I left the orphanage as all my personal belongings were transferred to the Palace this morning. I cried a lot while hugging my Maah because it's difficult to step into a new life, face new places, and meet new people. Life enjoys playing games with me. When I arrived at the palace, I was welcomed by Mom with a broad smile. She is a gracious lady, the epitome of elegance, grace, and royalty.

While making me sit, she said, "Today, Pandit Ji will come to decide the wedding date. And get ready quickly as Abhijeet must be arriving. You both can meet each other."

My face fell the moment I heard his name. I didn't know what to say or how to react. Everything about this situation made me anxious.

The maids showed me my room. It was the same one as yesterday. There were clothes already arranged-a dark plain blue cotton Anarkali with a white dupatta.

I wore it and applied just a bit of lip gloss since my skin is sensitive to makeup. With kajal, I drew a small black dot on my forehead. I put on silver jhumkas and the anklets given by my Maah, whose tinkling sound I adore. I smiled at my reflection, but reality soon washed over my face.

I left the room, and a maid guided me to his study. I stood in front of the door as the maid departed, leaving me alone. My heartbeat accelerated, and I was genuinely freaking out inside. With a bit of courage, I pushed open the door and took in the black and grey interiors. I hate darkness. There was a large leather chair facing outward, and the front wall was covered in mirrors.

I heard his voice, sending a shiver down my spine, "You better get this done, or I'll handle it my own way." I took a few more hesitant steps.

Then his chair turned around. He placed his phone on the table and looked at me. Our eyes met briefly. He was dressed in a dark blue shirt and black jeans. His eyes were intensely black, and his hair was neatly styled, giving him a refined look. His sharp jawline hinted that he was still simmering with anger.

Stop it, Kritika, I scolded myself, halting my subconscious thoughts.

It had been a minute, and he just kept staring at me. He stood up, walked towards me, and then, without a word, opened the door behind me and left, completely disregarding my presence.

What the hell? How could he ignore me entirely? Such a rude man.

He's not even interested in knowing my name, and we are getting married. Perfect. The ideal life and partner. I chuckled bitterly at my predicament. But then, why does his indifference bother me? He is nothing to me, and he never will be. Yet, the fear of abandonment continues to grow each day.

Tejaswi Maah must also be somewhat happy that I won't be there to irritate her. My friend betrayed me. My mother left me on the streets because she was so fed up with me. My elder step-sister despised me. And as for my father, I know nothing. I miss you, Bhai. You also abandoned me. The worst of all was my stepfather. I hope he's rotting in hell.

Flashbacks began to overwhelm me.

I grabbed the nearby wall as the pain in my chest intensified. Kritika, you can't break. Don't go there. I have to be strong for myself and for my children. I whispered to myself, taking deep breaths. I reached for a water jug on the table, poured it into a glass, and gulped it down in one go. Despite the AC, I was sweating. I wiped my face with my dupatta and walked out.

I entered the living room, where Mom was already present.

"Did you talk?" she asked.

For reasons I couldn't understand, I lied. I nodded in agreement. Perhaps my first mistake.

"He must be grumpy and cold. Yes, he has anger issues, but trust me, he is just lost in his past. He's not bad at heart. And no matter what, if he ever hurts you, I will be the first one to break this marriage," she said with a faint smile.

I just nodded again.

We settled down on a dining chair. Just then, he walked in and took the seat beside me.
As the maids were about to serve, everyone's attention shifted to a tall boy entering the hall with a black bag and goggles. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans, resembling Abhijeet a bit.
But the next moment, Mom stood up and hugged him, saying, "Finally! Kitne din baad mera bacha dikha mujhe."

He chuckled while removing his goggles, sat down, and placed his big bag beside Mom. He glanced at me and smiled like a child.

"Mein 1 week tournament mein state ke bahar kya chala gya, idhar toh bhabhisa ke aane ki planning ho gayi."

Then he stood up, moved beside me, and extended his hand, "Myself Abhinav Singh Sisodia, and I am a national-level shooter," he said proudly, shaking hands with me. "You can call me by my name, and since you're like my elder sister"

"By the way, abhi se he twinning kar rhe hai dono," he smirked, and I realized we were indeed wearing the same color.

