Jahnvi sat curled up on her bed, her head resting against her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Zoon lay beside her, the little cat occasionally lifting its head to nudge her softly, sensing something was terribly wrong. Her eyes were swollen, the skin beneath them tender and bruised from a night filled with tears—raw, relentless, and silent.

Outside, the palace was alive. Trumpets blared, dhols thundered in rhythm, and the chaos of celebration echoed through every courtyard and corridor. Satara had been turned into a festive fortress. Silken drapes hung from balconies, priests from Tuljapur had arrived, and preparations were underway for the grand wedding rituals.

Her wedding.

To Abhinav.

Damini Kaki had left no stone unturned. There were fragrant garlands being strung in the kitchens, mehendi bowls being carried to the women's quarters, and fresh haldi being mixed by the matrons of the house. From her window, Jahnvi could even see a canopy of red and gold being raised in the central courtyard.

And yet, inside her chamber, all was still. Her world had gone quiet.

Zoon purred gently, brushing a paw against her calf, trying to stir her.

"I'm sorry, baby," Jahnvi murmured, lifting her head just enough to glance at him. Her voice cracked. "I just need some time to myself."

The little creature pushed a frayed yarn ball toward her with his nose, a silent invitation.

"I'll play with you some other day. I promise."

Zoon mewed softly and batted the ball aside again, as if he understood. He curled up on the pillow beside her, content to simply stay close.

A knock at the door made her jolt.

She hadn't bathed. She hadn't stepped out. She hadn't touched a single plate of food brought to her since dawn.

"Please come in," she called, her voice barely audible.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Kanika stepped in carefully, balancing a silver tray in her hands.

"Good afternoon, princess," she said with a polite smile.

Jahnvi managed a nod, her lips twitching into something that could be mistaken for a smile.

"Kaki saheb sent this food for you."

"Take it back, Kanika," Jahnvi said softly but firmly. "Please don't bring me anything unless I ask for it."

Kanika hesitated. "But you haven't had your breakfast either, princess, you—"

"I'm aware," Jahnvi said, gently cutting her off. "Please... just close the door on your way out."

Kanika bit her lip but didn't argue. She looked at Jahnvi for a long moment, then stepped forward and placed a small brass bowl on the table.

"I brought some cold water and a soaked cloth pad—for your eyes. The swelling might ease a little."

Jahnvi blinked at the gesture, surprised. She sat up straighter and gave Kanika a faint, grateful look.

"You can leave it there. I'll use it myself, thank you."

Kanika nodded. "Alright, princess." She moved quietly across the room, her footsteps barely audible on the stone floor. A clink of metal, the shifting of fabric—and then she was gone.

But the silence didn't last.

Another knock.

Jahnvi sighed. Her voice had gone hoarse with unspoken words, but she called out again.

"Yes?"

"Jahnvi?" came the familiar voice.

She inhaled deeply. She knew this moment would come—knew the words would be hard to say and harder to hear.

"Yes, Aai Saheb."

"May I come in?"

"The house is yours, Aai Saheb. You don't need my permission for anything," Jahnvi replied, her tone quiet, but edged.

Nanda paused at the threshold before stepping in. Her expression was drawn, carefully measured. She had heard the layered meaning in Jahnvi's reply—and chosen not to address it.

"I see your meal is untouched again," she said, glancing at the tray still on the table.

"I'm not hungry," Jahnvi said, her tone clipped, unfamiliar even to herself. She didn't know where the sudden anger came from—perhaps from the realisation that love, even the maternal kind, had conditions.

"It would be unusual if you were," Nanda said gently, her voice trying to bridge a distance too wide. "Gauri made stuffed potatoes today—Malhar's favourite. She sent some for you too. She said she wanted you to try them... It's her first time cooking."

Jahnvi picked at a loose thread on the bedsheet. "Hmm."

"She once tried making Kolhapuri mutton curry too but failed, again one of Malhar's—"

"Aai Saheb, please," Jahnvi cut her off, her voice sharp now. "I understand. Loud and clear."

