The corridors of the palace were hushed now. The laughter and drums from the double wedding had faded into the night. Oil lamps burned low, their golden glow stretching shadows across the carved sandstone walls.
Aayat's steps faltered as she was led to Anirudh's chambers. The attendants whispered blessings, placed her at the threshold, and withdrew, leaving her alone in front of the massive carved doors.
Her palms were clammy, her heart thudded painfully beneath the weight of bridal silk. She pushed the door open.
Inside, the chamber was vast, lined with shelves of ancient texts and portraits of Rathore ancestors glaring down. In the center, a bed draped in red and gold. Aayat's eyes flickered nervously over the candles scattered around, the flames making the air heavy.
Anirudh stood near the window, his back to her, the moonlight casting his silhouette in silver.
He didn't turn immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, deep, and steady.
Anirudh: "You should sit."
She lowered herself to the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the fabric tight. Silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of candle wicks. Finally, she gathered her courage.
Aayat (softly): "I… I didn't choose this. Neither did you."
Anirudh turned then, his gaze heavy as it fell on her. His expression was unreadable, carved in stone.
Anirudh: "Choice has little value in this palace. Destiny does not ask what we want, Aayat."
Her throat tightened at the sound of her name on his lips.
Aayat: "But marriage… it isn't just duty. It's—"
Anirudh (cutting in, calm but sharp): "—a bond. Once forged, it cannot be broken. And whether you or I willed it, the bond is sealed."
His eyes lingered on her face, so intense that she looked away quickly, her fingers fidgeting with her dupatta.
Aayat (whispering): "I don't even know you."
A faint pause. His lips curved, not in a smile, but something darker, restrained.
Anirudh: "You will."
Something in his tone made her shiver. There was no warmth in it, but a certainty, an inevitability. She couldn't understand it — didn't want to.
She stood quickly, her voice trembling but firm.
Aayat: "I… I'll take the couch. I can't— I just need space tonight."
For a moment, his gaze flickered to the bed, then back to her. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He simply stepped aside, watching her as she carried her pillow and folded blanket to the far couch.
As she lay down, pulling the blanket over herself, she kept her eyes shut tight, afraid of what she might see if she looked again.
But she could still feel his gaze on her, heavy, unwavering, until sleep finally claimed