The Rasuild Dynasty : Love and Sin Beneath Royal Sovereignty

Rathore Mansion

Rathore Mansion gleamed under the soft glow of countless lights, each one twinkling like a star against the deepening evening sky. The grand estate, nestled amidst vast gardens, was adorned with an array of vibrant flowers—roses, marigolds, and jasmine—carefully woven into intricate patterns along the walls and pillars.

The air was thick with the sweet scent of these blossoms, mingling with the aroma of rich incense that wafted through the corridors. The mansion, an epitome of Rajput grandeur, stood as a testament to the family’s royal lineage, its ancient walls echoing with stories of bravery and honor.

Today, the mansion was more alive than ever, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. It was a special day—the 75th birthday of Pratap Singh Rathore, the esteemed patriarch of the Rathore family. The occasion called for nothing less than a grand celebration, and the entire household had been working tirelessly to ensure that everything was perfect.

Anjali, the second daughter-in-law of the Rathore family, moved gracefully through the mansion, her presence as commanding as the heavy saree and elaborate jewelry she wore. The saree, a rich shade of red, was adorned with golden threadwork, and the jewelry—heavy with tradition and significance—jingled softly with each step she took.

Despite the weight of her attire, Anjali carried herself with ease, her eyes dartingher eyes darting around to ensure that every detail of the preparations was in place. She paused occasionally to adjust a floral garland or give instructions to the house staff, her voice warm yet firm, embodying the role she played so well within the family.

“Maa, see, all the preparations are under control,”

Anjali called out as she approached Amrita Rathore, her mother-in-law, who was overseeing the final touches in the main hall. Anjali’s voice carried a mix of excitement and nervous energy, her usual cheerfulness tempered by the desire to make everything perfect. She continued,

“But please, can you check it once? What if something is missing?”

Amrita Rathore, a woman of quiet strength and grace, looked up from her task, her eyes softening as they met Anjali’s. Dressed in a deep maroon saree, Amrita exuded the calm authority that came from years of managing the Rathore household. Her silver bangles clinked softly as she rested a reassuring hand on Anjali’s shoulder.

“You’ve done wonderfully, Anjali,” she said with a gentle smile. “But yes, I’ll take one last look. It’s a big day, after all.”

Anjali nodded, a small sigh of relief escaping her lips. She was the epitome of the ideal daughter-in-law—sweet, kind, and always putting the family’s needs above her own. But beneath her cheerful demeanor, there lingered a quiet longing, a dream she had tucked away the day she married into the Rathore family.

Despite this, she considered herself fortunate. Her husband, Ranvijay Singh Rathore, loved her deeply, and his affection made the burden of her sacrifice easier to bear. He was her partner in every sense, understanding her silent wishes even when she did not voice them. The love between them was evident in the little gestures—a shared glance, a smile, a hand gently squeezing hers in reassurance.

And her mother-in-law, Amrita, had welcomed her into the family with open arms, treating her with kindness and respect.

Yet, as Anjali watched the final preparations come together, a flicker of longing passed through her. She loved her family, cherished her place within it, but she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a life outside these walls, to pursue her passion. But in the Rathore household, duty came first, and Anjali had learned to find happiness in the love and warmth of her family.

---

The family gathered around the long dining table, the room filled with the rich aroma of traditional Rajasthani dishes. Everyone was enjoying the meal, voices mingling with the clinking of cutlery and the occasional laughter. Anjali, as usual, was quietly serving everyone, making sure that each plate was full and every need was met. She had just placed a bowl of dal in front of Bua when the older woman glanced at her with a sharp look.

“Anjali, you’re always so busy with these household chores,” Bua said, her voice laced with a subtle taunt. “But tell me, when are you going to do something useful with that education of yours? Or has it already gone to waste?”

Anjali froze for a moment, her smile faltering. She lowered her eyes, choosing to remain silent, not wanting to cause any disturbance during the meal. Her heart ached at the jab, but she knew better than to respond.

Before anyone else could react, Ranvijay, who had been sitting quietly beside her, looked up, his expression hardening.

“Bua sa,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “Anjali is doing more than enough for this family. If you really think about it, she’s the one who keeps everything running smoothly here. Her education isn’t wasted, it’s what makes her so capable. And for the record, we’re all proud of her.”