She turned to face Nanda. "I am not here to compete. I'm not going to stand between Malhar and Gauri. I'm marrying Abhinav, just like you want. I'll move to Pune. I'll disappear, quietly and gracefully. You don't need to worry—I'm not a threat to your family."

Her words, calm as they were, carried a bitterness so thick it stung her own throat.

A realisation settled over her as she stood there—one that stripped away whatever was left of her naivety. For all the care and warmth Nanda had once shown, she was still just the girl brought back from a conquered land. A reminder of a war won. An ornament. A guest.

Never a daughter.

"No, beta, I never—"

"Aai Saheb, please," Jahnvi said again, rising slowly from the bed despite the throb in her ankle. She limped toward Nanda, each step wounding her pride. "No more half-truths. No more veiled words. If I am to be given away, at least offer me that final dignity—honesty."

Nanda's mouth trembled as she tried to speak, but nothing came.

"Jahnvi..." she finally whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of sorrow and guilt.

A part of Jahnvi cracked at the sound of it, and for a fleeting moment, she wanted to take it all back—to reach for Nanda's hands and cry into her shoulder like she once did. But she stopped herself.

Because they both knew... every word Jahnvi had spoken was the truth.

And the truth, this time, was not meant to be softened.

"Aai Saheb!" Gauri sauntered into the room, her anklets chiming with each step, her cheeks flushed from the morning's chaos. "The head cook is losing his mind. He's called for you and Damini Kaki to finalise the village feast menu before he throws boiling stew pots at someone."

Nanda turned from the window hastily, swiping the edge of her saree across her cheek to hide any trace of her tears. Her face was composed by the time she turned to Gauri, offering her a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. With a slight nod to both girls, she exited the room in silence.

As the door shut behind her, Gauri let out a dramatic sigh and flopped onto the bed beside Jahnvi, her bangles jingling against the frame.

"Janu, this is not fair," she declared, kicking off her sandals. "You've managed to injure your foot and vanish from every possible errand. And now I have to deal with all the madness alone. Do you know how many types of lentils exist in this fort? Because I do now. Thanks to you."

Jahnvi smiled faintly but didn't say anything. Her gaze remained fixed on the window, her fingers absently stroking Zoon's soft fur as the cat dozed in her lap.

"I swear," Gauri continued, flopping sideways so her head rested on Jahnvi's shoulder, "when I marry Malhar, I'll make you work twice as hard just to make up for this. That's the least you could do for me, hmm?"

She grinned playfully, nudging Jahnvi's arm.

Still no response. Just a gentle tightening of Jahnvi's jaw.

"You're being quiet again." Gauri sat up straighter. "Are you upset I didn't agree on this wedding before. Come on, Jahnvi. You're not that delicate. Even with an injured foot, you could've helped me sort through the guest gifts. I even had to supervise the Haldi bowls!"

Jahnvi finally turned to her, her eyes calm, but there was something guarded behind them. A stillness that didn't belong to the same girl who used to laugh when they snuck mangoes from the kitchen or stitched garlands together for temple visits.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, "for not helping more."

Gauri blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. "Oh... I didn't mean it like that, don't go all serious on me. I know your foot hurts. And you're probably nervous too. I would be, if I were to marry in the next four days."

Something flickered across Jahnvi's face.

"I'm not nervous," she said. "That part is long over."

"Good!" Gauri chirped. "Because you and Abhinav dada look sweet together. He's funny and kind and a treat to look at." She winked.

Jahnvi gave her a small, sad smile. "You think so?"

"Of course!" Gauri grinned, oblivious. "And now I'll have you as my sister officially. Imagine us both married, you in Pune and me here in Satara. I'll write to you every week. Maybe every day, until you beg me to stop."

Jahnvi looked down at Zoon, her hand pausing for a moment.

"Sisters," she echoed quietly.

Gauri giggled and poked her side. "You're being so weird today, Jahnvi. Are you sure you're happy ?"

