Aditi and Karan walked through the hallway, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floors.

On the right side, the hallway opened into a terrace-like area, lined with half-pillars that offered a view of the sprawling gardens outside.

The cool evening breeze wafted through, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers.

On the left side, the walls were adorned with a series of family paintings. Each painting seemed to tell a story, from playful baby pictures to portraits of youth, and finally, to the more recent ones of adulthood.

The smiles in the paintings radiated warmth, a reminder of the cherished moments that once filled this palace.

As they approached the large double doors at the end of the hallway, two sainik standing to guard, immediately straightened. One of them stepped forward, announcing their arrival in a deep, commanding voice.

“Rajkumari Aditi aur Rajkumar Karan Raghuvanshi pravesh kar rahe hain.”

(Princess Aditi and Prince Karan Raghuvanshi are entering.)

The second sainik pushed the massive doors open, revealing the grandeur of the hall within. The hall was a sight to behold, a blend of opulence and heritage. A rich red carpet stretched down the center, leading towards a set of high stairs.

The golden chandeliers above cast a warm glow, their intricate designs catching the light beautifully. The pillars lining the hall were adorned with golden engravings, depicting scenes from the kingdom's history.

On either side, golden artifacts stood on pedestals—vases, statues, and intricately carved boxes, all reflecting the prosperity of the Maheshwari dynasty.

Seated at the far end of the hall, just in front of the grand staircase, was Maharani Vidya. Her elegance was unmatched. Her posture was poised, as she noticed her daughter approaching.

Beside her sat Maharaj Dev, a man in his late forties but still commanding an aura of strength and authority. He was dressed in a golden kurta paired with a crisp white dhoti, and a dupatta draped gracefully over his left shoulder.

A string of pearls adorned his neck, complementing the simple yet stately crown on his head.

Dev was a man of great determination, a king who had earned the unwavering loyalty of his people. His decisions were always calculated and precise, making him a respected ruler.

However, recent scandals that had tarnished the kingdom's peace weighed heavily on his mind.

The whispers that had begun to circulate about Aditi were particularly concerning. Though he was proud that she was soon to be wed, the fear of Karan discovering the truth about her haunted him.

Still, despite his worries, there was a part of him that trusted Karan implicitly. He had seen the love and care the prince had shown Aditi, and he clung to the hope that this bond would withstand any storm.

In front of his family, Dev’s demeanor softened. He adored his daughters and often wore a smile for them, but the stress of the current situation sometimes made him distant, particularly towards Aditi.

As Aditi and Karan stepped into the hall, Vidya looked at Karan, a gentle smile spreading across her face. Dev glanced at them, his expression unreadable at first, before it softened slightly.

“Karan beta, aap aaye. Swagat hai,” Vidya greeted warmly.

(Karan son, you’ve come. Welcome.)

“Dhanyavaad, Maharani ji,” Karan replied with a respectful bow, his voice steady and polite.

(Thank you, Your Majesty.)

Aditi, noticing her father’s gaze fixed on her, hesitated slightly before offering him a small smile.

Dev’s lips twitched as though he wanted to smile back but held himself in check. “Apka yaha kese aana hua?”

(What brings you here?)

Dev asked, turning his attention to Karan, deliberately acting as though Aditi wasn’t present. His tone carried a formality.

“Hum aap se hamare vivah ke baare mein vartalap karne aaye hain,” Karan replied gently, his voice soft yet confident. He reached out and lightly held Aditi’s hand. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his smile radiating warmth.

(I have came here to talk about our marriage.)

Aditi, however, froze. Her eyes widened, and she glanced nervously at her mother. Vidya’s subtle glare made her discomfort clear. Understanding the silent reprimand, Aditi quickly retrieved her hand, clearing her throat awkwardly.

Karan noticed the exchange but chose to ignore it for the moment, focusing instead on Dev.

“Hum samjhe nahi. Humara matlab, aap dono ko to humne pehle hi anumati de di hai.” Dev said, his tone carrying genuine confusion.

(I don’t understand. I mean, we’ve already granted you permission earlier.)

Karan smiled and nodded, speaking with a calm demeanor. “Hum usliye nahi aaye hain. Hum vivah ke tareekh ki baat karne aaye hain.”

(I'm not here for that. I’ve come to discuss the wedding date.)

At this, Dev and Vidya exchanged a brief glance, their expressions softening into a smile. Dev returned his attention to Karan, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“Apke khayal mein koi samay hai, ya hum nikalvayein?” Dev asked, genuinely curious.

(Do you have a date in mind, or should I decide one?)

“Humare paas ek tareekh hai. Teen hafte baad ka samay hai. Agar aapki anumati ho toh..” Karan trailed off, his voice carrying a note of humility.

(I have a date in mind. Three weeks from now. If we have your permission..)

Dev smiled faintly and glanced at Aditi, who was nervously fidgeting with her hands, her eyes shyly fixed on the floor. A small, happy smile played on her lips.

“Hume koi dikat nahi hai,” Dev said, his gaze briefly softening as he looked at his daughter before turning back to Karan.

(I have no objections.)

“Dhanyavaad, Maharaj,” Karan said with a grateful bow, his joy evident in his tone.

(Thank you, Your Majesty.)

