blink. He called her name again, this time much more loudly, the commanding resonance of his voice finally cutting through her dark trance.
She let out a slight, sudden flinch, her head slowly turning as she cast a quiet, questioning glance down at him.
Rajveer didn't push her to speak; he simply signaled toward the silver glass he had placed in her hands. Devika looked down at the water, her mind processing the prompt with a heavy delay. She understood that she was meant to drink it. Without a single word, she lifted the glass to her lips and drank the entire contents in one swift, mechanical motion.
Once it was empty, she quietly handed the glass back to him, her eyes locking onto his face with a raw, terrifying hollowness that made his heart break into a million jagged pieces.
Rajveer then took her into a light, cautious hug, wrapping his arms around her frame with a gentle hesitation, as if afraid he might shatter the fragile silence she was holding onto.
The moment his chest pressed against hers, she whispered against his neck, her voice small, raspy, and completely hollow. "Aur zor se."
He didn't wait for a second prompt. Rajveer immediately reciprocated, his arms locking around her waist and shoulders with an intense, fierce pressure. He pulled her flush against his broad frame, making the hug tighter and completely unbreakable, anchoring her so securely that her ghosts couldn't tear her away. He refused to let her break.
They stayed like that for several minutes, the heavy silence of the bedroom punctuated only by the shallow, dragging rhythm of her breath. Slowly, her rigid muscles began to deflate. She put her head down on his shoulder, her movements heavy and drowsy as the sheer psychological toll of the afternoon finally began to catch up to her system.
"Vikram ko boliye zyada mehnat nahi karne. Ye sach-much ek suicide hi hai," she said in a low, slurred voice, her forehead resting against his collarbone. "Us saale ko humesha se aise hi maut chahiye thi."
The unexpected words hit Rajveer like a physical jolt. His mind stalled. He instantly broke the tight hug, gripping her upper arms to pull back and look at her with wide, utterly confused eyes. He wanted to demand answers but as he stared down at her face, the questions died on his lips.
Devika's big eyes were heavily hooded, looking at him with a deep, crushing drowsiness as if the invisible thread holding her conscious was snapping, and she could fall asleep at any given second. The trauma and the heavy weight of her family's past had completely drained her.
Realizing she was in no condition to face an interrogation, Rajveer didn't push her. He let out a slow, ragged breath, a wave of intense, protective devotion taking over his sharp features. He wrapped his powerful arms around her frame again, pulling her back into his chest.
The moment her face hit his shoulder, her breathing stabilized, her eyelids fluttered shut, and she actually fell fast asleep right in his arms.
---
Within just a few hours, the gruesome discovery shattered the airwaves, becoming the screaming headline on every single national news channel. The media went into a complete frenzy: Crown Prince of Jaipur commits suicide in a hidden Jodhpur apartment, leaving a final message written in his own blood across the wall: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART.
Vikram strode back into the private study, his face pale and entirely grim as he slammed the finalized post-mortem files onto the desk. It was exactly as Devika had said. The forensic analysis confirmed it was an undeniable, actual suicide.
The prince had been heavily intoxicated, and in a state of absolute, manic delusion, he had used his own jagged, brutally self-injured hand to paint those bleeding words across the plaster before hanging himself from the ceiling fan.
While the brothers were still trying to process the horrifying psychological depth of the file, a palace guard knocked frantically on the door. He reported that the King of Jaipur—Devika's father—had just arrived at the gates with a heavy royal entourage and was strictly demanding to meet his daughter immediately.
Before Rajveer could even find his voice to give a tactical command, Baba Sa's wheelchair rolled smoothly into the study. His father's face was a mask of unyielding, absolute royal gravity. He looked at Rajveer, then cut his gaze to the guard, ordering firmly to Welcome the King of Jaipur with full royal protocol and bring him straight to the grand hall.
---
A tense, suffocating confrontation unspooled in the center of the grand hall.
Baba Sa sat in his wheelchair while Maa Sa sat tall on the adjacent couch, their expressions carrying the terrifying, frozen dignity of the Jodhpur crown. Rajveer and Vikram stood anchored behind them like two towering statues of stone, their eyes narrowed.
On the facing couch sat Devika's father, Maharaj Jaysingh of Jaipur, a volatile, venomous anger burning raw in his eyes as he clutched his silver cane. Just beyond the heavy threshold, the rest of the sibling brigade were huddled frantically on the sides of the open double doors, secretly watching the high-stakes royal scenario unfold.
"Hume apni beti se milna hai!" Jaysingh demanded again, his voice practically shouting across the marble floor.
"Maafi chahenge, par vo abhi so rahi hain. Unki tabiyat theek nahi," Rajveer answered, his deep, raspy voice smooth and laced with an icy, calm finality that brooked no expansion.
Jaysingh let out a dry, harsh chuckle that rolled angrily off the high arched pillars. "Humare bete ko maar ke so rahi hai?!" he barked fiercely.
"Behad dukh hua aapke bete ke baare mein sunkar, Maharaj," Baba Sa interjected smoothly, his calm tone perfectly mirroring the unbothered, absolute authority of his eldest son.
"Par post-mortem report ke anusaar aapke bete ne suicide kiya... matlab to jaante honge na, aatmahatya. Isme aap humari Bahu ko kyun ghasit rahe hain?"
Jaysingh slammed his cane against the polished stone floor, his face flushing a dangerous, dark red. "Hume AAPKO jawab dene ki zaroorat nahi! Aap log us chudail ko bulate hain ki nahi?!"
