Samandar ke kinaare le aaye the use,

shayad dil ke andar ka shor thoda kam ho jaaye.

Lehron ke saath kuch pal yun hi guzarne diye,

taaki woh apne dard se nahi… khud se phir mil sake.

The awakening was not a sudden burst, but a slow, cold realization of movement.I didn't open my eyes immediately. The gray twilight of the master suite had vanished, replaced by an expansive, shifting coldness that pressed against my skin.

There was no mechanical hum of the building's automated climate control anymore. Instead, a vast, rhythmic roar filled my ears—low, booming, and entirely uncaring. The scent of rain and sterile charcoal had been bleached away, replaced by the sharp, saline tang of ocean air cutting straight into my lungs.I felt suspended, floating in a cocoon of heavy wool that shielded me from the biting wind.Beneath me, there was a steady, unyielding motion. It took a long moment for my foggy mind to register that my feet weren't touching the ground. I was being carried.

The solid, radiating heat beneath my cheek belonged to him, a familiar wall of absolute safety that kept the freezing world outside from touching me.When I finally forced my eyelids open, the horizon was a blur of muted blues and pale pinks. The morning sun was just fracturing the edge of the sky, casting long, pale diamonds across a vast stretch of private sand.

"Eklavya..." my voice was barely a rasp, swallowed instantly by the sweeping wind.He didn't answer in words. I felt the deep, rhythmic vibration of his chest against my cheek as he continued his long, measured strides across the shoreline. His grip around my waist and knees remained fiercely protective, tough and unmoving, ensuring the sudden, uneven dips of the sand didn't cause even a microscopic shift in my posture.

He was entirely focused on the path ahead, his sharp, imposing jaw set in a rigid line as the ocean spray damply caught the dark strands of his hair.He was my anchor, yet everything around us felt entirely distant, as if I were looking at the world through a thick, frosted pane of glass.

I looked beyond his shoulder, my eyes adjusting to the vast, empty expanse of the beach. But it wasn't completely empty.Far in the distance, casting long silhouettes against the morning mist, figures moved in a silent, coordinated perimeter. Abhishek Papa stood near the stone dunes, his broad shoulders hunched into a dark overcoat, his gaze sweeping the horizon rather than the water.

Further down the treeline, Dheeraj Chacha paced with muffled steps, while the younger cousins—Akhil and Neeraj—stood like quiet sentinels near the armored vehicles parked at the edge of the private road.

The Raizada empire had moved its fortress to the sand. They were all there, a quiet, mourning council keeping the outer world at bay, yet to me, they were nothing more than blurred shapes in the fog, white noise against the crushing finality of the tide.Eklavya stopped, his boots sinking slightly into the wet sand right where the cold water lapped at the shore.

He didn't set me down. He simply stood there, an immovable wall of protective care, letting the freezing ocean wind hit my face while his internal heat kept the ice from reaching my bones.I looked down at the vast, roaring gray waves crashing violently against the earth before retreating into the deep.

There was a beautiful, devastating freedom out here, completely detached from the clinical walls of the penthouse. The vacuum beneath my skin, where the tight seam of the surgical incision lay hidden, throbbed with a slow, heavy ache, but as I clutched the fabric of my husband's coat, the rhythmic roar of the ocean seemed to mirror the silent, screaming void inside my own soul.

The cold bite of the ocean wind didn't reach my skin. Eklavya had stripped away the loose silk nightclothes before we left, dressing me in heavy, warm layers that perfectly mirrored his own—a simple white knit shirt and dark trousers, matching his form exactly. He had cocooned my fragile frame into his own aesthetic, turning us into a singular, unified front against the world.

As his heavy boots stopped right at the edge of the wet sand, the rhythmic, booming roar of the gray waves slowly began to change. The vast expanse of the ocean didn't feel hostile anymore. With every violent crash against the shoreline and every soft, foaming retreat, the freezing spray seemed to wash away the stagnant, clinical air of the penthouse. The salt-heavy air filled my lungs, and for the first time in fifteen days, the suffocating pressure behind my ribs began to ease.

A profound, unbidden calm washed over my fractured mind, settling into my bones like a quiet sanctuary. The vacuum beneath my skin, where the tight seam of my surgical scar lay hidden, still throbbed with a heavy ache, but the steady, eternal pull of the tide brought a strange, beautiful peace to the screaming void inside my soul. I let my head sink completely against the hard line of my husband's shoulder, my fingers loosening their desperate, white-knuckled grip on his shirt. I closed my eyes, entirely surrendered to the solid heat of his body and the soothing, infinite cadence of the water.

Eklavya felt the sudden, fragile easing of my posture, the way my fingers finally uncoiled from the heavy fabric of his shirt. He didn't hesitate. With a slow, fluid motion that required no physical effort from my side, his massive frame bent lower toward the earth.

