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vedanti pov:)

I could feel Abhirath's breath hovering over my lips, the warmth of it sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes—so full of regret, loneliness, and the unspoken need to touch me, to hold our kids—pierced straight through me. The weight of his yearning was palpable, suffocating in its intensity. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and stilled myself on the bed, trying to find some semblance of control amidst the storm raging between us.

Abhirath rose slowly from the ground, his movements measured, as though each step toward me was heavy with the burden of our shared pain. "Do you remember the very first time we met, Abhirath?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended, almost as if I were speaking into a memory rather than to the man standing in front of me.

He hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze still locked onto me. "Tell me," he said quietly, and the way his voice wrapped around those words made my chest tighten. He reached for the small bottle of herb oil on the table beside the bed, his fingers brushing the smooth glass before turning back to me. "Can I?" he asked, gesturing toward my legs.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

Abhirath settled onto the bed, gently lifting my legs and resting them across his lap. His touch was cautious, respectful, as though afraid of breaking something fragile between us. He poured a small amount of the oil into his hands, warming it between his palms, then began to massage it into my skin. His fingers moved in slow, careful circles, the scent of the herbs mixing with the thick tension in the room.

The sensation of his hands on me, familiar yet distant, sent an ache through my chest. As his fingers worked through the knots in my muscles, I could feel the weight of our shared memories pressing down on us, the unspoken emotions we were too afraid to voice hanging between us like a fog.

"That day," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, 

"Mom, I'm off for sword practice!" I shouted, my voice echoing down the hall as I dashed out of her chamber, excitement bubbling inside me. Today was special—my test day. The culmination of weeks of intense training was finally here, and I couldn't wait to prove myself.

As I stepped into the practice ground, I could feel my heart race, the crisp morning air sharp against my face. I was already dressed in my armor, the weight of it grounding me as I grabbed my sword from the rack. The hilt felt solid and familiar in my hands, and I couldn't help but grin. This was it.

Standing across from me was the tallest man I had ever seen. His imposing figure loomed over me, his shoulders broad, his grip on the sword firm and unyielding. I barely reached his chest. His strong arms flexed as he adjusted his stance, and the way he held the sword with such effortless precision made my pulse quicken. My fingers tightened around the hilt as I stole a glance at him.

He could at least go easy on a cute princess like me, I murmured to myself, trying to steel my nerves.

Guruji called for the match to begin, and without hesitation, I charged forward, my sword clashing against his with a metallic ring. The force of his defense nearly knocked my weapon from my hand. I stumbled, struggling to hold my ground as his strength overwhelmed me.

Gods, he's strong.

Before I could recover, his sword was at my neck, poised to end the match. I barely had time to gasp before instinct kicked in, and I ducked, moving just in time. My helmet slipped from my head as I jerked back, and my hair tumbled loose, spilling over my shoulders. He froze, just for a moment, eyes flicking to my face.

I didn't waste a second. Taking advantage of his hesitation, I lunged, placing my sword against his throat in return and landing a solid kick to his knee. He dropped to the ground with a grunt.

"I won!" I shouted, a victorious grin lighting up my face.

My head maid appeared at my side, swiftly taking the sword from my hand. "queen is calling," she informed me, but her words were lost on me as I looked back at the man I had just bested.

He was still kneeling on the ground, but now he was pulling off his helmet. As he did, our eyes met, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Magnificent was the only word that came to mind. His face, framed by tousled hair, was striking—strong jawline, sharp eyes, and a presence that demanded attention. My heart raced, not from the fight but from the way he was looking at me, an intensity in his gaze that made my stomach flutter.

The maid tugged me away, and I blinked, breaking the moment. As we walked back, I could still feel the weight of his stare, lingering in the air.

"Who was that?" I asked, turning to the maid.

She chuckled softly. "He's not just any soldier. That's the prince of the Rajvansh kingdom."

My eyes widened in disbelief. "The prince?" I repeated, glancing back toward the practice ground where he still stood. "Well," I smirked, puffing my chest out slightly, "I defeated him, didn't I? Can you believe it? The prince!"

The maid laughed at my enthusiasm, but I couldn't shake the lingering thrill. I had bested a prince in swordplay, and now, the thought of seeing him again sent a shiver of excitement through me. The way he had looked at me, the way our swords had clashed.

I went to the fair next day, the fair buzzed with energy, lights twinkling against the night sky as I wandered with my friends. The laughter and music filled the air, but our attention was drawn to the center of the fair—the wrestling ring. Everyone was gathered there, watching the kingdom's undefeated champion, a man in his mid-40s who had never lost a single match, challenge anyone brave enough to face him.

As we stood by, watching the spectacle, Shubman, the son of the kingdom's minister, approached us with a cocky grin. "Princess, agar main is aadmi ko hara doon, kya tum mujhse shaadi karogi?" ("Princess, if I defeat this man, will you marry me?") His voice was dripping with confidence, but I could barely suppress a laugh.

