Page 5 of Scars and Crowns

One small piece of jewellery. One evening. One goodbye.

And somehow my entire life divided itself into before and after.

"Hukum?"

I look up. Verma mistakes my silence for consideration. He's wrong. "I'm listening." He relaxes slightly.

"There are several suitable families who have already expressed interest. We aren't asking you to make a decision today. Merely . . . allow us to begin discussions."

Discussions.

Meetings.

Introductions.

Photographs.

Horoscopes.

Engagement announcements.

The entire process laid out neatly, like ticking items off a checklist. As though love is simply the final document waiting to be signed. My fingers tighten around the fountain pen in my hand. Not enough for anyone to notice. Just enough for me to feel it. I wonder—not for the first time—what any of them would say if I admitted the truth. That the problem isn't finding a woman worthy of this palace. The problem is that this palace has never felt worth sharing with anyone except one person.

Someone who left without asking me to wait. Someone I never asked to stay. Because loving her meant wanting her dreams more than I wanted my own happiness.

I made that choice. Every single day since then, I've had to live with it. And I can only hope she is happy, that she achieves everything she ever wanted.

"I'm perfectly content." My voice comes out calm. Steady. Years of practice have made sure of that. "The estate is functioning well."

"It is."

"The charitable trust exceeded its targets."

"Yes."

"The textile expansion was completed ahead of schedule."

"Correct."

"So tell me . . . " I lean back slightly, folding my hands together. "Which of those achievements would've happened differently if I wore a wedding ring?"

No one answers. Not immediately.

Rathore finally speaks. He's the oldest member of the council and one of the few people still alive who remembers my grandfather as more than a portrait. "It isn't about administration, Yuvaan." He rarely uses my name in meetings. When he does, it reminds me that he's known me since before I understood what a crown cost. "It's about you." I hold his gaze. "A man shouldn't carry every burden alone."

Something shifts painfully inside my chest.

If only it were that simple.

Loneliness has very little to do with whether another toothbrush sits beside yours. You can sleep in the largest palace in the country and still wake up feeling like every room echoes. You can spend your entire day surrounded by ministers, employees, security staff, guests, and advisors . . . and still have no one you actually want to speak to.

People assume loneliness begins when someone leaves. They're wrong. Sometimes it begins because one person existed.

"I appreciate your concern." And I do. I know none of them are trying to manipulate me. They genuinely believe they're looking after both their king and their kingdom.

But concern cannot manufacture love. My eyes drift toward the windows. Beyond them, the palace gardens stretch endlessly beneath the afternoon sun. Everything is immaculate. Every hedge trimmed. Every pathway swept. Every flower bed perfectly arranged. She would've hated it.

A memory slips in before I can stop it. Anamika running barefoot across those very lawns despite being yelled at by three gardeners at once. Laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Holding fistfuls of marigolds she'd absolutely not been allowed to pick. The palace was always trying to teach her discipline. She kept teaching the palace how to laugh instead.