"Softly, jaan," he murmured against my hair, his gravelly rasp a quiet warning as he gently lowered me. My bare feet touched the wet shoreline. The sensation was immediate and electric—a sharp, piercing shock of freezing ocean water swirling around my ankles, followed by the soft, shifting texture of the dark sand yielding beneath my weight.For a second, my knees trembled, entirely unaccustomed to supporting the frame that had been confined to a velvet chaise for two weeks.

But Eklavya’s hand stayed locked against the small of my back, his palm a solid, burning iron plate that absorbed my weakness and kept me perfectly upright. He didn't pull me back. He simply walked with me, his matching dark trousers catching the spray of the tide, his long strides slowing down to mirror my hesitant, fragile steps.

I walked deeper into the edge of the surf, letting the cold water wash over my skin.Every time a wave rushed in, coating my feet in white foam, it felt as though the ocean were physically reaching into my chest, cooling the raw, burning grief that had consumed me since the highway.

The continuous, indifferent rhythm of the tide did what the high-tech penthouse never could: it gave my sorrow a place to expand. The deep ache in my lower abdomen still whispered of the emptiness left behind, but out here, surrounded by the infinite expanse of gray water, the heavy grief felt less like a cage and more like a quiet truth I could finally breathe through.

I closed my eyes, inhaling the sharp salt air, completely surrendered to the quiet sanctuary of the shoreline, feeling myself slowly waking up to the world again while the steady thump of my husband’s heartbeat remained an unyielding wall at my back.

I forced my legs to move, stepping away from the direct support of Eklavya's chest, though his shadow never left my side. Each footprint I left in the dark, wet earth was shallow, filled instantly by the rushing foam of the tide. The sharp morning air brushed over my cheeks, a cool, invisible hand that seemed to sweep away the stagnant warmth of the penthouse. It stung the yellowing bruises on my cheekbones, a vivid, biting reminder that my body was still here, still breathing, despite the devastation that had hollowed me out.

I took another step, then another, letting the vast expanse of the ocean fill my horizon.The wind whipped the dark strands of my hair across my face, carrying the sharp scent of brine and distant storms. For the first time since the rain-slicked asphalt, I wasn't just a statue waiting for the dark to claim me. The cold water swirling around my shins was grounding, a physical reality that demanded my attention. Eklavya remained exactly a half-step behind me, his massive frame acting as a silent breakwater against the wind, his unyielding watchfulness ensuring that even as I tested the limits of my own strength, I was never truly alone in the wild.

I slowly turned around to face my husband, the wet sand shifting beneath my soles as the surf receded once more. Just then, the sharp shadow of a tiny bird cut through the morning mist, flying directly over my head. My eyes instinctively followed its path, lifting my chin toward the vast, pale expanse of the opening sky.

Eklavya closed the small distance between us in two long, quiet strides. As his towering silhouette eclipsed the wind, I lowered my head back down, meeting his intense, dark gaze.Without a single word, he leaned down and gently pressed his forehead against mine. The contact was instant and grounding.

A profound, living warmth radiated through my entire body, melting away the freezing bite of the ocean air and the phantom frost in my bones. His large hand slid down my arm, his long fingers filtering through mine until our hands entwined, locking together with a silent, unyielding pressure.

I closed my eyes, letting the rest of the world dissolve. The crushing weight of the past weeks and the silent, mourning presence of the family vanished into the mist. There was only the steady, rhythmic thump of his heart against my chest, the infinite roar of the tide, and the fierce, protective sanctuary of the man holding me whole against the dark.

There was only the steady, rhythmic thump of his heart against my chest, the infinite roar of the tide, and the fierce, protective sanctuary of the man holding me whole against the dark.We must have stayed like that for an eternity, suspended in a quiet pocket of the universe where the grief couldn't touch us. But slowly, the tight band around my chest loosened.

The cold ocean air didn't feel like a punishment anymore; it felt like a clean slate. When Eklavya finally pulled back, his dark eyes scanned my face, searching for the fractures, but finding something else instead. A flicker of life. He didn't say a word—he didn't need to. Keeping his arm securely around my waist, anchoring my fragile steps against the uneven dips of the sand, we began to turn back toward the dunes.

We walked over the shores a little more, the biting wind gradually losing its edge as the morning sun broke fully through the mist. I didn't even realize myself when I started to smile by my in-laws' family. The solemn, mourning council I had seen through the fog just an hour ago seemed to melt away, replaced by the simple, grounding reality of the people who loved us. It started when Eshita threw a ball to me to play with her, a sudden, bright burst of normal life that caught me completely off guard.

Seeing her expectant, hopeful expression, a spark of genuine interest flared up inside me. Near the vehicles, Akhil bhaiya, Neeraj bhaiya, and Vishal bhaiya were already laughing, talking about how they used to play with me in car racing on TV, their booming voices drowning out the residual roar of the surf.Further up the path, the heavy atmosphere vanished completely. Abhishek Papa and Dheeraj chacha converged to feed and spoil me with little bits of junk food they had sneaked out of the cars, brushing away the strict diets of the penthouse clinic.

