Page 17 of Scars and Crowns

It changes how you stand. How quickly you smile. How tightly your shoulders stay pulled together, even when no one is threatening you anymore.

And yet . . . He looked at me for barely a heartbeat.

And he knew. All those ridiculous scenes from old films Maa and I used to watch suddenly don't seem so ridiculous anymore. I'd always laughed when the hero recognised the heroine despite a disguise, a haircut, or years apart.

Life doesn't work like that, I'd thought. Real life lets people disappear.

Apparently . . . Not always.

Stop.

I close my eyes again. Enough. You're not here for him. You've never had the luxury of being here for him. Not after that day. Especially not after two pink lines quietly rearranged the future I'd spent years planning. Everything after that had revolved around one tiny heartbeat.

Everything still does.

You're here because Sara needs food.

School fees. A roof that doesn't leak every monsoon. A childhood better than yours. Every decision you make from now on belongs to her. Only her.

I let out a slow breath. Calling Yuvaan a distraction almost feels insulting. Distractions are temporary. They come and go. What I feel for him has never been temporary. It shaped my entire adolescence. Sat quietly beneath every dream I ever built. Found its way into every version of my future without asking permission.

I've loved him for so long that I genuinely don't remember when it began. I loved him in Devgarh. I loved him in Mumbai. I loved him through hospital waiting rooms, tiny rented apartments, unpaid bills, sleepless nights, and every single moment I told myself I'd finally moved on.

Love didn't leave.

Life simply grew around it. I laugh softly. Bitterly. Who exactly am I trying to fool? He is the Maharaja of Devgarh now. Not just by title. By every expectation resting on his shoulders. By every newspaper article. Every public appearance. Every decision.

He belongs to an entire state.

And I'm . . . A kitchen maid.

A single mother.

A woman with a daughter whose world begins and ends with me.

There isn't a future where those two lives meet. Not anymore. Years ago, sitting in the palace sunroom, I'd made him a promise.

Half teasing.

Half serious.

"One day," I'd declared proudly, "I'll come back bigger, better . . . and you'll have to pretend you always knew I'd become famous."

I smile despite myself.

God.

How young we were.

I didn't come back bigger. I came back carrying burdens instead of achievements. Dreams replaced by responsibilities.

Hope replaced by survival.

And tucked quietly behind all of it . . . A truth that could destroy whatever impossible hope still refuses to die inside me.

Sara.

Just her existence would be enough. Enough to draw a line between our worlds that no amount of love could ever cross. I press the heels of my palms against my closed eyes until little bursts of colour dance behind my eyelids.