Jahnvi's eyes darted to her for the briefest second before returning to the cat in her lap. Her voice was soft, almost inaudible.

"No, Gauri. I'm happy... truly. I am getting everything I ever wanted."

Gauri missed the heaviness in the words. She stood up, brushing off her lehenga. "Exactly! Now if you're done sulking, I need you to come to the central courtyard in an hour, the priests have come. At least show your face and pretend you're excited."

Jahnvi nodded wordlessly.

"I'll see you soon," Gauri said, skipping toward the door. "Don't forget—twice the chores once I'm the royal bride."

She left the room humming, the door shutting behind her with a quiet click.

Alone once more, Jahnvi leaned back against the headboard, pressing her palm to her chest as if to keep her heart from unraveling. Zoon stirred, sensing the tremble in her touch.

"You have no idea what I'm giving up," she whispered into the silence.

The dhols from the courtyard echoed faintly in the distance, festive, relentless, unaware of the sacrifice taking shape behind closed doors.

•••

The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows across the palace walls, but Malhar's wing remained dim and quiet, untouched by the usual rhythm of celebration that filled the rest of the fort.

Scrolls lay open across his desk—letters from the Peshwa, trade ledgers, land grants, battalion reports—most of them untouched. A lamp flickered to his left, casting soft gold across his face, but his eyes were blank, fixed not on the parchment in front of him, but on something far away—something unreachable.

The door creaked open. Footsteps followed—light, careful. Familiar.

"Thought I'd find you here," Jai said, crossing the room with a slow, measured gait. He glanced around at the scattered documents. "Looks like the kingdom's being run twice over today."

Malhar didn't respond. His hand moved slowly, more out of habit than purpose, drawing a lazy mark in the margin of a dispatch before dropping the quill again.

Jai came to stand beside the desk, arms folded across his chest.

"You know," he said, not unkindly, "the Bhavani pooja and yagya are to take place in the temple sanctum tonight. Damini kaki nearly broke her voice yelling at the flower boys. I feel a sadistic pleasure to see her so worked up."

Still no response.

"She even sent for you. Told the servant to summon Raje personally. Twice."

Malhar didn't even look up. He rolled the edge of the parchment inward, as if the simple act of folding could drown out the noise of reality.

Jai sighed, pulling out a chair and sinking into it.

"You can't keep hiding in here, Malhar," he said gently. "The entire palace knows you've cocooned yourself."

Malhar's jaw tightened, his eyes finally lifting to meet Jai's. They were bloodshot, not from tears, but from exhaustion—the kind that roots itself deep into the soul.

"I'm not hiding," he said, voice low.

"No?" Jai challenged. "Then what do you call it? You haven't stepped outside of your wing in nearly two days. Haven't spoken to Aai Saheb, haven't even asked about Jahnvi."

A shadow passed across Malhar's face. He stood slowly, walking to the window and pushing it open just a crack. Music floated up from below—drums and laughter, the rustle of silks and bangles. Joyful sounds. Mocking ones.

"She said yes," Malhar said finally, his voice flat. "What more is there to ask?"

Jai stared at him. He stood up from the chair his voice softening. "You're punishing yourself. Working like a man possessed, pretending this isn't happening. But in four days your cousin marries the woman you—"

"Don't," Malhar said sharply, eyes still fixed on the courtyard. "Don't finish that sentence."

The silence between them stretched.

"You'll have to face it sometime," Jai said at last. "The music won't stop just because you pretend not to hear it."

Malhar turned from the window, eyes unreadable.

"That's the thing about music, Jai. It ends eventually. And then it's quiet."

He walked past his best friend, back to his desk, back to the scrolls and the silence.

Jai watched him for a long moment, then quietly let himself out.

Outside, the courtyard roared with celebration. Inside, Malhar folded himself deeper into his loneliness.

AN: Unedited chapter
I love how Jahnvi is putting everyone in place, first Mahar now Aai Saheb.
What do you think ?

Stay safe
Lots of love
xoxo