The air in the palace was thick with silence, the kind that echoed after devastation. The halls, moments ago alive with confrontation, were now heavy with unspoken grief and confusion.
Aditya had left.
But he had left behind a crack—one that reached deep into every soul present.
Rajeshwari lay on the bed, her dupatta draped carelessly over her as she lay pale and unmoving. A doctor adjusted the IV drip while Shiv stood beside him, quietly discussing her vitals.
Anika sat close, eyes red, her hand lightly caressing Rajeshwari's arm.
And Myra… she was right there.
Kneeling beside the bed in her deep maroon saree, her fingers gently held Rajeshwari's cold hand. Her brows were furrowed in concern, her eyes soft with worry. She didn't fully understand what had happened—but she felt it. Something had shaken this family to its core.
Suddenly, Rajeshwari's eyes fluttered open.
"Myra…" she whispered hoarsely, her hand twitching slightly in the girl's palm.
Myra gasped, leaning closer. "Maa! You're awake…" Her voice trembled, but relief washed over her face. "Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?"
Rajeshwari blinked, trying to sit up.
Anika rushed forward, supporting her from the back, adjusting the pillows so she could lean against the headboard.
"No… no doctor," Rajeshwari murmured. "Just… stay here."
Her eyes found Myra's. There was something raw in them. Something old. Something broken.
Rajeshwari grasped Myra's hands with surprising strength. "Listen to me, Myra," she said, her voice suddenly firmer than before. "I don't have much strength to explain everything… and maybe I never will. But you must know this."
Myra nodded slowly, heart pounding.
"I promised your mother…" Rajeshwari's lips trembled, eyes brimming. "That I'd keep you safe. That I'd protect you when she couldn't. That was all I could do for her, and I won't fail her—not again."
Tears spilled down Myra's cheeks. She didn't understand why those words felt like knives through silk.
"Maa…" she whispered.
"He's dangerous, Myra," Rajeshwari continued. "He's dangerous to all of us. But to you… to you, he's something else entirely. I don't know what he wants—but I know he won't stop until he gets it."
Myra swallowed hard.
Her eyes dropped to their intertwined hands.
And then, her voice came—soft, yet sure. "Don't worry, Maa," she whispered. "Ranvijay won't let anything happen to this family. He loves all of you so much. He'll protect you."
Outside the door—unseen—Ranvijay stood.
His hand rested against the frame, his face expressionless, but his eyes… they were burning.
He hadn't come to eavesdrop.
He had come to check on his mother… to see if Myra was alright.
But then he had heard that.
The girl he had forcefully married. The one who thought he was cruel. The one who barely smiled at him—was defending him.
Not out of fear.
Not out of obligation.
But out of belief.
Belief in him.
Something shifted in his chest. Something dangerous. Something tender. Something he hadn't dared to feel in years.
He turned away silently, the corner of his mouth twitching—not in amusement, but in disbelief. She didn't know he had heard.
But her words had carved into him like fire against ice.
Inside the room, Rajeshwari reached up and cupped Myra's cheek gently.
"You remind me of her," she said. "So much."
Myra blinked. "My mother?"
Rajeshwari just smiled faintly. "The world never deserved women like her. Or like you."
Myra looked down, overwhelmed.
And outside, a silent vow was born in Ranvijay's heart.
No matter what shadows come… I won't let them touch her.
The air inside the royal sitting hall was weighty.
Muted. Almost suffocating.
Rajeshwari sat on the center sofa, draped in a pale ivory shawl, her face paler than usual. Anika sat by her feet on the carpet, massaging her legs gently, casting worried glances every now and then.
Dadi Sa had arrived from Jaipur just an hour ago. The moment she had entered and learned of what had happened, the regal strength on her face had faltered. Her sharp eyes were dull today as she sat with her back upright but spirit subdued.
Shiv leaned quietly against a pillar, arms folded, trying to stay strong.
And then there was Ranvijay.
Silent.
Emotionless.
Perched on a single-seater sofa at the far end of the hall, his gaze fixed on nothing. A storm brewed within him, but his face was a mask. One leg crossed over the other, fingers tapping against the armrest as if calculating something cold, something final.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
Myra walked in quietly, barefoot, dressed in a soft lavender saree. Her anklets made the slightest sound, like whispers that didn't dare disturb the storm.
She looked around at everyone.
They were all in pieces.
They've always been strong, she thought, but right now… they look like they forgot how to smile.
She wanted to do something.
Anything.
And so, she did what only someone like her could—something so odd, so out of place, that it somehow… fit perfectly.
