Jai was already at the arena when Malhar joined him, dressed in fresh linen, sword strapped casually over his back. The rains had left the ground damp and sticky, but the air had cleared. A faint orange blush coloured the eastern sky.

"You're back," Jai noted, raising an eyebrow.

Malhar didn't answer immediately. He bent down to adjust his boots, then pulled out his sword and tossed it once in the air before catching it again.

"I thought I'd find peace out there," he said. "But I kept circling the thought of home."

"Home?" Jai asked, clearly amused. "Or the woman who stormed into your chamber last night with tea and unsaid words?"

Malhar's head snapped up, expression unreadable.

"You saw her?"

"I didn't have to. The guards talk, you forget that."

Malhar didn't deny it.

Jai came closer, lowering his voice. "Malhar... if you're not careful, this... whatever you're holding back, it'll come to the surface on its own. You may think you're hiding it well, but it's already written all over you."

Malhar looked away.

"She makes me feel seen," he said finally, quietly. "Not as a king. Not as a warrior. Just... as a man."

Jai was silent. Then, after a pause, he added, "And how long before the court sees it too? Before her name gets dragged into every corridor?"

Malhar clenched his jaw. "I won't let that happen."

"You may not have to. You've already brought her here. People will talk."

"I know."

Jai sighed. "Then what will you do?"

Malhar turned back toward the stables, the sun casting gold across his face.

"I'll do what I must," he said. "But I will not lie to myself. Not anymore."

Malhar paced to the far edge of the arena, eyes scanning the hills beyond the palace wall. The fog was lifting slowly, revealing the red-tinged forest in the distance. Jai followed behind him, his boots crunching over the wet gravel.

"Malhar—there's something you should know."

Malhar halted mid-step, his head tilting slightly toward Jai without turning.

Jai took a breath. "It's about Jahnvi."

The name hung heavy in the air between them. Malhar still didn't move.

Jai continued, slower this time. "There's been talk. Inside the palace. Aai saheb—she's made a decision regarding Jahnvi. It involves—"

"Jai Bhavani Raje," came a sharp voice from behind them. A young soldier approached with a bowed head, breathless from running. "A rider from Hyderabad has arrived. King Javed Mirza sends word — he's prepared to mobilize."

Malhar turned slowly now, eyes narrowing. "He's agreed?"

The soldier nodded. "On the condition that you lead the first charge. His council is already drawing up a map of approach routes into Srinagar."

Jai's face darkened. "Srinagar? You're moving forward with that plan?"

Malhar's jaw was tight, his gaze unreadable. "I can't sit on my toes knowing what her brother has done to her. You know what he did, Jai. I won't let him go unpunished."

"This siege, this war campaign how will you justify it ? This can wait," Jai said quietly, stepping closer, voice low and urgent. "The letter. The plan. But what I have to tell you about Jahnvi—it can't."

But Malhar had already begun walking away, sword swinging at his side, rain-damp hair clinging to his brow.

"No, it can't wait. Not if Mirza's putting men on horses. We move before the snow hits Srinagar's passes." His tone was final.

Jai watched his friend disappear beyond the corridor of stone arches, the chance slipping through his fingers once again.

He muttered under his breath, voice hollow, "Later may be too late, Malhar."

•••

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the corridor before the door to Jahnvi's chamber was flung open.

"Janu!" Gauri's voice chimed, far too bright for the early hour. "Guess who's returned like a drowned cat in the middle of the night?"

Jahnvi turned sharply from the window, instinctively brushing her hair back and adjusting the shawl around her shoulders, as if it could hide the sudden thump of her heart.

Jahnvi looked up, startled — or at least, she tried to appear so. Her heart thudded once, hard, before she carefully composed her face. "Who?"

Gauri laughed, walking in with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Who else? Malhar! He rode in sometime last night. I swear, that man thinks rain and storms apply to everyone but him."

Jahnvi turned her face slightly, hiding the tremble at the corner of her mouth. "He's back?"

Gauri nodded, slipping her sandals off and settling into the diwan like she owned the place. "Yes. I haven't seen him yet — apparently he's holed up in his study with reports and scrolls like a storm's still chasing him. Typical."

Jahnvi gave a quiet nod, moving to adjust the cushions on her bed, her back now half turned to Gauri.

Gauri stretched her arms and yawned. "Anyway, I came to fetch you. Aai saheb sent word the blouse fittings are happening in the courtyard. Yours is first, naturally. The ladies from town are already waiting." She wrinkled her nose. "You know how those tailors are — always in need of an excuse for late delivery."

Jahnvi forced a smile. "I'll come."

Gauri paused briefly, her gaze settling on her. "You look like you didn't sleep at all. Was it the storm?"

Jahnvi stood, brushing invisible wrinkles from her shawl. "Something like that."

She felt Gauri's eyes linger a second longer than necessary. "You've been... quieter."

Jahnvi didn't answer immediately. She traced the edge of the embroidery hoop with her thumb, the thread snagged slightly on the wooden frame.

Gauri sat down beside her, her tone softening. "Is it Abhinav?"

