Sunlight filtered through the curtain covering the windows, scattering silhouettes across the red sandstone floor. The scent of rose water hung lightly in the air, mingling with the crisp rustle of the neem branches swaying just beyond the balcony.

A soft cotton rug lay spread across the floor, a cluster of silk cushions scattered like afterthoughts. In the middle of it all, Chandni Gauri's Snow white cat with eyes like polished amber was curled like a queen in her court, her tail twitching in slow, deliberate arcs.

Jahnvi knelt on the rug, gently teasing a peacock feather near Chandni's face.

"She only plays when she chooses to," Gauri said from her spot by the low divan, popping a jaggery-coated peanut into her mouth. "Much like her mistress."

Chandni responded by turning her face away with exaggerated grace, blinking slowly at the sun as if to say she had far more important things to do.

"She's regal," Jahnvi said with a soft laugh. "I think she secretly rules this fort."

"Secretly?" Gauri raised an eyebrow. "She's very open about it."

Jahnvi giggled again, just as soft pawsteps pattered across the floor.

Zoon her loyal shadow walked into the room, all sleek limbs and untamed energy. He made a delighted beeline for Jahnvi's lap and curled up without hesitation, burying his nose into her palm as if to announce, You belong to me now.

Gauri watched them with a smirk. "And then there's him. No dignity, no restraint. Throws himself at your feet like a lovesick poet."

"He's just affectionate," Jahnvi defended with a grin, running her fingers through Zoon's short fur. "And a little dramatic."

"He's a walking emotion," Gauri replied. "These two grown on me. The palace has been livelier since they have come in."

Just then, the wooden door creaked, and Jai leaned in through the threshold with one brow arched. He looked at the two girls and their lounging companions with an amused expression.

"Well," he said, arms folded, "the future of the empire seems to be in excellent paws."

Gauri didn't look up. "Chandni's in one of her moods again. She's threatening to dissolve the royal court."

Jai stepped inside and kicked off his slippers, dropping onto a nearby cushion with his usual graceful irreverence. "Then I come bearing news before we're all exiled."

He turned to them with a casual air, but his tone held an undercurrent of purpose.

"Malhar rode out. Alone. Took his horse, a bow, and a water pouch."

Jahnvi's hand paused on Zoon's fur.

"Again?" Gauri asked, barely blinking. "What was his excuse this time?"

Jai shrugged. "Didn't say much. But there is a lot that's happening inside his mind."

"You should know what bothers him. You are his best friend." Gauri complained.

"And you his betrothed."

The smile on Jahnvi's face earlier had faded slightly now. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the banyan leaves trembled under a shifting breeze.

"He didn't tell anyone?" she asked softly.

Jai shook his head. "Not even Aai Saheb I guess."

Gauri reached for another peanut, unfazed. "He does this. Vanishes into the forest like it owes him in answers. Last time he was gone two days and returned with nothing but scratched arms and a story about a wild boar."

Jahnvi gave a faint smile, but her fingers had gone still.

"He'll return," Gauri added, softer now. "He always does."

Jai tilted his head slightly, watching Jahnvi. "You're worried."

"No," she said quickly. "Not really. I just..."

Her voice trailed off as Zoon shifted closer into her lap, sensing her change in tone. She pulled him near and looked down at his twitching ears, her mind somewhere else entirely.

"I think he just needs to be alone sometimes," she murmured, almost to herself.

A quiet hush settled in the room. The only sounds were the faint purring of Zoon. She couldn't explain it, not even to herself, but the unease hadn't left her.

It sat in the pit of her stomach like a stone.

•••

The sun had dipped below the horizon and returned again, as if overnight had quietly slipped past without permission. Jahnvi had barely caught a wink of sleep—tossing, turning, eyes fluttering open at the slightest sound. The cool night wind had brushed against the stone walls of her chamber, but it wasn't the cold that had kept her awake. It was something else entirely. A restlessness that clung to her like damp fabric.

It almost felt as if she were the one sleeping beneath open skies, on forest floor, not Malhar.

