I hum, lifting the cup to my lips. Of course she did. The whole country did.
“I also heard,” she continues, her eyes flicking to mine, “that she’s an illegitimate princess?”
The words sting not because I care, but even I am tired of the label they have given to her. Still, I nod once, controlled. “I brought her here for you to meet her,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended. I take a sip of tea before adding, “Please be kind to her. She… she means a lot to me.”
Her eyes soften, and a laugh escapes her—not mocking, but sad, tired. “I’ve learnt my lesson, Vihaan. You don’t have to worry.” She inhales deeply, her gaze drifting to the window as though something far away tugs at her. “I miss my children.”
The words land heavy between us.
“How is Devraj and…?” she asks suddenly, then pauses, as if the rest of the question is too fragile to voice. She sips her tea instead.
“They are both fine,” I answer, careful. “Doing good, actually.”
Her hand trembles faintly as she sets down her cup. “How’s Sitara? And Veeraj? Veeraj visited me two months ago.”
I nod slowly. “I know.”
“He told me you seem to like the girl,” she adds.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “She’s my wife, Maa-sa. Is it surprising that I like her?”
“No,” she admits softly. Then, her eyes sharpen with an old fire. “What is surprising is you not doing anything about how the Sisodiyas played you.”
Her words hang in the air, daring me to respond.
I hum, leaning back, letting the corner of my mouth lift. “That is surprising to me, too,” I say with a short laugh. “Because I am glad I got played.”
Her brows rise, but before she can ask, I look down at my tea, swirling the amber liquid slowly. “She’s wonderful, Maa-sa. Poorvi.”
I glance at her and continue before doubt can choke me. “She is kind. Too kind, sometimes. She thinks of herself as a burden… as someone who is lower than everyone else. But she isn’t. She’s strong in ways she doesn’t even see. Bold, even when she’s trembling. She is beautiful—in and out. And even in silence… I find comfort with her.”
The words come easier the more I speak. My chest loosens, my shoulders drop.
“It’s rare for me,” I confess, lowering my voice. “I have always run around since I was a child—always chasing something, proving something, fighting something. But with her… I want to stop. To sit beside her. To relax. To spend time with her. She’s starting to…” I pause, the word heavy, raw. “…become important to me.”
When I finally look up, Maa-sa is smiling. Not the polite smiles she wore at court, not the guarded ones I grew used to—but a real smile, warm and soft.
“You look happy,” she says simply. “It makes me happy.”
I swallow hard, something burning in my chest. I smile back. “I’m glad.”
Her gaze drops to her lap, her fingers twisting together. “I wish I was different with Devraj,” she whispers. “I must have been out of my mind.”
“You were, Maa,” I reply, rising to my feet. I don’t soften the truth, because I know she wouldn’t want me to. “Apologize tohim. Maybe then… maybe he’ll let you back in. He has always craved your love. So has Sitara. Give them that. They deserve it.”
Her eyes glisten, but she nods. Slowly, like each movement carries years of regret.
I place my cup back on the table and straighten. “I’ll go bring her to you now.”
Her smile wavers, fragile but hopeful. “Yes. Bring her.”
As I walk back through the hallways, I feel the shift inside me. This house carries echoes of a boy who never felt settled, who never stopped running, running from what? He didn’t know. But somewhere upstairs, in a room that smells faintly of lavender and vanilla, is the woman who makes me want to stop.
CHAPTER 25
In Her Presence
POORVI
