वैसे तो मन मेरा पहले भी रातों में

अक्सर ही चाहत के, हाँ, सपने सँजोता था

पहले भी धड़कन ये धुन कोई गाती थी

पर अब जो होता है वो पहले ना होता था

हुआ है तुझे जो भी, जो भी

मुझे भी इस बार हुआ

तो क्यूँ ना मैं भी कह दूँ, कह दूँ

हुआ, मुझे भी प्यार हुआ

तेरा होने लगा हूँ

खोने लगा हूँ, जब से मिला हूँ

तेरा होने लगा हूँ

खोने लगा हूँ, जब से मिला हूँ

Rudrakshi’s hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Through the windshield, she saw him—a young boy, barely seven or eight, standing like a startled deer in the middle of the road.

His clothes were of fine silk, expensive and tailored, marking him clearly as a child of immense wealth.

​Before Rudrakshi or Naira could even step out, a voice pierced the air. "Vayu!"

​A woman, elegant and carrying the unmistakable grace of a queen, rushed past their car. She gathered the boy, Vayu, into a fierce embrace. "How many times have I told you not to run?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "If something happened to you, what would I tell your Maa-sa?"

​The woman stood up, smoothing her saree, her eyes landing on the car—and then on Rudrakshi. Her expression didn't shift to anger. Instead, it softened into a look of recognition, almost like a mother seeing a long-awaited guest.

​For Rudrakshi, this woman was a stranger. But for Maithili Raghuvir Suryavanshi, Rudrakshi was the woman who had—knowingly or not—captured the heart of her son, Ishan.

​Maithili offered a soft, radiant smile. Rudrakshi didn't return it. To Rudrakshi, a smile was a foreign currency she rarely spent. The relationship between her and a smile was like that of a lion and a hyena—they simply didn't belong in the same territory.

​"Aap yahan?" Maithili asked politely, approaching the car.

​Rudrakshi narrowed her eyes, "I’m sorry, do we know each other?"

​Maithili chuckled, a sound like silver bells, waving a hand at her own forgetfulness. "Oh, forgive me. I am Maithili Raghuvir Suryavanshi. Ishan’s mother. I believe you are currently working with him."

​The realization clicked, but it didn't warm Rudrakshi. It made her feel exposed. She stepped out and folded her hands in a formal, stiff greeting. Before she could explain her presence, Naira jumped in, unable to contain herself.

​"Aunty, you don't know! Rudrakshi literally set the Legislative Assembly on fire today! We are coming straight from the battlefield," Naira chirped, her eyes bright.

​Maithili’s smile widened. "Is that so? Then you must come with us. You are in Jaipur—come to the palace. Let us show you the hospitality of the Suryavanshis. Last time you were here for work, we didn't get a chance to truly welcome you."

​Every word Maithili spoke was draped in the aura of a Rani-sa—polite, yet commanding in its kindness.

​But for Rudrakshi, the invitation felt like being plunged into a frozen lake. She was a woman who could dismantle a Chief Minister’s argument in seconds, but the prospect of a social gathering made her numb. She hated the "small talk" of the elite

​"We aren't that close, Maithili-ji," Rudrakshi said, her voice clinical and cold. "We don't know your family, and our association is strictly professional. I don't think it's appropriate to join you. Besides, we have work."

​A flicker of disappointment touched Maithili’s eyes, but she maintained her poise. "Relationships don't always need years to form, Rudrakshi. Sometimes, a single moment is enough to bind people. But I understand. Another time, perhaps."

​With a final, knowing smile, Maithili walked away, her hand protectively on Vayu’s shoulder, flanked by her guards. Rudrakshi watched them go, her mind drifting to a dark thought: Every reason for pain is rooted in human relations.

​Naira leaned against the car, sighing.

"God, she’s so sweet. And so beautiful! Now I know why Mr. Ishan looks the way he does. He got those genes!"

​Rudrakshi looked at Naira with blank, unreadable eyes. She shook her head and turned back toward the driver's seat.

​"Of course she’s sweet, Naira," Rudrakshi muttered under her breath, a bitter edge to her voice. "With that much money and zero tension in life, anyone can afford to be sweet. She'll be happy, won't she?"

​She slammed the car door, the sound echoing against the pink walls of the street.