Eshita and Keerthi chachi immediately stepped in, playfully scolding their husbands for their mischief, their lighthearted bickering filling the salty air with a warmth that the ocean spray couldn't diminish. Time really passed that I didn't even know. Before the shadows could lengthen, we found ourselves settled, sheltered from the wind.

The days bleeding out from our time by the ocean did little to dull the phantom ache of the highway. It had simply mutated, shifting from a physical trauma into a hollow, quiet grief. The loss of my unborn twins—a sudden, devastating miscarriage that shattered my world into a thousand silent, unfixable pieces—loomed constantly. There were mornings I woke up unable to draw air, utterly crushed by the silence of a future that would never come to pass.

But Eklavya wouldn't let the darkness become my home.

"Healing isn't something that just happens to you," he whispered one crisp dawn on the quiet penthouse terrace. He extended his hands, palms up, his eyes a mix of fierce protection and profound tenderness. "It is a discipline. You have to actively fight to claim your peace—both physically and emotionally."

Initially, the physical exertion of our self-defense training felt like a punishment I couldn't bear. Every time my husband commanded me to strike his open hands, my movements faltered, heavy with fear and deep-seated exhaustion. But Eklavya stayed steady. He taught me how to anchor my feet to the ground, showing me how to gather the chaotic, agonizing grief in my chest and throw it forward as strength. He taught me to block the blows, to strike back, and to map out my own survival. With every sweat-drenched hour, the feeling that my body was a fragile glass cage began to fade, replaced by the quiet realization that it was still a sanctuary.

Yet, the emotional defense he taught me was what truly saved me. Eklavya bypassed the empty platitudes and the societal pressure to forget. Instead, he allowed me to hold the pain without letting it dictate my identity. When the grief rose up to choke me, he simply sat with me, an immovable anchor in the silence until the panic receded. He instructed me on how to erect firm emotional boundaries against the well-meaning but suffocating pity of the world, giving me a shield for my recovering heart. Through his unwavering presence, his sharp jawline ceased to look imposing, it became a fortress of absolute safety. Frame by frame, breath by breath, Eklavya showed me the way out of the wreckage. I knew then that I would always carry the quiet memory of my twins, but for the first time, I felt strong enough to step into the light and live.

The crisp dawn air on the penthouse terrace did little to cool the feverish heat radiating from my skin. My lungs burned, demanding oxygen I couldn't seem to find. I blinked my eyelashes as I tried to catch my breath, the jagged silhouette of the city skyline blurring into a haze of gold and gray against the rising sun. Every muscle in my body throbbed with a heavy, leaden exhaustion—the physical manifestation of a mind that hadn’t known peace in months.

Standing directly in front of me, entirely unfazed by the grueling pace we had kept for the last hour, was Eklavya. He stood like a monument, his broad shoulders squared, holding up two heavy leather focus mitts. The sharp, imposing lines of his jaw were set in absolute concentration.

Eklavya said to me softly, "Focus baby, try to punch more."

The low, velvet rumble of his voice acted like a physical anchor, dragging me straight out of the chaotic spiral spinning in my head. Baby. The word was a rare, tender contrast to his rigid, protective stance—a quiet reminder that he wasn't here to break me, but to help me piece myself back together.

"I'm trying," I rasped, my voice sounding painfully small against the vast emptiness of the morning. The phantom weight of the highway accident, the suffocating memory of the hospital room, and the quiet, hollow grief of losing my unborn twins all threatened to crowd my vision. My fists felt like stone, dragging down at my sides.

"Don't think about the exhaustion, Pari," Eklavya commanded, his tone dropping into that fierce, unwavering register that always forced me to listen. He stepped an inch closer, narrowing the space between us until I was entirely enveloped by the solid, reassuring warmth of his presence. "Look at my palms. Don't look past them. Channel everything you're holding onto right here."

I forced my hands up, tucking my chin, trying to mirror the precise stance he had spent the last three weeks teaching me. Taking a ragged breath, I stepped forward and threw a right cross.

Thud.

It struck the center of his left mitt, but it lacked conviction. It was a hesitant strike, wrapped tightly in the fear that if I fought too hard, I might completely shatter.

Eklavya didn't budge. He barely felt the impact. "Again," he coaxes, his dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a quiet intensity that refused to let me give up on myself. "Sweat it out, Pari. Every ounce of the pain, the anger, the grief—throw it directly into my hands. I can take it. Give me a combination. Jab, cross, hook. Go."

I blinked away the sweat stinging my eyes, planted my feet firmly into the concrete, and let out a sharp, decisive breath.

Jab. The leather cracked.

Cross. My shoulder drove forward, fueled by a sudden, raw surge of adrenaline.

