Chapter 43 Crownless Candidate
"If you are not powerful enough to be allowed to choose your ruin, then what are you?"
The room was too quiet.
Iva sat on the bed, still. One hand clutching the flower Adwait had left in her palm - a soft, foolish thing. Not a diamond. Not a decree. Just... a flower. And yet, it was the only thing anyone hadn't tried to take from her.
"Fashion designer hoon na... chahe feelings mess ho jayein, aesthetics kabhi nahi."
She didn't cry.
Not because it didn't hurt - but because crying felt like surrender.
And Iva Ambani had never been good at surrendering.
The last words still echoed in the air. Her father's. Her brothers'. Olivia's biting disdain.
A nobody.
Manipulative.
He had nothing to offer.
And what stung more - they weren't entirely wrong.
Not about the facts.
But they were wrong about him.
They saw him as incomplete.
But she had seen him - whole, in the half-light of every late night conversation. In the quiet way he touched her forehead like prayer. In how he didn't fight back when insulted. In how he always, always showed up.
She looked down at the rose. It had bruised slightly where her grip had tightened.
"Why do I always have to fight for the things that come to me gently?" she whispered.
And then she whispered his name.
Once.
Only once.
And the room wasn't empty anymore.
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He heard the footsteps approach. Heavy boots. Confident. Familiar. He didn't turn.
She came anyway, with silence on her heels.
For a few long seconds, she just stood there, staring at the back of him - the boy she once thought she knew. The man no one was allowed to claim.
Adwait finally broke the quiet. "You're late."
Maya exhaled. "Still hate being waited on?"
"No," he said. "Just hate when people don't mean it."
She walked forward and sat beside him, cross-legged. "You're still angry."
"No. I'm just not pretending anymore."
They stared ahead - at the skyline, the noise of the city buried beneath the wind's whistle.
After a while, Maya said softly, "Funny how you're always saving people, but never yourself."
Adwait didn't laugh. He didn't smile.
He just sipped his tea.
"You didn't call me for what happened with the Ambani family, right?" Maya said, her voice carefully even, though it carried the echo of an unspoken wound.
She stopped a few steps behind him, arms folded, but her posture betrayed the tension she tried to bury.
Adwait's gaze stayed fixed on the skyline, the distant chaos of blinking towers, moving lives, and silence between sirens. His voice, when it came, was still and sharp.
"Why would I call you for such a trivial matter?"
His tone cut like glass, cool and dismissive, and yet... something hollow echoed beneath it-like a man who was done asking for help because hope had long since expired.
Maya drew a sharp breath. "Thought so," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
She stepped beside him now, standing upright while he remained seated-still, unmoving, like a man rooted not to the ground, but to the burden he carried.
"Is it about Iva's injury?" she asked, this time softer. "Adwait, I was there with her. Like her shadow. Trust me, there were no lapses on my side." Her eyes dropped as guilt flickered across her expression-remembering the exact second she'd left Iva alone.
"And our technical team is investigating the cause. They'll find out what happened. They're good."
He finally looked up at her. Just one glance. But his eyes had weight-like they'd seen the cut before it even happened.
"They won't find anything," he said. His voice was calm-too calm. "Someone cut the ropes."
The words landed like bricks.
Maya's breath hitched. "What?"
He stood slowly now, each movement deliberate, the kind of grace born from silence and scars. He faced her fully.
"I checked the equipment myself," he said, voice low but precise. "TThe precision of the cuts. Just enough to look like wear-and-tear. But also just messy enough to pass for accident. Whoever did it... made it look like an accident. They added a few rough gashes to confuse the pattern."
Maya blinked. Her mind raced, calculating possibilities, scenarios, names.
"Rudra can't be behind this," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I made sure of it."
"I know," Adwait said. No hesitation. No drama. Just truth. "It wasn't him."
Her brows furrowed. "I showed him enough to keep him in check. I already gave Rudra three wounds - one for each scratch on Iva's body. Two on his wrists, one on his lips. The same number Iva got when she was kidnapped. He doesn't even know what else is already burning. "
She smirked at her own precision.
Adwait didn't react. He rarely did. Just nodded faintly, as if vengeance wasn't new here.
"Start practicing again," he said. "Because if it wasn't Rudra, someone else wants to hurt her."
"Killed?" Maya asked, brows drawn tight.
Adwait shook his head. "No. Just harm her. Make it loud enough to scare. Not fatal. Someone cut the rope and then immediately alerted the manager about a supposed technical fault. It was meant to draw attention. To create noise. But also to create an opportunity."
He paused, eyes searching hers now. "She was never meant to fall."
Maya swallowed hard, the back of her neck tingling.
"It's getting harder here," she confessed, half-whispering.
"It's getting harder here. In Paris, I was just a PA.
Skillful, efficient, invisible. I earned my place.
