Avantika had never been inside a palace that felt like a dream and a museum.

Until now.

Abhimanyu held her arm gently but firmly, walking with an elegance that would've been intimidating if she didn't already know the man behind the title. His steps were measured, sure, and yet his fingers stayed wrapped around hers, squeezing every now and then, as though reassuring her—this wasn't a show for the guards or the marble walls. This was them.

Her ghaghra swayed gently as she walked, the embroidered dupatta slipping off her shoulder every few steps. Abhimanyu would fix it casually, like a habit he never wanted to lose. She looked up at him, rolling her eyes affectionately. "You know I'm capable of fixing this on my own, right?"

"I know," he said, smirking. "But I like pretending you need me."

She snorted. "How very royal of you."

They turned into a quieter corridor. The palace was expansive—vast arches, gold-lined cornices, and floors so polished they could reflect the entire history of their bloodline. The halls were humming with a stillness that was oddly comforting. Paintings of past rulers watched them as they walked past, their eyes seeming to follow them in a way that made Avantika both nervous and amused.

"Do you think they're judging me?" she whispered.

Abhimanyu leaned in. "Only for your habit of stealing French fries."

She elbowed him lightly.

"You look adorable," he added softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Her cheeks flushed. She hated how easily he could do that.

He stopped suddenly and looked around.

They were alone.

No staff. No guards. No brothers. No parents. No titles.

Just the two of them in a sunlit corridor with cream-colored pillars and dusty pink curtains floating in the breeze.

He turned to her fully.

"What are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he spun her gently by the wrist, the skirt of her ghaghra fanning around her like a flower in bloom. She laughed in surprise, and before she could say anything, he caught her mid-spin, backing her softly into one of the marble pillars.

She gasped—not in fear, but in that kind of breathless anticipation that made her knees wobble.

His arms were on either side of her, caging her in gently. His face dipped closer. "I've been wanting to do this all morning."

She arched an eyebrow. "What, spin me around like a princess?"

"No," he murmured. "Kiss you like a man who's in love."

She didn't have time to reply.

His lips were on hers—slow, deliberate, achingly tender. His hands didn't rush or grope. They moved with reverence, cradling her waist, then the small of her back. She melted into him, the cool marble at her back a sharp contrast to the warmth he radiated.

She kissed him back with just as much hunger, one hand curling into his collar, the other sliding up to tangle into his hair. He tasted of mint and something sweet. His breath hitched when her lips parted further.

When the kiss broke—because it had to, because even fire needs air—he rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard.

"God," he whispered. "You undo me."

She smiled, cheeks flushed. "And you're not so put together either."

He chuckled lowly, and then—because she should've known he was never predictable—his hand slipped from her back to the bare skin of her waist. She gasped as his fingers brushed her belly button, feather-light.

Then he tickled.

She squealed. "Abhi!"

He grinned, absolutely unapologetic, watching her squirm and giggle as he gently tickled her.

"Stop! Stop it!" she cried, laughing helplessly.

"You were being too serious," he teased, kissing her nose.

She shoved his shoulder. "I was not. You just have some weird obsession with my belly button."

His eyes danced. "I don't. It's just... it's cute. You scrunch your nose every time I touch it."

"It's a belly button, not a button on a remote," she muttered.

"You say that like I don't want to press it again."

She looked at him like he'd lost it. Then she smirked. "Fine. You touch it again, and I swear I'll tickle you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me."

They stood there for a moment, grinning at each other like kids caught in a sugar rush, the world beyond that corridor momentarily forgotten.

Then footsteps echoed in the far hallway.

Abhimanyu stepped back instantly, straightening his kurta, but not before planting one final kiss to her cheek.

Avantika hurriedly fixed her dupatta, smoothing her hair, trying her best to look like she hadn't just been thoroughly kissed against a pillar.

A staff member passed by, bowing politely. "Your Highness. Ma'am."

Abhimanyu nodded with practiced grace.

The moment the staff disappeared, Avantika exhaled. "Do you ever get used to this?"

"What? People calling you ma'am?"

"No. Kissing royalty in palaces."

He leaned in again. "I'm hoping you'll have a lifetime to get used to it."

She smiled softly.

They walked on, this time slower. His hand reached for hers again and she let him take it, no resistance, no hesitation.

They passed through another set of double doors that led to one of the palace balconies, the view sprawling into the hills of Udaipur. From there, they could see the lake glistening in the distance, tiny boats dotting the water like stars.

"You're quiet," he said.

She nodded. "I'm just... thinking."

"About?"

She turned to him. "You. Me. All of this. The fact that I just got kissed against a pillar while wearing designer lehenga I didn't pay for."

He chuckled.

"I don't know if I'm dreaming or panicking."

"Can't it be both?"

She leaned into his shoulder. "Maybe."

They stood like that, watching the lake, letting the silence settle.

Finally, he asked, "You know what's happening in a week, right?"

Avantika stiffened.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"No."

He turned her gently to face him again. "We don't have to rush. If you want to push the date, postpone everything, we'll do it."

"But your family—"

"Will survive," he interrupted. "You matter more than any press conference."

She blinked. "That's surprisingly rebellious of you."

He smiled. "You're rubbing off on me."

"I'm good at that."

He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "Yes, you are."

She let herself fall into his arms again, hiding her face in his chest. "I'm scared."

He held her tighter. "So am I."

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "Let's be scared together?"

"Only if we can still kiss against random palace walls."

She laughed. "Deal."