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Abhinandan POV

Stars are attractive. They seek attention, sometimes more than the moon, nature and the most beautiful things in the world. Gazing at them gives us a sense of peace, satisfaction and direction. However, the watchers are far from knowing that the stars burn themselves up in order to stand up to their standards. They keep destroying themselves with stiff lips to let the observers enjoy a different reality. And the funny thing is that there is a different reality for every one of the stargazers.

Royal bloods are no different. Their life is under the continuous watch of the people, realm and enemies.

Recalling my enemies, I found myself unable to distinguish who my friend was.

Whatever happened in the last month scares me with every new face reveal. I thought, at least, my parents would understand that whatever happened with Nandani was wrong and Rudra should be killed. But, they believed that I was the culprit in the first place who brought him into the Kingdom.

I was declared at fault without a trial.

My father let out his anger on me when I chose to wage war against Rudra instead of consoling Nandani. My mother told me Nandani was a fool; she would not know about the people, and I should have been more careful.

Everything came down on my shoulder. Just because I was a man and I was meant to know.

Nobody chose to stand beside me. They all chose her tears instead of mine's dried eyes. Their hatred was the last thing I wanted, especially after proving myself a failure. I was the next in line to be a King, and I made the stupidest mistake of my life, which cost my sister everything.

Sister. I chuckled.

The same sister who married the one who defiled her innocence and called her a scar.

I could no longer determine who my enemy was or what was wrong with the people.

My sister, Nandani, married him. I could not be proven more fool than this. I was preached and recalled the blood of our ancestors by my father when he found out what happened to her. But, everyone celebrated her wedding, happily giving her to their enemy and expected him to be good to her.

This enraged me beyond my limits.

I hated everyone: my friends, my parents, my sister, my family, and everyone who hid themselves behind the walls of Mahabaleshgarh and Suryagarh, especially Rudra Dev Singh.

I would not return ever, not before I at least kill him.

But amid all of this, I could feel myself at ease, finding a person who was worried for me, not for the Prince.

"Wait, I am coming with you!" I could not stop exclaiming and running after her a little to match her quick pace.

"Calm down, you will not be late," I assured her, but she shook her head.

"I am already late," she stated.

We both stepped down the stairs of the chamber and drenched in rain within a few moments. Her body visibly shivered, and I immediately removed my overcoat to hand her over.

She stared blankly at me for a moment but then silently took it from my hand, taking extra care not to touch my skin.

She was my teacher's daughter, someone who was meant to become a sage, a good friend, and a well-wisher. But something still attracted me to her in more than a friendly way.

It was not her appearance, not anything; there were no feelings, but something I could not put into words.

"Thank you," she muttered with shaky breaths and wore my overcoat.

We both walked out of the Kingdom, and the moment our eyes met the road filled with mud and puddles, we both halted.

"That's okay. I can walk barefoot," she said, taking off her small bellies. Her feet were tiny.

I should not think like that.

"Let me hold them," I said, noticing her fingers trembling enough to hold on the edges of the overcoat.

"No, you cannot," she exclaimed, walking down the stoney slope on the exit.

The moment we stepped into the mud, walking became difficult. But we tried and kept walking silently.

She was ahead of me. And, being a gentleman, I was not catching her.

I knew she did not want to be seen with me, and the incident on the other day on the field made it pretty evident.

Suddenly, her bellies slipped down her hands, and I immediately stepped forward and picked them up.

"That's okay. You should focus on walking," I suggested. She stared at me for a moment and then looked away. Her face was frightened, and her eyes had turned slightly red. We were drenched. My clothes were sticking to my skin; thankfully, I did not choose any light colour today.

I kept moving forward silently, noticing her struggle whenever a deep puddle or grassy field emerged. It was getting darker. And we still needed half a Prahar to reach her home.

But she was determined.

"Would Guruji be angry if you got late?" I asked, seeing her worried.

"I do not know. It never happened before," She said, and I nodded.

"Do not worry. He would know that you got late because of the rain," I tried to calm her down, and she shook her head.

"I should not have come to visit you in the first place. It is all going wrong," her voice broke, and I could sense that she was breaking down to cry.

"It's just rain and dark. I am here to protect you," I tried to assure her, but she looked even more worried.

"He is a father. They have different kinds of worry for their children," she said, and I lowered my gaze for a moment.

