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Kainaat sat quietly on the edge of the grand canopy bed, still wrapped in her heavy bridal lehenga.
Her bangles clinked softly every time her trembling fingers moved.
The room was huge painted ceilings, old portraits, royal furniture but all she felt was fear.
All the rituals were done. The crowd had left. And now… she was alone.
The door creaked open.
Agastya.
He walked in, removing his sehra and garland slowly.
His presence filled the room calm, silent
Kainaat straightened immediately, her heart beating so fast.
Just when he placed his sword near the table, she blurted..
“Stay away from me!”
Agastya paused, surprised.
“Tumhe kya hua?”
"What happened to you?"
She narrowed her eyes. “Just FYI… I’m not doing anything tonight. Control your horny royal brain.”
He blinked… then scoffed.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
He walked a step closer, voice low.
“I married a girl, not a wild cat. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Then he stepped back, tone calmer.
“And relax, I’m not interested. I’m going outside.”
Before she could respond, he left the room.
Kainaat exhaled in relief. “Shukar hai…”
She opened her suitcase no fancy nightgown, just a simple cotton night-suit.
She quickly changed and texted him “You can come in. I’ve changed.”
Agastya was standing on the balcony outside, overlooking the silent palace courtyard when his phone buzzed. He walked back in.
Kainaat was brushing her hair in front of the mirror. She didn’t look at him.
He knocked lightly on the doorframe. She nodded.
Picking up her pillow, she headed toward the door.
Agastya frowned. “Where are you going?”
“To sleep in another room. This palace is huge there must be a spare one.”
He leaned against the wall, amused. “Of course, there are many rooms. But you’re not leaving.”
“And why not?” she scoffed. What does this old uncle want now?
“Because you’re new here. You don’t know the palace. Sleep here. Don’t behave like a child.”
She glared. “Oh, I’m the child? Is that enough reason for you to let me go out?”
He gave a tight smile. “You know, my sister’s daughter also throws tantrums like this. She’s five. But I don’t think you’re five… right?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m going, King,” she said, the word dipped in sarcasm.
She stepped forward but before she could leave-
Her feet were no longer on the ground.
Agastya had lifted her effortlessly.
Kainaat gasped. “Put me down!”
Both faces were so closed, that she can feel his breath.
He ignored her, carried her across the room, and gently placed her back on the bed.
“You can take the entire bed,” he said calmly.
“I’ll sleep in the study room. I won’t come near you.”
He picked up only one pillow from her side.
“Just give me this. I don’t need anything else.”
She blinked slightly shocked that he respected her space.
“Oh… sure.”
He walked into the study room and locked the door behind him.
Kainaat stared at the ceiling.
Turned off the chandelier lights, kept just the dim night lamp glowing.
The room felt too silent, new and scary.
She tried to sleep… but her mind wouldn’t stop.
Jay wasn’t there tonight. Neither was Vanya.
Is this marriage a blessing or a trap?
She has college assignments pending…she missed too many classes. Not to worry about attendence as this wouldn't be a matter for them, king his husband will handle it but the knowledge she could gain..
She didn’t bring her laptop here…many things to bring from home. great!
Eventually, exhaustion pulled her to sleep.
---
Next Morning
A
t night, She thought alarm would wake her up. So she set 3 alarms but..
Her alarm rang at 7 AM.
She did not wake up.
Agastya entered. She was still fast asleep, tangled in the sheets like a tired kitten.
He ignored her, went to the washroom, took his morning shower.
Changed into a crisp outfit.
A helper arrived, respectfully handing him his watch, phone, and files.
It had been an hour.
She still slept.
Finally, Kainaat’s eyes fluttered open. For a second she forgot.
Then she saw the grand room, the gold mirror, the royal sword on the wall and him..
Agastya. Her husband. The King.
Her throat tightened. Tears pricked, but she blinked them back.
He looked at her briefly from his seat at the breakfast table, magzine in hand.
“Go and get fresh,” he said simply.
Then back to focus on magzine..