Karan glanced at Aditi, his smile deepening as he saw her looking at him with a mixture of happiness and nervousness. He turned back to Dev and hesitated slightly before speaking again.

“Kya hum.. Aditi ko apne saath hamare Mahal le ja sakte hain?” He asked, his voice carrying a nervous edge.

(Can I take Aditi to my palace with me?)

Aditi’s head snapped up in surprise, her wide eyes betraying her shock. Yet, beneath the surprise, a glimmer of happiness began to shine in her expression.

“Hum unhe shaam tak yahan chhod aayenge,” Karan quickly added, his tone almost pleading as he tried to convince Dev.

(I’ll bring her back by the evening.)

Vidya raised an eyebrow, amused by Karan’s earnestness, but said nothing, leaving the decision to her husband.

Dev’s expression remained neutral as he considered the request. “Thik hai. Hume koi aapati nahi.” He finally said, his voice considerate but firm. He then turned his gaze to Aditi, his tone turning slightly colder. “Khayal rakhna.”

(All right. I have no objection. Take care of her.)

Aditi was stunned. The fact that her father had expressed even a shred of care for her was both shocking and heartwarming. Her happiness bubbled up as she nodded eagerly, her cheeks glowing with a faint blush.

Little did she realize, however, that his words were not directed at her at all. He was pointing to something else entirely, something that had nothing to do with her.

She had failed to notice this in her moment of joy, mistaking his vague gesture for genuine affection toward her.

“Khayal rakhenge, Pita ji.” She said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

(I’ll take care, Father.)

Karan smiled warmly at her, holding out his hand, gesturing towards the door. “Chalein?” he asked, his voice gentle yet playful.

(Shall we?)

Aditi nodded, her happiness evident in her radiant smile. Together, they walked out of the grand hall, the heavy doors closing behind them as the sainik stationed outside resumed their positions.

The sound of their measured footsteps echoed softly in the wide hallway, accompanied by the distant chirping of birds from the open terrace to their right.

But their steps halted abruptly as a woman approached from the opposite end of the hallway. Her presence commanded attention.

The woman, clad in a deep pink lehenga with intricate gold embroidery, walked with grace and elegance.

Her jewelry—dangling earrings, a statement necklace, and delicate bangles—jingled softly with each step. Her hair was tied into a neat bun adorned with a single golden pin.

It was Rajkumari Advika Maheshwari.

The elder daughter of the Maheshwari family, Advika, twenty-five, embodied discipline and decorum. Her poised demeanor had always been a hallmark of her personality, a reflection of the ideals instilled in her from childhood.

Yet, beneath this flawless image lay an intricate web of unresolved conflicts, personal turmoil, and an unyielding need to uphold her family’s reputation.

Her life, though seemingly perfect, had become a series of carefully curated acts, her emotions locked away behind layers of duty.

Advika’s relationship with her younger sister, Aditi, had once been a source of joy for both. They had shared secrets, laughter, and dreams.

But the recent scandals surrounding Aditi had created a rift. Where there had been affection, now there was distance; where there had been understanding, now there was bitterness.

As Advika neared them, she stopped a few steps away and bowed slightly to Karan in respect, her movements precise and deliberate. Her gaze never drifted toward Aditi, the act of ignoring her sister deliberate and sharp.

“Kahi ja rahe hai aap?” She asked Karan, her tone gentle and melodic—so unlike the one she used with her sister now.

(Are you going somewhere?)

Karan opened his mouth to respond, but Aditi, standing beside him, spoke up before he could.

“Ji, hum inke sath bahar ja rahe hain,” Aditi said, her tone sharp and direct. Her words carried an undertone of defiance, as if daring her sister to challenge her.

(Yes, we’re going out together.)

Advika’s gaze flicked to Aditi for the briefest moment, her expression cold. “Humne aapse nahi pucha,” she replied curtly, her voice losing its earlier warmth.

(I didn’t ask you.)

Karan frowned slightly at the exchange. Though he didn’t understand the undercurrents of their animosity, he found Advika’s tone unnecessarily harsh.

“Apko jawab se matlab hona chahiye, aur woh apko mil chuka hai,” Aditi shot back, her voice steady and unwavering. Her eyes locked with Advika’s, a mixture of pain and defiance swirling in her gaze.

(You should care about the answer, and you’ve already received it.)

Advika stiffened, her expression betraying a flicker of hurt before her composure returned. Before she could respond, Aditi turned toward Karan. Gently holding his arm, she led him away, her chin held high.

Karan hesitated for a brief moment but followed her lead, his curiosity about the tension lingering in his mind.

As Advika watched them walk away, her hands clenched into fists, the intricate bangles on her wrists digging into her skin. Her eyes followed their retreating figures, her expression inscrutable.

Was it jealousy? No, not jealousy. It was something else.

A strange mix of emotions churned within her—a sense of failure, an unspoken guilt. She knew she had let Aditi down as an elder sister, but admitting that felt like unraveling the very core of her identity.

It was easier to believe that this was Aditi’s fate, to be isolated, to be the subject of disdain. Yet, deep within her, a voice whispered that it wasn’t fate but her own choices that had driven them apart.

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to turn away, the burden of her emotions weighing heavily on her regal shoulders. But even as she walked back down the hallway, the ache in her heart remained, a silent reminder of what she had lost.

───※ To be continued ※───