Nanda glanced toward the long corridor that led to her chamber and softly called an attendant. " Did you send my word to Raje," she said, her voice calm but weighted. "Asked him to meet me in my chamber."

She began to rise, the folds of her green silk saree gathering in her hand—but before she could take a full step, Damini's bejeweled fingers lightly clasped her wrist.

"Going somewhere, Nanda tai?" she asked, her smile carefully measured. "You can't leave just yet. We're barely halfway through sorting the jewellery, and I was hoping you'd help me pick something... special for Jahnvi."

Nanda's eyes lingered on her hand briefly, then lifted to meet Damini's unreadable gaze. Her lips parted to refuse—but then Gauri chimed in, cheerful as ever.

"Aai saheb, you always know what looks best. Jahnvi and I will be lost without your opinion."

"I have some important things to look after." Nanda said apologetically.

"Of course, Abhinav isn't your son or blood, why would you care ?" Damini spat.

"Stop it Damini." Nanda said in resignation and sank back onto the seat.

Damini turned to Janvi and smiled. "Take a look Jahnvi, pick what you like."

Beside her, on the low marble table, lay an open box lined with deep red velvet. Damini reached toward it, pulling out a necklace wrapped in a soft cotton cloth.

"This is gorgeous." Gauri said in awe as she looked at the masterpiece in Damini's hand.

The heirloom necklace glinted under the morning light—an elaborate piece of emeralds and gold, with fine enamel work along the edges, its weight visible even from a distance.

"Tai saheb I know this yours, but I was thinking we give Jahnvi the heirloom piece—the emerald necklace. It is, after all, her right as the eldest daughter-in-law of the Bhosle house."

She gestured toward the vintage necklace Gauri was now fawning over.

"It's been in our family for three generations," Damini added, taking it from Gauri and placing it back into the velvet box. "The craftsmanship is from Lucknow, the stones—handpicked by Abhinav's great-grandmother. Only the finest."

"You are correct Damini." Nanda said closing the velvet box and picking it up. She placed it in Jahnvi's lap.
"As the eldest of the next generation this yours now Jahnvi." Nanda said placing a hand on Jahnvi's head.

"Wonderful, I'm going to borrow it from you a few too many times Janu." Gauri let out a chuckle.

•••

Malhar entered the fort after checking on his horse from the east entrance, the entire scene in the east wing confused him.

Servants bustled about, scrubbing every inch of the fort walls, others stringing garlands of marigold and mango leaves from balcony ledges and archways. Silk streamers fluttered from columns like festival flags.

Malhar stepped through the archway, his boots tapping lightly against the stone floor. The sound should have echoed, but it was swallowed by the hum of feminine laughter, the rustle of rich fabrics, and the clink of jewellery being sorted.

He paused.

There was... too much happening.

Rolls of brocade and shimmering silk lay across divans. A jeweller sat cross-legged in the corner, threading pearls through gold wire. Gauri stood over him, giving instructions with the practiced grace.

Attendants walked past him carrying trays stacked with vermillion, turmeric, sweets wrapped in banana leaves. The scent of sandalwood, rosewater, and ghee hung thick in the air.

Malhar's brow furrowed.

He took a step deeper into the courtyard, one hand brushing the hilt of his sword — an unconscious gesture. Something didn't feel right.

Near the centre, he spotted his mother seated rigidly on the edge of a divan, her expression unreadable. Jahnvi sat beside her, a deep blue Paithani saree loosely draped across her front for fittings. She looked like a vision from a dream — delicate, distant, unreal.

His heart skipped a beat.. or two.

The corner of his lips curved into a smile. How could he feel both breathless and anchored in her presence?

"Aai Saheb," he called softly.

Nanda turned, startled. "Malhar."

He glanced around again. "What's going on here?" he asked with a half-laugh. "Why does it look like the fort's preparing for another coronation?"

Nanda stood slowly, gathering thr free end of her saree. "We were—" she faltered, her eyes flicking sideways toward Damini, who was now inspecting bridal bangles with performative focus.

Before Nanda could gather her words, Gauri chimed in brightly, too brightly, stepping beside Jahnvi. "Oh, don't worry, Raje. Nothing's being thrown in your direction this time. Your hunting trip spared you all the chaos."

Malhar raised an eyebrow, amused but still puzzled. "Right. But what exactly is the occasion?" he asked, motioning toward the mountain of silk, jewellery, and sweets.

