The museum was buzzing with excitement. Prerna Agarwal, a college student, walked through its grand halls . This trip was supposed to be a fun escape, but something about this place felt like it was calling to her.
The highlight of the museum was...
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The morning sun streamed through the ornate windows of my chamber, casting a golden hue over the intricate patterns of my bridal attire. The silk fabric shimmered with every movement, adorned with delicate embroidery that told tales of love and tradition. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding me, a heavy weight settled in my chest. I hadn’t heard a word from Viraaj since last night, and the memory of our kiss lingered like a bittersweet melody in my mind. I didn’t understand why I had kissed him, why I had let myself be swept away in that moment. It felt so wrong, yet so right.
I sighed, trying to shake off the confusion that clouded my thoughts. Today was supposed to be a celebration, a day of joy as I prepared to choose my husband in the grand swamvara. The hall was filled with the elite of Parthiva, princes from distant kingdoms, all gathered to win my hand. But as I stood there, my heart felt heavy with uncertainty. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead.
As I stepped into the grand hall, the sight before me was breathtaking. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers that sparkled like stars, casting a warm glow over the gathering. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, depicting the glorious history of Parthiva, while the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood. The hall was filled with the chatter of nobles, their eyes glinting with ambition and desire, all focused on me—the center of attention.
But I couldn’t bring myself to look at them. My heart raced as I walked forward, the garland of flowers in my hands feeling heavier with each step. The people of Parthiva had come to witness this moment, to see who I would choose as my husband. Yet, all I could think about was Viraaj and the kiss that had ignited a fire within me, a fire I was terrified to acknowledge.
Suddenly, the main gates of the hall swung open with a resounding thud, drawing every eye toward the entrance. My breath caught in my throat as Viraaj strode in, flanked by a battalion of Kahilya soldiers. The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. He was dressed in the regal attire of a prince, the deep blue fabric accentuating his strong frame, a golden sash draped across his chest. His presence commanded the room, and I could feel the collective gasp of the crowd as they took in the sight of him.
Please it's not what I'm thinking!!
He stood in the middle of the hall, a powerful figure radiating authority, while the nobles around him shivered with fear. I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me, a stark contrast to the panic that gripped everyone else. Why was he here? My mind raced with questions, each one more frantic than the last. Was he here to disrupt the swamvara? To seek revenge for the last night or something ?
“Viraaj,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to believe he was not the man I feared he might be, but the way he held himself, the intensity in his gaze, made it hard to dismiss the thoughts swirling in my mind.
He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. “Shivanya,” he said, his voice deep and commanding, echoing through the hall. “I am Prithviraj Kshatriya, the prince of Kahilya. And I am here to claim what is rightfully mine.”
