Myra's brows furrowed as she turned to Shiv. "What do you mean, the rest of his family?"
Shiv tilted his head, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "Exactly what I said, bhabhi. Tonight, you'll meet Ranvijay's family."
Her stomach dropped. "His family?" she repeated. "But… I thought he only had Dadi Sa."
Shiv blinked at her, surprised. Then, realization dawned in his eyes. "Oh. He didn't tell you, did he?"
Myra felt a cold unease creep up her spine. She shook her head slowly.
Shiv rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking awkward. "Well, his parents and his younger sister were abroad for business. That's why they couldn't attend the wedding."
Parents. Sister.
She felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.
All this time, she had believed Ranvijay's only family was his grandmother. He had never once mentioned his parents. Never once talked about them.
She swallowed hard. "Why… why didn't he tell me?"
Shiv hesitated, then shrugged. "That's something you should ask him." His voice was softer this time, lacking its usual teasing edge.
Myra clenched her hands into fists.
Of course.
Of course, Ranvijay had hidden things from her. Just like he had hidden his plans against her stepmother. Just like he had forced her into this marriage without giving her a choice.
And now, she was about to face an entirely new set of strangers. Strangers who were supposed to be her family.
Would they accept her?
Or would they judge her, just like everyone else had?
Her heart pounded.
She had no idea what kind of people Ranvijay's parents were. If they were anything like him…
She wasn't sure she was ready to find out.
But it was too late now.
Because tonight, there was no turning back.
The royal gala was in full swing by the time Ranvijay led Myra inside. The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the grand hall, where nobles, politicians, and powerful businessmen mingled. Myra's fingers curled into the fabric of her red gown, her pulse erratic as she felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on her.
But none burned as intensely as Ranvijay's.
He kept her close, his grip firm on her waist. "Breathe," he murmured near her ear, his voice dark and commanding.
She wanted to shove him away. But her anger at him was now overshadowed by something else—nervousness.
Because tonight, she wasn't just here as his wife.
She was about to meet his family. She was about to meet the king and Queen.
A sharp voice cut through the chatter. "So, this is our new bahu?"
Myra turned sharply, her breath catching as she came face-to-face with a woman in a dark green designer saree, her face strikingly similar to Ranvijay's.
Her mother-in-law.
Ranvijay's mother, Rajeshwari Singh, stood with a straight posture, her gaze scrutinizing Myra from head to toe. She wasn't openly hostile, but there was something about her sharp stare that made Myra's stomach twist.
Beside her stood a tall man, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back—Ranvijay's father. His expression was unreadable, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored suit.
And then, there was the last member of the family.
A girl.
She looked no older than nineteen, with long, wavy black hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes. Unlike her parents, she didn't hesitate.
"Bhabhi!" she gasped, pushing past her father and mother and practically throwing herself into Myra's arms.
Myra stiffened, caught off guard as the girl clung to her.
"I can't believe bhai finally got married! And to someone so pretty!" The girl pulled back, grinning. "I'm Anika. Ranvijay's younger sister. And trust me, I'm nothing like him."
Myra blinked, momentarily stunned.
Before she could respond, Rajeshwari spoke again. "Pretty, yes. But we'll see if she can handle being a Singh."
The coldness in her words wasn't lost on Myra.
Ranvijay's grip on Myra's waist tightened, a silent warning. "She is my wife, Ma. That's all that matters."
His mother's gaze flickered between them, something unreadable passing through her eyes.
Then she smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course. Welcome to the family, Myra."
Myra forced herself to nod. "Thank you, ma'am."
Rajeshwari's lips thinned. "It's Maa, dear. If you're truly my son's wife, you'll call me that."
Myra's throat tightened.
She had just met them, and she already knew—this family wasn't going to be easy.
Just when Myra thought she was walking into a cold, unwelcoming family, Rajeshwari's expression softened.
"Oh, but look at you," she said, stepping closer. Before Myra could react, she cupped her face gently, her touch warm and unexpectedly motherly. "You're nothing like my stubborn son. You're… an angel."
Myra's lips parted slightly, caught off guard.
Rajeshwari smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Myra's ear. "How did he manage to marry someone so soft and delicate? I thought he would bring home a warrior, just as fierce as him." She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Instead, he married a delicate flower. What a contrast."
Anika giggled. "Right, Maa? Bhai is all storm and destruction, and Bhabhi is a soft drizzle."
Ranvijay rolled his eyes. "Enough."
But Rajeshwari ignored him, her attention completely on Myra. "You must have been terrified of him." She gave Ranvijay a side glance. "My son can be… overwhelming."
Myra hesitated, unsure how to respond. Because yes, she was terrified of him, but she wouldn't admit that out loud.
Instead, she forced a small smile. "He's… different."
Rajeshwari chuckled. "That's a kind way of putting it." Then, to Myra's complete shock, she pulled her into a warm embrace.
The scent of jasmine and sandalwood surrounded her, a mother's warmth—something Myra had craved for so long. Her throat tightened, unfamiliar emotions swirling inside her.
Rajeshwari's voice was softer now. "You're my daughter now, Myra. And no matter what, you'll always have a place in this family."
Myra's heart clenched.
She had never known a mother's love after losing her own. And now, even in this complicated marriage, she had gained something unexpected.
Ranvijay, standing beside them, watched the scene with an unreadable expression.
But deep inside, his chest swelled with something dangerous.
Possessiveness.
His mother had accepted Myra. And that only meant one thing—
She wasn't leaving him.
Not now.
Not ever.