his heart swelling with pride at how effortlessly she had shut Kartik down. But his anger didn’t subside. If anything, it only deepened.

Just as Siya disappeared from sight, Arushi entered, balancing a tray filled with steaming cups of coffee. The rich aroma of freshly brewed beans filled the air as she moved gracefully, her expression calm and composed. She carefully set the tray down on the table, making sure everything was in place before stepping back slightly.

Reyansh, who had been quietly keeping an eye on Kartik from the moment he arrived, noticed something that made his blood run hot. Kartik’s gaze, which had previously fixated on Siya, had now shifted—this time to Arushi. And the expression on his face was exactly the same.

Reyansh clenched his jaw and, without looking away, nudged Shashwat roughly. "Ye kameena hamari bahano— I mean, teri behan meri wali aur meri behan teri wali ko phir dekh raha hai," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with restrained anger.

Shashwat’s grip on his knee tightened as his eyes followed Kartik’s shameless stare. The man had no shame, no sense of decency. His gaze roamed over Arushi the same way it had lingered on Siya—as if he were evaluating her like some commodity.

Arushi, sharp and intuitive, immediately sensed that something was off. A strange discomfort settled in her gut, and she instinctively glanced around, searching for the source. The moment her eyes landed on Kartik, her stomach churned.

There it was. That unsettling gaze.

A shiver of disgust ran down her spine, making her skin crawl. But Arushi wasn’t one to create a scene unnecessarily. Instead of acknowledging his presence, she chose the smarter route. Without a word, she turned and walked away, her movements brisk and deliberate.

Shashwat and Reyansh exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions dark with anger. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

A few moments later, Kanak entered the hall, her gaze searching for her mother. She had no interest in the ongoing meeting—this gathering had nothing to do with her. She simply needed to ask a quick question, and then she would leave. But the moment she stepped inside, a strange sensation prickled at the back of her neck, as if someone were watching her.

Her steps faltered slightly. A deep frown settled on her face as an uneasy feeling crept up her spine.

And then she turned.

Her sharp eyes instantly locked onto Kartik.

He wasn’t just looking at her—he was staring. His gaze held the same unwarranted interest, the same shameless scrutiny that he had directed at Siya and Arushi earlier.

Kanak’s stomach twisted in disgust. Her blood boiled at the audacity of this man who, despite being surrounded by elders, had the nerve to behave so blatantly.

"Kya hai?" she snapped, her voice cutting through the polite conversation in the room like a blade. There was no trace of amusement, no patience in her tone. Just pure, unfiltered irritation.

Kartik, clearly not expecting such a direct reaction, blinked in surprise. For a brief second, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. His arrogant smirk vanished, replaced by a momentary flash of embarrassment. He quickly averted his gaze, pretending to look straight ahead as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

The room, which had been buzzing with soft conversations, fell into a brief, uneasy silence. The exchange had not gone unnoticed. Eyes subtly darted between Kanak and Kartik, sensing the tension that lingered in the air.

Harsh, seated close by, immediately picked up on Kanak’s irritation. His brows furrowed slightly as he turned toward her. "Kya hua, beta?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

Kanak hesitated. She could feel every pair of eyes on her, waiting for her response. She could have called Kartik out then and there, but she chose not to—at least, not in front of everyone. Instead, she forced a small, polite smile, masking the anger simmering beneath her skin.

"Nothing, Uncle," she replied shortly, her voice controlled but clipped. Without waiting for further questions, she turned on her heel and walked away. But if anyone had looked closely, they would have noticed the way her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms—a silent testament to her frustration.

Just as the tension began to settle, another presence entered the room.

Divya stepped in casually, moving toward Tara, completely unaware of the storm brewing around her. She had no idea about what had just transpired with Kanak, nor was she paying much attention to the formal meeting. She stood beside Tara, absently listening to the ongoing conversation, her focus elsewhere.

But Darsh noticed.

He had been standing nearby, not particularly engaged, until his eyes followed the direction of Kartik’s gaze.

And just like that, he stiffened.

His entire body went rigid as he watched Kartik’s eyes flicker toward Divya.

The same look.

The same disgusting, shameless look.

First Siya. Then Arushi. Then Kanak. And now Divya.

