"How could you agree to this? Why did you, Aai Saheb?" Gauri's voice cut through the stillness of the chamber like a blade. Her brows were furrowed, her steps restless as she paced the length of Nanda's room. "While I see no fault in Abhinav as a man—his manners are decent, his intentions honest—but his mother? Damini kaki is someone I cannot, will not ever trust."

She turned sharply, eyes flashing.

Jahnvi sat curled up on the diwan, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Beside her, Jai stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, silent but watchful.

"Gauri, it's for the best," Nanda said, her voice calm but tired.

"For the best?" Gauri snapped. "Whose best, Aai Saheb? Damini's? Yours? Abhinav's?" She gestured wildly. "Certainly not Jahnvi's!"

She looked at her friend now, betrayal flickering across her features. "And you, have you lost your mind?"

"Gauri, please," Nanda interjected, trying to steady the brewing storm.

"No no no Aai Saheb, I won't be quiet this time," Gauri said, her voice trembling. "You think I'm reckless—fine. You think I speak without thought—fine. But I know a disaster when I see one, and this—this wedding—is one. Jahnvi is not marrying Abhinav. I'll wait for Malhar to return. He'll stop this. He can—"

"He has done enough." Jahnvi's voice was low, hoarse with fatigue, but resolute. "He has done enough, enough damage, enough repair... enough please.."

She stood now, slowly, her posture wilting with emotion. "I want peace, Gauri. I want a home. A name that is mine. A place that is mine. I am tired of belonging nowhere."

"You have me, Janu," Gauri said, stepping closer. Her voice cracked. "You have Aai Saheb. You have Jai. You hav—."

"I know," Jahnvi whispered. "I do. But I want something that is just mine. I need something that doesn't feel borrowed. I need stability, not sympathy."

Gauri's eyes brimmed with disbelief. "I don't understand," she said, shaking her head. "I just... don't." And without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out, her footsteps echoing behind her like falling stones.

"Gauri!" Jahnvi called, slipping her feet into her sandals and running after her.

The door thudded shut behind them.

Jai remained where he was, his eyes unreadable, fixed on Nanda.

She had sat down on the edge of her bed now, her back slightly hunched.

"I've always respected you deeply, Aai Saheb," Jai said finally, his voice steady, unnervingly so. "Your judgment. Your grace. Your choices. But today..."

He paused, his gaze hardening.

"Today I am forced to question you."

Nanda inhaled sharply, her fingers trembling in her lap.

"I had to," she whispered, almost to herself. "I had no choice."

"You did," Jai replied coldly. "You just didn't choose her. Not really."

He turned to leave, then stopped at the door, his voice dropping lower—graver.

"You've made your decision, Aai Saheb. But what follows... what comes next... we may neither be able to contain nor undo."

And with that, he was gone.

Nanda sat in the hush that followed.
A single tear slipped down her cheek and fell soundlessly into her lap.

•••

Jahnvi followed Gauri, trying to match her pace without attracting attention—already cautious of the whispers that tended to bloom easily in the palace corridors.

"Gauri, slow down," she called softly.

But Gauri didn't stop. She walked straight into her chamber, her back stiff, her shoulders high. Jahnvi hesitated at the threshold, then stepped in after her.

Inside, Sunaina was seated on the floor with the cats, a soft smile on her face as Zoon and Chandni pawed at the string of yarn she dangled between them.

The moment Zoon spotted Jahnvi, he abandoned the game and bounded toward her, leaping into her arms with a small, joyous chirp. Jahnvi crouched to scoop him up, pressing her lips gently to the top of his head, even as her eyes stayed locked on Gauri's profile—pleading for her to say something, anything.

"Sunaina," Gauri said, her voice quieter now, but no less resolute. "Take them to Jahnvi's room... or the courtyard. We need this room to ourselves."

Sunaina blinked but nodded, sensing the tension thick in the air. Jahnvi placed Zoon down gently.

"Go play with Chandni," she whispered to him, her voice thick. "I'll come get you in a little while."

Zoon gave a soft meow but obediently padded back toward Sunaina, who gathered the two cats and quietly slipped out, shutting the door behind her.

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Gauri, you have to understand—" Jahnvi began.

"Why?" Gauri's voice cut through. She turned, facing her fully now, eyes brimming with disbelief and something that almost resembled heartbreak. "Why destroy your life with your own hands, Jahnvi?"

"I'm not," Jahnvi said, standing still. "I'm choosing a life with less uncertainty."

"You're choosing Damini kaki," Gauri replied, voice rising just a fraction. "You're choosing to become part of the one family in this palace that's always seeded trouble."

Jahnvi swallowed, her hands trembling by her sides.

"I'm not marrying Damini kaki, Gauri. I'm marrying Abhinav."

Gauri let out a short, hollow laugh. "Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"He's kind," Jahnvi said, her voice quiet but steady. "He listens. He doesn't look at me like I'm someone else's property."

"But do you love him?" Gauri snapped. "Do you even like him?"

Jahnvi opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her silence said more than any words could.

"I didn't think so," Gauri said. "You're settling. You're settling because life has been unfair, and for once someone offered you a name and a roof, and you mistook that for love. Kaki saheb loves no one but herself and Abhinav he..."

Jahnvi's chin trembled.