​Naira wasn't taking "no" for an answer. "I’ve already hired the cameraman, Akshi! I need those aesthetic shots at Amer Fort. You’re coming withme tomorrow."

​Rudrakshi kept her gaze fixed on the road. "You go. I’ll stay in the room. I have files to read."

​"Files? You want to stay inside four walls while Jaipur is outside?" Naira groaned. "Look, if you won't go for yourself, go for someone else. Dusron ki seva karna toh tera kartavya hai na? (Serving others is your duty, right?) Maybe your presence will bring someone else peace, even if you don't find it."

​Rudrakshi rolled her eyes at the cheesy logic. She didn't tell Naira the truth. She didn't tell her that she kept people at a distance because she knew that the closer you let someone, the more accurately they could hit your wounds. To Rudrakshi, vulnerability was an invitation for betrayal.

​At SuryaGrah [At night]

​Across the city, the atmosphere was vastly different. The Suryavanshi family was gathered around a long mahogany table for dinner. Ishan, having just returned from Mumbai, was trying to eat, but his "Mamusa" instincts were on high alert.

​"Vayu, why were you running on the road today?" Ishan asked, his voice firm. He had heard the story from Maithili.

​Vayu looked down at his plate, his little face turning pale. "M-Mamusa, I saw a puppy... I just wanted to catch it."

​Ishan gave him a stern look—not to scare him, but to warn him. "Don't ever do that again. It’s dangerous."

​"Oh, stop it, Ishan!" Kunti, the eldest daughter of the house, cut in playfully.

"Don't scold the child so much. If you had married at the right time, you’d have a child Vayu’s age by now. Then you’d know how hard it is to keep them still."

​Ishan choked slightly on his water, looking at his mother, Maithili, who was biting back a smile. "Bua-sa, why does every conversation end with my marriage?"

​"Because Ishan can't have children anyway," Aarambhika added casually, her eyes dancing with mischief.

​The table went silent for a heartbeat. Atharv looked confused. "Why, Didi?"

​"Because he’s going to marry Vihaan," Aarambhika burst out laughing. "Out of twenty-four hours in a day, he spends twenty-five with Vihaan. They ride horses together, they travel together... where is the space for a girl?"

​Atharv roared with laughter. "I agree! It's a settled deal. Ishan and Vihaan, forever."

​"Didi! How can you even say that?" Ishan looked at his elder sister with a horrified expression.

​"Don't tease my son," Maithili finally stepped in, though her eyes were twinkling. "I will bring a beautiful, sushil girl for him. Someone who will love my child even more than me."

“Oh, definitely, Bhabhi saa!” Kunti added with a teasing smile. “Bring a girl who follows Ishan wherever he goes—someone who walks behind him like his shadow, following his every step.”

Ishan’s expression didn't soften. He didn't blush. He looked at his aunt and mother with a deep, serious intensity.

"Bua-sa, I don't want someone who follows behind me. I want someone who walks with me. Shadows disappear in the dark, but an Ardhangini never leaves."

The depth of his words silenced the teasing for a moment. Omkar, sensing the shift, cleared his throat. "Well... how was the meeting in Mumbai?"

​"It went well, Kaka Sa," Ishan replied, calming down.

​"Bhai-sahab," Atharv said, still grinning. "If you're free tomorrow, come to Amer Fort with me. A few friends are coming, and Hemant Bhai will be there too."

​"Sure, why not?" Ishan agreed. "Aarambhika Didi, you should come too."

​Aarambhika let out a sharp laugh. "Ishan, I’m already coming. I’m taking my NGO kids there for a trip. Didn't you know?"

​Ishan frowned. "No, I didn't."

​"Of course you didn't," Aarambhika and Atharv said in perfect unison. "Because you were too busy enjoying 'quality time' with Vihaan!"

​Ishan slammed his napkin down, frustrated but unable to hide a small, annoyed smile. These siblings were going to be the death of him.

He finished his meal quickly, unaware that the "Sath chalne wali" woman he had just described was , will be dragged to the very same Fort by her own crazy friend.

The golden sunlight of Jaipur washed over the ancient sandstone of Amer Fort, making the entire structure glow like a crown jewel. Tourists were buzzing about, but for the four men walking through the courtyards, this was home.