Darsh felt something snap inside him. His blood ran hot, and his jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together in barely restrained fury. A dark storm clouded his gaze as his hands curled into tight fists, his nails pressing into his skin.

Before he could think twice, his body moved on instinct.

With slow, deliberate steps, he shifted his position until he was standing directly in front of Divya, his broad frame completely blocking Kartik’s line of sight. His stance was firm, unyielding—an unmistakable warning.

Kartik, who had been indulging in his usual habit of scanning the women in the room, suddenly found his view obstructed. He blinked, startled, and looked up—only to meet Darsh’s piercing, ice-cold glare.

There was no mistaking the message in Darsh’s eyes.

Try it again, and you’ll regret it.

Kartik swallowed, feeling the weight of the unspoken threat pressing down on him. His earlier confidence wavered, and for the first time since he arrived, he looked genuinely unsettled. Quickly, he shifted his gaze away, pretending to focus on something else, anything else.

But Darsh didn’t move.

He stood his ground, unmoving, his eyes never leaving Kartik, silently daring him to make another mistake.

"Ladki ko bulaiye… kaha reh gayi?" Gayatri asked, her voice laced with impatience as she glanced around the room, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of the sofa. Her husband, Shivam, remained silent beside her, though his expression mirrored her growing restlessness. Kartik, on the other hand, sat back comfortably, his eyes scanning the room once again, as if waiting for yet another girl to enter and be subjected to his scrutiny.

"Bas aa rahi hai," Manav assured her with a polite smile, his tone calm and composed. He cast a quick glance towards the hallway, hoping Richa would arrive soon and put an end to the tension brewing in the room.

Across the seating area, Arav, who had been silently observing everything from the moment Kartik and his family had walked in, clenched his jaw. His patience had officially worn thin. His hands, which had been resting on his lap, curled into fists as he leaned towards Shashwat.

"Abhi batate hain isse," he muttered under his breath, his voice dangerously low. His dark eyes burned with barely controlled anger. "Hamare ghar ki ladkiyon ko kaisi nazar se dekh raha tha."

Shashwat, who had also noticed Kartik’s behavior, gave a sharp nod, his own irritation simmering beneath the surface. He had seen the way Kartik’s eyes had wandered shamelessly from Siya to Arushi, to Kanak, and then to Divya. And yet, the man sat there, completely unfazed, as if his actions had gone unnoticed.

But they hadn’t.

Not by Arav. Not by Shashwat. And certainly not by the elders of the family.

Harsh and Naman, who had been quietly observing from their seats, exchanged a knowing glance. Both of them had been watching Kartik carefully, their suspicions only growing with every passing minute. The way he carried himself, the way his gaze had lingered far too long on the girls of their house—it was all too obvious.

"Yeh ladka…" Harsh muttered, unable to hold back his disapproval any longer. His brows furrowed, and his normally calm expression darkened.

But before he could complete his sentence—

Clang!

A loud, sharp noise suddenly echoed through the hall, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife.

The unmistakable sound of a metal spoon striking against a plate.

It was deliberate. Attention-grabbing.

Every conversation came to an abrupt halt. The soft murmurs that had filled the room vanished in an instant.

All eyes instinctively turned towards the source of the noise.

The loud clang of the spoon hitting the plate echoed through the hall, slicing through every conversation and drawing all eyes toward Siya.

Before anyone could react, Siya dramatically raised her chin, placed a hand on her hip, and, in her loudest and most theatrical voice, declared, "Savdhan! Hoshiyar! Shree Shree 1008 Paaneshwari Maharani padhaar rahi hain!"

A stunned silence fell over the room. And then, right on cue, Arushi struck the spoon against the plate again creating a rhythmic beat that reverberated through the hall like a ceremonial drumroll.

Every head instinctively turned toward the commotion, curiosity piqued. And what they saw left them utterly speechless.

In the middle of the hall, emerging like a royal deity in a grand procession, was Richa… perched atop Darsh’s back like a queen on her throne.

But that wasn’t even the strangest part.

Her cheeks were stuffed with two oversized paans, so full that she could barely close her mouth. The red juice from the paan dribbled slightly from the corners of her lips, adding an extra layer of absurdity to her already bizarre appearance. She was chewing in exaggerated slow motion, her expression one of ultimate indulgence, as if she were an overfed ruler relishing a feast prepared solely for her wearing black goggles making juda on top of her head wearing heavy necklace and saree.