Hook. The final strike landed with a solid, echoing thud that actually forced him to take a half-step back to absorb the momentum.

A faint, proud shadow of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, instantly softening the hard planes of his face. "There she is," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against my ringing ears. "Keep that rhythm. You're reclaiming your space, breath by breath."

For the first time since the highway, as I raised my fists for the next round, my body didn't feel like a fragile glass cage. Looking into Eklavya's steady eyes, I realized that through the sweat and the strain, he was slowly teaching me how to survive again.

After what felt like a hundred more punches, Eklavya finally lowered the mitts, giving me a much-needed break—and taking one for himself. He leaned against the terrace railing, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He was a man who fiercely guarded his heart, a man who wouldn't easily admit the depth of his emotions for me out loud. Yet, as he looked over at me, he didn't need to. His eyes spoke everything that words never could—carrying a heavy, fierce tenderness that made my aching heart swell.

After a few minutes, once our breathing had finally settled, he disappeared inside and returned with a freshly prepared lunch. I took one look at the plate and sighed; it was the ultra-healthy, strictly planned diet from the penthouse clinic. My face must have given me away completely, because a subtle, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

Knowing how much I disliked the bland food, Eklavya quietly set the plate aside without a single complaint. He turned back toward the kitchen, determined to make something himself—something crafted specifically to satisfy my stubborn taste buds while still keeping his promise to take care of me.

The rich, aromatic scent of toasted spices drifted from the kitchen, completely replacing the clinical emptiness of the penthouse air. When Eklavya stepped back out onto the terrace, the bland clinic food was gone. In its place, he held a single bowl of steaming, perfectly seasoned comfort food—made entirely from scratch, just the way he knew I loved it.

He didn't hand the bowl to me. Instead, he sat down right beside me on the terrace mat, his large, solid frame instantly blocking out the cool morning breeze. The heat from his skin radiated against my side, a grounding presence that made the vast city skyline behind him fade into a blur.

"Open," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, private register meant only for me.

He lifted the spoon, blowing on it gently before bringing it to my lips. I looked up at him, my heart doing a familiar, fluttering ache at the sheer sight of this fierce, imposing man handling me with such delicate care. I took the bite, the rich, savory warmth instantly waking up my stubborn taste buds and drawing a genuine smile to my face for the first time all day.

Emboldened by the look in his eyes, I took the spoon from his hand. "Your turn," I whispered, scooping up a portion and holding it out to him.

Eklavya paused, a quiet, amused look crossing his face. He wasn't a man used to being taken care of, but he didn't pull away. He leaned in and took the bite from my hand, his dark eyes never breaking contact with mine. I watched the slight swallow in his throat, the faint scrape of the silver against his teeth, and the way the rigid tension in his shoulders completely melted into the quiet space between us.

As I set the bowl down, Eklavya reached out, the rough, calloused pad of his thumb gently wiping away a stray crumb from the corner of my mouth. His touch lingered, the faint scent of ground cumin and fresh herbs on his fingers mingling with the scent of the ocean below. He leaned in closer, narrowing the final inch of distance until his shadow completely enveloped me.

Slowly, deliberately, Eklavya pressed his lips to mine. It wasn't a demanding kiss, but a deep, protective promise—a quiet reassurance that no matter how heavy the grief, he was right here, holding me together.

The rich, savory warmth of the lunch we had shared just moments ago still lingered pleasantly on my tongue, making this sudden transition to heavy artillery feel all the more surreal. The metallic weight of the firearm felt entirely foreign in my hands, a cold contrast to the afternoon sun warming the private shooting range. Eklavya stood right behind me, his chest flush against my back, guiding my trembling fingers.

Trying to load the magazine was an absolute disaster for me. The brass bullets kept slipping from my slick palms, my coordination completely failing under the pressure. Seeing my struggle, Eklavya didn't say a word. He simply took over, his large, steady hands efficiently sliding the ammunition into place with a series of sharp, practiced clicks. He chambered the round for me, making sure everything was perfectly secure. In a world where not everyone was glad we were born, this basic survival training wasn't a luxury—it was a necessity.

While Eklavya was adjusting my grip, a sudden rustle of footsteps echoed behind us. I glanced back to see a small crowd assembling. Abhishek Papa and Dheeraj Chacha had walked in to check on their daughter-in-law's progress, while Akhil, Neeraj, and Vishal tagged along, leaning against the back wall with casual grins, eager to see their new sister-in-law in action.

"Now, the only thing left to do is focus, Paridhi. Align the sights, and fire at the target spots," Eklavya murmured near my ear, completely ignoring the audience.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a microsecond, took a ragged breath, and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The loud recoil jolted violently up my arms, sending a shockwave through my shoulders. The bullet completely missed the designated center-mass points on the target. Instead, the round tore a devastating, perfect hole right through the exact center of the lower hemisphere of the human poster target—striking it squarely where no man ever wants to be struck.

