SAME DAY:In search of her
Raza pushed back his chair, the legs of it scraping lightly against the marble floor of the grand dining hall. Arav raised a brow, mid-sip of his tea, as he watched his friend hurry to his feet, barely finishing half the food on his plate.
"Where's the fire?" Arav asked lazily, his grey eyes narrowing.
"Nowhere it should concern a prince still dreaming of girls he met in bazaars," Raza replied dryly, adjusting the lapel of his coat.
"That girl again?" Arav asked, the tone light but not mocking.
Raza didn't answer. He turned on his heel and made for the door.
"You're not even going to take your horse?" Arav called out.
"Carriage.
"Where are you going?" Arav still seated laced in confusion asked.
"For answers" That was the only thing Raza left behind,he was already on his way out.
The carriage wheels clattered over uneven cobblestones as Raza sat inside, staring out of the small window, hands clasped. His icy green eyes were more alert than usual, jaw tight with purpose. Though he was a man of few words, the silence he carried wasn't hollow—it was weighted, deeply thoughtful.
People had often whispered about the strange loyalty between Raza and Arav. Arav was the heir, the prince of a land steeped in war and tradition. Raza, on the other hand, was an outsider to the palace bloodline, his religion different, his tongue sharper, his heart quieter. But what tied them together was not faith—it was fire. Loyalty, forged in blood and years of shared battles and buried truths.
And even if Arav hadn't said it aloud, Raza knew that the girl haunted him. Which meant she mattered. Which meant Raza had to find her.
The Ferozabad bazaar was as crowded and restless as ever. Loud voices bargained, children ran through narrow spaces, and the scent of spices, oil, and something sweet filled the air.
Raza moved quickly, not wasting time. His presence was both commanding and disarming. People stepped aside when he passed, uncertain whether he was royalty or ruin. He walked straight to the old bangle seller Arav had mentioned once, the one who had apparently witnessed the girl's temper over a few paisas.
The man was seated on a wooden stool, chewing paan and rearranging his glass bangles.
"Old man," Raza began curtly.
The shopkeeper looked up. "Yes, huzoor?"
"The girl. She came here a few weeks ago. Fighting for coins. Picking bangles. Do you remember her?"
The old man blinked, scratched his beard, and gave the world's most useless shrug. "Sahab, many girls come to this bazar. Fighting, bargaining, crying, singing. I sell bangles. Not memories."
Raza exhaled slowly, forcing patience.
"But there was a gir, I remember who seemed to not know hindi words.Ah!yes i remember. SHE came again yesterday." The shopkeeper's mouth opened, then shut afraid of saying something that would set razas icy eyes blazing "But,I don't know her," he said finally. "But she was here yesterday. With another woman. They looked like they were going somewhere important."
"Where?" Raza's voice was sharp.
The man gave another shrug. "Maybe towards the alleys beyond the spice street. But then again, maybe not."
Raza clenched his jaw and turned. The answer wasn't enough. But it was something.
He adjusted his coat as he moved deeper into the bazaar. Somewhere in the noise, in the winding lanes of Ferozabad, was the girl who unknowingly kept a prince up at night and made even the coldest soldier race time to find her.