By the time the horizon began to glow with that golden hush of early dawn, she had already slipped into a soft blue Anarkali. The shawl she wrapped around herself was thick, handwoven, edged with faded silver thread—but even that couldn't keep out the sharp breeze that slipped through the corridors of the stone fort.

Zoon was still sprawled across her pillow like a warm loaf, utterly unbothered. His small chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his paw twitching once, then going still again. She gave him a fleeting stroke on the back before stepping out.

The wind nipped at her cheeks flushing them red. She walked the length of the eastern corridor. The fort was only just beginning to stir. Brass water vessels clinked in the distance.

Jahnvi wanted nothing more than to crawl back beneath her blanket. But Abhinav's gentle reminder at dinner echoed in her ears. He had looked so genuinely pleased about their riding lessons, his eyes bright with hope. She couldn't bring herself to say no.

So she walked toward the stables even if her legs felt like they were made of lead.

"Good morning," Jahnvi looked up to see Abhinav right near the fort's east exit.

"Good morning," Jahnvi echoed, managing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Abhinav watched her for a moment, then chuckled softly as he folded the sleeves of his white kurta which fit him snug. "Looks like you spent the night thinking of a name for your horse instead of sleeping."

"I'm... I'm sorry," she stammered. "I completely forgot to—"

"It's alright," he interrupted gently. They exited the fort and took small steps towards the stables.

"Something else was clearly on your mind yesterday. Take your time. Get over your thoughts... then think about what's yours."

His words hung in the air, strangely ambiguous. Jahnvi glanced at him, unsure if he was speaking only about the horse.

"I... I don't think I can ride today," she said, her voice low. "I know I wanted to learn, but I—"

"Jahnvi," Abhinav's voice was calm, sincere, "I'm here. I'll be here tomorrow. And the day after that. And the one after that too. I'll wait for as long as you need me to."

The wind stirred again, blowing a lock of his hair across his forehead. He didn't move to fix it. He simply smiled, the kind of smile that asked for nothing but offered everything.

"You should go back in," he said after a pause. "It's too cold for you to be out like this. I don't want you falling ill."

Jahnvi nodded and turned, her steps slow but steady as she made her way back toward the warmth of the fort.

The stone corridors, were lit with flickering flames in wall-mounted sconces. She took in a slow breath, letting the faint scent of wet soil and  hibiscus soothe the edge of her worry.

"Jahnvi."

The voice made her look up to find Nanda waiting ahead, hands folded gently before her.

"Off for your riding lessons?" she asked, her eyes kind, though sharp enough to see something had shifted.

"No, Aai Saheb," Jahnvi replied, adjusting her shawl around her shoulders. Her voice was steadier than before, but her eyes gave her away.

"Why not?" Nanda asked.

Before Jahnvi could respond, Abhinav's voice came from behind her.

"Jahnvi is feeling a little under the weather, kaki saheb. Riding can wait."

His footsteps echoed softly as he came to stand just behind her. His presence was quiet but solid—reassuring in a way that felt too close and too distant all at once.

"Well," Nanda said, her tone gentle, "there is a lifetime to learn these things. Jahnvi, I had some new clothes stitched for the idols. I thought we could get them dressed after the pooja. Come, I'll show them to you."

She extended her hand. Jahnvi took it without protest.

"We'll see you later at the temple, Abhinav," Nanda added with a slight nod before leading Jahnvi away down the corridor.

The two women walked in silence. The fort was waking up slowly around them—guards standing straighter as they passed, a maid bowing slightly before hurrying down the opposite hall with a copper platter. The sunlight had begun to seep into the long verandas, dappling the dark stone floor with broken patches of warmth.

As they reached Nanda's chambers, she pushed open the heavy teakwood doors and gestured for Jahnvi to sit.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked as she moved gracefully towards the back end of her bedroom.

"No, Aai Saheb," Jahnvi said quietly. She hesitated, her hands twisting the fringe of her shawl. "I... I'm not feeling up to it."

Nanda turned to look at her for a long moment. Breathing in heavily.

Jahnvi had hollows under her eyes, the one gifted by a sleepless night, an overstimulated mind and a heavy heart, ones that mirrored her own.