A suffocating, dead silence fell over the range.

Abhishek Papa and Dheeraj Chacha froze mid-sentence, their eyes bulging as they instinctively crossed their legs. The casual grins on the boys' faces vanished instantly, replaced by sheer, unadulterated trauma.

Akhil slowly leaned in toward Eklavya, his voice a trembling, horrified whisper, "Bhai, bhabhi toh sidha vansh pe vaar kar rahi hai... Bach ke rehna, varna Eklavya naam ka chapter hi band ho jayega."

(Brother, sister-in-law is launching a direct attack on the family lineage... Stay safe, otherwise the chapter named Eklavya will be permanently closed.)

Neeraj gulped, staring at the obliterated target sheet in pure disbelief before whispering on Eklavya's other side, "Galti se bhi bhabhi ka dil mat dukhana, bhai. Yeh gussa hone par chillaengi nahi, sidha target badal dengi."

(Don't dare break her heart even by mistake, brother. When she gets angry, she won't yell; she will simply change her target.)

Vishal, looking profoundly protective of his own anatomy, added in a frantic whisper: "Eklavya bhai, main sach keh raha hoon, aaj se ghar ke saare bartan tum hi dhona. Aisi safety ke liye toh main poora ghar saaf kar doon!"

(Eklavya brother, I am telling you the truth, you should wash all the dishes from today. For this level of personal safety, I would clean the entire house!)

Eklavya stood rigidly beside me, his jaw completely locked. His eyes darted from the smoking gun to the ruined poster, his throat bobbing in a hard, highly uncomfortable swallow as he felt the intense, collective wave of pity from every male in the room.

I lowered the weapon, looked up at my husband with a completely innocent expression, and sheepishly rubbed the back of my head. "Did I hit the center?"

Abhishek Papa slowly uncrossed his legs, clearing his throat with a sudden, nervous cough. He turned to Dheeraj Chacha, his voice cracking slightly. "Dheeraj, mujhe lagta hai hume humari purani thandi chai khatam karni chahiye... yahan ka mahaul bohot garam hai."

(Dheeraj, I think we should go finish our cold tea... the atmosphere in here is getting way too hot.)

Dheeraj Chacha was already backing toward the exit, nodding so vigorously his glasses nearly slipped off. "Bilkul, Bhai Sahab. Aur Eklavya... beta, aaj se tum Paridhi ke har faisle se 100% sahmat ho. Yeh mera chacha hone ke naate aakhri aur sabse zaroori mushvara hai."

(Absolutely, brother. And Eklavya... son, from today onwards, you agree 100% with every decision Paridhi makes. As your uncle, this is my final and most crucial advice.)

With that, both the older men vanished down the corridor faster than the bullet itself, leaving Eklavya to face his destiny alone.

Following their fathers' sudden exit, Akhil, Neeraj, and Vishal backed out of the range in a silent, single file, keeping their hands protectively in front of themselves like human shields. The heavy door clicked shut, leaving the range completely quiet again.

I lowered the firearm and turned to Eklavya, looking at the empty doorway. "What happened to them?"

The rigid line of his shoulders finally relaxed, a rare, intensely tender softness taking over his dark eyes. He stepped closer, covering my small hands with his large, steady ones to gently ease my grip on the weapon. Eklavya spoke to me softly, "Ignore them, jaan. You just focus."

I hummed to him in response, but I couldn't aim it or fire the bullet. My concentration had completely dissolved into the afternoon heat, and every subsequent shot went entirely rogue, missing the designated target marks completely. But for today, Eklavya let it go. He knew my heart and body had endured a massive transition from the heavy grief of our loss to the sudden rush of physical adrenaline.

Recognising that too much had been learned and processed today, he packed away the gear and led me up to the penthouse suite.

He prepared a warm, steaming bath to wash away the sweat and tension of the shooting range, stepping into the water right along with me. The soothing warmth enveloped us, immediately melting the residual stiffness from my muscles. Eklavya pulled me flush against his solid, naked chest, anchoring me in his embrace. He leaned down and gently nipped my earlobe, causing me to whimper softly against his chest as a deep wave of comfort settled into my bones.

The rest of the evening was filled with a quiet, healing warmth. The whole family gathered in the spacious living room, completely moving past the afternoon's trauma. Eshwari maa, Keerthi chachi, Abhishek Papa and Dheeraj Chacha kept a highly respectful, thoroughly agreeable distance, nodding along to everything I said, while the boys kept the atmosphere light with their endless banter. Tucked safely against Eklavya’s side, wrapped in his protective warmth and surrounded by a family determined to see me heal, I finally felt the heavy shadows of the past months lift.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Today, Eklavya sat right beside me on the blanket, his solid presence a constant warmth against my side, and played with me Ludo. Watching him focus so intently on the colorful board, his sharp, imposing jaw relaxing as the whole family cheered and teased each other around us, I realized the void inside me wasn't entirely empty anymore. For the first time since the highway, I was finally surrounded by light.