Here... Rudra is already suspicious. Viren sir-he's watching me like a hawk.
He placed me with her as a bodyguard. I failed once.
And now again... She got hurt. He'll start asking questions soon. "
Adwait tilted his head. His silence was judgment. Or maybe just a challenge.
"So," he said finally, "you're not as smart as I thought."
Maya frowned. "Excuse me?"
"You've gone soft," he said. "You used to make assassins disappear in boardrooms. Now you're struggling to keep up illusions. You need to sharpen up, Maya. Remind them what you are."
She narrowed her eyes, that old flame re-igniting. "Now what?"
"You need to do what you do best-create an illusion," he said. "To Rudra-show him glimpses of you that shake him. To Ivikaa-remain the most loyal, most capable PA the world's seen. To Viren uncle-be the shield he hired you for."
She raised a brow. "So you don't want me to find who's behind this?"
"You won't," he said flatly. "He's long gone. And right now, Ivikaa is the only person that matters."
Maya exhaled. Her voice softened.
"I can protect her from the world. I've done it in six countries and three languages. I can handle her external world, Adwait. The threats, the politics, the shadows... all of it. But what about her internal world?She doesn't need protection from the outside. It's from the inside."
She looked at him, really looked at him.
"She's strong enough to chew ten Mayas for breakfast. Her father didn't hire me because she needs protection. He hired me so she'd never know just how much danger constantly surrounds her."
She exhaled.
"But emotionally? With you... she's the most fragile person I've ever seen. And today... whatever happened..."
Adwait turned his face away, jaw clenched.
"Issi ka mujhe hamesha se darr tha. Main kabhi nahi chahta tha... ki woh mere karib aaye. Main janta tha uska mere karib aana.. sirf dard hi dega usko. Mera wajood hamesha uski pehchan pe bhari padega. Aaj woh wahi khadi hai. Jaha dono taraf se dard hi milega."
["This is what I've always been afraid of. I never wanted her to come close to me. I knew that her coming near me... would only bring her pain. My existence would always overshadow her identity. And today, she's standing exactly there - where there's only pain, no matter which way she turns."]
His voice dropped.
Maya nodded slowly. "Silk and smoke nahi hota Adwait. Maine samjhaya tha usko. Par woh nahi maani. Woh bas tumhari taraf aise bhagne lagi jaise duniya se thaka hua insan sabse pehle apne ghar ki taraf bhagta hai."
[Maya nodded slowly."Adwait, silk and smoke can not be together. I tried to explain that to her - that the two don't belong together. But she wouldn't listen. She just ran toward you... the way someone, broken by the world, runs straight toward whatever feels like home."]
"Aur aaj... uske apne hi gharwale, uske naye ghar ke khilaaf khade hain," he murmured.
["And today... her own family stands against the new home she chose," he murmured.]
Maya looked away. "Iva ko bata kyun nahi dete?"
[Maya looked away. "Why don't you tell Iva?"]
He didn't answer at first.
Then: "Usko bata dena matlab usko apni duniya mein le jana. Tum nahi janti kya hum kis duniya se hai aur humari duniya kaisi hai? Tum bhi toh ussi duniya ka ek chhota sa hissa ho na? Ek aisi duniya jaha.."
["Telling her would mean taking her into my world. Don't you know what kind of world we come from - and what it's really like? Aren't you also a small part of that same world? A world where..."]
She nodded. "The world where shadows have names."
"And none of those names deserve her," Adwait said.
"Still... it would've hurt less if she knew," Maya whispered.
He turned to her, gaze dark and sure. "If she knew, she wouldn't leave. She'd stay. She'd burn her kingdom just to build mine. And I... I won't let even a trace of my dust fall on her crown."
"Kab tak bhram mein rakhoge?"
["How long will you keep her in an illusion?"]
He smiled-sad and weary.
"Jab tak rakh sakta hoon. Kyunki agar sab sahi hua toh thik hai par nahi hua toh jiss din uska bhram tootega uske sath woh bhi toot jayegi aur mujhe tooti huyi ivikaa se jyada anjaan ivikaa manzur hai."
["As long as I can. Because if everything turns out fine, then it's okay. But if it doesn't... the day her illusion shatters, she'll break with it. And between a shattered Ivikaa and a unknown one... I'll choose the unknown one."]
Maya stared at him. "Maya mera toh naam hai par tum jo maya rachte ho. Mujhe bhi toh tumne hi racha hai.But even I know-Ivikaa was born for the truth."
["Maya is just my name... but the illusions you weave-Adwait, you shaped me too. Still, even I know... Ivikaa was born for the truth."]
"She was born for a throne. Not for smoke."
"She's a princess," Maya whispered. "And for the first time, her father said no."
Adwait closed his eyes. "The aftershocks will be nasty."