"Oh, so he does not trust you enough," my voice came out slow, and I was unsure if I should say it.

There was utter silence for the next eight steps. "He would be worried about my safety mostly. And, then, about my dignity, that no one would harm it. And, maybe about his expectations from me,"

"Of becoming a sage," I finished, and she turned back a little and nodded.

"Of becoming a sage," her voice was weak. But, determined.

"Is that what you want with your life? Leaving everything and then surrendering yourself to something you have no idea about?"

She stayed silent for a few moments. "I have never thought of what I want. It's a sudden question. I am pretty happy with my life. Helping my father, spending time farming and with cows, goats, and our pets. I am meant for it. They give me peace. And, if I have time left, I will help my father teach new and young students and take care of them," she said, and I felt incredibly dull.

How could one be contended with this?

"So, you do not want to know what life is apart from it? Like marriage, children, a family of your own," I tried to ask, and she smiled.

"My father says that our soul has lived thousands of lives of almost every kind. From a little butterfly to a Queen or King, you would never know what you have already lived; you are unaware of it. So, my happiness and contentment are from that. I have already lived. Why live more? Not every life should be meant for fun, suffering, or side by side. One should be devoted to our salvation, too," she said, and I bit my lips.

"So, you believe whatever your father says?" I could not stop myself from asking.

"I do. He knows the best for me," she stated, and I shook my head.

"What if he does not? What if he is just trying to make you himself, putting his expectations on you?" I asked further, and her smile weakened.

"My destiny was mostly decided. I was meant to die, and he gave me a chance. He chose the best for me when my real parents could not. Even if he wants me to fulfil his expectations, I owe him that," she said, and I shook my head.

"Do you not think that the price is too high?" I asked.

"Parents never think of the price when it comes to giving their children the best of what they have. The labourers in the field burn themselves up to provide two times of meals and comfort to their children. And, if the same children push the plate away, saying they do not like it to eat. What would you feel as a person in that moment?" She asked, and I licked on my lips.

"Terrible. Because I know how it feels to try to live up to some expectations all the time, and they tell you how failure you are," I said, and she nodded.

"Everyone feels terrible—the parents, the children, everyone. It's just a matter of the shoes you are wearing. That's the good thing about perspectives. It changes with the shoes. Try wearing others' shoes sometimes. I have tried wearing my father's, and whatever he thinks for me, it feels right to me," she said, and I inhaled deeply, trying not to recall my father.

Unwantedly, the visions of our children blurred my sight for a moment.

"It's good then. I will be happy when you will become a... Sage," I felt a pang in my chest saying it.

I could not see her becoming a sage. I could not tell why.

Maybe because I would lose her forever, there would not be anything left in between us. Not even the hope of it.

But I did not know what else I wanted to happen between us besides good conversation and laughter. She was my friend, an old and good friend, now my only and last friend.

"What is it that makes you happy and contented?" she asked suddenly, and I looked at her.

There was a tiny smile on her face. She had beautiful eyes, dark yet alive. They had the best eyebrows I had ever seen, full, thick and perfect. Her nose was small and pointy. I had never noticed that before. And, her lips.

I gulped, quenching.

They were a similar shade of roses that filled our gardens and were available everywhere in my chamber in Mahabaleshgarh.

I had never noticed roses like that before, even though they were always there.

I felt empty, hollowed from the inside, unable to remember what made me happy or content.

But right now, even for a few moments, I did feel contended. There was a flicker of peace amid the burden of thunder. There was a warmth of happiness despite the chilly rain.

But I could not put it in words. "I do not know. Not everyone is enlightened like you," I said, and she looked away, nodding slowly.

There was complete silence after that until we reached the nearest turn to her home.

"I should go back from here," I said, catching her attention. She looked at me confusedly.

"Why? You have came this far. You should meet your Guruji for once," she suggested, and I lowered my gaze.

I did not want anyone else to discuss my choices or my family.

"It's good if I return," I suggested, and she shook her head.

"He would get suspicious after knowing that you came till here with me and then went back without meeting him," she said and asked.

"How would he know?"

"I will tell him," she said, and I inhaled deeply.

She was the most transparent person I had ever seen in my life, too. She could never hide things or cross anyone. Maybe that's why I was feeling attracted to her over anyone else. They had proven themselves betrayers already. And she would never harm my trust in her.

"Okay, I shall meet him then," I agreed.