I rolled my eyes, smirking as my friends giggled behind me. "Haan, haan, kyun nahi?" ("Yes, yes, why not?") I teased, knowing full well this wasn't going to end well for him.

The match began, and in less than a minute, the champion had thrown Shubman to the ground with a resounding thud. Two men had to rush onto the stage to help him back to his feet. I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath. Poor Shubman.

But then, a voice rang out over the crowd. "Main ladunga," ("I will fight,") declared the prince of Rajvansh. My eyes immediately snapped to him. He climbed onto the stage, his muscular frame unmistakable even under the moonlight. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and the quiet confidence he carried made him stand out. But still—this old wrestler was nearly twice his size.

I raised an eyebrow in surprise, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. He held my eyes, giving me a small, knowing smile before he turned toward his opponent.

The fight began with a fierce clash of strength. The prince was getting hit hard—his lip split open, his hand bleeding, but he didn't stop. He kept coming back, matching the older man blow for blow. I could feel my heart racing as the crowd gasped, each hit making me flinch. But then, with one powerful move, the prince sent the champion crashing to the ground, landing above him, victorious.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and I found myself rushing toward the ring with everyone else. The referee declared him the winner, but the prince had collapsed next to his opponent, clearly exhausted from the brutal fight.

I knelt beside him, my breath catching as I gently touched his bleeding lip. "You're hurt," I whispered, my fingers grazing his skin softly. He hissed in pain, but his eyes were locked on mine.

"Palace le chalo," ("Take him to the palace immediately,") I shouted, my heart pounding as I looked at the blood on his face. But instead of complaining, the prince, still grinning through the pain, caught my hand in his.

"Toh ab tum mujhe chunogi, princess?" ("So now, will you choose me, princess?") he asked, his voice soft, his eyes twinkling with mischief despite the pain.

I giggled, pressing down on his wound slightly, making him wince. "Abhi nahi," ("Not yet,") I teased, watching his face fall in disappointment.

But as I stood, I leaned down to whisper in his ear, my lips brushing against his skin. "Par tumhare paas ab bhi ek mauka hai." ("But you still have a chance.")

His eyes widened, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. Before he could say anything, I winked and walked away, joining my friends as they laughed and teased me. My heart was still racing from the closeness of him, the way his fingers had clung to mine, the way he had fought, not just for victory, but for me.

Behind me, I could feel his eyes following me, filled with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine. He wasn't just a prince—he was dangerous, persistent, and entirely captivating. And I knew, deep down, that this was far from over.

Abhirath remained silent, but the subtle squeeze of his hands told me he was listening, feeling it just as much as I was. I continued, "And now, here we are, with so much between us. I never imagined we'd be like this." My voice cracked slightly, and I quickly swallowed back the emotion.

He paused for a moment, his thumb gently grazing my ankle as he lifted his gaze to meet mine. "I never imagined I'd be the one causing you pain, Vedanti," he murmured, the sorrow in his voice nearly breaking me.

His fingers returned to their gentle rhythm, but this time, I could feel the tremble in his hands, the unspoken apology in every touch. The silence between us stretched on, heavy and thick, but there was something comforting in the quiet, in the simple act of him taking care of me, even now.

 I looked at him, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me. "Tomorrow," I said, "I'm leaving with my sons after we announce their names to the kingdom."

Abhirath's hands froze mid-massage. He looked up at me, confusion and disbelief clouding his expression. The air between us felt heavier, charged with the weight of what I was about to say.

"Tomorrow is the day we first met, ten years ago." My voice trembled, and I could hardly believe the words coming from my own mouth. "And tomorrow is the day I'm walking away from your life."

The moment I said it, the truth of it hit me like a punch to the gut. Saying that to Abhirath, the man I had once loved with everything I had, felt like the most difficult thing I'd ever done. My heart pounded painfully in my chest, but I couldn't stop now.

"I don't see the man I once loved," I whispered, my voice breaking. "The Abhi who went out of his way just to make me smile. I was your world... once." My throat tightened as I fought to hold back my tears. "And now... now, all I see is a man who takes me for granted. You think I'll just accept anything, no matter how much it hurts."

I pointed a trembling finger at him, my anger finally spilling out. "You tell me, Abhirath, who accepts their husband's second marriage? I did." My voice rose, my emotions crashing through me like waves. "I did it because I loved you. But this... this is too much. It's not fair."

Tears had started falling from his eyes, silent and heavy. He looked down, his shoulders trembling, and more tears followed, soaking into the fabric of his clothes. His heartbeat, rapid and uneven, was so loud in the silence that I could almost hear it.

Seeing him like this—broken, vulnerable—was unbearable. I wanted to scream, to cry, to hold him, but I couldn't. Not now. Not after everything.

I turned my gaze toward the window, unable to bear the sight of his pain. My own tears blurred the view outside, the weight of my decision pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket.

The silence between us was suffocating, filled with all the things we should have said but never did. All the love, the hurt, the regrets... it was too late for any of it now.

WHAT YOU THING WILL HAPPEN NEXT ?

WHAT Should  ABHIRATH DO ?

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