That’s what they think of me. That’s what I am to them. A mistake. A deception. Something that was slipped into their hands in place of something better.
My throat burns, and I hug myself, trying to hold the pieces of me together.
I know. I know I was never supposed to be here. I was never the daughter paraded at gatherings, never the princess introduced with pride. I was always hidden, always reminded of what I wasn’t. Illegitimate. Unwanted. A shadow living in the corners while Koyal shined in the light.
But hearing it like this, in his voice… it cuts deeper than anything my family ever said.
They played you.
Wrong princess.
And his response—calm, dismissive. As though I were not even worth the effort of surprise.
My vision blurs. I push my glasses up with trembling fingers, blinking furiously. I shouldn’t cry here. Not where anyone could see. Not where someone could walk out and catch me pressed against the wall like some desperate, eavesdropping fool.
I turn quickly, my dupatta swishing as I walk away, each step heavier than the last.
Why did I come here in the first place? To smile at him? To wish him a good day? To cling to something as small as the memory of his lips on my forehead?
How foolish of me.
Inside my chest, something cracks quietly, the way glass does when it’s about to shatter.
He doesn’t want me. He never did. He just… accepted me. Because it was convenient. Because it was expected.
I quicken my steps, almost running now, until I’m back in the safety of our chambers. The door closes behind me with a soft click, and I lean against it, clutching the fabric of my saree in tight fists.
The image of him—smiling, tender, calling me family, telling me I belonged—clashes violently with the words I just heard. Which one is real? Which one is Vihaan?
The one who presses a kiss to my forehead and makes me believe, for a fleeting second, that I matter? Or the one who shrugs and accepts that he was played, saddled with the wrong princess?
Maybe both are true. Maybe neither.
I sink onto the bed, curling into myself, my chest aching. I want to believe him. I want to believe that his kindness is real, that his words to me are not just politeness or duty. But doubt creeps in like a shadow, wrapping around me, whispering that I should know better.
After all, who would choose me when they could have had someone else?
I close my eyes tightly, biting back the sting of tears.
The spot on my forehead still feels warm. And I hate myself for wanting to hold onto it, even when everything else feels like it’s slipping away.
CHAPTER 20
The Only Right I’ve Ever Known
VIHAAN
They called her the wrong princess.
The words from the council meeting still echo in my head, sharp and cold, like a blade dragged across stone. I can see their faces even now—smug, certain, whispering of deception as though they had uncovered some scandal worth savoring.
But here’s the truth no one asked me for: she’s the only right I think I’ve ever felt in my life.
Poorvi.
Even her name feels like a prayer I wasn’t meant to say aloud, like something I was handed by mistake and yet can’t let go of. When I touched my lips to her forehead this morning, I didn’t think. I just acted. It felt natural, inevitable, as though my body already knew what my heart has been trying to deny—that she belongs with me. That I belong to her.
So why am I standing here now, rooted to the ground, watching her from across the courtyard, talking to Ranbir ofall people, with something tightening in my chest so hard it’s almost unbearable?
