But right now?
The thought alone makes bile rise in my throat.
This bastard laid his hands on my wife. My wife. And I’m supposed to stand here waiting for someone else to tell me what to do? I’m supposed to pretend like her tears weren’t staining the floor in front of me while this coward smirked and twisted the truth? When he tried to...to molest her?
No. Not happening.
Any consequence—I’ll bear it. Every ounce of fallout, every curse, every punishment from Bhai-sa or from the entire royal council, I will shoulder it all. But the sight of Poorvi kneeling on the ground, begging me to believe her, will never leave me. And if I let this go unpunished, if I stand here as though my silence is enough, then I don’t deserve her trust.
The main doors loom ahead, tall and carved, guarded by two men who stiffen the moment they see me coming. Their eyes flick from my face—contorted with fury—to Ranbir’s bloodied body in my hold. They exchange uncertain glances, their hands twitching against their spears.
“Open the door,” I order, my voice like thunder.
They hesitate.
I stop, my chest heaving, my grip tightening around Ranbir’s collar until he chokes.
“I said open it,” I roar, the sound ricocheting through the hall.
They flinch, and one of them scrambles to obey. The heavy wood creaks, sunlight pouring in from the courtyard, spilling across the polished floor. The heat hits my skin, mixing with the sweat clinging to me, but I don’t blink.
“Give me the microphone,” I demand.
The guards freeze again. “Hukum—”
“Now.”
One rushes inside, his footsteps echoing as he disappears. Moments later, he returns, a sleek microphone in his trembling hands. I snatch it from him, my breaths heavy, my pulse a war drum in my ears.
I drag Ranbir into the courtyard. The air shifts instantly. Servants pause in their chores, people near the gates stop mid-step, whispers ripple across the ground as eyes turn toward us.
I raise the microphone.
“This man,” I say, my voice booming through the speakers, carrying across the crowd. “This man is my cousin. My blood. But today, he tried to molest a girl.”
Gasps erupt. Murmurs rise like waves. Ranbir thrashes in my hold, but I slam him to the ground, my boot pressing against his chest to keep him down.
“I don’t think there’s a punishment in this world harsh enough for such filth,” I continue, every word edged with steel. “So I will leave him to you. Do as you please with him.”
Ranbir shouts, his voice hoarse, spitting curses, screaming my name. I don’t hear him. His words are nothing but buzzing flies in my ears.
“Have you lost your mind?!” a sharp, furious voice cuts through the crowd. Maasi-sa comes running, her face contorted with outrage. She pushes past the guards, her bangles clinking as she rushes toward me. “Let go of my—”
“You can leave respectfully if you want,” I cut her off, my tone colder than ice, “or stay here with your son. But hear me clearly—you are not welcome in this palace again. Don’t ever come back.”
Her mouth drops open, her words catching in her throat.
“That is not a way to talk—” she starts.
“That is not a way to treat a woman either,” I interrupt again, my voice rising, slicing through her protests. “But I suppose you were too blind to teach your own son that.”
Her face blanches, her eyes darting to Ranbir, who is writhing on the ground, surrounded now by the growing crowd. Their voices rise, angry, disgusted, spitting venom his way.
“Close the door,” I order the guards, my voice steady. “Call the police. Make sure he doesn’t die.”
I pause, my jaw tightening, my fists aching for another blow. Even though I want to kill him, I won’t. I don’t want Bhai-sa to be dragged into a scandal he doesn’t deserve.
The guards bow, their expressions grim as they obey. The massive doors begin to close, shutting out the chaos of the courtyard, muffling Ranbir’s shouts, Maasi-sa’s cries, the roar of the crowd.