That was it. No romance. No dramatic stare.
Just responsibility and Just royalty.
And for some reason… that scared her more.
She came back, all ready, her hair neatly tied with jasmine flowers pinned at the side, light makeup still fresh, though the exhaustion under her eyes was visible.
She stood near the large carved wooden mirror, adjusting her dupatta nervously. Her fingers were cold. Her heart was beating too loudly in her chest.
She turned slightly toward him and whispered, barely loud enough to be heard,
“Can we go?”
Agastya, already wearing his dark royal suit, simply gave a small nod. His face was unreadable as always calm, composed, king-like.
Both of them walked down the elegant marble stairs together.
The chandelier above glittered in early sunlight, and the palace walls echoed with faint sounds of servants preparing breakfast.
As they reached the dining hall, everyone was already having breakfast.
Devika’s sister-in-law, Agastya's chachi, looked up from her plate and smiled teasingly.
“Oh, I didn’t wake you up.. thought you must be tired and sleeping.”
Her tone was playful but carried a hidden meaning like she was indirectly teasing the new bride.
Kainaat blinked, awkwardly brushing her hair behind her ear.
“Oh? Noo it’s okayy…” she said softly.
Agastya cleared his throat quietly, straightening his sleeves as if wanting to leave this awkward atmosphere.
“I already had my breakfast so I'm leaving-0”
Before he could take another step, his mother spoke with authority.
“Wait! Today is Kainaat’s first day and she has to cook something for rasm.. why don't you wait till then?”
Her voice was calm but firm. It wasn’t a request. It was a statement drenched in tradition and expectation.
But Agastya didn’t even flinch. His jaw tightened slightly.
“I’ve work. You guys enjoy.”
And without waiting for anyone’s response, he walked out of the hall. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the silent corridor.
Devika sighed deeply, hiding her disappointment behind her silver-rimmed glasses.
“So Kainaat, eat your breakfast,” Chachi ( aunt ) said, gently gesturing toward the empty seat.
Kainaat quietly sat down, her hands neatly folded in her lap.
She felt dozens of eyes on her, like every bite she took was being judged.
She lowered her gaze and began to eat parathas, sabzi, curd all prepared by cooks.
The dining table was large but strangely silent. Only a few members were present.
Jay had already gone to college. Agastya was gone. Sasur ji was quietly eating while reading a newspaper.
Chachi was sipping tea slowly. The rest of the seats felt cold and distant like this palace wasn't built for warmth, but for discipline.
When breakfast was over, Devika stood up slowly, wiping her hands with her silk handkerchief.
“Lemme introduce you to here,” she said to Kainaat. Her voice was polite but distant.
Kainaat stood up immediately, nodding.
“Today you can rest because from tomorrow you have duties to handle,” Devika added, but her tone was suddenly strict.
Kainaat blinked.
“Duty?”
Devika’s eyes were sharp.
“Yeah. You’re the queen now. You must know this.”
Her tone made it clear you don’t belong here yet, you have to earn it.
Kainaat swallowed, feeling a strange hollowness inside her chest.
“Yeah, I mean… I'm too young to handle all this..”
There was a pause. A cold pause.
Devika’s expression didn’t soften. She glanced once at her husband, then back at Kainaat.
“I never hear this from anyone! What does it mean you’re young? Your age has nothing to do with responsibilities.”
Her words were polite, but they felt like swords covered in honey.
Kainaat forced a smile and nodded.
“Okay.. as you say.”
---
One hour later.
The palace was quieter now. Sunlight stretched across the courtyard like melted gold. Devika entered Kainaat’s room and said,
“Cook something for Agastya. He’s at the office. It’s a ritual that the new bride sends food.”
Kainaat froze.
She didn’t even know how to cook properly. Panic rose in her chest. But she still nodded.
“Okay… I’ll try.”
She walked slowly toward the royal kitchen. It wasn’t like a normal kitchen this one was massive, filled with brass utensils, cooks preparing lunch for dozens of workers, the aroma of spices floating like mist.