We both silently walked towards her home. I felt nervous about seeing Guruji after so long.

As we both stepped inside, I found Guruji sitting on the hut's door.

"Thank god you are back. I was really worried," he said, letting out a worried cry and standing up.

I walked to him and bent down to touch his feet. "Pranam, Guruji. I am sorry. It was raining, and I could not let her return alone," I said. He looked at me with a smile and kissed my forehead.

"Thank you so much. You are a Prince but cared about my daughter," he said, letting a tear roll down his cheek.

Trisha stepped forward and held his hand. "I am fine. Nothing happened to me," she tried to convince him, and he nodded.

"You should change, or you will catch a cold," he suggested, and she inhaled deeply, lowering her gaze to the overcoat. Hesitantly taking a step back, she ran inside.

"I should also return," I said, and he shook his head immediately.

"No, no. You must be tired, and it's dark and raining. You should stay here. I shall open the door of the Ashram for you, and Trisha will cook for you, too," he said. I tried to deny it, but the thought of tasting whatever she would cook made me nod.

"Alright," I agreed.

"I shall fetch you something to change," he said. I took a step inside the hut and noticed Trisha walking out of the small partition made for her. She had changed into dry clothes and unbraided her hair, the wet locks falling on either side of her face. However, I could not see due to the dupatta on her head.

"Trisha, Yuvraj Abhinandan will be staying for the night. Add him for the dinner," Guruji informed me, and she nodded, looking at me for a moment.

"Ji, Pitaji,"

Guruji walked away from there momentarily and brought me a white pair of foot-length loin clothes and a loose Kurta.

"I hope this can work," he said, and I smiled.

"Anytime, Guruji," I thanked him and looked around to find a place to change.

"You can... change here," Trisha said, signalling towards where she changed, and I nodded weakly.

Everything was making me nervous.

I silently walked closer, and she took a few steps away, letting me pass her. When I walked inside the bamboo partition and noticed the dark-coloured clothes tightened at all four ends, I felt a pang in my chest. I had never stepped inside the hut before.

It was a small space, only meant for sleep. A loose, cotton mattress lay on the floor, a washed-out comforter, and a small light lamp, not burning right now.

A dark marooned coloured cloth hung on the nail in the bamboo, and I couldn't stop myself from touching it. It felt cold, and I realised that she had wiped herself with it.

My feet moved closer, and I held the hem of it and sniffed it. My eyes closed, and I smelt the mild fragrance of Multani, neem, and my perfume mixed in it. It must have come from my overcoat.

It was intoxicating and unique, as if they were meant to unite.

Suddenly, the breaking of the woods brought me out of my thoughts, and I gulped nervously. I could not afford to be found inhaling her smell.

Taking a step away, I changed into the fresh and loose clothes Guruji had given me.

I walked out of the partition and stepped outside the hut, only to find her sitting near the stove. She had begun cooking, and Guruji was helping her chop the vegetables.

It made me smile. Families are not just many people living together, hiding things from each other, but a daughter and father helping each other in their work.

"Can I help in anything?" I offered and sat down with Guruji.

It was still raining, and the view from the balcony was really beautiful. The drops were lashing against the leaves, and stones were releasing a relaxing noise.

Suddenly, she added chillies to the oil, and a burst of chilly smoke emerged, making me cough.

"Here," Guruji passed her the chopped vegetables, and she smiled.

"Are you okay?" he asked, patting my back, and I nodded.

They both coughed a little, too, but not like me.

"You should sit inside," Guruji suggested, and I shook my head. I silently watched her cook the vegetables, knead the dough, and perfectly make the chapatis. I had never seen anyone cook before, and I did not know it took such a long time.

I remember my teenage years when I used to deny eating because it was a little salty.

But I could eat salty if she was cooking.

She served two plates and passed them to us. It was Ash gourd, something I hated to eat. But I could not deny it. Tearing a bite, I tasted it, and as it slowly began to melt in my mouth, I fell in love with it. It was not too salty or sweet; it was cooked perfectly and melted in my mouth.

"Have some green chillies with it," Guruji said, adding five long green chillies, and I enjoyed it even more.

"It's delicious," I exclaimed, and she smiled a little.

Once we were done eating, Guruji helped me lay my mattress in the Ashram, a little far from his home. He also decided to sleep with me.

But, the thought of her sleeping alone in the home was not digestible.

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