There was a beat of silence. Small. Tense.

Nanda placed a hand on his arm. "Malhar, walk with me. Please."

He nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as he let her lead him a few paces away—behind a stone column. The hum of preparations dulled behind the carved walls.

"I was going to tell you," she began softly, her voice almost hesitant. "I sent for you this morning. I... I should have said it sooner."

He studied her face, tone still light but wary. "Tell me what, Aai?"

She took a breath. "About Abhinav... and Ja—"

"Malhar! Aai Saheb!" Gauri's voice rang out sharply from behind the column.

Both mother and son turned at once and rushed back into the courtyard. The scene was instantly different.

Jahnvi was on the ground, her face pale, her foot bloodied. Red streaks marred the stone floor beneath her. Shards of broken glass bangles lay scattered around.

"What happened?" Nanda demanded, rushing forward.

"She stepped on broken bangles," Gauri said, kneeling beside Jahnvi, trying to press cloth to her foot. "The tray slipped—just shattered all at once."

Damini raised her hands in horror. "Blood and broken glass? Before the wedding? That's a terrible sign."

Malhar blinked. "Whose wedding?"

The air changed.

The colour on Nanda's face drained. Gauri looked up at Mahar. Jahnvi did not lift her eyes.

Damini turned with a laugh that carried too much purpose. "Why, Abhinav's, of course."

Malhar's brows furrowed deeper. "With whom?"

Damini smiled wider, voice syrup-sweet and cruel beneath. "Who else? Jahnvi, of course."

The name dropped like a stone in a still lake.

His breath caught. The sounds around him—whispers, footsteps, even the rustling of silk—receded into a distant hum. The world narrowed. He stared at her.

His features slackened, eyes wide—not with rage, but with devastation. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.

Everything inside him went silent.

Even his heartbeat seemed to pause, confused. Lost.

"Aai saheb should I call the medic here." Gauri's panicked voice brought him back to reality.

He looked at his mother who looked at him with hope, hope to stay shut, to contain his emotion.
He looked at Jahnvi whose eyes were on the floor.

He walked toward her, silent and composed, even as a storm brewed in his chest. He knelt before her, his fingers brushing aside Gauri's hands.

Without speaking, he reached for the edge of the saree kept on Jahnvi's shoulder.

Jahnvi's eyes widened, but she said nothing. She watched him as he tore the fabric cleanly, his jaw set, his breath shallow.

"Raje what are you doing !" Gauri shrieked looking at Malhar tear an expensive piece of fabric meant for Jahnvi to be worn on her wedding.

Malhar took the strip of blue silk and gently pressed it to the gash on her foot. His touch was firm but careful, wrapping the silk around the wound before tying it with a knot. It was the only thing he could control in that moment.

Jahnvi hadn't winced, hadn't moved, but a single tear slipped down her cheek—silent, like everything she had buried within herself. Her pain—soaked in silence, masked behind a wound that wasn't nearly as deep as the one blooming in her chest.

"Gauri," Malhar said, his voice low, his eyes still on Jahnvi, "send for the medic to her chamber."

And before anyone could stop him, he bent down and slipped an arm beneath Jahnvi's knees, the other supporting her back, and lifted her into his arms.

Damini and Nanda watched in silence.

They weren't sure if the storm had passed them by—or if this quiet was the moment the sky holds its breath before it tears open.
They watched as Malhar—silent, unreadable—bent down and lifted Jahnvi into his arms.

There was no struggle, no hesitation. Jahnvi looked up at him. His jaw was locked, his brows drawn tight—not in anger, not in grief, but something harder. As though whatever he felt had been buried beneath a layer of stone. She allowed herself to rest her face against his chest, just once. Just for the journey back.

She could hear the guards greet him, footsteps scattering as they cleared the corridor. She heard the creak of the door pushed open. Then felt his arms shift—her body lowered gently onto a soft mattress.

"What happened, Princess?" Kanika's voice cut in, urgent and shaken.

Jahnvi didn't answer. Her eyes were on Malhar, who moved without a word. He reached for a pillow, lifted her foot with practiced gentleness, and placed the cushion beneath her ankle.

"Keep it elevated. Clean the wound thoroughly and send for the medic," he said, his voice clipped, official.

"Yes, Raje," Kanika bowed.