And then Jay walked in through the main door.
His school bag on his shoulder, hair slightly messy, tired expression.
She stared at him unknowingly.
She turned back to the kitchen entrance, took a small breath, and walked up to him.
Her voice was so soft it almost drowned in air
“Uhm, Jay?”
He turned, eyebrows raised.
He pointed to himself.
“Me?”
She nodded nervously.
“Do you know what Agastya likes? Like… is he sweet tooth or spicy?”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Do you really think that--leave it. He likes spicy.”
She nodded again like a shy child.
“Thanks.”
And walked away quickly.
She stepped into the kitchen, tied her dupatta around her waist like an apron. The royal chefs looked at her with gentle respect.
“Bahu ji?”
“Huh?” she blinked.
“Why are you here? You rest, we are here.”
“Ah? No, it's okay. I'm making for one person anyway.”
She smiled awkwardly.
The chefs exchanged looks but didn’t question further. She asked them for help, selected ingredients, and after searching online and taking suggestion..
She prepared arrabbiata pasta. Extra spicy.
Specially for him.
She packed it in a royal tiffin and gave it to the staff to deliver to his office.
---
In Agastya’s office
His employees congratulated him. His best friend teased him,
“Why are you here today? You should be home!”
He ignored everyone and focused on papers. Meetings continued.
Then a staff member entered during the meeting with a tiffin.
“Sir, ma’am sent this.”
Everyone exchanged looks.
Of course his wife.
He told them to keep it on the table.
His friends smirked.
“Oho? Bhabhi already started making food for you?”
He gave a tight smile.
“Let us taste too!” another man joked.
Agastya glared lightly. The man shut up.
"It's okayy you eat it".
But other asked him to eat now.
He has no choice but to taste it..
He opened the tiffin. Steam rose. The smell of chili and tomatoes filled the room.
He took a bite-
Fire. Absolute fire. His tongue burned.
His eyes subtly watered. But he didn’t show it.
“Only one bite? Eat more.” his friend laughed.
He forced himself to eat another bite.
Suddenly, he coughed. Hard.
“Uhm-*cough* I think-*cough* ”
The spiciness was killing him from inside.
He stood up with dignity.
“I think we should continue the meeting rather than wasting time.”
Everyone nodded silently.
As soon as the meeting ended, he rushed to his cabin.
“Water!! Bring water now!” he ordered.
They brought it nervously. He drank it in one go.
Then he called her.
“What was that?”
Kainaat, sitting on her bed, thought maybe he was going to appreciate her effort.
“Why?” she asked.
“Nothing. Leave it.” he said quickly, calming himself. Complaining didn’t suit a king.
He cut the call.
Kainaat threw her phone on bed.
“Ajeeb uncle hain…"
"he is such a weird uncle.”
---
Ch 14
~~
Agastya walked into the house, his sole purpose to see Kainaat.
She was busy helping the staff, and since no one else was around, he simply stood and admired her.
Kainaat sensed someone watching her but dismissed the feeling, focused in her work.
Agastya felt a pang of guilt, remembering she had made food for him, yet he hadn't thanked her.
She finally looked up and met his gaze. "When did you arrive?" she asked.
"Just now," he replied. She simply nodded, a neutral expression on her face.
"Tomorrow is the reception, so you'll be here, right?" she sought confirmation, her tone hesitant.
His answer was immediate and harsh. "This marriage is nothing like you imagine, but of course, such formalities have to be done."
Kainaat looked at him, the flicker of hope in her eyes dimming, replaced by a profound weariness. She lowered her gaze momentarily, then lifted it again, meeting his coldness with a sharp, defensive retort.
"Of course. Like I'm not dying to be in this marriage anyway," she said, giving a sort of eye-roll that didn't quite hide the hurt beneath it.
Her words were laced with a defiant sarcasm. "Don't worry, I know exactly what this is. A transaction.. formality. I'll play my part brilliantly, Agastya. You won't have to worry about me 'imagining' anything more than the cold, hard reality you keep shoving in my face."