I smiled a little. Finally, someone is smiling in this house. Everyone else here seems dead.

Abhijeet interrupted, "How was the tournament?"

They both started discussing topics I didn't understand. After some time, we finished eating, and everyone went to their respective rooms, but now it was time for my training. I hate this system. To marry a royal, if you're from a non-royal background, you have to be trained.

I entered the training room and saw an elderly woman in her 60s standing there. I bowed respectfully in front of her.

"First mistake," she said.

I looked at her, confused.

"You should never bow, no matter what. You're not even allowed to bow in front of your elders or any living or deceased person. You are a queen."

I just nodded.

Then she handed me a pair of long pencil heels.

"I've never worn these. They're uncomfortable, and my skin is sensitive," I said.

She laughed wickedly. "It doesn't matter. You'll attend many functions, and the King is much taller than you. You don't even reach his chest properly. You must start practicing walking in these heels."

I really wanted to run away. It's not my problem if he's tall. But still, I nodded.

"You talk about sensitive skin, but you'll be wearing heavy, old jewelry in the future. So be prepared, Ranisa," she added.

Then she handed me a paper. "It's all written here, so you can remember it. Let me read it to you first," she said.

I sat down, and to be honest, I felt sleepy.

1. You must never bow.

2. Always wear heels for public engagements.

3. Even if you're uncomfortable, never show it.

4. Be confident.

5. Never laugh loudly or crack jokes.

6. Never point a finger while talking.

7. Never show your back. When in public, drape your saree to ensure your waist and back are covered.

8. Wear revealing dresses only if permitted by the King.

9. Never give interviews against the family.

10. Regardless of what's happening in your life, never show it to anyone outside the family. Always smile in public, even when you feel like crying.

That's it.

Am I a puppet? I'm not going to change for them. Their system is so fake. I hate it more every second, but I'm the one who chose this path for myself.

I just nodded, took the paper, and went to my room.

It was evening.

Pandit Ji was already seated in the living room. Everyone was present, including him. Then I noticed Tejaswi Maah was there too.

Mom looked at me and smiled, "Come here and sit."

I sat beside him.

Pandit Ji looked at me and said, "Aapke ghar Laxmi aane wali hai par yeh Laxmi ek bade yudh ka karan banegi. Hone wale Ranisa ki qismat bahot tez hai. Dono ek dusre ke bina kabhi nahi reh paenge. And the most generous heir will be born."

I don't believe in prophecies. Why would there be a war because of me? I ignored the rest. Yeh shaadi thode din bhi nhi teekne wali.

Then he said, "There are only five days left in the wedding season; after that, God will sleep."

My eyes widened.

Mom looked at us. "Tell me, kids, what do you want to do?"

I glanced at Abhijeet.

"Let's do it after five days," he said with a straight face.

And no one asked for my opinion. Because the King's order is final.

Then Mom placed a red dupatta on my head and put tilak on both our foreheads. Tejaswi Maah kissed my cheeks.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

Mom then said, "Now, you both can't see each other until the wedding day."

Like we were desperate to see each other. My mind mocked.

She then explained how the wedding would take place.
There would be no Sangeet night; only the Mehendi ceremony would be held the day before, and the Haldi would take place on the morning of the wedding day. Their customs are entirely different from what people usually follow.

It had been two days, but Abhijeet still couldn't get over the deal.

He is just returning from his basement, where he keeps his rivals and criminals, making sure they suffer the punishment they deserve.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the fields, Abhijeet drove back to the royal palace. The estate stood tall, representing centuries of his family's power, wealth, and history-the pride of the Rajput royals in Madhya Pradesh. His ancestors had ruled these lands for generations, each brick of the palace holding stories of bravery and sacrifice. But today, as he drove past the fields that used to belong to his family, he felt the weight of what he had done.

The land deal with Raghav was done. Abhijeet thought it was necessary. The estate was big, and giving away a few hundred acres to fix financial problems seemed like a smart move. But deep down, something felt wrong. He felt like he had given away more than just a piece of land.

His father's land.

No, he reminded himself, it was his sister's land.

