Page 131 of Rudra Nandani: The Saga of Control And Seduction

Ranvijay and Agastya both saw the treaty from a political perspective and agreed that it was necessary for the people.

Guruji said the same, reminding me of a king’s true duty. He said that a king is a servant to his people. A king exists for the people, not the other way around. That every decision I make should be for their good, not for my interests.

That meant establishing a peace treaty, even if it meant letting go of my revenge.

But beyond all of that, my heart kept circling back to Nandani. Ihad given her every reason to walk away from me, yet she stayed by my side, against everything. She risked everything for me… for us.

Seeing how much she believed in our relationship, the mere thought of hurting her twisted my heart.

For her, I was willing to let go of my revenge. What use was the fruit of revenge if I couldn’t share it with her? What joy was there in victory if she wasn’t there to hold my hand?

And deep down, I knew that if she ever decided to leave, she wouldn’t look back, not even if I died. I knew her that well.

I came out of the bathroom. Her chamber was filled with her scent.

Honestly, her chamber had always felt like heaven to me. She didn’t know it, but whenever I missed her too much, I used to sneak in here just to breathe her in—on the bed, the couch, even in the bathroom.

I couldn’t explain it, but her scent was like a drug. I couldn’t go a single day without inhaling it. During those two years, I stayed away from her—just to test if I could live without her—I’d still find myself here, again and again.

Smelling her dupatta, her pillows, her towel… every corner of this room felt sacred. Every piece of her was precious to me.

After bathing, I grabbed her towel and pressed it to my face before drying myself. Wearing my lower and holding my kurta, I stepped into the bedroom.

And my eyes fell on her, standing by the window, gazing down.

“What happened?” I asked. She startled at my voice, shivering slightly before turning to face me. Her eyes closed in a brief moment of relief as she exhaled.

“I thought you left,” she said quietly, and I chuckled.

“Aise kaise. Apni patni ke haath ka swaadisht bhojan chhodkar bhala hum kyu jaayenge,”(Why would I leave without having the delicious food cooked by my wife?) I said and sat down on the couch in front of the table.“Join me.” I gestured to her.

Inhaling deeply, she walked over and sat beside me. The rich aroma of spices filled the room, making my mouth water.

“It already smells amazing,” I said, smiling.

She gave a nervous smile.“I’m really nervous. You know, my mother caught me in the kitchen.”

I raised a brow, intrigued.“Then what happened?”

She looked at me with widened eyes and voiced animatedly,“She almost caught me lying. I told her I was cooking because I wanted to eat Gatta Curry. And she immediately said,‘But you don’t like Gatta Curry!’I was so scared. Then I tried to cover it up and said my taste has changed. But she wasn’t buying it and star—” Before she could finish, I shut her up by feeding her a big bite.

She gasped, narrowing her brows, then reluctantly began chewing. Just as she swallowed and opened her mouth again,“Rudra, I don’t li—”

I fed her another bite, and she stared at me, half annoyed, half surprised, and chewed faster, determined to finish before I could silence her again.

I kept feeding her, bite after bite, until she gave up trying to finish the story.

“Aap bhi to khaaiye,”(You also eat,) she suggested, while eating.

I nodded and said,“Let my little wife get some energy first.” She smiled softly and rested her head on my shoulder, calm and content.

I kept feeding her and started eating, too—one bite for her, one for me. We ate in silence, and honestly, I loved every moment of it. The food was delicious, rich in flavour, and full of love.

“Should I tell you something?” I asked.

She looked at me and nodded.“Ji?”

I smiled and took the last bite, finishing everything she had cooked.“You cook just like my mother,” I said gently.“The last time I ate something like this… was when my mother made it for me,”

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