Avantika sat in the backseat of the sleek black royal car, surrounded by soft leather and the faint scent of expensive cologne. The window beside her reflected the passing streets of Delhi, tinted with the morning sun, her reflection flickering like a ghost beside it.

In the front, Abhimanyu and Abhinav were in the middle of an animated conversation, their voices rising and falling in amusement. It was a rare sight—two crown princes relaxed, laughing, in their element. But for Avantika, it was more than that.

It was the first time she saw them as brothers.

"...and then she actually told the palace chef to remake the halwa because it wasn't the exact shade of golden her grandmother used to make!" Abhinav groaned dramatically.

Abhimanyu burst out laughing. "You're joking."

"I swear on the throne," Abhinav declared, shaking his head. "Arohi is... something else."

At the mention of the name, Avantika turned her head, lips twitching. "Arohi?"

Abhinav's head turned slightly, just enough to catch her gaze in the rearview mirror. He looked sheepish. "Yeah. She's... the one."

"The one?" Avantika raised an eyebrow. "As in, arranged marriage the one? Or love-struck puppy eyes the one?"

Abhimanyu snorted, clearly enjoying this.

Abhinav cleared his throat, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "It started off as the first one. Might be becoming the second one."

Avantika leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "Tell me everything."

Abhinav groaned. "Don't encourage him, bhai."

"Too late," Abhimanyu chuckled. "She has the gossip gene."

Abhinav sighed. "Alright. Her name's Arohi Rathore. Twenty-three. Princess of Jaipur. Traditional, graceful, very composed. Wears sarees even at breakfast. Says 'pranaam' with a tilt of the head that could silence parliament."

Avantika blinked. "And you like that?"

"I do," Abhinav admitted, almost grudgingly. "She's nothing like the girls I've known. She doesn't chase the crown. She doesn't ask me about my inheritance. In fact, she scolded me last week for being two minutes late to a temple visit."

Abhimanyu laughed. "She scolded you?"

Avantika grinned. "I already like her."

"She's the complete opposite of Avantika," Abhimanyu added, glancing back at her with a soft smile. "No offence, love."

Avantika shrugged. "None taken. You're right. I haven't worn a saree in a decade and if I have to say 'pranaam' to anyone besides your mother again, I might combust."

Abhinav smirked. "That's what I mean. You're all fire and mischief. Arohi is like... calm water."

"So basically," Avantika said slowly, "she balances out your ego?"

"Exactly," Abhinav admitted. "She's steady. And... weirdly kind. Like, genuine kind. Even when I'm being difficult."

Avantika leaned back, thoughtful. "Is she okay with the whole arranged setup?"

"She was wary at first," Abhinav said, his voice more serious now. "But then we started spending time together. Our families encouraged a few meetups. And slowly, we stopped looking at it like an arrangement. It's just... happening naturally."

Avantika stared out of the window, smiling faintly. "Sounds familiar."

Abhimanyu reached for her hand across the seat, threading his fingers through hers. "Exactly what I was thinking."

Avantika squeezed his hand.

There was something beautiful in watching these royal men—who were taught diplomacy before affection, posture before vulnerability—open up like this. She could almost see the future stretching before them like an unopened scroll.

"Is she going to be at the wedding?" Avantika asked.

Abhinav nodded. "She's flying down in three days. Wants to help. She's obsessed with flower colours and wedding themes."

Avantika narrowed her eyes. "Is she one of those girls who colour codes sarees with the wedding mood board?"

"Yup," Abhinav deadpanned. "I had to listen to a thirty-minute debate on lavender versus mauve."

Abhimanyu turned to her, amused. "You two might kill each other."

Avantika laughed. "Or we'll bond over bullying Abhinav."

"I regret this conversation," Abhinav muttered.

They all laughed together, the tension that had lived in their bones over the last few weeks finally melting into something softer.

But as the car rolled to a stop outside the palace gates, Avantika's smile dimmed.

Reality loomed. And so did expectations.

The media had calmed down since the press statement Abhinav had delivered like a seasoned PR soldier, but whispers still existed. People had opinions. So many opinions.

Some thought she was just a girl playing at princess.
Some thought she'd never fit the role.
Some thought she was dragging their prince down.

She took a deep breath as the palace came into view. It was no longer just a tourist destination. It was slowly becoming her future home.

Abhimanyu squeezed her hand again. "Scared?"

She nodded. "A little."

"You'll be okay."

"I wore ripped jeans the last time I met your mother."

"You also told her her chandelier looked like a UFO."

"It did!"

He chuckled. "You'll be okay," he repeated. "You're not alone."

Avantika looked at him, her heart full. "I know."

As they stepped out of the car, Abhinav slowed beside her. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"I meant it," he said quietly. "You're stronger than you think. And if you and my idiot brother are jumping into this madness together, I've got your backs. Both of you."

Avantika smiled. "You're not that bad, Your Highness."

He winked. "Neither is Arohi. I'll prove it."

She laughed. "I look forward to it."

As they walked into the palace, flanked by guards and tradition, Avantika felt something shift inside her. This wasn't just a love story anymore. It was becoming a legacy. One filled with sarees and sarcasm, traditions and rebellion, princes and professors, ancient palaces and Instagram captions.

And deep down, she knew: if she and Abhimanyu had made it this far, they could handle what came next.

Even a princess named Arohi with a bridal mood board.