"Not for the gossip," he says, his jaw tightening for just a second. "Not for the guests." His voice drops, rough and certain. "Because I can’t stand the thought of you walking out of here believing you weren’t enough."
My lips part, but no sound comes out. My heart beats so loud I can barely hear anything else.
This can’t be real. This man—the King of Ranakpur, my brother’s best friend, the calm, grumpy yet golden-hearted one who always groans when I tease him,—is saying he’ll marry me.
Bhabhi-sa’s voice cuts through my haze. “Dhruv…”
He doesn’t look at her. He’s still watching me. “You don’t have to say yes, Sitara. You can forget these words if you want. But I’m not letting you walk out of today believing you weren’t enough.”
The tears finally fall. Not big sobs, just quiet, helpless tears that I can’t stop.
I cover my mouth with my hand, shaking my head slightly, because I don’t know what to say.
My breath hitches. "Dhruv, you don’t have to—"
"I do." His eyes hold mine, steady and sure, like he’s anchoring me to the moment. "You’re my friend, Sitara. And friends don’t let friends face the world alone."
"Why would you do this?" My voice cracks, and I hate how small I sound. "You barely know me—marriage is… it’s forever."
Dhruv almost smiles, like he’s holding back something deeper. "I know you better than you think." His fingers twitch, as if he’s fighting the urge to reach for me. "I know you take your chai with too much sugar. I know you hum when you’re nervous. I know you’d rather draw than sleep, even when you’re exhausted." He pauses, his voice softening. "And I know you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for."
My throat tightens. "That’s not the same as knowing someone enough to marry them."
"No," he agrees. His voice is steady, but his fingers twitch at his sides—like he’s stopping himself from reaching for me. "But it’s enough for me."
I should refuse. I should. Because this isn’t fair to him. He’s a king. He has a kingdom, a legacy, a life that doesn’t need to be tangled up in my mess. He’s offering me his name like it’s nothing, like it won’t change everything for him too.
But then I look at his face—really look—and I see it. The same tension in his jaw that was there when Ayush’s family left. The same quiet anger in his eyes when the whispers started. He’s not just doing this for me. He’s doing it because he hates this. The pity. The judgment. The way the world treats women like we’re nothing without a man’s approval.
And maybe—that’s why I can trust him.
Because Dhruv isn’t offering me a way out. He’s offering me a way through. A way to walk out of this room with my head held high, to face the world without flinching. Not as the girl who was left, but as the girl who chose.
But is it right? To let him do this?
I think of all the times he’s been there—when I ranted about my failed dates, when I tripped and he caught me before I fell, when he listened like my words mattered. He’s never asked for anything in return. Not once.
And now, he’s giving me this.
Not out of pity. Not out of obligation. But because he sees me. The real me. The one who’s more than an ‘abandoned bride’ or a ‘king’s sister’. The one who’s just… Sitara.
I swallow hard. "You’ll regret this," I whisper.
His smile is small, but his eyes are fierce. "Then I’ll regret it."
And that—that’s the thing. He’s not pretending this is easy. He’s not lying to me. He’s choosing this, just like I have to choose now.
For the first time today, I don’t feel alone.
The Choice
DHRUV
The room feels smaller now. Too small for all the silence sitting in it.
Devraj’s footsteps echo once before fading into the corridor. Meher and Poorvi linger for a beat longer, their eyes darting between us like they don’t know if they should stay or leave. Sitara still hasn’t moved from the edge of the bed—her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed somewhere near the carpet, like she’s afraid of what’ll happen if she looks up.
“I’ll give you both a moment,” Meher says softly. She presses Sitara’s shoulder before she leaves. The door shuts quietly behind them.
