Page 102 of Scars and Crowns

Not without telling me to be strong.

He simply lets me fall apart. And somehow . . . That makes it easier to put myself back together. His lips brush lightly against my hair. "We don't have to solve everything tonight." His voice rumbles softly against my forehead. "We don't have to solve anything tonight." Another slow stroke through my hair. "We can take our time. I'm not in a hurry." A quiet laugh escapes him. "I've already waited seven years." He rests his cheek lightly against my head. "I can wait a little longer."

His arms tighten just enough for me to feel it. "As long as this time . . . " He smiles against my hair. " . . . I get to wait beside you."

I close my eyes. Breathe him in.Sandalwood. Fresh linen. Home.

The knot I've carried inside my chest for years loosens so quietly I almost don't notice it happening.

Maybe being worthy was never about becoming someone different.

Maybe . . . Just maybe . . . Being loved had never required me to become anyone other than the woman already resting safely in his arms.

RED ROSE

YUVAAN

Breakfast is already underway by the time I walk into the dining room with Anamika beside me.

Sunlight pours through the tall windows, spilling across the long dining table, catching on silver cutlery and porcelain cups. The smell of fresh parathas, cardamom chai, and butter fills the room, familiar enough now that it no longer feels like part of the palace—it feels like home.

I pull out the chair beside mine for Anamika without thinking. She smiles, quiet and almost shy, before sitting down, and I take the seat next to her. My fingers brush the back of her chair for the briefest moment as I settle in, a small, ordinary touch that somehow still feels extraordinary after everything that happened last night.

Across the table, Sara is unusually quiet. That alone is enough to make me suspicious. Normally she's talking before she's fully awake, narrating everything from the shape of her toast to whatever dream she had the night before. Today she's simply . . . watching.

Her spoon hangs halfway to her mouth while she studies both of us with narrowed eyes, her forehead scrunched in concentration. I recognise that expression. It's the same one she wears whenever she's putting together a puzzle. Or preparing to say something capable of derailing an entire room.

I exchange the briefest glance with Anamika. She notices it too. Neither of us says a word. Sara finally nods to herself, apparently satisfied with whatever conclusion she's reached. "You two look very happy." Her announcement cuts cleanly through the quiet hum of breakfast conversation. "And Mumma looks like a rose." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "Because she's so red."

Anamika has just taken a sip of water. The timing couldn't have been worse. She immediately coughs, setting the glass down so quickly it nearly tips over, one hand pressed against her chest while the other reaches blindly for her napkin.

I can't help it. A smile escapes before I can hide it. The colour already sitting in her cheeks deepens spectacularly, creeping all the way to the tips of her ears.

Across the table, Maa presses her lips together so tightly they're practically disappearing. She's trying. She really is. Unfortunately, I've known my mother long enough to recognise exactly what that expression means. She's seconds away from laughing.

"I . . . don't know what you're talking about," Anamika manages between coughs, though the sentence loses every ounce of credibility thanks to the fact that she refuses to look at anyone while saying it.

Kairav slowly lowers his spoon onto his plate. The grin spreading across his face could probably be seen from space. "Oh, no." He leans back in his chair with obvious delight. "Something definitely happened." He looks between the two of us dramatically. "I wasn't sure this morning . . . " He points at Sara. " . . . but the tiny detective has now confirmed my suspicions."

"I have eyes," Sara says matter-of-factly before taking another bite of breakfast. The certainty with which she says it sends Amish—who has apparently arrived sometime during all this—into quiet laughter at the end of the table.

"Sara . . . " Anamika's voice comes out somewhere between pleading and horrified. "We're not . . . " She gestures vaguely. " . . . that's not . . . " She gives up halfway through the sentence as if realizing why she is even explaining it to a child. Words have officially abandoned her.

Sara doesn't notice. Or perhaps she notices perfectly well and simply doesn't care. "You held hands during dinner yesterday." She begins counting on her fingers. "Then this morning you smiled at each other before saying good morning." Another finger. "And Mister smiled at absolutely nothing while giving me my flower." A third finger goes up. "And . . . " She studies me carefully. " . . . he was humming."

"I was not humming." The denial leaves my mouth automatically. Then I stop. Think back.

Walk through the garden. Pick hibiscus. Walk to breakfast . . . I may actually have been humming.

Maa finally loses the battle she'd been fighting since Sara opened her mouth. A laugh bursts out of her so suddenly she has to set her teacup down before she spills it. "Oh, you absolutely were," she says between laughs. "Terribly off-key, might I add." She wipes at the corner of one eye. "I haven't heard you hum since . . . " She pauses. " . . . I honestly can't remember."

Kairav points triumphantly at me. "See?"

He turns dramatically toward Anamika. "It's official." He winks, "Our emotionally constipated Maharaja has begun humming." He beams, "I'd say that's worthy of a state holiday." Amish snorts into his tea.

"This is a conspiracy." Anamika folds her arms, trying very hard to look offended. Unfortunately, the blush still colouring her face ruins the effect completely. "You've all planned this."

"No," Sara replies with complete seriousness. "We're just observing facts."