The table fell silent, the tension palpable. The younger members of the family, who had been whispering and chuckling amongst themselves, couldn’t help but let out a few laughs at Ranvijay’s sharp retort. But their amusement was short-lived; a single stern glare from Dadi silenced them immediately.

Dadi then turned her attention to Amrita, her voice gentle yet commanding as she asked,“Amrita, will Yudhveer be attending tonight’s party?”

Amrita looked slightly hesitant as she replied,

“Maa sa, he didn’t say anything. I really don’t have any idea whether he will come or not.”

Dadi sighed, a hint of frustration in her eyes. “His behavior is becoming more and more distant, she murmured, her concern evident.

Dadaji, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally spoke up. “Don’t worry,” he said with a reassuring smile.

The tension eased slightly with Dadaji’s words, but Anjali’s mood remained somber. The sting of Bua’s taunt lingered, dulling her usual cheerfulness. Once the meal was over, she began clearing the table with the help of the butlers, her movements quiet and methodical. The others moved to the living room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. After finishing her task, Anjali retreated to the kitchen, seeking a moment of solitude to gather herself

Anjali sighed softly as she placed the last dish in the sink, lost in thought. Suddenly, she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back against a familiar, warm chest.

She smiled to herself, knowing exactly who it was.

“Ranvijay ” she murmured, half in protest,"chodiye,koi ajayega"

toh ane do

Ranvijay whispered teasingly into her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

“Main konsa dusre ki biwi ke sath hun.”

Anjali tried to keep a straight face as she picked up a knife, holding it up in front of him with mock seriousness.

“Knife dekh rahe hai mere haath? Sidha uske arpar.”

Ranvijay chuckled, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

“Arre baba, us bichari ko kyun la rahi ho bech me?”

he teased, his voice filled with laughter.

Anjali turned slightly in his arms, giving him a mock glare.

“Shayad aapko aaj guest room mein raat bitani hai?”

she replied, pretending to be serious but with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Ranvijay quickly put on a pleading face, his tone dramatically repentant.

“No baba, sorry! Tum hi Devi ho, tum hi meri param patni. Please mujhe bahar mat bhejna, I can't sleep without you.”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, aap sote bhi hai?”

she asked, her tone suggestive, adding a bit of spice to their playful exchange.

He grinned, leaning closer to her ear.

“Haan, sota hun… tumhe behosh karke,”

he whispered, his voice husky, sending shivers down her spine.

Just as the moment heated up, they were abruptly interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Startled, they turned to see younger siblings—Rohan,sahil, and Aditi—standing there with mischievous grins.

Rohan was holding his phone up, clearly recording the whole exchange.

Anjali’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, her embarrassment only heightened by the teasing look in her husband’s eyes.

Ranvijay, however, was far from embarrassed. He smirked and said,

“Tumlog hamesha romantic mood kharab kar dete ho.”

Rohan laughed, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Toh bhai, bade Papa ne aapko room diya hai na? Waha jaye, kitchen uncomfortable nahi hoga.”

Meanwhile, sahil, always the cheeky one, quickly covered Aditi’s ears, playfully saying, “Chal, Aditi, tumhe yeh sab nahi sunna chahiye. Bhaiya-Bhabhi ke yeh dirty talks se dur raho.”

Aditi rolled her eyes, pulling her brother’s hands away.

“Arre, sahil bhaiya, I’m not a kid! But you guys are impossible,”

she laughed, though a slight blush crept onto her cheeks as well.

Ranvijay, not missing a beat, tightened his arms around Anjali, pulling her even closer.

Actually hame new New places try karte rahna chahiye So kitchen is good enough right biwi..

Ranvijay felt the heat of his wife's fiery glare, her eyes promising payback later. He quickly threw up his hands in surrender, shooting her a sheepish smile.

“Tum sab log kuch seekho apni bhabhi se—kitni shant, kitni susheel, aur kitni… pyaari hai,”

he said, his voice dropping to a loving whisper on the last words, making Anjali’s heart skip a beat.

Rohan groaned playfully. “Bhai, bas karo yaar! We get it, you’re madly in love with Bhabhi. But please, spare us the PDA!”

Anjali, still glaring, finally managed to slip out of Ranvijay’s arms, playfully swatting at him.