"She's going to storm the palace, you know," Maya added, smirking. "And you are standing at the gate."
He sighed. "I know. Just stay by her side. Abhi bhi ro rahi hogi."
[He sighed. "I know. Just stay by her side. She's probably still crying."]
"Aansoon pochhne chal diye?",Maya teased.
["Off to wipe her tears?" Maya teased.]
He stood, brushed the dust from his pants. His lips twitched faintly.
"Kya kare ab yeh skill CV mein acceptable nahi hai na?"
["What to do-this skill isn't exactly CV-appropriate, is it?"]
Maya's mouth fell open slightly. A joke.
From Adwait.
To her.
"Did you just... crack a joke?"
He smirked and walked past her.
She watched him go.
Then, as his figure disappeared into the stairwell, she whispered to the wind:
"Sirf Iva nahi Adwait bhi apne ghar ki aur bhag raha hai"
["Not just Iva - Adwait is running toward home too."]
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Ivikaa's bedroom is dimly lit. Moonlight pours through the sheer curtains.
The world outside is quiet, but her world inside is chaotic.
She lies on the floor, not even on the bed - the flower still clenched in her hand, its petals bruised now.
Her face is puffy from crying. There are tissues strewn, water left untouched, and a sketchbook filled with half-drawn lines.
She doesn't respond.
The door creaks open slowly.
Footsteps. Slow. Hesitant. Familiar.
She doesn't need to look.
Her fingers tighten around the flower instinctively.
And then... silence. Not the silence of absence - the silence of presence too loud to name.
Adwait stands at the door - slightly out of breath as if he had run against his own decision, against his own fear, against the wall that is her family, society, and every past version of himself.
He sees her on the floor.
A broken princess with bloodshot eyes and bruised dignity.
His heart twists.
He kneels beside her, quietly.
She doesn't move.
Then she whispers without looking: "You said nothing down there. You let them say everything... and you said nothing."
Adwait doesn't respond right away. He just looks at her - the way a drowning man looks at the sky.
"I came here to say... sorry," he said, voice barely above a whisper, as if the word itself weighed too much.
She looked up at him slowly - eyes swollen, lashes clumped, soul silent.
He knelt beside her, gaze never leaving hers, and continued - each word like a slow-burning confession.
"Sorry... ki aaj sirf tumhari aankhon ne saara bojh uthaya.
Sorry... ki tumhara dil akele bolta raha aur main chup raha."
["Sorry... that today, only your eyes carried all the burden.
Sorry... that your heart kept speaking alone, while I stayed silent."]
Her lips trembled, voice breaking as it slipped out: "Toh phir aaye kyun ho, Adwait?"
[Then why are you here, Adwait?]
He slowly placed his hand over hers. Just a whisper of touch. Just enough for her to pull away if she wanted to.
She didn't.
He looked into her, not at her.
"Kyunki thak ke insan ghar hi aata hai naa. Aur Ivikaa ko Adwait ki jarurat hai na?"
["Because when we're tired, we come home... right? And Ivikaa needs Adwait, doesn't she?"]
His voice carried no pride, no expectation. Just quiet knowing - like someone who had long learned the art of standing in the background and still being the safest place to fall.
Ivikaa's fingers twitched beneath his, a soft movement like something inside her was beginning to thaw. But her eyes - they were still oceans. Still aching.
She took a breath. Shallow. Fractured.
"Main ro nahi rahi thi," she murmured, trying to look away, but he gently tilted her face back to him with a single touch under her chin.
[I was not crying.]
"Insaan duniya se toh lad sakta hai... par 'apni duniya' se kaise lade?" Adwait's words lingered in the quiet, not as a question, but as a wound he had already bled from a thousand times.
["A person can fight the world... but how does one fight their own world?"Adwait's words hung in the silence-not a question, but a wound he had already bled from a thousand times.]
Ivikaa blinked, slowly, as if those words had brushed against some hidden bruise in her chest. Her lips parted, but no sound came - only a soft inhale, almost like a sob that hadn't yet decided if it wanted to escape.
Adwait didn't press her. He sat there, his thumb brushing the back of her knuckles - not to convince her, not to explain himself, but just... to be there. Present. Steady. Silent, the way mountains are silent. The way home sometimes is.
"Jab aap aayi thi meri taraf..." he whispered, eyes still holding hers, "main darr gaya tha. Kyunki main janta hoon apni mitti ka rang. Woh sirf pair ganda karti hai... ya kabhi kabhi poori pehchaan ko."
["When you came toward me..." he whispered, eyes still locked on hers, "I was scared. Because I know the color of my own soil. It only dirties your feet... or sometimes, your entire identity."]
Ivikaa's throat tightened. Her lashes fell heavy, but she didn't look away this time. Her fingers, now trembling, turned beneath his and held on.
