Chapter - 12
The hall was too big.
That was the first thing I thought as I was made to sit right in the centre of it, on a low cushion that was definitely designed to make people feel small.
The ceiling was high, the pillars were wide, and the walls were covered with lights and flowers and fabrics that probably cost more than my entire house back home.
The mehendi ceremony was going on. Music was playing softly in the background.
Something traditional and slow. Women were sitting all around me in colourful clothes, their bangles clinking every time they moved their hands.
They were smiling, whispering to each other, looking at me like I was the circus monkey.
Two mehendi artists sat in front of me.
One was working on my hands, drawing patterns on my palms and fingers. The other was busy with my feet. I had been warned very clearly not to move. Not even a little. Apparently, ruining the design would be another crime that I would commit after being my father's daughter.
Ishaan was sitting right next to me, cross-legged, his small back straight, his eyes wide with excitement. He was watching everything like it was the best show of his life. At least someone was having fun.
"Why is she drawing gol gol lines?" he asked, pointing at my palm.
"They're designs." I replied softly. "They are supposed to look pretty."
He leaned closer. "They look like ladders."
I smiled. "Sure. Ladders it is."
He nodded, satisfied.
I looked around again. Everyone was still watching me and inside my head, I was very busy calling Ranaji names.
Pathar dil insaan.
Khud ko bhagwan samajhne wala frustrated Raja.
Har cheez ko punishment samajhne wala emotional anpadh gawaar.
Empathy allergy se peedit mahaan purush.
I imagined him standing somewhere with his arms crossed, face blank, thinking this was all very entertaining. I mentally added pehele garam par phir rakhe rakhe thandi coffee jaisa aadmi to the list.
That helped a little.
Pankhuri was sitting close by, talking to a few women but her eyes kept coming back to me. After a while, she leaned closer.
"Are you comfortable?" she asked.
"Yeah, not really. I have never felt like I am a circus ki joker before today who everyone has come to watch." I replied.
She smiled softly. "It will take some time. Try not to move."
"I'm trying not to exist." I said quietly.
Her smile faded just a little, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she reached out and adjusted the dupatta on my shoulder, the gesture almost protective.
Ishaan leaned closer to my hand. "This looks sticky," he announced seriously.
"Yes," I said. "Very."
"If you move, will it break?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Yes. And everyone will be very angry."
He gasped. "Even Dadi?"
"Especially Dadi."
He immediately sat back and guarded my hand with his tiny arm, like he was protecting national treasure.
"No touching," he announced to no one in particular.
One of the women laughed softly.
One of the women whispered something to another and both of them looked at me. I smiled politely, the same smile I had been wearing since morning. The kind that doesn't reach your eyes but keeps people satisfied.
Inside, I felt small, watched and placed on display.
Ishaan looked up at me. "Why are they all looking at you?"
"Because I'm special!" I joked, to make him smile.
"Like superhero special?"
"Yes," I said. "Exactly like that."
He grinned proudly.
For a moment, just a small one, I focused on him. On his small fingers. On his serious expression. On the fact that he didn't see a criminal's daughter or a law or a consequence.
He just saw me and that felt good.
By the time the mehendi was finally done, I was extremely thirsty. I hadn't moved in hours. My neck hurt. My back hurt. My throat felt dry enough to start cracking if I spoke.
The artists pulled back slowly, examining their work with proud smiles. Someone else said something about how lucky the designs looked. I nodded because that seemed to be my job now.
I looked around for Pankhuri.
She wasn't there.
I spotted her at the other end of the hall, standing next to Dadi, surrounded by guests. She looked busy. Ishaan was gone too. I could see him running around with two other kids near the pillars, laughing loudly.
I took a slow breath and carefully stood up, making sure my hands stayed lifted and away from my clothes. A few people noticed, a few more stared. I ignored them and started walking towards the table near the wall where glasses of water were placed.
The walk felt longer than it should have and when I finally reached the table, relief washed over me.
Water.
I leaned forward slightly, concentrating hard, and reached out to pick up a glass without touching anything else but before my fingers could wrap around it, another hand reached in.
The glass was lifted and I stilled.
The glass was brought closer to me until it was right near my face. I did not look up immediately because I knew exactly who it was and as expected, as I finally raised my eyes, Rudra was standing in front of me.
Close. Too close.
He held it at my height, angled and clearly aware of the mehendi on my hands.
He didn't speak at first and for two seconds, we just looked at each other.
Then I looked away.
I stepped back slightly, creating distance between us, and said nothing. I turned my face to the side and reached for another glass with my free hand, focusing only on the table.
Before I could touch it, his hand moved again to stop me.
"Drink." his voice came out slowly and I looked at him sharply. I was not a dog he was going to command.
"No, thank you." I said. "I'm not thirsty anymore."
It was a lie. A very obvious one and I turned to leave.
His hand came out and caught my upper arm, just below my shoulder, sending a jolt through me.
"Parthvi," he said calmly. "Stop."
