CHAPTER 29
A Night of Laughter and warmth
POORVI
The palace feels different tonight. Less like the intimidating labyrinth of stone and silence I have grown used to, and more like… home. A strange thought, one I quickly brush aside. Home is not a place I’ve ever claimed easily.
Still, when Sitara bursts into my chambers with a bowl of popcorn in her hands and a mischievous grin on her lips, it is difficult not to smile.
“Movie night,” she announces as though it is the grandest decree. “You, me, and Meher bhabhi-sa. No excuses.”
Meher follows behind her, quieter, gentler, carrying blankets folded over her arm. “She’s been planning this all day,” she says, amused.
I blink, surprised. “A… movie night?”
“Yes,” Sitara insists, already pulling me toward the seating cushions she’s ordered spread out in the smaller lounge of the palace. “The projector is ready, snacks are ready, and you are definitely ready because you need this.”
I laugh a little under my breath, but something warm blooms in my chest. No one has ever thought I needed something before.
We settle down, the screen flickers to life, and soon the room is filled with the glow of moving pictures. Sitara sprawls between us like a queen herself, her hair a wild halo against the cushions, while Meher sits gracefully with her legs folded to the side, passing popcorn to the both of us.
The film plays, but our laughter is louder. Sitara makes running commentary, mocking the hero’s dramatic dialogues. Meher hides her face in the blanket when the heroine cries, whispering, “Why do they always make women weep like this?”
I find myself laughing until my stomach aches, until my eyes sting from smiling. For once, my chest doesn’t feel tight.
And then—
The door creaks open.
“Are you three plotting something dangerous without me?”
The deep voice makes me jolt. Sitara squeals, immediately sitting up. “Bhai-sa!”
Devraj Bhai-sa steps in, composed as always, though a rare hint of amusement tugs at his mouth. “You cannot steal my wife and not invite me,” he says, eyes sliding to Meher, who flushes faintly but smiles.
My own lips part in surprise. I’ve never seen this side of him—the warmth beneath the reservation, the man who steps into a room not as a king, but as a husband.
Before I can gather my thoughts, another voice joins, low and far too familiar. “And I cannot let Bhai-sa have all the fun.”
My head whips around.
Vihaan.
He slips in through the half-open door, that smile—polished, yet real—playing on his lips. “I saw Bhai-sa sneaking in. Thought I’d try it too.”
My heart stumbles in my chest. The memory of those words—the wrong princess—echoes, sharp and unyielding, and yet the sight of him standing here, tall and self-assured, makes my breath catch.
Sitara grins like a cat with cream. “Now this is better! But why leave Veeraj bhai-sa out? Wait.” She fishes her phone from the cushions and dials. “He’s going to complain if we don’t call him.”
“Oh no,” Devraj mutters under his breath.
Five minutes later, the door swings open again, and Veeraj Kunwar-sa strides in, his expression thunderous. “What emergency required me to leave my peace at this hour?”
“Movie night,” Sitara declares proudly.
He stares at her. “You called me for this?”
“Yes,” she says sweetly. “Don’t be grumpy. Sit down.”