I was healing then, before I could fully realize it myself. A sudden, lighthearted panic fluttered in my chest as I looked down at the board—I had made Eklavya lose again for the third time in the Ludo game. Around us, the cousins erupted into victorious cheers, their laughter echoing across the dunes, but my focus remained entirely trapped by the man sitting right beside me.

Despite his crushing defeat on the board, there was no annoyance on his face. Instead, his stardust eyes glinted into far more something else—a soft, mesmerizing warmth that completely bypassed the chaotic game. The sheer intensity of his gaze made a sudden, burning warmth radiate in my cheeks. Overwhelmed by the quiet devotion in his eyes, I lowered my eyelashes from him, a shy smile pulling at the corners of my lips as I tried to hide my burning face from the rest of the family.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The wind-swept sand to the interior of the coastal estate happened slowly, a gradual retreat from the roaring tide as the morning mist burned away. There was no sudden jump, no swift magic to erase the sand clinging to the soles of our shoes or the heavy scent of brine in our clothes. Instead, it was a measured progression of footsteps—Eklavya’s solid weight anchored firmly behind me, his hand resting lightly against the small of my back as we moved up the private road toward the villa.

The armored vehicles stood like silent, iron sentinels in the driveway, a stark reminder of the Raizada empire’s unyielding perimeter, but inside, the atmosphere began to soften. The clinical, sterile scent of the penthouse was entirely absent here, replaced by the deep, rich aroma of roasted spices, fresh bread, and steaming brass pots that leaked warmth from the kitchen.By the time we gathered around the heavy timber dining table, the quiet solemnity of the beach had fractured completely into the chaotic, familiar rhythm of family.

"Three times in a row, Eklavya," Akhil started, leaning back in his chair with a wide, triumphant grin as he reached for a plate of hot parathas. "I mean, the Raizada name carries weight across three continents, but apparently, a simple board game on the sand is where the empire crumbles."

"It wasn't a fair fight," Vishal chimed in, passing a bowl of fresh yogurt down the table. "Did you see his face? He wasn't even looking at the tokens. He was moving his red piece based on wherever Paridhi looked. If she glanced at a safe zone, he just marched straight into a trap."

Neeraj bhaiya snorted, pouring tea into a row of glass cups. "A trap? The man practically handed his tokens over like a peaceful treaty. Three consecutive losses. If the board directors saw you out there, Eklavya, they’d demand a psych evaluation."

A soft, sudden warmth radiated in my cheeks again at their words. I kept my gaze fixed on my plate, my fingers tightly tracing the edge of my silverware, trying to ignore the collective amusement vibrating through the room. I could feel Eklavya sitting right beside me, his massive frame completely relaxed, entirely unbothered by the collective onslaught of his cousins."

He was just being a gentleman," Eshita interjected, though her eyes danced with mischief as she nudged Keerthi chachi. "Or maybe he’s just out of practice. It’s hard to calculate a strategic move when you're entirely distracted by your wife's eyelashes."

"Oh, please," Keerthi chachi laughed, setting down a platter of fresh fruit with a deliberate click. "Dheeraj used to do the exact same thing when we were newly married. He’d lose every card game, every match, looking completely devastated until I smiled at him. It’s a classic Raizada trait—ruthless in the boardroom, absolutely helpless at home."

"Hey, now," Dheeraj chacha protested from the head of the table, though his shoulders shook with a quiet chuckle as he reached for his tea. "Leave me out of this. Eklavya’s defeat is entirely his own doing. Though, I must admit, I’ve never seen him look so pleased about losing a territory before."

Abhishek Papa, who had been quietly listening from the other end of the table, cleared his throat. The room quieted just a fraction, the teasing settling into a respectful warmth. His broad shoulders, which had looked so hunched and burdened against the stone dunes earlier, seemed to loosen in the light of the dining room.

"A man who doesn't know how to yield to his wife doesn't know how to protect his home," Abhishek Papa said, his voice deep and carrying a rare, gentle gravity. He looked across the table, his eyes lingering on my pale face before shifting to his son. "He played well. The strategy was exactly what it needed to be."

Eklavya finally moved, his large hand reaching across the table to pick up his cup. His stardust eyes glinted with that same, unbidden warmth as he took a slow sip, his sharp jaw setting into a calm, unyielding line.

"The strategy was flawless," Eklavya murmured, his gravelly rasp dropping low enough that it seemed meant only for the space between us. "The outcome was exactly what I intended." I lowered my eyelashes from him, a shy, helpless smile pulling at my lips as the table erupted into a fresh wave of groans and laughter from the cousins. The tight seam of the surgical scar beneath my skin still held a dull, heavy ache, but sitting here, wrapped in the noisy, protective shield of the family, the cold dark of the past weeks felt incredibly far away.