She stepped away from the counter, wiping her hands on a towel with unnecessary force.
Her voice dropped to a low, steady tone, devoid of the earlier sarcasm, making it sound even more impactful.
"I asked about the reception only because I need to coordinate with the decorators about the seating arrangement for your family's specific guests. I wouldn't dream of wasting your time with any other kind of confirmation. You can go now. Everything here is under control."
His gut twisted at her words. He hadn't meant to hurt her, only to set the boundaries they both understood, but seeing the genuine pain he'd inflicted, masked by her sharp words, made him feel like the biggest heel.
He watched her turn her back to him, her shoulders rigid with forced composure.
The silence in the large kitchen was suddenly deafening, amplifying the distance between them.
He opened his mouth, wanting to apologize, to mitigate the damage, but all that came out was a clipped, professional response. "Good. Ensure everything is perfect. The press will be here."
She didn't turn around. " noted," she said coolly.
Agastya hesitated for another long moment, wanting to bridge the gap but unwilling to break the walls he'd built around his heart.
He simply turned and walked out, the faint scent of cinnamon and Kainaat's quiet disappointment lingering in the air behind him.
Kainaat waited until the sound of his footsteps faded completely. Only then did she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
She clenched her fists, her carefully constructed composure finally cracking. Formalities. That's all she was to him. A means to an end.
She closed her eyes, fighting back the unwelcome sting of tears, and resolutely walked back to the staff, her focus instantly back on her work, burying the painful exchange deep inside. The show, after all, had to go on.
NEXT DAY |
Agastya left the ROOM, the weight of his own blunt words sitting heavy on his chest. He hated this forced proximity, this constant negotiation between the cold reality of their arrangement and the confusing care he felt whenever Kainaat was near.
He tried to shake the feeling off as he headed to his study, plunging immediately into the stack of files waiting for him.
He is the City's king, and the "royal duties" that came with it were relentless. Today, it was a complex land dispute concerning a major infrastructural project that needed his final sign-off.
He spent the next hour immersed in maps and legal jargon, the cold logic a welcome shield against emotional behavior.
Meanwhile, in the grand drawing-room, Kainaat stood with Rajmata Devika, a large table spread with blueprints and menu options separating them..
Kainaat was tirelessly working, but her expression was one of strained endurance, not professional courtesy.
Devika, being the matriarch, was not only impeccably detailed but relentlessly critical.
"This is unacceptable, Kainaat," Devika declared, tapping a manicured nail sharply against the French wine selection.
"We always use the '95 vintage for visiting dignitaries, not the '98. It shows a lack of respect for tradition."
Kainaat sighed inwardly, keeping her outward composure tightly controlled.
"Rajmata, the '95 has a much sharper finish. The sommelier advised the '98 would pair better with the lamb rogan josh you insisted on. Respect for tradition is important, but a terrible wine pairing is what will be remembered."
Devika's lips thinned into a hard line.
"Your modern opinions on palate pairing are tiresome, Kainaat. You were brought here to follow protocol, not invent it. And what is this? Moving the industrialist's seating to the East Wing? That wing is reserved for family."
"And the family is hardly interested in hearing about commodity futures, Rajmata," Kainaat retorted, her patience wearing thin. "Putting them in the main hall means they will dominate the flow. The East Wing offers them the privacy they require to conduct their side-business, which, let's be honest, is the real reason half of them are attending. It's practical, efficient, and keeps the main spectacle focused on Agastya and myself."
Devika stared at her, her eyes glittering with open disapproval. "Your boldness is amazing. You speak of yourself and my son as a 'spectacle.' Do you think this is a theatre? No. It is the continuation of a dynasty. And as for your efficiency, the only thing you have been efficient at lately is looking like a martyr."
Devika leaned closer, her voice dropping to a low, intense hiss. "I saw you with Agastya earlier. The way you looked at him, the way you let him walk away without a word of apology for what he did to you in the first place. You look exhausted, Kainaat. Not from working for me, but from pretending for him."
