The key Rafay gifted me opened many doors of opportunities in the past few days. When I had gone in for the first time, my eyes could not believe the sheer amount of reading material I had at my disposal.

The library was a grand, opulent space, adorned with intricate woodwork and brass accents. Towering shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with leather-bound texts of all shapes and sizes. The air was fragrant with the scent of aged paper and polished mahogany. Artfully designed glass panels allowed soft light to filter into the room, casting a warm glow on the rows of books. Plush armchairs and cushioned window seats beckoned, inviting visitors to lose themselves in a captivating world of literature.

It was not difficult to tell which room was off limits. Hidden in between the towering acloves of tomes was an arch-shaped door that stood as a masterpiece of elaborate craftsmanship. Meticulously carved motifs graced the rich and warm rosewood. Light from the windows casted an ethereal glow upon it, adding to its elusive and enchanting nature.

Rafay never leaves the door unlocked. Out of curiosity, I have checked, but my efforts go unrewarded. I've checked every morning after his briefings with the Royal Court, as well as every evening after he retires for the night.

At the moment, I'm trying my luck again. I retrieve a hairpin from my braid and insert it into the lock, jiggling it around to hear that sweet clicking sound.

Kuch nahi.

Frustrated, I return the pin back into my hair and drape my dupatta over my hair again. The more Rafay is secretive about the room, the more I want to know what he's hiding.

The sound of footsteps has me scrambling to put distance between the door and I. Frantically, I look around for an escape, and my eyes fall on a hidden door behind an unbelievably ugly potted plant. Once outside the library, I survey my surroundings, seeking an escape route that wouldn't lead me toward the staircase where the sounds originated. My eyes land on a hidden door behind an incredibly unattractive potted plant in the hallway.

I quietly slip through the door just as I hear the footsteps reach the top step of the staircase.

With my back pressed against the wall, I slowly inch away from the door, careful not to make a sound. I hear multiple voices outside, discussing what sounds like kingdom politics.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the unfamiliar room, I take in the details of the space. It's a narrow chamber, enclosed by aging brick walls adorned with dusty, antique windows. The staircase spiraling upwards appears worn and weathered. The dimness adds to the air of mystery, hinting at secrets waiting to be unearthed within this secluded tower.

The foyer at the top has a single wooden door with a sliding rounded-bar closure. Luckily, there's no lock attached to it. I reach for the handle and slide it to the right. With a smooth motion, the door swings open, releasing a flood of sunlight into the tower

Squinting against the blinding light, I raise a hand to shield my eyes. As my vision adjusts, I find myself immersed in a verdant oasis. Towering trees loom overhead, their lush foliage casting a cooling shadow over the courtyard. Delicate vines of ivory jasmine intertwine between branches, creating a breathtaking floral canopy. At the heart of it all, an ornate fountain gushes crystal-clear water, its soothing melody echoing across the vast pond that encircles it. Surrounding the water's edge, vibrant flowers of unfamiliar hues burst forth from lush greenery, painting the scene with a riot of color. I reach out to touch a gulab, its velvety texture brushing against my fingertips. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, letting the fragrance envelop me.

As I venture further, I stumble upon a garden of abundant vegetables and fruits. Rows of leafy greens stretch out before me, their vibrant hues contrasting beautifully against the rich brown soil. Plump timatar hang from sprawling vines, their glossy red skins gleaming in the sunlight. Nearby, clusters of plump strawberries peek out from beneath their leafy canopy, promising a burst of sweet juiciness with every bite.

It's the towering mango tree that truly captivates me. Its branches reach towards the sky, laden with an abundance of ripe fruit. The aam hang like golden jewels, their smooth skins bathed in the warm sunlight. The air around the tree is filled with the heady scent of ripe mangoes, enticing me closer with each breath.

The entire rooftop terrace is roughly the size of my father's modest house; not particularly vast. Nonetheless, for a garden, it offers a notably generous expanse of space.

I stare, torn between confusion and awe. Where on earth did this garden come from?

The meticulously tended greenery suggests regular maintenance, implying someone frequents this place to care for the plants.

Approaching the edge, I find a waist-high wall crafted from neatly arranged rocks, blanketed by a layer of tiny leaves. As I peer beyond, a gasp escapes my lips.

This view is surreal.

The entire kingdom can be seen from up here, including the distinct demarcations between the biomes. Surajistan sprawls beneath, its landscape split between a scorching desert and an icy forest region. To the far east, the Barfeeli Pahaar chain stretches into the distance, while the Heer Registaan dominates the entire western expanse. Being an island, Surajistan is surrounded by the Indian Ocean, regardless of the biome distribution.

The heart of the island, Markaz, nestled right in its center, serves as the kingdom's capital—a place of perfect weather and effortless access to resources. This garden evokes memories of Markaz's pre-war days when it was a lush landscape teeming with greenery, farms, and vineyards. Trees lined the streets abundantly, almost to an excess. Food and water were abundant, and unemployment rates were at an all-time low.

Now, it's a different tale altogether.

