In the twilight hours, the royal palace of Madhya Pradesh was bathed in an eerie silence, a stark contrast to its usual grandeur. The air was heavy with an unsettling tension, a feeling that something unspeakable had happened.
Abhijeet, the King of Madhya Pradesh, strode through the grand hall, his heart pounding with a sense of foreboding.
His usually calm demeanor was shattered as he caught sight of the blood-streaked trail leading to the inner chambers.
His footsteps echoed through the marble corridors, each step faster than the last, driven by a primal fear he had never known before.
As he reached the entrance to the royal chambers, the sight before him stole the breath from his lungs.
Kritika, his beloved queen, lay motionless on the floor, her delicate frame marred by deep wounds. Her once radiant face was pale, her breathing shallow. The golden chain he gifted her was now stained with crimson, a grim contrast to its usual brilliance.
Abhijeet's world tilted as he rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he cradled her head.
"π«πππππ ππ," he whispered, his voice breaking,"πΎπππ ππππππππ ? πΎππ π ππ ππππ ππ πππ?"
Her eyes fluttered open, a weak smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she tried to speak. But her voice was barely a whisper, lost in the vastness of the room. Abhijeet strained to hear her, his heart breaking with every passing second as her strength faded.
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
"πΊπππ ππππ ππ," he begged, his voice choked with emotion.
But Kritika's gaze was distant, as if she were already slipping away. A tear slid down her cheek, mingling with the blood that stained her skin.
With her last ounce of strength, she reached up to touch his face, her fingers cold against his warm skin.
"π±πππ,"she murmured, her voice faint but filled with love,"π°'π πππππ... π° πππππ π'π... πππππππ.."
And with that, her hand fell limp, her breath faltering. The world around Abhijeet crumbled, the silence that followed after she closed her eyes was louder than any scream.
In that moment, Abhijeet was no longer a king, no longer a ruler of men. He was a husband, a man terrified of losing the love of his life, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.
The weight of his grief was unbearable, but beneath it simmered a burning desire for vengeance.
Whoever had done this would pay. They would pay dearly.
π¨ πππππ ππππ πππππππ πππ ππ ππππππππππ πππ π πππππ ππ ππππ, πππ πππππππππ ππ ππππ, πππ πππ ππππ ππ πππππππ. This book will be the blast of emotions for you all.
Written by author_harsh. Thanks for writing my thoughts beautifully.
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