A tear slipped down her cheek, slow and traitorous. She didn't wipe it away. She let it fall - like surrender. Like an answer.
At that moment, all they needed... was to sit side by side in the ruins of what the world denied - and build something sacred from the rubble.
And she couldn't take it anymore.
She moved. Swift, sudden - not with grace, but with desperation. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, like she was afraid he might vanish if she waited another second. Her cheek pressed against his chest, where his heartbeat stumbled just once before steadying itself under her touch.
Adwait froze.
For a moment, he didn't know what to do with her warmth.
It was fire - not the kind that burns skin, but the kind that melts ice.
And slowly, his arms rose and enveloped her - not in possession, not in apology, but in quiet relief.
Like finally coming home to something that had always been his but never felt deserved.
Ivikaa cursed herself silently.
Why did I cry?
He had already borne the weight of her family's words - each sharper than the last, slicing not just his pride but his very identity. And now her tears were punishing him further - twisting the knife of guilt deeper into the only heart that had ever beat unselfishly for her.
"Sorry," she whispered against his chest. It wasn't loud, but it was enough. Enough for him to flinch.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. His brows furrowed - not in anger, but disbelief.
"Mujhe tumse maafi mangni chahiye, Adwait. Papa... masi... bhai... sab kuch. Jo bhi jhela tumne... unka nahi, mera bojh tha. Tum uss safar mein the jisme maine tumhara haath thaamne ki zid ki thi. Tum nahi aaye the, main le aayi thi."
["I should be the one to apologize to you, Adwait. Papa... Aunty... Twins... everything. Whatever you endured wasn't theirs - it was my burden. You were on that journey where I insisted on holding your hand. You didn't come, so I brought you along."]
And there, in the quiet broken light of her room, between one wound and another, two people stood - one drowning in guilt, the other in gratitude - both holding each other like the war hadn't ended, but maybe, just maybe... they could be each other's peace.
She didn't let go of him.
Not even when his breath hitched in guilt.
Not even when he tried to pull away - gently, out of shame.
Her arms only tightened. Not soft. Not sweet.
Like iron wrapped in velvet.
"You don't get to walk away from me, Adwait," she whispered against his shoulder, voice low and burning. "I won't let you."
He tried to speak - but she placed her fingers over his lips.
Her eyes were no longer swimming.
They were blazing. Dark. Determined.
"Let them say what they want. That you're not enough. That you don't belong. But here's what they don't know..." She stepped back just enough to look him in the eye.
"I was born into power. Raised for legacy. Trained to lead kingdoms of glass with a smile sharp enough to cut marble. I've walked Paris in diamonds, negotiated with billionaires, turned empires on their knees - and I have never begged."
A pause.
"But for you, Adwait... I would beg. I would burn. I would make gods uncomfortable."
His breath caught.
She leaned in, so close he could feel the storm in her pulse.
"So no - I'm not walking away. Not because I'm weak. But because I've never loved anyone enough to fight the whole damn world until now."
Her smile tilted - dark, knowing, dangerously calm.
"My family raised a princess. But they forgot - I'm the one who sharpens the daggers behind the silk. I was taught loyalty, yes. But also war. And if I have to choose... I'll fight like a daughter, but I'll love like a storm."
Adwait stared at her, stunned - breathless.
A silence passed, thick with the weight of her vow.
Then she added, softer... deadlier: "Losing you won't just be painful for me... it will be my destruction."
And then?
She took his hand - like sealing a pact.
Firm. Unshaking.
Ivikaa was no longer choosing him.
She had claimed him.
"Next time, date a billionaire AI architect with royal lineage, a global security empire, and a LinkedIn profile. Maybe then they'd approve," Adwait muttered with a crooked grin, a rare laugh breaking through his otherwise guarded presence.
Ivikaa's eyes glinted. Sharp, amused, playful.
"So... we're dating now, huh?" she asked, arching a brow as she leaned in, her voice silk wrapped around mischief.
Adwait glanced at her wound, concerned sliding back into his gaze like a tide reclaiming the shore.
"You're hurt. You should rest." His voice softened as he gently pulled the blanket up and helped her into bed, careful, attentive - as if she might vanish at the touch.
But Ivikaa, even in pain, wasn't the kind to let a moment escape unfinished.
She touched her finger to the corner of her mouth, eyes holding him in an unblinking storm.
"I'm hurt here, Adwait."Her finger still lingered on her lips. "Aren't you going to do something about that?"
There was no pause.
No hesitation.
Adwait leaned in - not rushed, not wild - but with the quiet certainty of someone who didn't believe in second chances.
His lips met hers, and in that moment, there was no past, no weight of lineage or legacy, no ropes, no rooftop, no royal blood or broken identities. Just her breath. His silence. And a kiss that said everything he never dared to speak aloud.
The palace disapproved. The city whispered. But when he touched her, the silence bowed.
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