"Nahi," Baba Sa replied flatly. The single syllable left his lips with the weight of an executioner's blade. He leaned his shoulders back against the wheelchair, his gaze drilling straight through the furious King of Jaipur as he delivered a line that completely froze Rajveer's blood in his veins and made the siblings outside gasp in pure shock. "Shayad aap bhool rahe hain, par ab vo aapki beti nahi hai. Use humne kharid liya hai aapse, kai saal pehle."
Maharaj Jaysingh did not deny it. Instead, his face twisted into a grotesque, venomous smirk.
---
Devika woke up with that familiar, maddening ringing in her ears, the sharp sonic frequency drilling directly into her skull. She groaned softly, her throat dry, as she forced her upper body up against the pillows.
After two failed, clumsy attempts to fight the heavy anchor of her neurological fatigue, she finally managed to slide her legs over the edge of the mattress. Her gaze was completely hazy—the world spinning in a slow, toxic blur—and this damn ringing!
Losing her patience, she raised her palms and violently slapped her own cheeks. She struck her skin with such sudden, raw intensity that it left a blazing crimson blush across her pale cheeks, but the physical shock worked flawlessly. Her vision began to clear, and the high-pitched ringing gradually slowed down to a dull hum.
She forced herself to stand, her bare feet hitting the floorboards, but her knees immediately buckled, and she fell straight back onto the bed. She gritted her teeth, braced her forearms, and stood up again. If this illness of hers was stubborn, then she was the absolute queen of stubbornness.
Her legs gave out a third time, dropping her back onto the sheets. Devika let out an incredibly irritated growl, raising her fists and aggressively punching the soft mattress multiple times. The sudden, violent burst of adrenaline provided an immediate wave of physical relief.
Why on earth didn't she just do that earlier?!
Controlling her drowsy, uncooperative mind by squeezing her fists so tightly that her nails dug deep into her palms, she finally stood tall. She locked her ankles and began walking with mechanical precision toward the heavy double doors of their suite.
When she finally managed to navigate the upper corridor and descend the grand staircase, she had to grip the cold marble railing with both hands, forcefully pushing her sluggish muscles to keep her legs moving.
The second she reached the bottom landing, her drowsy eyes caught the familiar hurdle of the sibling brigade. Jai, Harsh, Avani, Sugandha, and Nandini were frantically huddled along the wall, peeping through the crack of the open doors toward the grand hall like a pack of nervous meerkats.
Devika let out a deep, thoroughly irritated sigh as the harsh, volatile shouting of her father carried casually across the stone threshold. She paused for a single fraction of a second, her mind calculating whether she should personally intrigue the conversation.
But she quickly brushed the thought off with a casual shrug, telling herself that those four were managing him perfectly well on their own.
She was absolutely not in the mood right now to deal with this toxic maniac.
Instead, she turned her steps completely away from the grand hall, pivoting toward her absolute heaven: the kitchen.
Was it even lunch time yet? Her stomach let out a hollow rumble.
She didn't have much difficulty crossing the long corridor without a single soul detecting her movement. A slow smirk pulled at her lips as she walked clean past her younger siblings' blindspots.
These students of hers really need to take their lessons seriously, she thought, shaking her head.
She stepped into the quiet kitchen, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand to clear away the last lingering traces of her medical drowsiness. Suddenly, her big, round eyes glistened with a sudden, spectacular wave of excitement as her brain remembered the punishment she had laid down last night. She remembered what she had explicitly ordered her husband to do.
Her signature, untamable bubbly persona made a full-force comeback. She began moving her shoulders rhythmically, executing a happy, childish dance as her bare feet glided directly toward the primary brass pot resting on the cold stove.
Stuck squarely onto the polished metal lid was a bright sticky note, written in large, frantic handwriting:
"ONLY FOR DEVIKA. KISI AUR NE CHHUA TO RAJVEER KA KEHER BARSEGA"
Devika burst into a soft, bubbling giggle, shaking her curly open hair in pure amusement. Those were absolutely and definitively not her husband's words; this warning label was clearly Jai's dramatic masterpiece.
She eagerly pulled off the heavy lid, and the rich, thick aroma of sweet roasted carrots, cardamom, and pure ghee slammed into her senses, making her mouth water instantly. Her tongue protruded slightly in pure, gluttonous anticipation.
She didn't even bother looking for a plate. Instead, she dipped a large spoon straight into the pot, taking a massive, loaded bite of the warm halwa right then and there.
The exact millisecond she took the first bite, her eyelids naturally fluttered shut. Her rosy lips immediately formed a wide, radiant smile as the flavor hit her tongue. The execution was technically a disaster. The carrots were unevenly grated, the sugar was aggressively concentrated in patches, and it had been boiled for far too long.
If this exact dish had been prepared by anyone else in the universe—even Maa Sa or Nandini, the two finest chefs in existence—Devika would have ruthlessly thrown the entire thing straight into the sink with a witty complaint.
But since this specific, messy sweet was the absolute result of her hubby's hours of grueling manual labor, sweat, and maybe love too, she figured she should show a considerable amount of respect.
She set the big brass pot on the edge of the granite counter and casually jumped up to sit right on top of the counter. Grabbing the heavy pot tightly with her tiny arms, she pulled it into her lap.
She went to town on the halwa, eating straight from the source while swinging her legs back and forth against the wooden cabinets, shaking her head from side to side in a perfect, joyful rhythm.
---
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