"Can I show you something?" she asked softly.
Everyone turned.
Rajeshwari raised a brow. Dadi Sa looked mildly confused. Anika tilted her head.
Ranvijay… didn't move. But his eyes slowly lifted to meet hers.
Myra smiled nervously, then walked to the corner of the hall where she had a small wooden box tucked beside the bookshelf. She pulled it open and brought out a set of paper butterflies—colorful, hand-painted, clearly made by her.
She began placing them carefully on the center table, using fine, near-invisible threads to lift some of them up. The room watched in silence as she worked like a child building a stage, her hands moving gently, reverently.
"A long time ago," she began, her voice clear and soft, "there was a beautiful kingdom filled with butterflies—each one with wings so delicate, they sparkled under the moonlight."
Rajeshwari blinked, taken aback.
Dadi Sa frowned slightly—but didn't interrupt.
"The most beautiful of them all was the princess," Myra continued, placing a golden butterfly with pink and purple swirls at the center. "She wasn't just lovely—her heart was as kind as the spring breeze."
She looked up to see Anika's lips curve slightly.
"But then," Myra said, standing up straighter, "dark clouds came. The wind howled, the trees shivered, and everyone thought the princess would run and hide."
She picked up a thin stick and drew a line in the air as if a sword was being unsheathed.
"But the princess didn't run."
Myra smiled now—proudly.
"She picked up her sword. And the butterflies gathered around her. They weren't scared. Because she wasn't."
She twirled once, holding the imaginary sword in one hand and a butterfly in the other, and her saree swirled like mist.
Everyone watched—speechless.
"Even the monsters didn't know," she whispered, holding the golden butterfly against her chest, "that behind her soft smile was someone who had been forged in fire."
Then she gave a small, almost awkward bow.
"I thought… maybe if the butterflies could smile again… we all could too."
There was a pause.
And then—
A chuckle.
From Dadi Sa.
A full, throaty laugh that surprised even herself. "Pagli ladki," she said fondly, wiping a tear, "what kind of silly tale was that?"
Anika laughed softly, covering her mouth.
Shiv grinned, muttering under his breath, "Sword-wielding butterfly princess, huh…"
Rajeshwari didn't laugh.
But her hand found Myra's and squeezed it.
"You really are like her," she whispered.
Myra tilted her head. "Who?"
Rajeshwari shook her head gently. "Just… someone who once lit up this palace like morning sunlight."
Everyone's heart softened a little more.
Everyone… except one.
Ranvijay hadn't moved. But his eyes were locked on her.
She didn't even know, he thought, that she just stitched together the broken pieces of everyone's heart with a fairy tale.
And what made it worse?
She wasn't pretending.
She was really… just that soft.
And that strong.
He stood up suddenly, walking past her, his fingers brushing against the table where the butterflies danced.
As he walked away, he said just loud enough for her to hear—
"Next time, make me the prince."
Myra blinked, mouth parted, cheeks heating.
She turned to see everyone watching her with teasing eyes.
Anika smirked. "Oho…"
Dadi Sa raised an eyebrow. "He never jokes."
Shiv burst into a laugh. "I think your story hit him harder than the sword, Myra."
Myra looked down, flustered.
But as she glanced at her butterfly princess again, a smile curled on her lips.
Maybe… just maybe… storms weren't the end.
Maybe they were the beginning of something beautiful or dangerous.
As the last echo of laughter from Dadi Sa faded and the butterflies fluttered lightly on their threads, Myra turned toward everyone with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
"I want to say something…" she said, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice small but sincere.
Everyone turned their eyes to her.
Rajeshwari smiled softly, still holding her hand. Anika looked up, curious. Shiv tilted his head.
Myra drew in a deep breath and spoke—her words woven with warmth.
"I want everyone to smile more," she said, her eyes sweeping across the family. "Please… don't be sad anymore. I know things feel heavy, and scary, and confusing. But just for a little while—can we… can we try to feel like home again?"
Her words settled into the room like a soft shawl, wrapping everyone in gentle warmth.
"I made something for everyone," she added, her smile growing sheepish. "It's not much, but I made it with love."
She disappeared into the kitchen corridor, and a moment later, returned pushing a small trolley covered with cloth.
The smell hit before the sight did.
Warm. Spicy. Mouthwatering.
Shiv's eyes widened. "Wait… is that—?"
"Kachori!" Anika gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Myra beamed, pulling the cloth off like unveiling a treasure chest.