“Tum sab bas chale jao yahan se. Kitchen ka kaam abhi khatam nahi hua.”

Ranvijay sighed dramatically, letting go but not before planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Fine, fine. But remember, raat ko tumhe mana lunga,”

he said with a wink, making Anjali blush even harder as he turned to leave with his siblings.

As they exited, Anjali shook her head, her heart fluttering with the mix of embarrassment and affection. The teasing, the playful banter, and the deep love Ranvijay had for her—these were the moments she cherished the most, even if they left her cheeks burning red.

Nandini approached Amrita in the hallway, her voice low but laced with concern.

"Jiji, aaj Baba sa Yudhveer se baat karne wale hai."

Amrita sighed, her worry evident in her tone.

"Haa pata hai Nandini wahi baat ka toh dar hai bas aaj party me koi tamasha na hojaye"

Nandini placed a reassuring hand on Amrita's arm.

"Don't worry, Jiji. Baba sa knows how to handle Yudhveer. So rest assured."

Amrita nodded, though the unease in her eyes remained.

"Hmm, I know... still," she began, but before she could continue, Chandra(bua) who had been passing by, overheard their conversation and couldn’t resist adding her own opinion.

“Aap log hamesha Yudhveer ki chinta karti rehti ho,” Chandra said with a taunting tone.

“Kabhi socha hai ke vo kyun aisa hai? Shayad ghar ki hawa hi aisi hai.”

Nandini, never one to back down, immediately responded, her voice sharp.

“Chandra didi, aap toh jaanti hai na, Yudhveer ne bachpan se hi kitna kuch dekha hai. Aur ghar ki hawa se zyada insaan ke apne irade zaroori hote hai.”

Amrita quickly intervened, placing a calming hand on Nandini's shoulder.

"Nandini, bas. Aaj ke din koi drama nahi. Please, let’s focus on making sure the party goes smoothly."

Nandini bit back any further words, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Chandra, sensing the tension but satisfied with her little dig, walked away with a smirk.

The atmosphere between the women remained thick with unspoken words, but for the sake of the celebration, they all silently agreed to let it pass—for now.

The grand staircase of the Rathore Mansion spiraled down like a cascade of white marble, flanked by intricately carved wooden railings that gleamed in the soft light of the crystal chandeliers above. Ishani descended the stairs, her presence commanding attention despite her usual efforts to remain unnoticed.

Ishani was dressed in a stunning saree of deep emerald green, the fabric shimmering with subtle gold embroidery that caught the light with every step she took.The blouse she wore with it was a full-sleeved masterpiece, crafted from the finest silk. The sleeves hugged her arms closely, ending in delicate golden cuffs that matched the intricate designs woven into the saree. The blouse was modest yet highlighted her slender figure, and the high neckline was adorned with a string of small pearls, adding an extra touch of grace to her ensemble.

Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, with a few soft tendrils left to frame her delicate face.

A pair of gold jhumkas dangled from her ears, swaying gently as she moved, and her forehead was adorned with a small bindi, a subtle touch that enhanced her natural beauty. Ishani’s lips, painted a soft rose, curved into a gentle smile as she made her way down, her heart beating a little faster with each step.

The atmosphere in the mansion was abuzz with excitement, and Ishani could feel it in the air. Today was a day of celebration, and although she was still recovering from a mild illness that had kept her confined to her room for most of the day, she had made an effort to join the festivities. Her smile, though sweet and genuine, concealed a mix of nervousness and exhaustion that only she could truly understand.

As Ishani reached the bottom of the staircase, her eyes met those of Chandra, her mother-in-law, who was standing nearby, pretending to admire the decorations. Chandra’s gaze immediately narrowed as she spotted Ishani, her expression shifting to one of thinly veiled disdain. Though she was quick to mask her true feelings, Chandra had never accepted Ishani, who hailed from a humble, not-so-famous family.

In Chandra's eyes, Ishani’s background was a blemish on the otherwise illustrious Rajput lineage. She never missed an opportunity to remind Ishani of her supposed inferiority, though she was careful to maintain an image of a kind and caring mother-in-law in front of others.

As Ishani approached, Chandra's lips curled into a smile—a smile that never reached her eyes.

