Dressed sharply, posture straight, expression unreadable—but there was something different about him tonight. Something… settled.
Before anyone could say a word, Ranveer walked around the car—not toward the palace, but to the passenger side.
That alone made several brows lift.
He opened the door.
And then—
A woman stepped out.
Young. Elegant. Wearing a beautifully tailored suit that spoke of quiet confidence rather than showy glamour. She held Ranveer's hand as she stepped down, and that single gesture sent a wave of shock through the garden.
Because Ranveer never let anyone hold his hand.
Especially not a woman.
Isha's eyes widened slightly. Shivansh's posture stiffened. Meera Maa and Shree chote maa sat up straighter. Aviyansh teasing stops. Both father and grand parents stop talking
Ranveer didn't stop there.
He moved to the back seat.
Opened the door again.
This time, an older woman stepped out—mid-50s, dressed in a simple, plain saree. Her face carried dignity, calm, and years of experience. Ranveer immediately held her hand with care.
The younger woman gently held the older woman's other hand, and in that moment, it was unmistakable.
They looked like mother and daughter.
The three of them—Ranveer in the middle—walked toward the family together.
The garden had fallen completely silent now.
Even the breeze seemed to pause.
Shivansh's grandmother was the first to find her voice, though it trembled slightly.
"Ranveer…" she said slowly, eyes fixed on the two women beside him. "Who are they?"
Ranveer stopped a few steps away from everyone.
He stood tall.
Confident.
Unflinching.
And then, in a voice that carried clarity and certainty, he said—
"She is my wife."
A brief pause.
"And she is my mother-in-law."
Silence.
Pure, stunned silence.
Isha felt her breath hitch.
Shivansh's father's eyes widened. Meera Maa's hand flew to her mouth. Even Shivansh and aviyansh looked momentarily frozen. Shree chote maa hand stop mid bite.
Isha was the first to blurt out, disbelief clear in her voice.
"Wait—wife?"
Then, blinking rapidly, "Ranveer bhai sa, when did you get married?"
Ranveer didn't look away.
"Three years ago."
That was when the shock truly hit.
"Three—?"
"Years?"
"You were married for three years?"
Voices overlapped. Confusion spread like wildfire.
Shivansh's father finally spoke, his voice heavy with restrained emotion.
"Ranveer," he said, "why did you hide something so important from us?"
Ranveer's jaw tightened slightly. He didn't answer immediately.
"There were reasons," he said finally. "Things I couldn't explain back then. People I needed to protect."
He glanced briefly at the woman beside him—his wife—then back at his family.
"I didn't hide her because I didn't trust you," he continued. "I hid her because I couldn't risk losing her."
No one interrupted him.
"But now," he added quietly, "I can't hide her anymore. And I don't want to."
Shivansh's grandfather, who had been silently observing everything, spoke in a calm but firm tone.
"If you kept this from us for three years, there must be a reason," he said. "But tonight is not the time."
He gestured toward the palace doors.
"Come inside. We will talk properly tomorrow. As a family."
Ranveer nodded. "Yes, Dada sa."
Before anyone could move, Isha and aviyansh stood up, excitement bubbling in her eyes. She walked straight toward the young woman, smiling warmly.
"Hi," Isha said brightly, extending her hand. "I'm Isha. Shivansh's wife."
She laughed softly. "So I guess… I'm your devrani?"
The woman looked momentarily startled, then turned to Ranveer, who gave a small nod.
She smiled back at Isha, gentle and sincere.
"Hi," she replied. "I'm Ranveer's wife."
A pause, then softly, "Which means… I'm your jethani."
Isha's smile widened instantly.
"Then I already like you."
Isha had barely finished introducing herself when a presence appeared from behind her shoulder.
"Move aside."
Before she could react, Aviyansh gently nudged her with his elbow, peeking at the young woman with shameless curiosity.
"Let me also meet my second bhabhi-sa," he declared dramatically. Then, grinning, he added, "Well… technically, she was first and you are second, so please—move."
Isha shot him a glare. "Excuse me?"
Aviyansh ignored her entirely and stretched out his hand toward the young woman.
"Hi," he said cheerfully. "I'm Aviyansh. Your very handsome devar. You can call me Avi. Or Avy. Or—"
The woman blinked, then smiled politely, trying to keep up with him.
"I guess… then I'm your bhabhi-sa?"
Aviyansh nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! You're catching on very fast."
Isha immediately pulled Aviyansh back by the collar.
"Move aside," she said flatly. "I was talking to her."
"Why should you have all the fun?" Aviyansh protested. "Let me talk to her too."
Isha turned slowly, her smile sweet but dangerous.
"If you push me one more time," she said calmly, "I will ask Shivansh to hand over his entire responsibility to you for a whole month."
Aviyansh froze.
"…That's cheating."
Isha folded her arms. "I think it's called authority."
He opened his mouth to argue.
She raised one finger. "One more word—and you're gone."
Aviyansh immediately zipped his lips and stepped back, standing silently behind her like an obedient child.
The entire family burst into laughter.
Shivansh shook his head, amused. Ranveer smirked. Even the elders couldn't hide their smiles at Aviyansh's sudden surrender.
Isha then turned toward the older woman standing beside Ranveer. She walked forward respectfully.
"Namaste," she said softly, bending slightly to touch her feet.
The woman gently stopped her, cupping Isha's face with warmth.
"Beta," she said affectionately, "you are like my daughter. No need for all this."
Isha smiled, her eyes softening. "Still… namaste."
The woman patted her head lovingly.
And with that, laughter still echoing around them, the family slowly moved inside—together, warmer, fuller, and just a little more complete than before.
