His Childish Bride

Bonus Chapter Four

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ONE WEEK LATER~

"Riti, please look at Anshi and Anvi. They are running everywhere again." Jivika says, stepping into the kitchen, her voice laced with both urgency and affection.

"Don't worry, Jivi. I have got them." Ritika replies, just as she turns off the stove after boiling milk for the kids.

"Tai, Bhaiya and Kishmish could arrive any minute. I still need to prepare the kumkum plate and check the other things. Rangoli is done, thankfully." Jivika says, opening the pantry to take out a fresh packet of turmeric powder.

Suddenly, a loud and synchronized yell echoes through the palace.

"Genie Mumma!"

"Coming, sweethearts!" Ritika calls back with a smile.

"These two are little earthquakes. God knows what they will do when they see their new sister." Jivika mutters, shaking her head in amusement.

"They will love her." Ritika says with a soft chuckle, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Yes, a little too hard maybe." Jivika sighs with a playful smile as both women step out of the kitchen.

Ritika walks toward the playroom, carrying three glasses of warm milk. Inside, her baby, her nieces Anvika and Anshika are sprawled on the floor, surrounded by toys, pillows, and crayon-scribbled papers.

Meanwhile, Jivika heads to the temple room. The fragrance of incense lingers in the air as she finds Aaradhya and Meghna already seated, preparing the aarti thali. The diya flickers gently in front of the idols.

The entire Rathore Palace glows with life and celebration. Every corner is decorated with flowers, fairy lights, and intricate designs. Nothing is left untouched. The walls echo with laughter, hushed excitement, and the sound of anklets.

Today, the newest member of the Rathore family is finally coming home.

Except for Meghna, none of the elders have met her yet. The anticipation in the air is almost childlike. Even Raghuvendra Singh Rathore, the head of the family, sits a little straighter today, waiting eagerly to hold his great-granddaughter for the first time.

At the hospital, Varenya carefully buttons up her daughter's soft cotton dress. The fabric is gentle against her baby's delicate skin. She smooths the folds and runs her fingers over the little embroidered flowers on the front.

"You look like a doll." She whispers, kissing the baby's forehead with tender warmth.

The baby girl blinks slowly, looking up at her mother with wide, curious eyes and a tiny pout. Her lips press together as she moves her fingers under her chin. She wiggles her feet, then suddenly frowns as pain prickles through her tiny legs.

"Arey, Tomato. Rona nahi hai. Bas kuch din aur. Phir jitna marzi aap utna nach sakte ho, okay?" Kiyansh says as he watches his baby sister closely. He walks to her bedside and pats her gently.

(Aww, Tomato. No crying. Just wait a few more days. Then you can dance as much as you want, okay?)

"Kiwi, are you really going to call her Tomato?" Varenya asks, trying not to laugh.

"Of course, Maa. Look at her cheeks! Just like a juicy tomato." Kiyansh beams proudly.

Just then, the pediatrician steps into the room, her presence calm and reassuring.

"Looks like the little princess is all ready to leave." She says with a kind smile.

She turns to Varenya and gives her a soft nod, signaling to speak privately.