"If she needs anything—tell Aai Saheb. Or Gauri."
And then he turned to leave. Not a glance. Not a pause.

"Stop." Jahnvi's voice broke the stillness like a crack of lightning.

Malhar froze mid-step.

"Kanika, will you fetch Zoon for me?" she asked without taking her eyes off him.

Kanika, reading the tone, gave a quick bow and left.

Malhar didn't turn.

"Ra—" she began, but he cut her off.

"Why?"

She blinked.

"Why? What do you—"

"Why, Jahnvi?" he turned toward her slowly. "Why did you do it?"
His voice was no longer empty. It held a tremor. A barely veiled crack.

"There was no reason to refuse," Jahnvi said, her voice quieter, but steady.

"Don't do that," he snapped. "Don't feed me these answers that mean nothing."

"I gave you the truth."

"No," Malhar stepped forward, his eyes blazing. "You didn't even try to stop it. You don't even know him. You—"
His hands curled into fists. His chest rose and fell unevenly. "How could you say yes, Jahnvi?"
His voice dropped. "How could you?"

And then suddenly—violently—he slammed his fist into the wall beside her bed. The sound echoed in the chamber.

Jahnvi jolted. "Malhar!"

Pain shot up her leg as she tried to get up. Her foot touched the floor and she winced, her body folding slightly from the sting.

But still—she stood. Bruised foot, trembling hands, tear-lined eyes—she stood.

"You want to know why?" Jahnvi asked, her voice trembled but her gaze was steady — too steady, as though she had rehearsed this pain in silence.

Malhar waited, jaw clenched, the silence between them almost deafening.

"Because I wanted something real," she began coldly. "Something secure. Something mine."

He blinked. A breath caught in his chest.

"Abhinav offered me that. He offered me respect, a place in society, his name. He didn't hesitate. He didn't hide behind a throne, or behind duty, or behind guilt. He looked at me and saw a future."

Malhar's lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

"And he—he asked for me like I mattered," she added, each word sharper than the last. "He didn't take me, conquer me. He chose me. That's more than I can say for anyone else."

He flinched—barely—but she saw it. And still she continued.

"I won't spend my life as someone's living breathing trophy with no dignity." she spat.

"I said yes to Abhinav because I was tired, Malhar. Tired of being no one. Tired of being your secret. Tired of being the woman the servants whisper about when I walk past."

He flinched slightly at that, but she stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

"You think I don't hear them?" she went on, her voice cruel, deliberate. "The King's keep. The concubine from the north. The war prize they forgot to send home. The royal whore." She laughed bitterly.

Malhar turned his face away for a moment, as if trying to breathe through the sting.

"I don't want to live my life waiting for scraps of affection from a man who doesn't even know what he wants," Jahnvi went on, cruelly. "I don't want to rot between this walls waiting for the day you'll use me to warm your bed when you get tired of your marital life, I don't want to see the day you get tired of me and pass me off as seconds to your lap dogs."

"Jahnvi stop." Malhar finally whispered, his voice hoarse. His eyes red, a single tear fell from his eyes.

"Is that what you think I reduced you to?"

She laughed. But it was hollow. Sharp.

"No, Malhar. That's what you let me become. You brought me here, caged me in silks and silence. And now you want to ask why I chose a man who offered me dignity instead?"

"I never—" he started, his voice cracking.

"You never spoke," she cut in. "Not when it mattered. Not to your mother, not to Gauri, not to your court. Not to me. You looked at me like you owned me. But you never stood for me."

He looked as though he had been punched.

"I will not die in this fort as someone's unspoken shame," she said, voice now trembling with rage and something deeper, far more fragile. "I will not be held a prisoner behind these walls while you decide when I am convenient to remember."

Her lips curled into a bitter smirk.

"If I'm going to be called a kept woman, I might as well leave with a title."

Malhar's chest rose sharply. His eyes — wide, wet, stunned — held hers.

There were no more words between them.

Just silence.

Just the sound of a heart breaking.

And then he stepped back, as though burnt.

And turned.

"I hope he gives you everything you want," Malhar said finally, his voice low and final. "Everything you traded your truth for and twisted mine for."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jahnvi didn't cry until the door had closed behind him. Her body shook—but no sob escaped her throat. She had shattered him.

Because she thought it would protect him.

Because loving him had started to hurt too much.

AN: I promise the next chapter is better.

75 for the next

Lots of love
xoxo