She gasps. “You did not just—”
“I did.”
Her jaw tightens. “You’re enjoying this.”
I don’t deny it. She makes a frustrated sound and turns on her heel, clearly intending to walk away. I react without thinking. My hand wraps gently but firmly around her wrist. She freezes. The moment stretches—too long, too quiet. “Be angry with me, Sitara,” I say, my voice low now, stripped of teasing. “Get mad. Yell if you want. But don’t ever walk away from me.”
She turns slowly, eyes wide—not with fear, but surprise. Something vulnerable flickers there. I release her wrist immediately, like I’ve crossed a line I hadn’t seen coming.
She looks at me for a long second, then sighs. “You’re dramatic.”
I exhale, some tension easing. “Occupational hazard.”
I hand her the book this time, no games.
She takes it, clutching it to her chest. “Thank you.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a daisy. Her brows knit. “Is this another flower lesson?”
“Yes.”
She groans. “Of course it is.”
“I couldn’t give it to you after breakfast.” She smiles at me. “Cheerfulness,” I say simply. “And simplicity.”
She looks at it, then at me. “You carry flowers around now?”
“For you,” I correct.
She rolls her eyes but takes it, a blush creeping up her cheeks despite her best efforts. “Thank you,” she mutters.
“Short or tall,” I add, before I can stop myself, “I like you the way you are, Sitara.”
The words hang between us, heavier than I intended. Her breath catches. Just a little. I immediately clear my throat. “There’s a charity event tomorrow.”
Smooth, Dhruv. Very smooth.
She blinks. “Oh.”
“I was wondering,” I continue quickly, “if you’d like to accompany me. Only if you want to. I’d be grateful.”
She studies me, then suddenly—laughs. A real laugh. Light. Unrestrained. The one I have realized lights up my days and always manages to ease the tightness in my chest. “I’m supposed to be your wife,” she says, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Isn’t it part of my duties to be with you wherever you go?”
I frown slightly. “I don’t want you anywhere you don’t want to be.”
Her smile softens then she adds softly, “I would like to go with you, Dhruv.”
Something warm settles in my chest. “Alright,” I say quietly.
And for the first time all day, the palace feels a little less heavy.
The dress that didn’t fit
SITARA
Getting ready should feel exciting.
It should feel like anticipation humming under my skin, like the soft thrill of stepping into something new, something beautiful, something that belongs to me now. That’s what these moments are supposed to be about—mirrors and lights and the quiet chaos of choosing earrings, the nervous smile before stepping out beside your husband.
Instead, my chest feels tight.