And as the family slowly began to move toward the palace, whispers trailing behind them, one thing was clear:
Tonight wasn't just about revelations.
It was the beginning of another story.
The door of their chamber closed softly behind them, shutting the world out for the night.
Isha moved first, slipping toward the washroom. She washed her face, tied her hair loosely, changed into her nightclothes—simple, comfortable, familiar. It felt grounding after a long, overwhelming day. When she returned, she settled on the bed, phone in her hands, scrolling aimlessly, her thoughts louder than the screen.
Shivansh went in next.
As always, when he came out, he was dressed in his usual white kurta—clean, calm, unmistakably him. The sight of him had a strange way of quieting her heart.
The moment Isha noticed him, she placed her phone aside and patted the empty space beside her.
"Come," she said softly.
Shivansh smiled—the kind that never reached the world but always reached her. Instead of sitting beside her, he pulled her gently toward him, lifting her onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She leaned into his chest.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a second longer than necessary.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Isha's voice broke the silence—hesitant, fragile.
"It doesn't make sense," she said quietly. "Ranveer bhai sa… married for three years. And no one knew. Not even you."
Shivansh's arms tightened around her slightly.
She lifted her head, her eyes glossy.
"Was there a reason? Or… was it because of me? Because I wasn't here? Because the family was already going through so much?"
Her voice trembled at the end, as if the thought itself scared her.
Shivansh immediately cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.
"No," he said firmly. "Never think that."
She blinked.
"If Ranveer hid something this big," he continued, softer now, "then there must be a reason—his reason. It has nothing to do with you. And when he's ready, he'll tell us himself."
Isha exhaled slowly, resting her forehead against his chest.
"…Okay."
After a pause, Shivansh tilted his head slightly, studying her face.
"Since we're talking about secrets," he said casually, "is there anything you are hiding from me?"
She looked up at him, lips twitching.
"…There is one thing."
His brows rose. "Tell me."
She straightened a little, pretending to be serious.
"I discovered something when I was in Italy."
He waited.
"I know," she said calmly, "that you are the mafia king of India."
Silence.
Then Shivansh blinked. Once. Twice.
"…How do you know that?"
Shivansh stilled.
Not because of fear.
Not because of anger.
But because the calm certainty in her voice felt… dangerous.
"You know I'm a mafia king," he said slowly. "That's what you wanted to tell me?"
Isha tilted her head, watching him the way a queen watches a battlefield she already owns.
"That's not all," she said.
His gaze sharpened. "Then what?"
She leaned back slightly, still sitting on his lap, her fingers resting lazily on his chest.
"Shivansh," she said softly, "do you know what Domina actually means?"
He frowned. "Authority. Power. Control."
She smiled.
"Ruler."
He went still again.
She continued, voice calm but heavy with truth.
"Domina Global isn't just a company. It's a cover. A system. A network."
His breath slowed.
"And when I told you I'm the director," she added, "I wasn't just talking about boardrooms."
His eyes searched her face now.
"I'm Domina," she said plainly.
"The Domina."
The silence in the room thickened.
"You mean…" His voice dropped. "Italy."
She nodded once.
"Mafia queen. Or mafia princess—whatever title you prefer."
Shivansh stared at her.
Then—slowly—his lips parted.
"…You're kidding."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Do I look like someone who jokes about this?"
He let out a sharp breath, disbelief crashing into realization.
"Wait," he said, suddenly connecting pieces. "Domina Global. Italy. Your influence. Your reach. The way things moved when you entered a room—"
"I gave you hints," she interrupted casually.
"So many hints."
He looked at her, stunned.
"I thought," she continued, grinning now, "that if Domina Global is mine… and I am Domina… you'd figure it out."
She leaned in and whispered teasingly,
"But you didn't."
She tapped his chest.
"Because you're dumb."
For a second, Shivansh said nothing.
Then he laughed.
Not a soft laugh.
Not amused.
A disbelieving, proud, almost breathless laugh.
"My wife," he murmured, shaking his head, "is the mafia queen of Italy."
He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time—and yet, like he always had.
"You dominated my office today," he said quietly. "And I thought it was business."
She smiled knowingly.
"It was instinct."
He cupped her face, eyes burning with something far deeper than shock.
"All this time," he said, voice low, "I thought I was the dangerous one."
She leaned closer, their foreheads touching.
"We are dangerous," she corrected. "Together."
His smile turned wicked.
"Wait," he said suddenly, smirking, "let me show you how dumb I am."
Her eyes widened just as his fingers moved—
And her laughter filled the room.
That was it.
Shivansh's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Oh, you're dead."
Before she could react, his fingers attacked her sides, tickling mercilessly.
"Shivansh—stop—!" she laughed, squirming, and was breathless.
"Not until you apologize."
"I won't—stop—please—!"
"Penalty," he said smoothly.
She laughed so hard her eyes watered. "Okay! Okay! Stop!"
He finally did, but only to lean in and kiss her lips—slow, soft, sealing the moment.
His lips trailed gently to her jaw, then her neck, unhurried, affectionate.
Isha rested her hands on his shoulders, breathing unevenly.
After a moment, she whispered, "I'm a little tired… can we not?"
He stopped instantly.
Shivansh pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.
"Always your choice," he said quietly. "If you don't want to, I will never touch you without your permission."
Her heart softened at that.
She smiled. "Then… let's just sleep."
He kissed her forehead once more.
"Good night, jaan."
Wrapped in his arms, safe and understood, Isha closed her eyes—knowing that whatever secrets tomorrow held, tonight belonged only to them.
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