The car's engine hummed quietly, but his mind was far away. Raghav had seemed like an ordinary businessman-a buyer looking to expand his properties. Yet, there had been something too eager about the way he closed the deal. The land-prime royal property-had been sold to him so easily. Abhijeet had allowed it, even pushed for it, ignoring his doubts. But now, as trees blurred past the window, the reality sank in: he didn't know who Raghav really was.

Could Raghav be linked to their family's old enemies? Had Abhijeet sold his sister's land to someone connected to their rivals? He shook his head.

But the man who had ruled six years ago wasn't the same. No, the man Abhijeet had killed was just a shadow-a broken version of the strong king he once was. His father was once respected for his wisdom and strength. But in the end, he was a ghost, lost in his own madness.

The memory of that night came back sharply.

He had found his father in the dimly lit study, hunched over a desk full of empty bottles and crumpled papers. The old man was mumbling, lost in a drunken daze, talking nonsense about deals and debts. Abhijeet had stood in the doorway, looking at the man who once ruled with such power, now reduced to a sad, broken figure.

His father had let them down. He had let down his family, his kingdom. But most of all, he had let down her-Abhijeet's sister. He had sold her land without a second thought. He didn't even remember her name.

That night, his father had looked up at him, his eyes cloudy and empty, not seeing the anger in Abhijeet's eyes. Abhijeet had said nothing at first. He just stood there, fists clenched, thinking of every wrong his father had done. The land deals. The debts. His sister's pain. His mother's pain. And the awful truth that his father didn't care-had never cared.

Something inside Abhijeet snapped.

He moved across the room in a flash, his hands around his father's throat before the man could even react. His father's eyes widened, first in confusion, then fear, as Abhijeet tightened his grip. There were no words, no last-minute apologies. Just the pure force of Abhijeet's rage. The old man tried to fight back, his hands weakly grabbing at Abhijeet's wrists. But Abhijeet didn't stop. He didn't stop until his father went limp in his chair.

The doctors called it a heart attack. No one questioned it. Why would they? The king had been sick for years, worn down by age and his own bad choices.

Abhijeet's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he approached the palace gates. The towering structure stood ahead, a reminder of his family's legacy.

The sale of the land to Raghav seemed like just another business move-a way to secure the estate's wealth and future. But now, with his past weighing on him, Abhijeet wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

Raghav... The name felt too familiar, too close to the enemies his family had fought to keep away. Abhijeet had done his research, of course. He had checked Raghav's background, his connections, his business. Everything seemed fine. Raghav was just a rich businessman. Or so it seemed.

But now, with the deal complete and the land gone, Abhijeet couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something. Had he, in his rush to secure the estate's future, sold a piece of his family's history to someone with a hidden plan?

He thought of his father's last words-if they could even be called that. The old man always mumbled about enemies, betrayal, debts to be paid. But by the time Abhijeet took control, it was too late to make sense of his father's ramblings.

Maybe that's why his father sold the land so carelessly. He didn't remember the people who had hurt them. He didn't care. And now, Abhijeet feared he had made the same mistake.

The gates to the palace opened slowly, revealing the large courtyard beyond. As Abhijeet drove through, the weight of his actions pressed heavily on his shoulders. He had killed his father to protect the family's legacy, to take control and safeguard his sister's memory.

But now, as the shadows of the palace stretched before him, Abhijeet realized the fight wasn't over. Raghav wasn't just a name on a contract. He was a player in a bigger game-one that Abhijeet hadn't even known he was part of.

And he had just sold a piece of his family's history to a man he didn't truly understand.

I parked the car and felt the weight of yet another problem settling on my shoulders. The morning incident was replayed in my mind like a broken record. My blood boiled just thinking about it-one of the dealers had backed out of a crucial agreement because I couldn't attend the meeting, and despite instructing Dhruv to handle it, things still fell apart.

But the anger simmered down the moment my gaze found her. She was standing a few steps away, her presence instantly soothing my frayed nerves. Her face was soft and round, a small bindi adorning her forehead. She looked so much younger than she was-no one would guess she's 23. When she turned to leave, the delicate chime of her anklets filled the air, a sound that felt oddly comforting.

But as always, my heart and mind were at war. Instead of following the calm she brought, I did what I do best-ignored her, turning my back and walking away.