“Define nice,” I whisper. But they’re already walking out.
The door opens wider.
And in walks Dhruv’s mother.
Rajmata Jyotika Devi carries herself like a woman born from sunlight and marble. She’s draped in a soft ivory saree, the border glinting faintly under the chandeliers. Her posture is perfect—spine straight, chin lifted, eyes sharp enough to cut through glass. There’s a quiet authority around her, not loud, not forced, just there, like gravity.
Next to her, Rajkumari Yagini is the complete opposite—bright-eyed, young, wearing a coral outfit that probably weighs less than my dupatta but somehow sparkles more. She has Dhruv’s smile, but only if it was more teasing. Mischievous, warm, and a little bit dangerous.
They stop a few feet away.
For a second, nobody speaks.
Then I realize I’m just… staring. Like an idiot.
I scramble to my feet, almost tripping on the hem of my lehenga in the process. Perfect. What a royal first impression. “Namaste, Rajmata-ji, Rajkumari-ji,” I manage, bending slightly to touch Jyotika-ji’s feet.
She accepts it with a nod, the hint of a smile flickering in her eyes. “You may sit, beta.”
Beta. Okay. That’s… comforting. I think.
I lower myself back onto the sofa, spine stiff, heart doing jumping jacks inside my chest.
Rajmata Jyotika takes the chair across from me, Yagini plops onto the couch beside me, curling one leg beneath her like we’re already friends.
“You must be tired,” Rajmata says, her tone calm, polite. “It’s been quite a day.”
Understatement of the century.
“Yes, a little,” I admit, clasping my hands together. “But I’m fine. Thank you.”
Yagini tilts her head. “You don’t look fine. You look like someone who’s memorized all her answers for an exam and still thinks she’s going to fail.”
My mouth opens, then shuts. “I—uh—what? No! I mean, yes, maybe? I don’t—oh God, I’m rambling.”
They both just watch me. Silent. Composed. Regal. Completely opposite to what I am right now.
And suddenly, I can’t stop. The words just pour out like a faucet that’s lost control.
“I swear I’m not usually this awkward. I mean, I am awkward, but not this much. I just… didn’t expect today to go this way, you know? One moment I’m about to get married to a man I’ve met four times, and the next I’m about to marry another man who happens to be your son, and a king, and—well. So, yeah. Sorry if I’m—uh—talking too much. I do that when I’m nervous. Veeraj Bhai-sa calls it verbal diarrhea but I prefer to call it self-defense through speech.”
There’s a long pause.
Oh no. Oh God, they hate me. I can feel it.
But then—Rajmata Jyotika’s lips twitch. Yagini snorts.
And within seconds, both of them are laughing. Not polite chuckles—actual laughter.
I blink. “Wait… you’re laughing?”
Yagini leans forward, eyes sparkling. “We were teasing you! You should’ve seen your face when Ma didn’t smile. You looked ready to faint.”
My jaw drops. “You—what?”
Rajmata Jyotika lifts a graceful brow, amusement softening her expression. “You fluster easily, my dear. We couldn’t resist.”
I just stare at them, utterly betrayed. “That’s… mean.”
