It had been six days since Nikolai and his family left.
In those six days, Lily—Neva—barely left her room. Sometimes she would wander softly through the halls, her tiny hand always held or guided by her father, her presence quieter than usual, as if something inside her was waiting… counting.
Today was different.
Today was Patri Dekha—the first official meeting between both families after the proposal. The groom's family would visit the bride's home. It was formal, traditional, important.
Inside her room, Anika gently combed Lily's hair, slow and careful, her fingers affectionate.
"Baby, your husband's family is coming today. Are you excited?" Anika asked softly.
"Uh huh," Lily replied, her small voice relaxed as she rested her head on Anika's lap.
Anika chuckled, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
"Annie happy with Lily bhai?" Lily asked suddenly.
"Of course, my baby. Karim treats me very well… and I love him," Anika said warmly.
"And I love her too," Karim added as he walked in, dropping some boxes.
He leaned down and kissed Anika gently. They shared a soft, affectionate moment before pulling away.
Lily grinned at them.
"Baby, Mumma said you should get dressed," Karim said.
She nodded.
He left the room, smiling, a faint blush still on his face.
"Come on, love. Let's get you ready," Anika said, taking her hands.
Meanwhile, preparations were complete on the other side.
Nikolai adjusted his outfit—a crisp polo shirt, denim jeans, designer shoes, and on his wrist, a black Breguet Grande Complication Marie Antoinette watch worth millions. Everything about him was controlled, polished… but beneath that, anticipation burned.
The family gathered.
Daria stood with them as pictures were taken—Meghan, Yulian, Zhanna, Arina—all stepping into cars.
Inside one car, tension lingered.
Zhanna sat beside Salvatore, who had been trying to talk to her for days. She had ignored him… completely.
He stared out the window, silent, his expression strained.
Then she noticed it.
A ring on his finger—with her name engraved.
Her eyes shifted.
Carefully, she moved closer, adjusting the collar of his dark blue shirt. There, over his chest… over his heart…
Her name.
Her eyes widened.
"This crazy fucker…" she muttered under her breath.
He smirked slightly. "Only for amore mio… my love."
Their faces drew closer, noses almost touching.
"It's where it belongs," he said quietly.
Neither of them moved.
The air changed.
The car suddenly hit a small bump—and their lips brushed.
That was enough.
The distance broke.
He pulled her into a deep kiss, years of restraint dissolving in seconds. She melted into him, her hands gripping him tightly as if afraid he would disappear.
He pulled her onto his lap, holding her close.
When they finally parted, he looked at her, breath unsteady.
"I've been waiting for this… for a long time," he whispered.
His hand rested at her back, holding her there.
She shook her head slightly, trying to regain control. "No… we can't…"
He didn't let her move away.
"We can… and we will," he murmured against her, his voice low, familiar.
She closed her eyes for a moment, caught between resistance and memory.
Their foreheads touched, noses brushing gently.
"You are mine," he said softly. "Now… and forever."
In another car, Nikolai sat beside Taran (Massimo).
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
Taran picked it up and put it on speaker.
"What exactly do you want from him?" Taran said bluntly.
"I want Nikolai back," a female voice—Abellona—replied.
Taran scoffed. "He's happily married. Get that into your empty head. And don't you dare go near our queen… or your father will be carrying your body. Got it?"
He ended the call.
Nikolai leaned back, sighing quietly.
"Tch… nonsense," Taran muttered as they arrived.
The mansion stood grand—transformed.
Midnight blue, antique gold, and silver filled every corner. Everything was new. Everything was perfect.
As Nikolai stepped out, adjusting his watch, laughter reached him.
Her laughter.
"OI NEVA, WAIT UP!" her cousins shouted, chasing her.
Drums echoed.
Aarav whistled loudly.
And then—
She sang.
Title: Dushtu Hasi (Mischievous Smile)
Tumi jokhon amay takao churi churi
(When you secretly look at me)
Ami hashhi diye boli, "dhoro jodi pari!"
(I smile and say, "catch me if you can!")
Chokh ghuriyey kori ami na na natok
(I roll my eyes and act all dramatic)
Kintu mone mone tomai chai prottek khon
(But deep inside, I want you every moment)
Ogo shono, eto serious keno tumi?
(Hey listen, why are you so serious?)
Ami toh tomar dushtu pagli
(I'm your naughty little crazy girl)
Ekto hasho, ekto amay dhoro
(Smile a little, come catch me)
Na hole ami ure jabo shara shohor ghuro
(Or I'll fly away and roam the whole city)
She spun, clapping, laughing, her voice light and playful.
Nikolai froze.
Then slowly… he smiled.
Like a teenager.
Like a man completely undone.
They were welcomed inside.
The men sat together, discussions beginning. Gifts were presented, carried carefully by the women into Lily's room—now redesigned in burgundy and dark green.
Snacks and drinks were served.
Dates were discussed.
Plans were finalized.
Outside, Sohan, Karim, and the others arranged decorations in the garden.
Rima, with the twins, picked flowers for the wedding.
Near the lake, just beyond the mansion, Lily played—water splashing, laughter echoing.
Nikolai couldn't help himself.
He moved slightly, just to see her.
"Hmmm… someone wants to look at his wife badly," Yulian teased.
Zhanna glanced outside.
There she was—by the waterfall.
Rima helped Lily out of the water, gently drying her hair.
"Nikolai, please come here," Nihal called.
He forced himself to sit back down.
Work first.
Inside, Viktoria and Mrs. Asma discussed gifts for the bride and groom.
Everything was set.
The wedding date—next week.
Ceremonies—beginning soon.
Congratulations filled the room.
But then—
Nikolai's phone buzzed again.
A message.
Not Abellona.
Another woman.
"Hey baby… just reminding you. One month left with her… then you're mine. She's in my position—that's why she has to go. For good. Bye, love."
His expression hardened.
He typed something.
Then blocked her.
Far away in Russia, a phone beeped.
The woman read the message… then saw she was blocked.
She smirked.
"Game on, bitch."
Night fell.
The mansion quieted.
Lily slept peacefully.
Everyone slept.
Everyone except Asif.
He walked toward Rima's room and paused.
Her voice echoed from inside—angry.
"I don't care what you think! Don't call me again! And don't you dare involve my kids. Get lost!"
She threw her phone aside.
Her face flushed with anger.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Asif asked softly from the doorway, holding a pillow.
She looked at him.
"You're not in a good mood… I'll go—"
"Shut the door and come here," she said, rubbing her face.
He obeyed, closing the door behind him.
"I wanted to ask… if I can sleep beside you tonight… just once," he said, unusually shy.
She stared at him.
"Oh my… Mr. Kidnapper ji. You forced me to marry you, and now you're shy?" she teased.
He scoffed, a small smile forming. "Maybe."
"I want to cuddle," she said simply.
His eyes widened slightly.
She pulled him onto the bed.
They both laughed.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she settled against him naturally.
No tension.
No force.
Just quiet.
He rested his head against her, his breathing slowly evening out.
For the first time in a long time—
He slept peacefully.
And the mansion, under the night sky, remained calm…
Waiting.
Because the grand celebrations were about to begin.