Kainaat flinched internally, her polished exterior self cracking under the sudden, unexpected personal attack.
She quickly gathered the menu cards. "I am focused on the work at hand, Rajmata. My personal behavior is irrelevant as long as the reception is successful. If you have no further changes to the layout, I need to finalize the florist now."
Kainaat walked away swiftly, her shoulders rigid.
She knew Devika disliked her fundamentally-saw her as the wrong bloodline, the wrong choice-but the Rajmata's cutting observations about her emotional state were dangerously accurate.
Kainaat hated that Devika could see the pain Agastya couldn’t, and worse, that Devika used it as a weapon.
Rajmata, Devika.. knocked on her son study room sharply. She was there for no reason but to give something..her silk saree rustling with every step.
"Agastya, I need to speak to you about Kainaat," she stated, not as a question, but an order. She sat on the edge of the large leather chair opposite his desk, her gaze sharp and assessing.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Mother, I am busy. Can this wait? I need to finalize the papers for the Western Bypass project by end of day." He gestured to the sprawling blueprints on his desk.
"No, it cannot," she insisted, dismissing the multi-million rupee project with a wave of her hand. "It is about tomorrow. The reception. I saw her just now, arguing over details with me. She seems... distracted. Unhappy."
Agastya leaned back, his jaw tight. "She is fine. She knows the terms of this marriage. It's strictly professional, and she is committed to fulfilling her end of the bargain. Any distraction is likely due to the sheer volume of work she has taken on. And, Mother, you hardly make it easy for her."
Devika fixed him with a look that cut straight through his defenses. "Do not blame me for her lack of spirit! You are the one who ensures that lack of spirit is permanent. This reception is a massive political statement. You need your wife-yes, wife-to look radiant, to look invested, even if she is not."
She paused, leaning forward conspiratorially. "And you, my son. You are treating her wriedly. She is a beautiful girl who, despite our arrangement, deserves basic respect. She is going to be the face of this house beside you. Go to her. Ask her if she needs anything. Not as the king, but as her... husband. Even if it is a lie, you must perform it convincingly for the sake of the crown."
Agastya pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated. He hated being reminded that his personal life was just another stunt of his public duty.
"Fine, Mother. I understand," he conceded begrudgingly. He pushed the heavy files aside, his focus broken. "I will go and check on her. Now, if you'll excuse me, these city files won't sign themselves."
As his mother rose and swept out of the room, Agastya felt a surge of resentment, not just for the files, but for the entire gilded cage of his life.
He hated that he had to be told to be decent to Kainaat. He stood up, smoothing the front of his royal blue jacket. It wasn't about the reception, he knew. It was about the shame of his own unnecessary cruelty.
He walked out of the study, heading towards where Kainaat was expected to be finalizing arrangements.
He had a role to play, and for the sake of the ethics, and perhaps his own conscience, he would play it well.
Agastya walked out of his study, the city files and his mother's sharp words echoing in his mind.
He was meant to go to the conservatory, but the thought of having to act politely in public was too much effort. Instead, he went to their shared bedroom a huge, fancy suite that felt more like a formal meeting space they sometimes used. He went there because he felt a bit obligated and had a confusing urge to fix his earlier cold behavior.
He reached the heavy, carved door of their room and pushed it open, the silence inside instantly heavy.
"Kainaat?" he called out, his voice slightly formal. There was no response.
He stepped inside. The room was empty. Her belongings were neatly placed, a small stack of books on her bedside table, a delicate shawl draped over a chair. He frowned. He had expected her to be here, maybe organizing her clothes for the reception, not running back to work in the drawing-room after her meeting with Devika.
He noticed the dressing room door was slightly opened. He walked over, raising his hand to knock. "Kainaat, are you in here?" he asked, his tone softening only slightly.
He received a sharp, almost defensive sound-a frustrated little exhale, maybe-but no clear verbal answer. Assuming she hadn't heard him or was too busy, he decided to open the door just enough to speak to her quickly and get the chore over with.
