The palace dining hall buzzed with its usual morning hum — silver clinking against porcelain, murmured greetings, the rustle of silks brushing against carved chairs.

But at the head of the long table sat King Veer Singh Rathore — silent, watchful, and unusually stern.

Across from him, little Prince Aryan sat unusually quiet too, nibbling at his paratha, shoulders tense.

Mayuri noticed it immediately.

The boy who had laughed with wild abandon yesterday now looked like he was shrinking into his chair.

Something was wrong.

Suddenly, Veer's voice cut through the air, low and sharp.

"Aryan."

The boy flinched, looking up slowly.

Veer's gaze was hard — not cruel, but tight with something unspoken. Worry, maybe. Or panic wearing the mask of control.

"Why haven't you told me about the things you said to Mayuri? You spoke to her. You spoke to someone, finally. Why her?"

The room froze.

Even the servants paused mid-step.

Aryan's eyes widened. His lower lip trembled.

Mayuri felt it like a stab.

She stood up slowly, stepping toward the boy. "Your Highness—"

Veer's jaw tightened. "I'm not angry. I just want to understand—"

Aryan pushed back his chair with a screech and bolted from the hall.

"ARYAN!" Veer shouted, rising halfway, but Mayuri raised her hand gently.

"Let me," she said quietly, and walked out.

⸻

She found Aryan crouched behind the pillar near the lotus pond, his tiny back shaking, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Mayuri didn't rush him.

She knelt beside him in silence, waiting.

When the wind shifted and his sobs calmed, she spoke softly.

"You're not in trouble, little prince."

He didn't look up.

"He was scared. That's all. Sometimes grown-ups don't know how to ask gently."

Aryan wiped his nose on his sleeve. "He's never asked me anything like that."

"I know," she whispered, "But he's afraid of losing you too. Just like he lost your mother."

Aryan peeked at her then, eyes round. "Do you think... she's still watching me?"

Mayuri nodded, smiling softly. "I think she's cheering every time you giggle. In fact... I think she must've been dancing in the clouds yesterday."

He smiled, faintly.

She tapped his nose playfully. "Tell me, would it be okay if... I stayed around? Like your best friend? The way your mother was your father's best friend?"

Aryan blinked at her.

Then slowly... grinned.

"A best friend?" he asked.

She nodded, pretending to gasp. "Only if Your Royal Naughty-ness allows it."

He giggled — truly this time.

Then, to her surprise, he took her hand and whispered, "If you stay... maybe he'll laugh again too."

Mayuri's throat tightened.

"I'd like that," she whispered.

⸻

Back in the hall, Veer stood by the window, his crown abandoned on the table.

He turned as he heard footsteps.

Aryan walked in first — calm, steady, holding Mayuri's hand.

Without a word, he walked up to Veer... and hugged him.

Veer froze.

Then slowly — carefully — he dropped to one knee and held his son close.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into his hair.

Mayuri watched from a few steps behind.

This time, it was her heart that ached — but not with pain.

With hope.

⸻

Later that night, as the palace settled into silence, Mayuri stood on her balcony, looking out over the city lights.

Veer appeared beside her.

"I shouldn't have cornered him like that," he said.

"No," she replied. "But you learned. That's what matters."

He looked at her, something shifting in his gaze.

"He smiled at me today. Because of you."

Mayuri smiled too, then looked up at the stars.

"I'm not here to replace anyone, Veer. Just to be someone... who stays."

Veer didn't reply.

But in the quiet, his hand brushed hers — not by accident.

Just a whisper of touch.

A promise of what might come.

And for the first time, Mayuri didn't pull away.

The royal courtyard bloomed under the gentle glow of the evening lamps. Marigolds swayed in the breeze, and the scent of jasmine hung in the air like a memory.

Mayuri sat alone on the swing, dressed in a soft lilac saree — her hair loosely tied, anklets silent.

She wasn't thinking of palaces or power.

Only of the boy who had stolen her heart with a smile... and the man whose silence said more than words ever could.

Footsteps approached.

Soft. Hesitant.

It was Veer.

He stood a few feet away, regal as ever, but this time — vulnerable.

"I shouldn't have rushed you," he said, voice quiet. "But I had to ask, Mayuri. Not for the sake of the throne. Not for duty. For Aryan. For me. For us."

She turned to him, her eyes soft.

"I came back to India to forget pain," she said. "But instead... I found purpose."

A pause.

Then, she smiled — that rare, heart-twisting smile that had first made Aryan speak.

"Yes, Your Highness. I will marry you."

Veer stepped closer, his breath hitching.

"But only on one condition..."

He raised a brow.

"That this marriage won't be built on expectations," she said. "Only on... choice. And respect. And love, if it finds us."

His eyes didn't leave hers.

"Then yes, Mayuri Pradhan. I will wait... even if love takes a lifetime."

Just then — a joyful squeal.

Aryan burst out from behind the curtain, clearly eavesdropping, and ran straight to Mayuri, throwing his arms around her.

"You said yes!" he shouted, laughing.

She hugged him tight, tears in her eyes. "I said yes."

From a balcony above, the Queen Mother smiled, already whispering instructions for gold-threaded lehengas and royal announcements.

And in that moonlit courtyard, hearts once broken found a new rhythm — not of fairytales, but of healing, hope, and the quiet, powerful magic of love.