"Ishani, beti, look at you," she cooed, loud enough for Anjali, who was passing by, to hear.

"You look so beautiful today! This saree really suits you, doesn’t it, Anjali?"

Anjali, always quick to offer a kind word, smiled warmly at Ishani. "Absolutely, Bua sa. Ishani looks stunning. The green really brings out her eyes."

Ishani’s smile wavered slightly, sensing the hidden edge in Chandra’s words.

She knew this was just another one of her mother-in-law’s ploys to elevate Anjali while subtly undermining her. Ishani had long grown accustomed to the dual nature of Chandra's behavior—praise laced with poison.

As soon as Anjali moved on to continue her work, Chandra’s grip on Ishani’s arm tightened, her nails digging into the soft flesh beneath the delicate fabric of the saree.

Ishani winced, though she tried to hide her discomfort. Chandra leaned in, her voice low and sharp, dripping with contempt.

"Where the hell have you been all day, Ishani?" she hissed, her pleasant facade dropping away.

"Don’t you know how important today is? Look at Anjali—she’s been working since morning, making sure everything is perfect. And you? You’ve been lazing around, resting as if you have nothing better to do!"

Ishani felt her heart sink at the harshness of Chandra’s words, the earlier nervousness she had managed to keep at bay now crashing over her like a wave. She had been unwell, and though she had tried to push through it, her body had demanded rest.

But explaining this to Chandra always felt like trying to empty the ocean with a spoon—pointless and exhausting.

"Mummy ji," Ishani began, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to steady herself, "meri tabiyat kharaab thi subah se, isliye mujhe need lag gayi..."

Chandra cut her off with a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Haan, srf soti ho tum! Dusra kya kaam hai tumhara? All you ever do is rest!

You think you’re some kind of queen, resting in your room while everyone else is working hard? Well, let me tell you something, Ishani—this isn’t your father’s house.

Here, you work, or you’ll have to face the consequences."

Ishani’s cheeks burned with a mix of shame and frustration. She knew better than to argue or defend herself; it would only make things worse. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but she blinked them back, determined not to show any weakness in front of her tormentor.

"Now," Chandra continued, her voice still laced with venom, "go and help Anjali. And don’t you dare think about resting again. If I see you slacking off, you’ll regret it."

Ishani nodded quickly, her head bowed in submission, hoping that would be the end of it. But just as Chandra was about to continue her tirade, they were interrupted by a voice from behind

"Arre Bua, aap yahan? Aapko Dadisa kabse bula rahi hai,"

Rohan called out as he approached, his tone light and cheerful, unaware of the tension that had been brewing.

Chandra’s expression shifted instantly, the harshness melting away into a mask of concern and affection. "Oh, really? I’ll go to her right away," she replied, patting Ishani’s hand as if nothing had happened.

She shot one last stern look at Ishani before turning to leave, her smile still in place as she walked towards the main hall.

As soon as Chandra was out of sight, Ishani let out a shaky breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. The relief was palpable, but it was quickly replaced by a deep sense of exhaustion. Before she could fully process the encounter, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

Turning slightly, Ishani saw Rohan standing beside her, a playful grin on his face.

"Bhabhi, relax! You look like you’ve seen a ghost,"

he teased gently.

Ishani managed a small, grateful smile, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit.

"Thank you, Rohan," she said softly. "Agar tum nahi aate toh… aur kitna sunna padhta,"

she added, her voice trailing off as she sighed in relief.

Rohan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No worries, Bhabhi. I’m always there for my cutie Bhabhi. Bua sa toh aisi hi hai, you know that. Don’t let her get to you."

Ishani nodded, feeling a little lighter at his words. Rohan’s presence was like a balm to her frayed nerves, his easygoing nature a stark contrast to the harshness she had just endured. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before stepping back.

"Chalo, let’s go help Anjali Bhabhi," Rohan said with a grin, trying to lift her spirits. "But remember, if Bua sa gives you any more trouble, just call me. I’ll come running to save you."

Ishani couldn’t help but laugh softly at his playful tone, grateful for his attempt to cheer her up. Together, they headed towards the main hall, where the preparations for the big celebration were still in full swing. Despite the lingering ache in her heart, Ishani felt a little more at ease, knowing that at least she wasn’t entirely alone in this.