The corners of Nanda's lips tugged down slightly, but she said nothing more. Instead, she walked to a small trunk near the corner, lifting out a folded bundle of silks in vibrant saffron and peacock green.

"We'll offer these to the idols today," she said, changing the subject with practiced ease. "They say when the gods are dressed in new clothes, the house prospers."

Jahnvi nodded faintly, but her gaze remained unfocused. The knowledge that Malhar was out in the forest perhaps cold, wet, alone twisted something in her chest.

She hadn't seen him leave, and yet his absence lingered through the fort like a quiet fog, settling in the corners, clinging to the silence. It unsettled her, how one person's departure could shift the feel of an entire day.

It baffled her, how deeply she could feel someone's absence without ever claiming their presence. Their last conversation adding to her unsettling.

The worry gnawed at her gently, like water wearing down stone—not frantic, but persistent. Was he safe? Was he cold? Had he eaten anything at all? And why did it ache as though a part of her had wandered off into the wilderness with him?

Even now, wrapped in thick wool, seated in the softest of cushions in Nanda's chamber where jasmine incense floated through the air and warmth from the brass lamps flickered across the walls—she couldn't bring herself to feel warm.
Not truly.

"...vi? Jahnvi!" Nanda's voice came sharper now, pulling her back.

Jahnvi blinked. "Sorry, Aai Saheb," she said quickly, realising she had been staring blankly at the clothes on her lap.

Nanda reached out, placing a gentle hand over hers. "There's something I need to speak to you about. It's important. And I want you to listen with an open mind—not just your heart."

Jahnvi straightened, instantly alert. The seriousness in Nanda's voice, the weight behind her words—it wrapped around her chest like a tightening thread.

Then Nanda spoke, quietly and clearly.
"Damini has asked for your hand. For Abhinav."

Jahnvi froze.

The air around her seemed to still. "Abhinav?" she echoed, her voice small, stunned. "As in... marry?"

"Yes." Nanda nodded once. "She believes you and he—"

"No," Jahnvi cut in, breath shallow. "No, Aai Saheb. I... I can't."

"Jahnvi, think—"

"I don't have to," Jahnvi said firmly, shaking her head. "He's kind. He's gentle. But I have never... I've never thought of him that way. Not once. Not ever."

Nanda's eyes followed her, her face calm but unreadable. "He is willing," she said slowly. "Willing to give you his name. A place, a home. Respect."

Jahnvi turned toward her. "But I never asked for any of that."

"And yet... one day, you may need it," Nanda said, her voice softening like the hush before dawn.

"I've watched you grow strong in this palace," she continued, her eyes not leaving Jahnvi. "You made a home where there was none, earned trust in a place where you arrived a stranger. But even with all that... you still walk your path alone. There is no one who truly speaks for you. No one who stands by you as theirs."

Jahnvi looked away, her fingers curling slightly in the fabric of her shawl. A name rose in her heart, uninvited—unwelcome. She pushed it back.

"You've always stood by me," she whispered.

"I have," Nanda said with quiet warmth. "And I always will. But I am your present, Jahnvi. I cannot be your future."

"Abhinav is offering more than companionship," Nanda said, her words careful, thoughtful. "I'm not here to pressure you. But I am asking you to reflect—truly reflect—on what lies ahead. A life lived in someone else's shadow... or a life walked beside someone who sees you in full, and never asks you to become smaller."

Her voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. It held the steady gravity of a mother who has seen the world, and its ways, far too clearly.

"You've earned deep respect in this palace," she went on. "But you know as well as I do, respect alone does not hold when a woman stands unclaimed. That respect can flicker the moment the wind shifts."

She paused again. "This alliance... would give you shelter, yes. But more than that, it would give you legitimacy. Security. A place no one could question. A name that would silence every whispered doubt."

Jahnvi sat still, the words washing over her slowly, like water wearing down stone. Gentle at first, then sharp, sudden. And then they struck her, not like water at all, but like hail, cold, hard, and unflinchingly true. If she said yes, she would no longer be —the king's keep.

AN: DUN DUN DUN !!
What do you think ??? Will Jahnvi accept ? Should she ?

I've been wanting to put this chapter up for two days now but Wattpad glitch stalled it for so long.

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