I stopped.
"This ego," he continued, his voice still controlled, "is not going to take you anywhere."
I turned back to him, my jaw tight.
"Let go of my hand." I said.
"You need water," he replied. "Drink."
"No." I said again.
He lifted the glass slightly, bringing it close to my lips once more and I turned my face away again.
"I said no." I repeated, without looking at him.
"You are dehydrated," he said. "You have been sitting for hours. This is not a fight."
"It is for me." I shot back. "Leave me alone."
The hall felt suddenly smaller and quieter. I could feel eyes turning towards us and I hated that.
He didn't tighten his grip, but he didn't let go either.
"Don't turn this into something it doesn't need to be." he spoke up, his voice still calm.
"I'm not turning anything," I replied. "You are."
We stood like that for a moment. Me refusing to look at him. Him refusing to move.
Then his jaw clenched.
He exhaled sharply. Without another word, he lowered the glass, placed it back on the table and released my arm, stepping away immediately.
He stood there for a second longer, his face hard to read and then he turned his head slightly.
"Pankhuri." he called out.
It cut through the music easily.
She turned almost immediately, concern flashing across her face when she saw us standing near the water table. She excused herself from the group she was with and walked toward us quickly.
"What happened?" she asked.
"She needs water." he said simply.
Pankhuri didn't question it. She picked up a fresh glass and stepped close to me.
"Hold still." she said and lifted the glass, bringing it close to my lips without touching my hands. I leaned forward slightly and drank.
The water felt like relief sliding down my throat. I hadn't realised how badly I needed it until that first sip. I drank slowly, carefully, not wanting to spill a single drop.
But I could feel his eyes on me. I didn't look at him, but I knew he hadn't moved. I knew his eyes were on me but I refused to acknowledge it.
When I was done, Pankhuri lowered the glass and held it away.
"Better?" she asked softly.
I nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
She gave my shoulder a light squeeze, reassuring, grounding.
Rudra said nothing.
After a moment, he stepped back, creating space, and turned away without another word. He walked off toward the other end of the hall, his posture straight, his expression closed.
I watched the floor until I was sure he was gone and went to sit on one of the chairs in the corner, hoping no one would find me there, behind a pillar.
That man was still in the delusion that I will take his help after that day? To hell with him.
Just because I was going to marry him did not mean that I will have to talk to him or take his help or even breathe around him.
I stayed there for a long time, sitting still, my back pressed against the cold pillar, my hands lifted awkwardly so the mehendi wouldn't touch anything. People passed by.
I watched the floor and breathed.
I told myself I didn't care. I told myself I was fine. I told myself that Ranaji could take his concern, his water, his orders and throw them into one of those expensive fountains outside.
The music went on. The night slowly wrapped itself around the palace. And I waited for it to end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, my room smelled faintly of dried mehendi when I woke up and I immediately went to the washroom to take it off and put my hands under the cold water.
I knew water shouldn't have come anywhere near it for at least a few hours but I couldn't have cared less.
That's when I saw it, right in the centre of my palm. His name.
Rudra.
"No," I whispered.
No, no, no, no, no, no way in fucking hell, no.
I rubbed harder and harder, using my nails as if that would remove the colour of his name that had already been imprinted. Of course it didn't fade.
I stared at my palm, my hands shaking.
"Unbelievable!" I screamed in irritation.
Even here. Even on my skin, he was present.
I turned the tap off and stepped back, water dripping from my fingers onto the marble floor. I wiped my hands roughly on my dupatta, not caring about the stain. I was still wearing the clothes from last night. Heavy, tight and uncomfortable.
I walked out into the room and started pacing.
Fast.
From the bed to the window. From the window to the table. Again and again.
I held my hand up in front of my face and glared at it, as if staring hard enough might make the letters disappear.
"Unbelievable." I muttered loudly. "Absolutely unbelievable."
I dragged my fingers through my hair and kept walking.
"This place," I said to no one. "This man. This whole situation. Nothing respects personal space here, not even my own skin."
I stopped near the mirror and lifted my palm again.
"Do you ever leave?" I snapped at my reflection. "Do you need to exist everywhere?"
I turned sharply and started pacing again, no idea why.
"I can't even think in peace," I continued, talking to the empty room. "Can't breathe. Can't sit. Can't walk without...."
I walked straight into something solid.
Very solid.
My forehead hit a chest and the impact knocked the breath out of me.
"Ouch!! What the hell!"
I stumbled back, my foot catching on the edge of the rug. For a split second, I was sure I was going to fall.
An arm came around my waist to stop that fall.
Why god, why him? Why literally always him! I would prefer falling.
His other hand came up to my shoulder, stopping me completely before I could hit the floor. My balance returned, but my heartbeat did not.
I looked up slowly because apparently, my idiot destiny had decided that running into him and embarrassing myself was now part of my daily routine.
His arm was still around my waist and I could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric. He was too close today too. Close enough that I could smell the faint, clean scent of his clothes. Close enough that my body noticed before my mind caught up.
