I squeeze his hand. “Don’t,” I whisper. “Please don’t. She clearly cares about you, Dhruv. She didn’t mean to harm me.”
“But she did,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “She made you believe such awful things. I won’t take that lightly.”
I scoot closer, feeling bolder than I have any right to be. His breath hitches—I notice. That gives me courage.
“I really think you should consider her words,” I say softly. “She clearly cares a lot about you. No one else in this palace has ever said anything against me.”
He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but I place a finger on his lips.
“But if she did,” I continue gently, “she must be brave enough to want to protect you. So don’t punish her. I’m glad you have such loyal people around you.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, the tension easing just a little. His lips curve upward as he holds the finger I’d placed on his mouth.
“How are you so kind?” he asks quietly.
His eyes are so soft it almost hurts to look at him.
“Because I once needed it,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “And couldn’t find it.”
Images from my school days flicker through my mind—hallways, whispers, loneliness. I close my eyes briefly, grounding myself.
“I’m going to sleep for a while,” I say gently, pulling my hand back. “Okay?”
Not because I’m tired.
But because if he asks more questions, I’m not sure I’ll survive answering them.
He nods, understanding more than I say.
And as I lie back, eyes closing, one thought lingers stubbornly in my mind—
I don’t love him yet.
But for the first time in my life, I don’t feel afraid of the possibility that I might.
A Line That Cannot Be Crossed
DHRUV
She stands across from me, hands folded so tightly in front of her that her knuckles have gone pale.
“Maharaj,” Maya says softly, voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “If I have done something wrong, you can tell me. I have served this palace since I was a child. I would never—”
“Stop,” I command. The room is smaller than my office, meant for conversations that aren’t meant to be spectacles. There’s a single window letting in late afternoon light, dust floating lazily in the air. I didn’t want Sitara to ever know about this. She’s kind, despite everything she still wanted to protect her but I cannot let that happen. “I will be very clear,” I say, my voice even, controlled. “This conversation is not a discussion. It is not a warning. It is the end of your service in this palace.”
Her breath stutters.
For a second, the mask slips.
Then she laughs softly, disbelieving. “Maharaj… you cannot be serious.”
I meet her eyes.
“I am.”
Her composure cracks. Not fully—she’s practiced—but enough. “Because of… misunderstandings?” she asks carefully. “If Rani-sa felt uncomfortable, I would have apologized. You know how sensitive she is—”
My jaw tightens.