Golden brown kachoris, fresh out of the pan, sat in bowls along with sweet chutneys and fried green chillies on the side.
"You made all this?" Rajeshwari asked, surprised.
"Well… the cook helped with frying," Myra admitted with a little giggle. "But I did the filling! And I served them with all my heart."
The reaction was instant.
Shiv practically dove for the first plate. "You're an angel. This is heaven. I'm never leaving this palace now."
Dadi Sa took a bite and closed her eyes. "Haye… this tastes like Jaipur winters in my youth."
Anika fed Rajeshwari a piece, who took it slowly, watching Myra with glassy eyes.
"I haven't seen everyone laugh like this in so long," Anika whispered, half to herself.
Even the servants, standing in the corner, couldn't help but smile seeing the royal family share such a simple joy.
For a brief moment—it wasn't a palace.
It wasn't a storm-ridden home.
It was… a family.
Smiling. Laughing. Healing.
And above all of them, on the first-floor landing, leaning silently against the carved wooden railing—stood Ranvijay.
Unseen. Unmoving.
But entirely consumed.
His eyes didn't leave her.
Not even once.
He watched as Myra giggled when Shiv demanded three extra pieces, as she ran to wipe the chutney off Rajeshwari's fingers, as she gently teased Dadi Sa for asking for more.
She glowed.
Not because she was trying.
But because she couldn't help it.
Ranvijay's hand gripped the railing tightly.
His heart thundered in his chest like a war drum—but his face remained still. Controlled.
If he could, he thought, he'd carve this moment into stone. Frame it. Lock it in his mind forever.
Because he had seen too much of the world fall apart. Too much blood. Too much betrayal. Too much pain.
But this?
This smile… this softness… this home?
He'd never had it.
And now that he had… he didn't know how to hold it without shaking.
So he stood in silence.
Watching.
Saving.
Burning every second of this moment into memory as if the universe might take it from him at any second.
And somewhere inside him, where no one could hear—he made a quiet vow.
No matter who comes back. No matter what burns around them. He will protect this joy. This light. He will protect… her.
Myra opened the door slowly. The room was cloaked in a hushed silence, unusually quiet… almost as if it were holding its breath.
It was dark.
She reached out and switched on the lamp. A soft, golden light bloomed into the room, casting shadows against the walls. That's when she saw him.
Ranvijay.
Leaning against the doorframe that led to the balcony, his arms crossed loosely, head slightly bowed, as if lost in thought.
She stilled, her fingers frozen on the switch.
As if sensing her presence, he turned.
And for a few seconds… he just looked at her. Not like a husband looks at his wife, not like a prince looks at a queen. But like a man who had finally found his last flicker of peace in a world built on storms.
His eyes didn't blink.
Slowly, step by step, he walked toward her. His gaze burned through the silence, through her walls.
Myra swallowed hard.
"Wh–What?" she whispered, unsure, suddenly aware of how loud her heartbeat felt in her chest.
And then…
He fell to his knees.
Right in front of her.
Her breath caught—she stopped breathing completely.
He wrapped his arms gently around her waist and buried his face against her stomach. The contact made her freeze, hands hanging by her sides like they didn't know what to do. Her saree fluttered slightly from the breeze slipping in from the open balcony door.
Ranvijay's voice came out hoarse, broken — like it had traveled miles of silence to find her.
"I don't know how to say this right. I'm not a man who's good with words, Myra. But I swear… I don't know how to exist anymore without you."
" You're the only one I want to return to."
Myra's fingers twitched.
He looked up slowly, eyes shining with something that scared her — raw sincerity.
"You are the light this family needs. The light I need."
His hand gripped her a little tighter.
"Even if you hate me… I'll choose to be hated by you rather than loved by someone else. Because I…"
His voice cracked slightly.
"I need you, Myra. Even to breathe."
The air between them thickened.
Myra looked down at him — her lips parted, her eyes wide, stunned. She wasn't prepared for this. Not his words. Not this kind of closeness. Not this kind of truth.
He wasn't her enemy. He wasn't even the possessive force she had been so determined to keep at arm's length.
He was… breaking.
And he was breaking at her feet.
She wanted to say something. Anything.
But her throat refused to open.
Her trembling hands reached out unconsciously, hovering above his shoulder, then slowly… very hesitantly… rested over his hair.
It felt like touching fire.
And yet she didn't pull away.
Ranvijay didn't move either. As if this fragile touch was enough to rebuild his whole world.
Silence wrapped around them. But this time it wasn't empty.
It was full of unspoken truths… and something dangerously close to love.