I stepped back at once.
"Why are you here?" I demanded.
He released me immediately, taking a step back himself.
"You were shouting." he said.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I shot back sarcastically. "I forgot that I was not allowed to talk to myself without your permission. I will remember that the next time. Will you forgive me this once or do I have to stand in a timeout."
He did not answer me but his eyes moved over me once, slow and assessing. I was still in last night's clothes. My hair was messy. My breathing uneven.
"Is there something you need?" He asked, finally deciding not to respond to my sarcasm.
I laughed at his words, I legit laughed at his words and I could feel it in my head that I had finally gone mad.
"Do I need something? Let's see Ranaji, what do I need? Maybe my home, my family, my life but nothing you should bother yourself with. You are the king after all and my demands are just petty." I replied, crossing my arms in front of myself.
His eyes darkened and I saw his fists pulling themselves into a ball.
"Listen Miss Sharma because this is the last time I am going to tell you this.
You have an option but that involves giving up your family's life and safety.
You are free to choose it by all means because I made my choice when I decided to bring you here, I chose to make your father suffer his entire life living with that guilt than let him suffer alone in a prison cell waiting for death.
You can choose to put him right there are free yourself.
" He said and there was just a hint of irritation in his voice.
I had nothing to say.
"But if you choose this," he continued, indicating the space between us, "then you will become the queen of Ratangarh and spend the rest of your life serving the people of the kingdom like every member of this family does."
I stared at him, my mouth open, my brain refusing to catch up.
Queen of Ratangarh.
I let out a slow, shaky laugh. "You say that," I said, "like it's some grand prize when it is not.
It is my punishment, Ranaji and I cannot expect you to show me any sympathy nor do I want it but I need time to process and accept all this because contrary to what everyone here thinks, I did not even know that Papa had.
..." I could not find my words, my eyes tearing up.
"Killed my mother and destroyed this family.
You cannot even say it and I have lived with this fact for a long time.
This family has been bearing the consequences of the actions of your father for almost three decades, Parthvi.
You say that it was not your fault and maybe you are right to think that but what was the fault of my mother, my father or my one year old brother?
" He asked, but there was no anger on his face, just blankness.
I shook my head slowly. "You think I don't see it?" I asked. "You think I don't wake up every day wondering what kind of man my father was capable of being? Wondering how much of that blood runs in me?"
His eyes flickered again, just for a moment.
"I didn't know," I continued, my words tumbling over each other now. "I swear to you, I didn't know. Not when I was growing up. Not when I was laughing at home. Not when I thought my biggest problem was missing the last bus or failing an exam."
"I found out about it the very same day your men came to my house and destroyed it. That was when Papa told everything to my brother and me." I confessed.
He didn't look shocked. He just looked still. As if this was information he had already made peace with long ago.
When he finally spoke, his voice was steady.
"Your truth makes no difference."
The sentence hit harder than I expected.
I stared at him. "What?"
"You did not know." he said. "You found out later. You were a child. I understand that."
My chest tightened at the word understand.
"But it does not change where we stand." he continued. "It does not change what has already happened."
I said nothing, what could I?
His truth was his, I had mine.
"I should freshen up." I said, changing the topic because I had nothing left to say.
I walked past him towards the washroom door, my steps slower now, the anger draining out of me and leaving behind something heavy and tired. My hands felt stiff, my head hurt and my chest felt like it had been holding its breath for too long.
I stopped with my hand on the door.
Behind me, I heard him move.
"Miss Sharma,"
I turned halfway, not fully facing him. I didn't trust my face to stay steady if I did.
"This is not a punishment for you." he said.
I let out a small, tired laugh. "You don't have to explain it again."
"I am not." he replied. "I am stating a fact."
I waited.
"What you are stepping into," he continued, "is not easy or normal. It does not allow space for weakness."
I stiffened at that, my fingers tightening around the door handle.
"But," he added, after a pause, "it requires someone who can stand without being taught how to."
I looked at him then.
He wasn't looking at me the way people usually did in this palace. There was no judgement in his eyes. No pity either. Just something measured. Evaluating. Almost respectful.
"You have been doing that since the day you walked in here," he said. "Whether you realise it or not."
My breath caught for half a second.
Rana Rudra Adhiraj Raisinghania was bipolar. I was sure of it now.
"I don't need your approval." I said quickly, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.
"I know. Now get some rest. Someone will be here with your breakfast soon." He replied and turned around, walking out of the room, leaving me alone.
Honestly, I was tired. Tired of having the same type of conversation with him again and again that did nothing other than hurt me and mean nothing to him.
The truth was, I was getting married to this man tonight.
I could not run, I could not get away from it without harming my family.
So I promised myself one thing, I was going to woman up and face everything with my self respect intact and I was going to show them that even though I feel guilty of what had happened, I was here to make it better and there was only one way of doing that -
Making sure that Adhiraj Raisinghania starts walking on his feet again.