The majority of the population is homeless, and the once plentiful greenery has vanished from the kingdom. While the weather remains relatively consistent, everything else has gone awry. Theft, rape, kidnapping, and other forms of violence are rampant. What was once my sanctuary has now become my nightmare.

I settle on a lone bench that overlooks the Barfeeli Pahaariyaan. Snow clouds swirl around the mountains, draping the trees in a gentle, white veil. During the summer, snow is a rare sight, confined to the mountain peaks, but in the winter, the entire region is blanketed in it.

In contrast, Heer Registaan remains sweltering all year. The landscape consists mainly of flat, camel-colored plains interrupted by a few plateaus and scattered cacti.

As a child, I had always longed to go to the mountains, but my mother and father never got time off. As Head of Surgery and Head of Medicine, respectively, their schedules never matched up, so vacations were a distant dream.

Our only semblance of a vacation was a two-day trip to Roshni Beach on the western coastline. It was a lavish affair, as it coincided with my parents' 25th wedding anniversary, and we stayed in the most extravagant hotel in all of Surajistan..

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Rafay's deep baritone voice breaks my reverie. I turn to see him standing behind me, hands tucked into the pockets of his pristine white shalwar, looking out to the distant mountain range.

"Yes, it truly is. So tell me, while the entire nation is struggling, you dedicate your energy and efforts to maintaining this garden?" My tone is tinged with curiosity and a hint of accusation.

Rafay settles beside me, nudging me gently with his knee to scoot over.

"Baba built this garden for Mama when they got married. She loved flowers of all kinds, so he grew as many species as he legally could." He gestures to the beautiful space behind him. "It's all I've got left, which is why I put so much work into keeping this area in pristine condition."

I fall silent, realizing that this is the first time Rafay has opened up about his past.

Rafay's voice softens as he continues, reminiscing about his family. "We were really close, my family and I. Haaris, Amara, and I were each one year apart, with Haaris being the oldest and Amara being the youngest. We spent every summer break at Roshni Beach, and every winter vacation in the mountains."

"Every child's dream," I mutter. Our mountains were more beautiful than all of the mountain ranges in the world combined.

Rafay smiles faintly, his gaze fixed on the distant landscape. "I'll admit, I was privileged, but I wasn't spoiled. My parents were strong believers in 'earning your worth and way', so if we wanted something, we had to earn it ourselves. I thank them everyday for that," he reflects, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

"You say the garden is the only thing you have left of your parents, but that's not true," I assert gently. "They left you an entire nation. Why not invest the same dedication you give to the garden into your kingdom?"

Rafay's eyes flicker with a mix of contemplation and determination, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in my words. His fingers rake through his hair in a gesture that's become all too familiar to me, strangely captivating.

"It's not as simple as that," he asserts with a solemn tone. "Surajistan is so corrupt. As a prince, my authority only stretches so far."

I tilt my head slightly, acknowledging his perspective with a hint of understanding. "Why not start by making plans to amend the nation," I suggest, my voice measured. You don't have to implement them just yet. You know, hope is the most powerful feeling you can inspire in people."

Rafay meets my eyes, a look of severe matured exhaustion and tiredness plaguing his striking face and says, "I wasn't meant to be a ruler. Haaris was next in line for the throne."

He sweeps his arm across the desolate landscape surrounding us, the remnants of a once prosperous realm now reduced to ruins. "This," he murmurs, "is beyond my control."

"So you are simply going to stand aside?" I challenge him, my voice tinged with urgency. "Watching corruption consume Surajistan, letting innocents suffer and perish?"

Rafay hesitates, his confidence wavering as he searches for an answer. "I don't know," he responds uncertainly, his voice tinged with doubt. "The kingdom appears beyond redemption, and I can't deny my own role in its decline. I can't turn a blind eye to my shortcomings."

I sit quietly for a minute, mulling over my answer before carefully replying. "You learn to live with failure, to acknowledge your mistakes, but then you rise above them."

"After losing my family," Rafay confesses, his voice tinged with sorrow, "I couldn't bring myself to face the public again. It felt like I would be dishonoring their memory and integrity, considering everything they have sacrificed for this nation.

"It's a constant struggle, never easy," I acknowledge, my voice resonating with understanding, "The key is to cast aside the doubt and embrace a new beginning."

Rafay glances at me, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Speaking from experience?" he questions.

"Intuition," I reply cryptically.

In that instant, I see not a heedless prince, but a shattered man, adrift from his path, consumed by despair.

Words to be Defined

Kuch nahi - nothing

Gulab - rose

Timatar - tomato (singular and plural)

Aam - mango (singular and plural)

Barfeeli Pahaar - Icy Mountain (this is the literal meaning of these words, but I used them as a name for the mountain chain)

Heer Registaan - Diamond Desert (this is the literal meaning of these words, but I used them as a name for the desert)

Markaz - Center (this is the literal meaning of this word, but I used it as a name for the capital of Surajistan)

Pahaariyaan - mountains (plural)

Roshni - Light (this is the literal meaning of this word, but I used it as a name for the beach)