Epilogue
It was just past midnight in Udaipur.

The palace, grand and opulent, lay in near silence. Guards paced their soft rotations in distant hallways. The chandeliers had been dimmed, casting golden shadows across marbled floors. Even the lilies floating in the central fountain seemed still, as though honoring the quiet of the royal night.

Inside the private royal wing, however, the lights were still on.

Avantika sat on the wide window ledge of their suite, knees hugged to her chest, her forehead resting gently against the cool glass. Outside, the night sky stretched endlessly, stars twinkling like secrets passed between galaxies. The soft hum of palace life in the distance — footsteps, muted laughter from late-working staff, the occasional rustle of wind — offered a rhythm to her thoughts.

Her hair was open, messy from sleep and fingers. She wore one of Abhimanyu's soft cotton shirts — oversized on her, sleeves hanging well past her wrists. Beneath it, her sindoor glowed bright red against her dark hair, a quiet reminder of who she was now. A bride. A princess. A wife.

She still wasn't used to it.

It had been exactly two years since she had married Abhimanyu Singh Rajput.

Two years since the palace bells had chimed, echoing across lakes and centuries. Since the royal courtyard had been dressed in jasmine and gold. Since her hands had been stained with mehendi, her feet painted with alta, her heart full of trembles.

The wedding had been swift, pressured by duty, fueled by love, sealed by fire and fate.

And now she was here — in a palace, under a crown, in love with a prince who kissed her like she was the first monsoon after a long drought.

She smiled faintly.

Behind her, the door creaked open. Bare feet padded softly toward her before the mattress dipped under weight. She didn't have to turn to know it was him.

Abhimanyu always moved like that when he didn't want to startle her.

A silent protector.

"Can't sleep?" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.

She shook her head, still watching the sky.

He held her tighter, his bare chest warm against her back. "Too much jasmine tea?"

She let out a soft breath of a laugh. "Too much everything."

He was quiet, letting her speak on her own terms.

"I just... I keep thinking," she said slowly, "that this is someone else's life. Like I stepped into a movie set. A kingdom. A wedding that made headlines. A husband with a title."

He rested his cheek against her hair. "Does it feel wrong?"

She turned, finally meeting his eyes. "No. Not wrong. Just... unreal. You know?"

Abhimanyu smiled. "I feel that way every time you walk into a room."

She rolled her eyes, blushing despite herself. "Stop being smooth."

"Can't. It's a genetic curse."

They sat in silence again, the only sound being his soft breathing against her neck.

Then, with a sudden thought, she asked, "Did you always know it would end like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Us," she whispered. "Did you know, back when you knocked on my window with petunias, that you'd marry me?"

Abhimanyu laughed, softly, the sound vibrating through her. "No. I thought you'd push me off the ledge."

"You deserved it," she muttered.

"I still do," he said, kissing her temple.

She pulled her knees tighter. "Do you think I'll be a good queen someday?"

He was quiet for a long time.

Then, seriously, he said, "Avantika... you already are."

She blinked, lips parting.

"You're brave," he continued. "You speak your mind. You ask questions. You challenge me, challenge the traditions, challenge everything this crown has taught me to accept blindly. You don't bend easily. And yet, when you love... you give everything. That's what makes a queen. Not the way you sit or wave. It's how you carry the people you love. How you hold yourself in chaos."

Avantika looked at him, tears pricking her eyes.

"You're biased," she whispered.

"Madly," he said, smiling. "But I'm not wrong."

He slid off the window ledge and held out his hand. "Come here."

She took it, letting him pull her gently down to the large bed. The covers were messy from where he had slept earlier. The sheets smelled like him — musk and sandalwood and something faintly citrusy. Her safe space.

He tucked her in, then slid in beside her, propping himself up on one elbow.

"I still remember the first time I saw you," he said.

"Oh God," she groaned. "Don't go all cheesy now—"

"You were in your travel clothes. Hair a mess. Eyes tired. And yet you glared at the auto driver with more authority than I've seen from generals."

She grinned. "He tried to scam me."

"I know. You caught it within three seconds. I remember thinking, 'This girl is something else.'"

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "And now here you are. In my bed. In my life. Forever."

She looked at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. "You really think we'll last forever?"

He kissed her gently. "No doubt in my mind."

She nestled closer, her fingers finding his heartbeat.

They lay like that for a while — skin against skin, breath synced, love unspoken but ever-present.

Then she said, "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"No matter what happens... you won't forget who I was before all this. Before the palace. Before the titles. Before the politics. Just... Avantika."

He kissed her hand. "I fell in love with that Avantika. The girl in dinosaur pajamas. Who needs a window seat. Who throws me off with her sarcasm and saves me with her softness."

"I wasn't soft."

"You were with me," he murmured. "You still are."

She didn't reply. She didn't need to.

Minutes passed.

Then, in a barely audible voice, she whispered, "You know what's the scariest part?"

"What?"

"I still don't know what I'm doing."

He smiled, pulling the blanket up over them. "Neither do I. But we'll figure it out."

The night deepened.

Outside, the moon dipped lower. Inside, their breathing slowed, matching again.

The world would wake in a few hours, demanding them to be royalty. Demanding composure, decisions, diplomacy.

But for now, in this quiet bubble between dusk and dawn, they were just two people who had chosen each other against all odds.

And that was enough.

Six Months Later

Avantika stood on the balcony of the Jaipur palace, dressed in a saree of rich peacock blue. Beside her, Arohi adjusted her bangles, her newly wedded smile barely fading.

"They're going to eat us alive," Avantika muttered, eyeing the media down below.

"They always do," Arohi replied calmly.

The two women looked at each other.

No longer rivals. No longer cold.

Now... sisters-in-law. Allies.

"Did you hear what happened in Goa?" Arohi asked softly.

Avantika frowned. "No."

Arohi's lips thinned. "A scandal. One of the royal cousins. Photos leaked."

Avantika winced. "That bad?"

"Enough to make the newspapers foam. Be careful. The crown loves headlines, especially about the women."

Avantika stared into the distance.

The path ahead wouldn't be easy.

But she had Abhimanyu. Her own strength. And now, Arohi by her side.

The world might try to define her by the weight of a crown.

But she would define herself by the fire in her spine and the softness in her heart.

****

Abhimanyu read the headline from the newspaper and sighed.

He folded it and tossed it onto the table.

"She's going to hate this," he muttered.

Abhinav looked up. "Another article?"

"She was at a hospital last week donating anonymously. Somehow the press got a picture of her without a dupatta and now they're calling her 'the bold Rajkumari'."

Abhinav rolled his eyes. "They act like your wife's collarbone is national property."

Abhimanyu grinned. "She's going to yell. Loudly."

"She always does," Abhinav said fondly. "That's why she's perfect for you."

Abhimanyu looked out the window.

The winds had shifted.

Things were changing.

Politics. Secrets. Alliances.

But she was his anchor.

And as long as Avantika stood beside him, there wasn't a storm in the world he couldn't weather.