“Oh, I do,” I reply. “You’re dramatic, messy, occasionally infuriating—but you’re also brave, funny, and the only person who can make my serious meetings bearable just by walking in.”
Her lips tremble. “You’re just saying that.”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve spent years saying nothing. Let me say this.”
She doesn’t reply right away. Instead, she takes a small, shaky breath and whispers, “You’re going to regret this someday.”
“Maybe,” I say with a small smile. “But I’ll never regret choosing you.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then exhales like she’s been holding her breath for years.
“Okay,” she says softly.
“Okay what?”
Her eyes glisten, but there’s a spark in them now. “Okay, Your Majesty. You win.”
I grin. “I usually do.”
She rolls her eyes, muttering something about arrogant kings, and I feel that strange warmth rise again—something between relief and disbelief.
Outside, thunder rumbles faintly again, softer this time. I move toward the door, calling one of the guards to inform Devraj. When I turn back, Sitara’s still standing there, fingers brushing the edge of her veil, her eyes distant but steady.
“You sure?” I ask quietly. “Because once I tell them—”
“I’m sure,” she cuts in, voice firmer now. “Let’s do it before I change my mind.”
“Right.” I nod, fighting the smile threatening to tug at my lips. “That’s the confidence I love to hear.” I wink.
She groans. “Don’t start flirting now, Dhruv.”
I grin wider. “I’m not flirting. I’m just appreciating.”
Her laugh—soft, reluctant—follows me as I step out to find Devraj.
And for the first time in hours, I feel like maybe, just maybe, something right is coming out of all this chaos. And I amSOglad I came here.
Before the Vows
DHRUV
The corridor outside her room is silent. I stop just short of the carved archway, press my palms together, and exhale slowly. My heartbeat is steady, but my mind feels like it’s trying to catch up with what just happened.
She saidyes.
Sitara Singh Shekhawat—bride left waiting, laughter hidden behind tears—said yes to marrying me.
I should feel nervous, maybe even afraid, but instead there’s this strange calm sitting in my chest, like everything that’s happened today was always meant to lead here. Not because of duty or scandal, but because somewhere deep inside me, I’ve always known I’d choose her.
I turn down the corridor that leads to the royal lounge. My mother and sister are waiting there—I sent word that I needed to speak to them before the ceremony.
The doors open soundlessly.
My mother, Rajmata Jyotika, sits near the window, her posture as graceful as ever, fingers wrapped around a porcelain teacup. Her silver hair glows faintly under the chandelier, the same soft glow she’s carried all my life. My sister, Yagini, lounges acrossthe sofa, scrolling through her phone, half-draped in a silk dupatta that’s definitely not staying on her shoulder for more than two seconds.
They both look up the moment I walk in.
Yagini grins first. “There he is. Our walking headline.”
