But how could I hide all this from her? She deserved to know. But I didn’t want to hurt her.
She cried because of me. I couldn’t bear to see her cry. I could die, but I couldn’t bear seeing her in tears.
What was the use of saving her if I made her cry?
I didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to see or trust me; I knew she would never do so. Everything was going well, and I didn’t understand why I told her everything.
But how could I hide it from her? How could I let her fall for a man like me? I didn’t deserve her. I mean, she was a woman who sacrificed and remained single until her husband died. The husband who cheated on her and left her alone. Still, she stayed single and didn’t let any other man see her.
And then there was I.
What the hell had I done with my life? I didn’t know what would happen. I wanted her, I loved her, and so I told her how I felt. I tried to talk to her; I needed to make her happy.
I knew I had made mistakes, and there were no excuses for them. When I could’ve been a person with greater control, I let my emotions and emptiness overwhelm me. All the while, I knew I was falling and ruining my life, but I still went ahead with it.
But I couldn’t ruin her life. I couldn’t make her feel uncomfortable or doubt her emotions or her life. I couldn’t make her fall in love with someone like me and suffer because of it.
I knew I was teasing her in the beginning. But I also felt drawn to her. I craved her attention.
I didn’t know who she was until the night she stepped into my chamber and sat silently before me. I realised she was different.
She was the one who wasn’t seeing me as a spoiled, womanising prince, but something more.
But it all went in vain, and I understood this when she brought up my visit to the brothel and my image in our kingdom. That day, I realised her mention wasn’t intentional; it all affected her.
And somewhere, she didn’t trust me. She didn’t like it. And there was no point in a relationship if she couldn’t trust me, and she wouldn’t be happy, constantly doubting me.
She didn’t need me for anything. She worked, had responsibilities, and had everything she wanted. So why would she choose to be with me? Just because of an incident—an incident no one knew about.
But I needed her. I craved her. I wanted her to hug me and tell me she understood me, that she would trust me, and that she knew I would never do this again. It hurt when she said she couldn’t do it. I knew she didn’t have to, but why couldn’t she? I was falling for her. I wanted her to be my wife and spend her life with me. I was ready to do everything for her and keep her happy. But that would be coercive if she felt nothing for me, wouldn’t it?
“Kunwar-sa,”
An attendant walked, and I wiped the tears from my face and looked at her.
She walked closer and said,“Your lunch, Kunwar-sa.”
I inhaled deeply and muttered,“I’m not hungry. Take it back.”
She blinked nervously and replied,“But what will I say if Rani-sa asks me?”
“Tell her I had lunch, simple. Now go,” I said as I watched her take back the lunch.
I felt bad.
But I couldn’t stay here like this. It was another heartbreak. I respected her decision to choose herself, and she made a good choice. I didn’t want to be selfish.
Inhaling deeply, I stood from the bed and walked to the workout room. I took off my kurta and started exercising to clear my mind.
I had to forget her, just as she would. I needed to focus on the war; it was important.
I began with push-ups, counting loudly to keep my mind on the numbers, not her.
“One,” I exclaimed as I started.
I tried to concentrate and continue counting, but my mind drifted back to her without realising it. I recalled how she cried silently and asked me to leave, and how she said she couldn’t trust me.
My body heated up, and I kept going with the push-ups. But nothing was happening. I kept thinking about her even more—the moments I spent with her, my dagger, our kisses. I knew that if I kissed her, it would be game over.