​Ishan, Vihaan, Hemant, and Atharv walked with an easy, regal air. Having left their security detail at the gate to enjoy a rare moment of privacy, they were deep in conversation about the fort’s history. But Ishan felt a strange restlessness. The wind felt different today—sharper, more vibrant.

"Yah hawa ka Rukh Aaj Badla hua sa Kyon Hai ?... kisi apne ke hone ka Ehsas Kyon kara rahi hai yah Hawa" Ishan thought looking around .

​Suddenly, the historical chatter was broken by a sound that didn't belong to the past: the bright, melodic giggling of a woman.

​Atharv stopped in his tracks. His eyes fixed on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, and the world around him seemed to lose its color. Standing there was Naira Kashyap. She was a vision in a swirling Anarkali, her heavy jhumkas catching the light as she twirled for a cameraman. Her hair, styled in soft waves, framed a face full of life and mischief.

​Atharv didn't even realize he had stopped walking. He unconsciously leaned his back against a carved pillar, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze locked on Naira as if he were watching a masterpiece come to life.

​Ishan, Vihaan, and Hemant stopped and looked at Atharv. Then they looked at what Atharv was looking at. A slow, devilish smirk spread across Vihaan’s face.

​

​Vihaan whisper loudly "Oh, look at that. Someone fetch a doctor! I think Atharv’s legs have turned to stone. He’s fused with the pillar!"

​Hemant chuckled "It’s not his legs, Vihaan. It’s his heart. Look at the pose! Crossed arms, leaning back, the intense gaze... Atharv, are you a prince of Jaipur or a hero in a 90s Bollywood romance?"

​Atharv snapped out of it, his ears turning pink..."Shut up, guys. I was just... observing the architecture. The way the light hits the balcony is interesting."

​Ishan leaning in with a grin.. "The architecture? Really, Atharv? Because the 'architecture' just flipped her hair and laughed. And I don’t remember stone balconies wearing jhumkas that big."

​Vihaan,"Exactly! And since when did you become so interested in 'aesthetic shoots'? Yesterday you were complaining about tourists taking selfies, and today you’ve turned into a statue of devotion. Waah, kya badlav hai!" (Wow, what a change!)

​Hemant: (Nudging Atharv) "Look at him blush! The sun is bright, but your face is brighter, Atharv. If you stare any harder, you’re going to melt that pillar."

​Ishan: "Forget the pillar. If she looks this way, Atharv is going to forget his own name. Should we introduce him? 'Excuse me, Miss, this is our brother. He’s currently malfunctioning because of your Anarkali.'"

​Atharv: (Stammering, his face now a deep shade of crimson) "Stop it! Both of you! She’s just... she may be with Rudrakshi Tripathi. It’s the MLA’s friend. I’m just making sure there’s no security risk!"

​Vihaan laughed heartily "Security risk? The only risk here is to your heartbeat, brother! You didn't even notice us talking for the last five minutes."

​Atharv trying to walk away quickly to hide his embarrassment... "I’m going to find Aarambhika Didi and the kids. You guys are unbearable."

​Hemant..calling after him ..."Wrong way, Romeo! The NGO kids are to the left, but your heart is still stuck on that balcony to the right!"

​"If she is here, then her friend must be around," Ishan whispered to himself. His heart hammered a rhythm he hadn't felt in years. "Kahan hai meri wali, yaar?"

​He paused, startled by his own words. MERI WALI? Was he serious? Since when did Ishan Suryavanshi start using such possessive, cinematic language? But as he looked at the sprawling beauty of Amer, he couldn't help but think: One day, she will be mine.

​He slipped away from his group of brothers, roaming through the crowds like a hero in a Bollywood melody, searching for his heroine in the first song of the film.

Where would she be? Looking at the antique jewelry? Taking selfies? Or perhaps watching the pigeons in the courtyard?

​The search made him restlessly happy. He checked every corner, every hidden archway, until his breath grew heavy from the climb. He huffed, looking up at the sky.

"Hey Ram ji, aap toh mile the Sita Mata se vatika mein... mujhe toh meri wali ki ek jhalak dekhne ke liye aap itna tarsa rahe hain. Please, bas ek baar dekh loon."

