It was a bright morning, the kind where the sky looked like it had been washed with watercolors. Aryan's school was buzzing with laughter and the crunch of shoes over gravel. Parents had dropped off their children and left — all except Mayuri, who stayed behind a little longer to hand Aryan his forgotten tiffin box and kiss his cheek twice for luck.

"Don't forget to drink water, okay?" she reminded him, straightening his collar like she always did.

Aryan giggled and nodded. "Yes, Maa. Love you."

"Love you more," she replied, watching him walk toward the school building with his little backpack bouncing behind him.

But Aryan... didn't walk in immediately.

Something didn't feel right.

His small hand stopped gripping the tiffin, and his bright eyes — always full of curiosity — narrowed ever so slightly. Across the road, beside a tall black SUV with tinted windows, stood a man in a gray hoodie and sunglasses, holding a camera with a long lens, angled right at them.

At first Aryan thought it might be a reporter — he had seen plenty ever since his mother married the King of Udaipur. But this man didn't look curious. He looked still. Strangely still. Almost as if he wasn't blinking.

And when Mayuri turned to leave, the camera followed her movements.

Aryan's heart thumped once — hard.

The man was not there for news.

He was watching his Maa.

With a deep breath, Aryan turned, entered the school gate calmly... and then ran behind the building straight to the staff gate. The guards knew him well. "Prince Aryan," one of them saluted.

"I need the walkie-talkie," he said urgently, remembering the instructions Veer had given him long ago. "Call Papa's chief bodyguard now. It's important."

The guards didn't question him.

In under a minute, Aryan was on a secure call with Veer's head of personal security, Rajan Singh.

"Uncle Rajan, there's a man watching my Maa from the parking lot," Aryan said, trying not to stutter. "He's wearing grey. Sunglasses. Big camera. I think he's not nice. He's not... normal."

Rajan's training kicked in. "You did good, Aryan. You're very brave. Go back to class and stay with your teacher. I'll inform your father."

Click.

Within five minutes, a black royal SUV pulled up at the school entrance.

And within ten, Veer Singh Rathore was there.

The man in the hoodie was gone. But the camera lens cap was found near the bushes. Left behind in a hurry.

Veer's fury was quiet — the kind that made even the wind change its course.

But amid it all, he walked into Aryan's class and crouched beside his son, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

"You did the right thing, champ," he whispered, voice tight with emotion. "I'm proud of you."

Aryan leaned into his father's chest. "I don't want Maa to be scared anymore."

"She won't be," Veer promised.

He didn't say it aloud, but in his heart, a decision had been made.

The stalker had crossed a line.

And now, it wasn't just about Mayuri's past anymore.

It was about their family.

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden rays through the palace corridors as Mayuri carefully balanced two small steel lunch boxes in her hand. She had woken up early, marinated Veer's favorite paneer, kneaded the dough just right for soft phulkas, and even added a generous portion of homemade laddoos wrapped in a banana leaf.

He had a long day ahead — royal duties, security briefings, estate management — and she simply wanted to bring a slice of warmth to it.

Veer's office was nestled in the royal administrative wing of the palace — large, ornate, and always buzzing with controlled chaos. Guards at every corner. Secretaries murmuring schedules. Yet when she entered, there was a sense of calm.

She knocked lightly before stepping in. "Lunch delivery, Your Highness," she smiled playfully.

Veer was standing near the window, stiff, jaw clenched — back turned to her.

Mayuri's smile faltered slightly.

"Veer?" she asked softly.

He turned slowly. His eyes — usually calm and regal — held a quiet storm.

But the moment he saw her face, dressed in a simple yellow kurta with her hair tied in a loose braid, something in him softened. He hid the edge of worry behind a tired smile.

"You brought food?" he asked, voice gentle now.

"Of course. I've been cooking since morning," she said, stepping inside. "It's your favorite. And don't say you're busy. I will feed you if I must."

He chuckled — just enough to mask the volcano bubbling under the surface.

Mayuri walked up and laid out the lunch. She sat opposite him at the small table near his desk and watched him take a bite.

"Hmm," he murmured, chewing. "You've officially ruined restaurant food for me."

She giggled. "Good. That was the plan."

But even as they laughed and exchanged soft banter, Mayuri didn't miss the way Veer's phone screen kept lighting up beside him — security alerts, Rajan's name flashing once, a message that he quickly flipped over.

"Everything okay?" she finally asked.

Veer looked at her, really looked at her. Her eyes were peaceful. Unaware. Untouched by the darkness that had just brushed their lives that morning.

He hesitated. Should he tell her? Worry her? No. Not yet. Not until he had control over the situation.

"Just routine palace affairs," he lied smoothly, caressing her hand. "Let's finish lunch, hmm? You made laddoos — I'll need sugar to survive today's meetings."

Mayuri smiled, but her gaze lingered on him a second longer.

She didn't know what had happened that morning... not yet.

But as she stood to clean up, she felt the softest tug in her heart — a whisper of worry she couldn't name.