"I'm tired, Gauri," she said softly. "I'm tired of belonging nowhere. Of being 'the king's keep'—a guest in a palace where I've laughed and cried and prayed. You all love me, yes, but I'm always in-between. Not a prisoner, not free. This... this marriage gives me something. Maybe not love. But safety. Legitimacy. Dignity."

"You already have all of those here," Gauri insisted.

"No," Jahnvi said with a small, bitter smile. "I have borrowed versions of those things. And borrowed things can always be taken away."

Gauri stood frozen, her breath shallow.

"You think this is your only option?" she asked, her voice softer now. "You think being Abhinav's wife is the only way to be whole?"

"No," Jahnvi replied. "But it's the only option I've been offered. And for once, I want to choose something instead of waiting for life to choose for me."

The words hung between them like smoke.

Gauri walked slowly toward the window, pulling back the curtain. The courtyard below shimmered with late-afternoon light. She didn't speak for a long moment.

Then finally, she said, "You'll do what you want, I know. But I hope you remember—peace without love is still a kind of loneliness."

Jahnvi didn't reply. She just stood there, eyes fixed on her friend's back, heart breaking a little more with each passing second.

Gauri stood by the window, arms folded tightly across her chest, jaw clenched. Outside, the world went on—guards patrolled, servants bustled, pigeons fluttered in the ledges—but inside, her world had tilted.

She turned, eyes storm-dark as they settled on Jahnvi.

"I can't pretend to understand what you're thinking," she said, voice trembling with held-back emotion. "
She crossed the room, standing just close enough that her next words landed soft but sharp.
"You deserve to be chosen, Jahnvi. Not negotiated for. Not claimed. Chosen. And if you can look me in the eye and say that's what this is—I'll step back."

Jahnvi's silence held.

Gauri's eyes welled, but she blinked it away.

"And still," she murmured, her voice breaking, "I hope I'm wrong. Gods, I hope I'm wrong."

Her hand reached out, curling gently around Jahnvi's fingers.

"Because even if I hate every bit of this decision—you're my person. And if this marriage is your choice... then I will walk beside you into it. I will fix your hair on your wedding day, I will hold your hand through every ritual, I will smile even if it kills me."

She paused, voice thick but steady.

"Because no matter who stands beside you—I always will."

A sob escaped Jahnvi as she stepped forward, falling into Gauri's arms. And Gauri held her, fierce and soft all at once, like the only thing that made sense in the whole burning world was this—this girl she would fight the world for.

•••

Jahnvi had locked herself in her room for the rest of the day.
She hadn't touched her lunch. Or dinner. Not even when Nanda herself came knocking, her voice full of care and concern. Jahnvi had turned her face to the wall and pretended not to hear. There was no strength left in her to explain. No explanation that would make sense—not even to herself.

She had agreed to marry a man she didn't know. Didn't love. Couldn't even imagine standing beside.

And what terrified her more than the agreement itself... was how quietly she had let it happen.

This wasn't the girl she once was.

Back in Kashmir, she had fought. She'd resisted every attempt to make her small. And yet, the result had been the same—her own kin trading her for an alliance, selling her future like it was a silk bolt in a merchant's stall.

A soft sniff escaped her as she wiped her cheek hastily.

The room was too warm, too closed, too heavy with silence. Jahnvi stood and crossed to the archway near her window, the rain-soaked air seeping in through the window . She pulled her shawl tighter, letting the cold settle on her skin like a second layer of truth.

Zoon was curled up on her bed, snug and softly purring, his tail tucked close to his nose. She glanced back at him, then turned her gaze outward again.

The rain had returned with vengeance.

It fell in heavy sheets, lashing the palace grounds, blurring the lantern light into golden smudges. Wind howled against the arches, making the flame of a nearby torch flicker as though nervous. Trees beyond the courtyard swayed like tall ghosts, bending and shivering under the downpour.

Jahnvi leaned against the stone, arms wrapped around herself. Her thoughts had no shape now—just a haze of doubt, regret, and longing. She didn't know what she was longing for. A past she couldn't return to? A future that didn't feel like hers?

And then, through the veil of rain, something shifted.

The iron gates creaked open in the distance. Her brows furrowed—no one came in or out of the palace at this hour. Not unless summoned.

Three riders slipped through the opening, cloaked and drenched, their horses dragging their hooves with fatigue. The moonlight, pale and trembling behind clouds, offered little help. She could only see outlines at first—broad shoulders, soaked fabric clinging to armor, silent dismounts.

She squinted.

One of them handed his reins to a stable boy who had run forward with an oil lamp. The hood of his cloak slipped back slightly as he moved.

Her breath stopped.

Even in the dark, even through the rain, she knew that posture.

The way he moved—quiet, grounded, commanding.

Malhar.

A strange stillness fell over her, cutting through the storm like a sudden clearing. Her heart, which had felt buried under the weight of too many choices and not enough freedom, stirred. Not with answers. Not with resolution. Just with the simplest, clearest feeling:

He was back.

The wind blew sharply into the archway, lifting a strand of her hair across her cheek, but she didn't flinch. She just watched him. As though confirming he was real.

And for the first time all day, her breathing slowed. Her hands stopped trembling.

He was back.

And somehow, in that moment, even if nothing else made sense—she knew she wasn't completely alone.

AN: This was like a filler chapter. Let me know what you thinks, what should happen next

As always
Stay safe
Lots of love
xoxo