Jahnvi's lips parted, then closed again.

"It's not too late," Gauri added gently. "If you don't want this, say it. We'll find a way. You always have a choice."

Jahnvi's throat tightened. Her voice, when it came, was quieter than usual. "No, Gauri. Not always."

Gauri frowned. "That's not true. This isn't the north, Jahnvi. You're not in chains."

But wasn't she?

Jahnvi looked away, blinking against the sting in her eyes. Her gaze landed on the small silver bell by the window—the one Gauri had gifted her. It chimed softly in the breeze, delicate and distant.

"I have no right," Jahnvi whispered. "To be selfish. Not now. Not after all that's been given to me."

Gauri reached for her hand. "You're not being selfish for wanting love."

Jahnvi gave a small, hollow laugh. "Love," she repeated under her breath. The word felt too fragile to speak aloud.

Her mind drifted back—to a cup of tea in a quiet kitchen at midnight, to the brush of fingers against hers as a dagger slipped away from her throat, to a voice calling her name like it meant something more.

She didn't know when it happened. There was no moment she could trace it back to. No glance, no word, no single breath that tipped her over the edge. Only the knowing that it was already too late by the time she realised. She had fallen in love with Malhar. And it had crept up on her quietly—like the rain outside her window, soaking everything without sound.

But she couldn't have him.

Not when Gauri looked at her with so much trust in her eyes. Not when Gauri's future—her crown, her position, her life—were entwined with Malhar's name.

So she tucked the feeling deep inside herself like a letter never sent. She would live with it. Carry it quietly. And when the day came to marry Abhinav, she would smile as expected. She would not let her longing set fire to Gauri's happiness.

"I'll be fine," Jahnvi said finally, forcing her voice to steady.

Gauri looked unconvinced. "You don't have to be brave all the time."

But Jahnvi only smiled—softly, and perhaps a little sadly. "Some of us do."

"Janu, you—"

"Let's get going before the tailors run away and we have to hand sew my blouses," she said, brushing past the heaviness in her chest and reaching for Gauri's hand.

The two stepped out into the sun-drenched corridor, the palace hummed with midmorning life—chatter, footfalls, the distant ring of metal being hammered into form. Jahnvi kept her eyes on the ground, hoping the day's errands would distract her.

"Do you want a green border on your yellow sari?" Gauri asked, genuinely curious. "Or that blue silk that came from Paithan?"

"I'll wear whatever you choose," Jahnvi replied. Her voice was calm, but a storm had begun to brew within her again.

They rounded a corner—and came to a halt.

Jai and Malhar stood a few paces away, deep in conversation. Malhar's hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, his stance relaxed, though his attention shifted the moment he saw them. His gaze softened the instant it met Jahnvi's.

Jahnvi froze, clutching the fabric of her saree in her hand a little too tightly. Her heart stilled—then stammered forward in a rhythm that betrayed her calm exterior. She swallowed, blinking back the emotion that surged to the surface uninvited. This was what she had chosen. This was the restraint she had vowed to herself. And yet... he looked at her like that.

Malhar's smile came almost instinctively, boyish and brief. There was a shine in his eyes—something warm, and knowing, and utterly unguarded. He hadn't expected to see her just now, but he was glad he had. He wanted to tell her everything—that he was done waiting, that he would speak to his mother, that his mind was made.

And yet, the timing had to be right. He owed Gauri the truth first. She deserved that much.

"Malhar!" Gauri broke the silence, stepping forward with her usual ease, her hands folded neatly. "We were just heading to the tailors. I assume you're on your way to brood somewhere important?"

Jai chuckled under his breath. "He's always brooding. We've accepted it."

Malhar smiled faintly, glancing at Jahnvi again before forcing himself to look at Gauri. "Some things are worth brooding over."

Gauri raised a brow. "That sounds ominous."

Jahnvi felt her throat tighten. She couldn't hold his gaze, not for long. Her fingers clenched tighter around her saree as she fixed her eyes somewhere near Jai's shoulder.

"How long are you here before you disappear again?" Gauri asked, glancing between them.

"I'm not going anywhere," Malhar said, eyes drifting back to Jahnvi. "Not anymore."

It was a simple answer, but the weight of it didn't go unnoticed—not by Jai, who caught the shift in tone, or Gauri, whose brow knit slightly in curiosity. And certainly not by Jahnvi, who felt like the ground beneath her had given way.

She gave a short nod, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. She blinked once, hard, then turned to Gauri with a tight-lipped smile.

"We should hurry. The tailors are the ones who disappear."

"Yes, yes," Gauri said, laughing. "We'll leave you to your royal... brooding."

As the two women passed, Malhar stood rooted. A part of him itched to stop her, to say her name aloud. But not yet.

Jahnvi felt his gaze trail after her, even as she forced herself forward, each step heavy with the ache of denial. She would walk away. She had to. For Gauri's sake.

She didn't look back.

But her heart did.

AN: A Sunday update is because I love you guys too much

Stay safe
Lots of love
xoxo