And Darsh was crawling on all fours beneath her, acting as her personal royal elephant. His arms and legs trembled slightly under the weight, his expression a mix of pain, determination, and pure resignation to whatever madness had led him to this moment.

But the spectacle didn’t end there.

To complete the grand procession, Siya stood beside them, holding a massive bowl filled with more paans, cradling it in her arms like a sacred offering. She had an air of utmost seriousness, her eyes scanning the crowd as if daring anyone to question this divine ritual.

Arushi, playing the role of an ever-dedicated temple priest, continued to tap the spoon against the plate at precise intervals, setting the rhythm for Richa’s royal entrance.

Beside them, Ritika stood tall, balancing a large silver tray stacked with even more paans, her expression completely solemn, like a dutiful attendant waiting to serve her queen’s next indulgence.

And if that wasn’t enough, Kanak and Arushi positioned on either side of Richa held large paper fans, waving them dramatically, ensuring that Maharani Paaneshwari remained comfortable throughout her grand arrival.

The entire room was frozen. For a full five minutes, not a single person moved. Not a single blink.

Every guest, every family member hell, even the staff standing at the far corners of the hall just stared, their brains struggling to process the sheer absurdity of what they were witnessing.

A choked snort came from Shashwat, his lips twitching as he tried and utterly failed to keep a straight face.

Akash, who had been holding his breath, let out a sharp exhale before biting his lip, his body trembling as he struggled to contain his laughter.

Arav and Reyansh exchanged a glance one filled with both confusion and absolute amusement before they both looked away, shoulders shaking as they desperately tried to stifle their laughter.

Across the room, Harsh, Naman, Piyush, and Gaurav sat frozen, their lips pressed together so tightly that their faces were turning red from suppressed laughter. Their shoulders quivered, and every now and then, a strangled noise escaped from one of them.

Meanwhile, Manav, Shreya, Tara, Kirti, Ishika and Aruna looked positively mortified.

Shreya closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled through her nose, as if trying to summon all the patience in the world. Tara covered her face with her dupatta, her ears burning with second-hand embarrassment. Kirti and Aruna simply exchanged helpless looks.

Kartik and his family. They sat stiffly in their seats, completely still. Their faces were frozen in an expression of pure, unfiltered disbelief.

Gayatri’s mouth hung open slightly, as if she wanted to say something but had completely lost the ability to form words.

Shivam blinked. Once. Twice. His fingers twitched against his lap, as though his brain was still buffering, struggling to process what the hell was happening in front of him.

And Kartik? His smug demeanor had vanished completely, replaced by a stunned, almost horrified expression. His eyes flickered between Rich who was still chewing her oversized paan like a royal glutton and Darsh, who was now gritting his teeth in discomfort.

This was not what he had expected when he came to meet a prospective bride.

Kartik’s father, Shivam, leaned toward his wife with a look of complete bewilderment. In a hushed, almost disbelieving tone, he whispered, "Yeh… kya ho raha hai?"

Gayatri, equally horrified by the bizarre spectacle unfolding before her eyes, shook her head, her fingers clutched tightly around her glass of water. "Mujhe nahi pata," she muttered, clearly at a loss for words. She looked around as though seeking some kind of explanation, but none was forthcoming.

Kartik himself was still gaping at the scene, completely stunned into silence. His usually confident demeanor had vanished, leaving him with nothing but an expression of utter confusion. His eyes flickered from Richa, still perched atop Darsh like a queen, to the rest of the group, who were all engaged in their bizarre performance. He couldn't process the absurdity of it.

As if things weren’t already strange enough, Richa, without missing a beat, suddenly threw her head back, her movements exaggerated and regal. In a booming voice, she declared, "Yeh paan kamaal ka hai! Shabaash, mere dasee!" Her words echoed through the hall, and she chewed the paan with slow, exaggerated motions, completely oblivious to the looks of disbelief from everyone around her.

Darsh, clearly struggling under the weight of Richa on his back, shifted uncomfortably. His face contorted in pain as he spoke, “Maharani agar aap yaha vishram karna chahti hain to mai uth sakta hun?” His voice trembled, though he tried to maintain his composure despite the discomfort.

