“She is my freedom,” I say simply.
The truth of it settles deep in my bones, unquestionable. With Sitara, I am not careful. I am not calculating. I am not performing a role. I am just… myself.
“You didn’t protect me,” I continue, softer but no less firm. “You hurt the woman I love. And that is something I will never forgive.”
She nods slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. “I loved you,” she repeats, like it might still matter.
“Love does not excuse harm.” I straighten, the weight of the decision settling but not wavering.
“You will leave the palace today,” I tell her. “You will be treated with dignity on your way out, because that is whoIam. But your place here ends now.”
She looks at me one last time, eyes red, voice barely there. “She’s very lucky.”
Something twists in my chest—not pride, not possession. Certainty.
“No,” I say. “I am.”
The beautiful punishment
DHRUV
“Are you really going to carry me everywhere?”
Her voice is breathless—not from the effort, because she isn’t making any, but from the way her body stiffens in my arms, from the awareness of proximity. Sitara’s cheeks are flushed, that soft pink she gets when she’s flustered, and she refuses to meet my eyes. Instead, she studies the collar of my kurta like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the palace.
“Yes, princess,” I say, meeting her gaze deliberately when she finally looks up. “I am.”
She frowns immediately, her eyebrows drawing together in that way I’ve learned means she’s about to say something that will make my blood pressure spike. “Why?” she asks. “I’m so heavy. Besides, I feel fine now.”
My steps falter.
Then I stop completely.
The corridor is quiet, sun peeks through the large windows bathing her in golden glow, I look down at her in my arms—atthe way she’s tucked one hand awkwardly against my chest, like she doesn’t know what to do with it, at the way she’s trying very hard not to look at me. She looks so stunning.
“Three good things about yourself,” I say. Firm. Non-negotiable.
She blinks. “What?”
I lean in just enough that her breath brushes my neck, her scent—familiar now, grounding—wrapping around me. I lower my voice so only she can hear. “Say three good things about yourself, princess.”
Her eyes widen. I straighten before she can process the closeness, my arms tightening reflexively around her so she doesn’t shift. “I won’t move,” I add calmly, “if you don’t.”
Her mouth falls open. “This isn’t fair,” she exclaims. “This is basically kidnapping.”
I chuckle, unable to help myself. “I can kidnap my wife,” I say easily. “No one would suspect it.”
She rolls her eyes. “So I’m not safe.”
“Never were,” I smirk.
She exhales sharply, clearly annoyed, then mutters, “I… I like my non-existent jaw.”
The sarcasm is thick, defensive.
I shake my head, smiling genuinely. “Six good things now, princess.”
She gasps. “That’s— that’s very difficult!”