He gently pushed the door, intending to give a brief, formal check-in and retreat. The door swung open slightly, just enough for him to glimpse the interior.
Kainaat was standing in front of the full-length mirror, her back to him. Her hair was loose, pouncd down her shoulders.
She was in the middle of struggling with a heavy silk saree-or rather, the lack of it. She was wearing only her finely fitted, heavily embroidered blouse, and a simple underskirt tied at the waist.
She was twisting her torso, trying to pin the underskirt just right, her movements graceful yet frantic.
Agastya stopped dead. The sight unguarded, and intensely private-jolted him.
He took in the exposed skin of her back, the curve of her waist disappearing beneath the skirt, and the sheer vulnerability of the moment.
His eyes widened instantly, a wave of heat rushing to his face.
The realization of his utter breach of privacy hit him like a physical blow.
"Oh-" he choked out, his intended question dying in his throat.
He reacted instinctively, violently pulling the door shut. It closed with a loud, resounding thud that echoed through the quiet room.
Kainaat's head snapped around at the sound. Her eyes, wide with surprise and embarrassment, landed directly on the heavy, carved wood of the door that had just slammed shut.
"AGASTYA!" she screamed, the sound a mixture of shock, fury, and mortification.
She scrambled, grabbing the nearest piece of cloth-a heavy border of the saree she was about to drape-and instinctively holding it over her chest, even though he was now on the other side of the wood. "How dare you! Get out!"
Agastya stood frozen on the other side of the dressing room door, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He gripped the door handle, feeling the raw, angry vibration of her scream even through the solid wood.
"Kainaat, I-I am so sorry!" he stammered, his usual princely composure utterly shattered. "I didn't realize! I thought you were... dressed! I was just checking on you, Devika sent me!" He hated how weak and rushed his explanation sounded.
"Devika sending you doesn't give you the right to barge in!" she hissed. "Wait outside! Or better yet, go back to your royal duties and leave me alone!"
He couldn't leave. He felt a desperate, driving need to see her, not just because his mother demanded it, but because the fleeting, intimate glimpse had seared itself into his mind.
The elegant curve of her neck, the delicate embroidery of the blouse against her skin it had all been too much, too real, for a marriage based on cold formalities.
He lowered his voice, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the door.
"I know, I shouldn't have. But I need to see your face, Kainaat. Just for a second. I need to make sure you are okay. Please... just open the door."
Silence. A tense, thick silence that lasted a thousand heartbeats.
Then, slowly, hesitantly, the latch clicked. The dressing room door opened, not with a thud, but a slow, cautious inward swing.
Kainaat stood there, fully clothed now, wrapped hurriedly in a thick, luxurious velvet robe that belonged to him. Her hair was still loose, slightly mussed, and her cheeks were flushed crimson with anger and embarrassment.
Her eyes, usually so sharp and defensive, were wide and shining with residual shock.
Agastya's breath hitched. He had planned a detached, formal check-in. What he got was a fiery, intensely intimate gaze.
"I am fine," she clipped out, her voice barely above a whisper. "Now you've seen I'm alive, go."
He didn't move. He took one step closer, closing the small gap between them, and the velvet robe swallowed the light, making her seem impossibly soft.
His eyes were dark, intense, and filled with a warmth she hadn't seen directed at her before a warmth that felt dangerously consuming.
"No," he murmured, his voice husky. "I am not going. You made food for me, and I left without a word of thanks earlier. Then I spoke to you like you were just another piece of royal furniture." He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and gently touched her hot cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair.
"I am sorry for my words, Kainaat. I am an idiot," he confessed, the sheer admission of fault shocking both of them. "And I am sorry for... for barging in. The sight of you, so beautiful, so unguarded... it simply stunned me into silence."
His words were smooth, low, and utterly intoxicating.
It was the corniest line he could have possibly offered, delivered with the raw sincerity of a man who suddenly realized he was losing control.