Ritika, ever the devoted servant in this theatrical performance, immediately bent down and patted Darsh’s head with a tender expression. "Arey balak! Tum kya keh rahe ho? Tumhe toh Maharani ji ke charan ke paas rehne ka sukh mil raha hai!" Her voice was as saccharine as could be, and she spoke with such intensity that it almost felt as though Darsh had been bestowed the highest honor in the land.

Siya, never one to shy away from the absurdity of the situation, turned to Arushi, who was beside her, pretending to wipe away fake tears. "Aaj to ye dhanya ho gaye… Maharani ji ka ashirwad paake!" she said dramatically, clearly savoring every word of this chaotic scene.

Arushi nodded solemnly, her expression deadpan but her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sach! Aisi kripa toh sabko milni chahiye!"

Kanak, still fanning Richa with her paper fan, gasped dramatically and clutched her heart as though she had just witnessed the greatest tragedy of all time. "Nahi! Yeh toh paap hoga! Sab Maharani ji ki seva nahi kar sakte!" Her voice trembled with mock horror, and her hand fluttered near her chest like she was in the middle of a classical performance.

And just when it seemed like the madness couldn’t escalate any further, Richa raised her hand high into the air, pointing dramatically at Kartik across the room. Her voice boomed, "Tum!" she bellowed, with her mouth still half-full of paan, her expression one of judgment. "Kya tum mere naye rajya ke yogya ho?"

Kartik blinked, utterly lost and unsure of how to respond. "K-kya?" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to make sense of the question. His mind was swimming with confusion. Had she just asked him if he was worthy of her rajya? Was this some sort of test?

Siya stepped forward, shaking her head in mock disappointment. She wore an exaggerated look of regret, her voice dripping with faux concern. "Maharani ji, yeh toh aapke shaan ke laayak nahi lagte!" she declared, as though announcing a verdict.

Arushi, ever the ally in this absurd charade, smirked as she added, "Bilkul! Yeh toh ekdum samanya praani jaise lag rahe hain." She shrugged dramatically, giving Kartik a once-over that only added to the sting of the insult.

Divya, who had been observing the spectacle from the sidelines, couldn’t resist adding her own commentary. She leaned forward, her eyes wide with exaggerated disbelief as she muttered, “Mujhe bhi ye koi jameen pe chalta phirta keeda lag raha jiski niyat me khot hota hai.” Her words were biting, and they cut through the room like a sharp knife, furthering the ridicule that was now being heaped upon Kartik.

Ritika gasped theatrically, her hand flying to her mouth as if she had just witnessed an unthinkable act. "Kartik ji, aap rani sahiba ko prabhavit karne ke liye kya pradarshan denge?" she asked, her voice full of feigned curiosity as though genuinely expecting an answer.

Kartik, who had been standing frozen and trying to process the insanity around him, now looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His face had drained of color as he stuttered, "M-matlab?" He was genuinely panicking now, not knowing what kind of pradarshan he was supposed to be performing, or even if he could do anything to save face.

Meanwhile, Arushi, still holding the plate of paans, extended it toward Kartik in a gesture that could only be described as sacrificial. She said, "Aapko Maharani ka ashirvad lene ka sukh prapt ho raha hai to aap kuch aisa kariye jiss se Maharani khush ho jayen." Her tone was serious, but her eyes gleamed with mischief, fully aware that this was only going to escalate further.

Kartik, now utterly confused and overwhelmed, took a step back. His voice was full of trepidation as he managed to ask, "Ye… ye kya kar rahi hain aap, Richa ji?" He was looking to her for an answer, but her eyes locked with his, and he immediately felt his heart rate pick up. Her gaze was intense—piercing—like she could see straight through him.

Richa didn’t answer. She simply stared at him, the weight of her gaze hanging in the air between them. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Then, with one swift motion, Richa grinned, her eyes glinting with a mischievous gleam. Before anyone could react—SPLAT!

A large, wet, red paan missile flew through the air, hitting Kartik square in the face with a sickening splat. The entire room gasped in collective shock. Time seemed to freeze as the realization dawned on everyone—Richa had just thrown a paan at him.

Kartik stood frozen for a moment, his face now painted in a bright, red mess. His