I choked softly, the water glass rattling against my teeth as a sudden, unexpected shock of heat shot straight up my spine. My hand flew to my mouth, a muffled cough escaping me as I tried to regain my composure. Beneath the heavy timber table, completely hidden by the long drape of the tablecloth, I felt the unmistakable, solid pressure of his foot resting deliberately against my leg. It wasn't a fleeting accident; it was a firm, heavy weight, a private claim that completely contradicted the calm, unbothered expression on his face.

"Paridhi? Are you alright, dear?" Keerthi chachi asked immediately, her eyebrows turning up in quick concern as she reached for a napkin.

"I'm fine," I managed to get out, my voice a breathless rasp as a vivid, burning warmth radiated through my cheeks. I kept my eyelashes lowered, absolutely refusing to look up at the rest of the table, though I could practically feel the collective, knowing amusement of the cousins shifting back toward us. Right beside me, Eklavya didn't move a single muscle. He reached out with an unhurried, steady hand, his long fingers wrapping around the base of my water glass to stabilize it before my trembling grip could spill it across the table.

His massive frame remained perfectly upright, his sharp, imposing jaw set in that same rigid line as he calmly addressed his father's previous comment, completely ignoring the silent, electric storm he was causing right beneath the surface. "The tide is turning, Papa," Eklavya murmured, his deep voice smooth and entirely devoid of the mischief hidden under the table.

"We just need to make sure we're ready for whatever washes up next."

I don't know why, but a sudden, overwhelming ache bloomed deep in my chest. I missed him. I missed his heated, intense presence even though he was sitting right beside me physically. The trauma of the past few weeks had built a thick, invisible wall around my mind, keeping me detached, but this hidden contact was slicing right through it. I craved him—craved the unyielding warmth that reminded me I was still alive. So, I didn't pull away.

I let him do as he pleased, silently surrendering to the private claim he was making beneath the heavy drape of the tablecloth. I picked up my fork and tried to eat my dinner, forcing myself to swallow small bites while the conversation of the Raizada empire swirled around us like distant white noise. But keeping a straight face became an agonizing task. A sharp, violent shiver traveled straight down my spine, rendering my limbs weak, as his bare foot slid higher, moving deliberately under the long, heavy fabric of my skirt.

The contrast between the cool, smooth silk of my clothes and the radiating heat of his skin was electric. My knuckles turned white against my silverware. Right beside me, Eklavya casually reached for the platter of parathas, his broad shoulders shifting with complete indifference as he answered a question from Akhil bhaiya. His face was a mask of absolute calm, a ruthless businessman discussing security perimeters, while beneath the table, his unyielding watchfulness transformed into something entirely primitive, keeping me bound to him in a silent, intoxicating storm.

He pressed softly there, his foot finding the sensitive curve of my calf beneath the hidden layers of my clothes. The deliberate, heavy heat of his skin against mine sent a sudden, electric rush straight to my core. A quiet gasp trapped itself deep in my throat as I felt a sudden, familiar dampness pooling for him—a physical awakening that left me completely breathless.

It was happening now, after a long, agonizing week of absolute emptiness between us, breaking through the clinical numbness that had hollowed me out since the highway. The raw, desperate ache for him that I had buried beneath my grief was suddenly roaring back to life with a vengeance. My fingers trembled so violently that my fork made a sharp, tiny clink against the porcelain of my plate. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief second, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of my breathing, but the slow, rhythmic pulse of my own body was betraying me.

Every single nerve ending was screaming for his touch, craving the heavy, primitive safety only his massive frame could provide. Right beside me, Eklavya didn't falter for a single fraction of a second. His sharp, imposing jaw remained set in a rigid line as he calmly listened to Dheeraj chacha debate the family's next political move. But his stardust eyes darkened, shifting into a dangerous, ink-black depth as he caught the subtle, frantic rise and fall of my chest. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, his unyielding watchfulness ensuring that while the rest of the world looked away, I was entirely consumed by him.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

He finally moved his foot away.

A second later I felt the warm weight of his left hand slip under the table, finding its way to my side. From where I sat I could see the sharp angle of his profile — completely focused on his father and Dheeraj chacha as they continued discussing the family’s next political move. His expression never changed. The same controlled, attentive look he always wore in these conversations.

But under the table, his fingers brushed slowly over the fabric of my skirt.

My breath caught.

His hand slid higher, deliberate and unhurried, until his palm rested against the thin material of my panty. Then his fingers pressed in, brushing lightly over my folds through the damp fabric. A soft, involuntary sound almost escaped me. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing my face to stay calm.

Eklavya’s voice remained steady and respectful as he answered his father.

“I already spoke with the legal team this morning, Dad. The proposal from the London side is aggressive, but we can counter it without appearing reactive.”