Kainaat's anger dissolved under the intensity of his gaze and the heat of his touch. She felt a dizzying pull, the sudden shift in his demeanor throwing her off balance. Her breath hitched.
"Agastya..." she began, her voice weak.
"Say my name again," he whispered, moving his hand to cradle her jaw. "Say it without the formality, Kainaat. The reality of this marriage is cold, yes, but you are fire. And standing this close to you, I can barely remember what the formalities even are."
He leaned in, his gaze fixed on her lips, and the air crackled with a silent,
"Say my name again," he whispered, moving his hand to cradle her jaw.
"Say it without the formality, Kainaat. The reality of this marriage is cold, yes, but you are fire. And standing this close to you, I can barely remember what the formalities even are."
His eyes darkened, fixed solely on her. Kainaat's mind went blank.
The heat of his touch was dizzying, and the intensity of his unexpected confession was dissolving every protective barrier she had built.
The air was thick with the scent of his cologne and the raw, electric tension of a boundary about to be crossed.
He didn't wait. He leaned down, his mouth covering hers in a sudden, desperate movement.
The kiss was everything she had secretly imagined and desperately denied.
It was demanding, consuming, and full of the unacknowledged desire that had been simmering beneath their cold courtesies.
His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid body, crushing the velvet of his robe between them.
She responded instantly, her own hands reaching up to grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, melting into the impossible promise of the moment. The sound of the slamming door, the fight with Devika, the shame of his earlier words..it all vanished, replaced by the thrilling, undeniable reality of his lips on hers
This was the king, her husband, finally breaking through the walls and acknowledging the connection between them.
The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more heated, until Kainaat was breathless and dizzy, leaning entirely on him.
Then, a sudden, jarring shift. The heat receded. The heavy pressure of his chest against hers disappeared.
Kainaat blinked, the world swimming back into focus.
She was standing, not against Agastya's body, but alone in the middle of their vast,. The air was cool, carrying only the faint scent of lilies from the hallway. There was no disheveled robe, no panicked scream, and no kiss.
She was still wearing the blouse and underskirt. The saree she had been trying to drape was exactly where she had left it..draped over the chaise lounge.
The dressing room door was closed, just as it had been before.
Kainaat brought a trembling hand to her lips, which felt dry and cold. It hadn't been a moment of passionate confession.
It had been a desperate, humiliating daydream, conjured by her mind right after he had slammed the door.
She took a shaky breath, forcing the images of his kiss..his hand cradling her jaw, the dark intensity of his eyes out of her mind.
Formalities. A transaction. A farce. That was the reality he had given her.
She quickly grabbed her saree and began draping it, her movements now rushed and clumsy.
The door to the main suite suddenly opened. This time, there was no loud knock, no desperate call, and no accidental intrusion.
Agastya stood in the doorway. He hadn't just entered. He had obviously waited the appropriate, ethical amount of time for a man to allow his wife privacy,
before announcing his presence with the cold, correct tone of someone fulfilling a necessary task.
"Kainaat," he said, his voice entirely devoid of the husky warmth from her dream. It was cool, polite, and perfectly measured. "Maa requested that I confirm with you if you need any help. I hope I did not interrupt your moment."
He was dressed impeccably in his royal blue jacket, his posture rigid, his expression reserved.
His eyes met hers briefly, the dark gaze containing nothing but cool courtesy and professional etiquette. There was no hint of apology for his earlier rudeness, and certainly no searing recollection of a passionate kiss.
Kainaat felt the sharp, sickening drop of disappointment in her stomach. The dream had been so real. The reality was so cold.
She pulled the last pleat of her saree into place, forcing a polite, distant smile. "Not at all, Agastya," she replied, her voice firm despite the tremor in her heart. "Everything is fine. You can inform the Rajmata that your duty is complete."
She watched him nod, a formal, shallow dip of his chin, before he turned and walked out, leaving the door slightly open a gesture of respect, not intimacy.
Kainaat stood alone..
__________
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