The palace kitchen buzzed softly with morning warmth. The smell of freshly brewed chai mixed with the faint scent of rosewater from the gulab jamuns Mayuri was plating for Aryan. Her hands moved with ease, comfortable now in the royal routine, though she had never truly grown out of the joy of doing things herself.

A sudden knock at the back entrance startled her. Before she could speak, one of the palace staff appeared holding a large red bouquet — blood-red roses, elegant and intimidating in their abundance. The wrapping was luxurious, deep black with a satin ribbon tied around it in rich crimson.

"Ma'am, this just arrived. Delivered by a local florist," the man said, puzzled.

Mayuri raised an eyebrow, wiping her hands on a towel before reaching for the card tucked within the thorns. It was small, ivory-colored, and handwritten in neat, slanted script:

"I wish you could smile looking at me.

— Your ♥️"

Her heart stilled for a second. The words were... strange. Tender yet unsettling. Who would write something like that?

She smiled slightly, assuming the only obvious answer. Veer. Her husband had his romantic surprises — this must be another.

Later that morning, as Veer sat in his study reviewing state files, Mayuri entered with soft steps and the hint of a smirk.

"Thank you for the flowers," she said lightly, placing her palm over his shoulder.

Veer looked up from the documents, his forehead creasing. "What flowers?"

She blinked, half-laughing. "Don't joke. The red roses with the card... 'I wish you could smile looking at me'... very poetic."

But Veer's gaze sharpened immediately. He pushed back his chair and stood. "Mayuri. I didn't send any flowers."

A pause. The quiet thickened between them.

"I thought you did. The staff said it came through a local florist." Her voice lost its playfulness.

Veer's jaw clenched. He pulled his phone from the table and dialed. "Get the head of palace security. Now."

Within minutes, the palace guards were summoned. Veer's command was low but firm, his protectiveness evident in the way he moved to stand closer to Mayuri.

"Get the florist's details. CCTV. Anything. I want to know who sent that bouquet and how it reached the inner quarters."

Mayuri watched him, her stomach knotting slowly. It had been so long since she'd felt this kind of unease. She tried to dismiss the thought, but the card's words echoed again in her mind. I wish you could smile looking at me...

Was it someone from her past? A forgotten admirer? A fan perhaps?

Or worse — someone watching her now?

Veer turned toward her after briefing the guards. "Until we figure out who's behind this, you won't be alone in any part of the palace, understood?"

She nodded. But her mind was racing.

She had learned to rebuild her heart after betrayal. She had faced whispers, stares, rumors, even hate. But this—this unknown admirer who didn't sign their name, who knew how to reach her directly—was different.

It wasn't flattery.

It was a warning in disguise.

And somewhere deep in the palace, in the shadowed corners behind tall curtains and grand pillars, someone watched... and smiled.

Three days had passed since the mysterious bouquet arrived. Palace security had tightened, guards posted near every entrance and corridor. The head of security had spoken with the florist, who vaguely remembered the order being placed online — no name, no address, only a digital transaction that led to a dead end.

Mayuri tried to remain calm, for Aryan's sake. She laughed with him, told bedtime stories, helped him draw superheroes who saved the world. But inside, a shadow followed her every step.

It was late afternoon when the next package arrived.

Not through the kitchen this time — it had been left near the main prayer room, where Mayuri often went to light a diya. A simple white box, no address, no label. A palace guard had found it and immediately handed it to Veer, who brought it inside their chamber, his face unreadable.

"Mayuri... did you leave this for yourself in the puja room?" he asked gently, knowing the answer already.

She shook her head.

He opened the box carefully, a folded piece of silk inside. Her breath caught. She stepped forward and froze.

It was her old dupatta — the one she had worn at her college farewell, a delicate lavender embroidered piece. A tear-shaped stain still marked one corner from the time she'd cried after Aidan's cruel words that day. She had thought she lost it years ago... or perhaps thrown it away.

Beneath the dupatta lay a photo.

A candid photograph.

Her. Sitting on a park bench, years ago, laughing.

And Aidan beside her.

It wasn't the photo that chilled her — it was the message scribbled in red ink across it:

"You looked happiest with me."

Her knees buckled.

Veer caught her just in time, his arms wrapping around her as she trembled. She couldn't stop the tears. It wasn't about Aidan — it was about the invasion. The fear that someone had her past in their hands. Someone had this photo. Someone had been watching her then — and maybe now.

"I don't understand," she whispered through sobs. "Why would anyone do this now? I've moved on. I'm happy... why can't they let me be?"

Veer didn't speak. He simply held her tighter, his jaw stiff with fury. His hand moved to the back of her head, guiding her to his chest.

"We'll find them," he murmured. "I promise. You're not alone, Mayuri. Never again."

She clutched his shirt, her breath hiccupping against his chest. Aryan's voice echoed from the hallway, calling for his bedtime story. Veer kissed her forehead, still holding her close.

"We'll tell Aryan you're resting," he whispered. "I'll handle it tonight."

As she sat on the edge of the bed, tears drying against her cheek, she realized the worst part wasn't the gift itself — it was the message behind it.

The stalker wasn't trying to woo her.

They were trying to pull her back into the past.

And she wasn't going to let them win.

Not while Veer was by her side.

Not while her son called her "Maa" with a smile in his voice.

But the danger had taken form now. It had a scent. A texture.

It had begun with roses.

Now it walked with memories.

And it wasn't going away easily.