​As if in answer to his prayer, a sudden gust of wind sent a flock of pigeons soaring into the sky. Ishan turned to shield his eyes, and there she was.

​She was standing away from the crowd, leaning against a weathered pillar with her back to him.

She wore a pistachio-green saree, her pallu waving gently in the breeze. With one hand resting on her thigh and the other holding her elbow, she was staring at the distant mountains as if she were trying to write a story upon them.

​A slow, happy curve touched Ishan’s lips. He moved forward, standing behind a pillar a short distance away, folding his arms as he admired her profile glowing in the sunlight.

​"Kitni pyari hai, yaar... seepi mein moti si, mandir mein jyoti si," Ishan murmured. Sunlight played across her features, though her eyes remained shaded under the ancient jharokas. He wished he had the power to read her thoughts in that moment.

​When she finally moved, she didn't notice him. She walked with a strange, heavy grace, her pallu brushing against the dusty floor. Ishan chuckled at how careless she was—the exact opposite of the sharp, meticulous MLA he saw in the Legislative Assembly. He knelt down, softly catching the corner of her pallu to keep it from the dirt, following her silently like a devotee following a goddess.

​Rudrakshi stopped near an old woman sitting by the fort wall, selling bangles and trinkets from a wooden basket.

Rudrakshi’s eyes didn't shine with the typical joy girls show for jewelry; she simply stared at the glass circles with a blank, haunting expression. She knelt down, wondering: If I buy these, to whom would I give them? I don’t wear them, and I don’t want them for my family.

​Suddenly, the old woman smiled and said, "Le lijiye Madam-ji, Bhagwan aap donon ki jodi salamat rakhen."

​Rudrakshi’s eyes snapped up in confusion. Whose jodi? Then she saw the woman looking behind her. She turned, her breath hitching as she found Ishan kneeling right beside her, his hand near her saree.

​"Hum log saath nahin hain," Rudrakshi corrected the woman sharply. The vendor apologized, not realizing she was speaking to the Prince of Rajasthan.

​Ishan smiled to himself, thinking: Aaj nahin hai toh kya hua, kabhi toh honge.

​"Vaise aapko chudiyan pasand hain toh aap le kyon nahin letin?" Ishan asked softly.

​Rudrakshi gave him a narrow, blank look as she stood up. "Mujhe nahin leni."

​"Toh phir use dekh kyon rahi thin?"

Ishan challenged gently, standing with her. "Hum usi chij ko aksar dekhte hain jo hamare dil ko bhati hain."

​"Main chudiyan nahin pehenti," she replied, her voice like stone.

​"Aur main vada karta hoon ki ek din aapko apne hathon se chudiyan pehnaunga," Ishan said. It was a whisper, but it reached her ears with the force of a lightning bolt.

​"Excuse me, what?" she questioned harshly.

​Ishan quickly corrected himself, his tone respectful. "Khareed lijiye na. Aap chudiyan pehenengi toh isse in chudiyon ka banna bhi sampurn ho jayega... in chudiyon ki khubsurti badh jayegi jab aapki kalai par aayengi."

​Rudrakshi looked like she wanted to grab his collar and throw him off the fort wall, but she controlled her fury. Before she could warn him, he held out a set of bangles.

"Koi baat nahin, meri taraf se gift rakh lijiyega."

​She tied her hands across her chest, staring straight into his eyes with fierce pride.

​"Main gifts nahin leti," she said poisonously. "Kyunki mujhe lagta hai ki gifts logon ko khareedne ke liye diye jaate hain, aur ek imandar politician ko khareedna itna aasan nahi hai, Mr. Suryavanshi."

​Ishan was left speechless. He had never met anyone who could turn a simple gift into a debate on political integrity. As she walked past him, her pallu brushed over his face, scented with the wind and her essence.

​He turned back to watch her go. "Koi baat nahin," he whispered with a smile. "Politician nahin pehenegi toh kya hua? Main meri biwi ko pehnaunga."

​He turned to the old woman to buy the bangles. "Amma, inka size kya hoga?" The woman helped him pick the right set, as Ishan tucked the gift away, a silent promise in his heart.

I’m sorry, guys. I wanted to share a long update, but for now this is all I can manage. I hope you like it.