At the exact same moment his fingers stroked me again — slower, more precise — applying just enough pressure to make my thighs press together under the table. Heat flooded low in my stomach. After a full week of distance, my body reacted instantly, greedily. The dampness he had already caused earlier only grew worse.

I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, pretending to listen to the conversation. My fork trembled slightly in my hand.

Eklavya continued speaking as if nothing were happening.

“Chacha is right about the timing. If we wait too long, they’ll interpret it as hesitation. Better to move first and set the terms.”

His fingers slipped just beneath the edge of my panty, the bare tips brushing directly against my sensitive folds. A sharp pulse of pleasure shot through me. My free hand curled tightly into the napkin on my lap. I could feel how wet I already was against his skin.

He never once looked at me.

His attention stayed locked on the two older men across the table, nodding at the appropriate moments, voice calm and authoritative. Only the subtle, controlled movement of his hand under the table betrayed that he was very much aware of exactly what he was doing to me.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my breathing even while his fingers continued their slow, devastating exploration — all while the rest of the family remained completely unaware.

His fingers slipped inside my panty.

The moment two thick digits pushed past the damp fabric and sank into me, my mind went completely blank. A sharp, electric jolt shot up my spine. I was gone. Seriously gone. My walls clenched around him on instinct, and a soft, broken sound almost escaped my throat before I forced it down. Heat flooded my face. My thighs trembled under the table.

I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, but everything around me had blurred. The only thing that existed was the slow, deliberate way his fingers moved inside me — curling slightly, pressing against that sensitive spot that made my breath hitch.

Then Eshita’s voice cut through the haze.

“Bhabhi… are you okay?”

My head snapped up. She was looking at me from across the table, concern clear in her eyes. The rest of the conversation had quieted just enough for her question to land. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Only her brother is fucking me with his fingers right under everyone’s nose, I thought wildly, panic and pleasure twisting together.

Eklavya’s fingers didn’t stop. If anything, they fastened — thrusting a little deeper, a little faster, the wet sound thankfully drowned out by the clink of cutlery and ongoing discussion. My free hand curled tightly into the napkin on my lap.

I forced a small, shaky smile and met Eshita’s gaze.

“Y-yes… I’m fine,” I managed, voice a little too soft. “Just… a little warm. The spice is stronger than usual today.”

Eklavya’s thumb brushed over my clit at that exact moment, and my breath caught again. I quickly reached for my water glass with my free hand, taking a long sip to hide the way my lips parted.

Eshita still looked unconvinced, her eyes narrowing slightly, but Dheeraj chacha’s voice rose again, pulling the table’s attention back to the political discussion. Eklavya answered his father smoothly, voice completely steady, while under the table his fingers continued their ruthless, hidden rhythm inside me — stretching me open, curling, thrusting, making sure I felt every single second of it.

I sat there, cheeks burning, trying desperately to keep my expression normal while the man beside me ruined me in complete silence.

I somehow managed to finish the last few bites on my plate.

The moment I swallowed, the tension inside me finally snapped. My body clenched hard around his fingers as a quiet, powerful orgasm rolled through me under the table. I kept my face carefully blank, only the slight parting of my lips and the way my lashes fluttered giving anything away. Warmth flooded my lower belly, leaving me feeling strangely refreshed and light, even as my thighs still trembled faintly against the chair.

Eklavya’s fingers slowed, then carefully withdrew.

A few seconds later I felt him shift slightly beside me. When I risked a glance, he was looking straight at me. That wicked, knowing glint was back in his stardust eyes. And then — he winked.

My cheeks burned.

Without any shame, he casually reached toward the small glass bowl of jelly sitting near his plate. Right in front of everyone, he dipped the same two fingers that had just been inside me into the glossy dessert… and brought them to his mouth. He tasted them slowly, eyes still locked on mine for a fraction of a second before he looked away as if nothing had happened.

Across the table, his father frowned.

Abhishek Papa stared at his eldest son with pure confusion, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.

“Eklavya… what are you doing?” he asked, voice full of bewildered judgment. “Is the jelly not good enough that you have to eat it like a five-year-old? We have spoons in this house, Eklavya. Spoons!”

Eklavya didn’t even blink. He simply licked the last trace of jelly from his finger and answered with perfect calm.

“It tastes better this way, Dad.”

His father’s face twisted into an even more baffled expression.

“Better this way? Are you feeling feverish or something? First you sit too quietly, now you’re licking dessert off your fingers like a street child. What has gotten into you today?”

Beside him, Akhil nearly choked on his food. He quickly covered his mouth with his napkin, but I caught the unmistakable smirk curling at the corner of his lips. His eyes flicked briefly between me and Eklavya, sparkling with pure amusement. He knew. Of course he knew. That little menace had somehow figured out exactly what had been happening under the table.

I lowered my gaze to my empty plate, trying desperately not to smile while my husband sat beside me looking completely innocent… still tasting the faint mix of jelly and me on his fingers.

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