Chapter 2 The Thorn Beneath the Crown
“The stars that once danced with joy now watched in silence, for the one who laughed with them was gone.”
The silence left behind by Chandini was a storm in disguise.
After that dreadful night, Chandlok's grand halls turned cold. The once-joyful echoes of laughter faded into whispers of fear and shame. Roshni stood by the window every day, eyes fixed on the horizon, hoping, praying for any sign of her best friend.
But Chandini never returned.
No letters. No sightings. Only silence.
And slowly, something in Roshni’s heart turned hard—like a rose blooming with thorns. She had loved Chandini like a sister. But betrayal... betrayal wounded deeper than any sword.
“I begged her,” Roshni whispered one day, staring at the empty swing in the royal gardens. “I begged her to stay. She chose him. She chose disgrace.”
Her husband, Prince Rajveer, never spoke of his sister again. Not in court, not in private. The pain was buried like a tomb—sealed, unspoken, but always present.
And soon, another cry pierced the stillness of the palace.
Roshni gave birth to a son.
The court cheered. The King wept. And a new name was sung in the glowing skies of Chandlok:
Born with the midnight blue eyes of his father and the sharp gaze of his mother, Hatim was seen as the symbol of hope, the heir of light. The King adored him, the nobles adored him, and even the stars above whispered his name with joy.
But Roshni… Roshni watched him with something more than love. A twisted protectiveness. A fierce obsession.
“No one,” she said once to the nursemaid, “will ever stain this family’s name again. No impure soul shall rise. I will make sure of it.”
Though Roshni was from a noble family, not royalty by birth, the throne now bowed to her as the Queen Mother. But she wore her crown like armor, and her smile held no warmth.
She ruled the palace with an iron will, growing colder with each year. She banned all talk of Chandini. No painting, no statue, no memory was allowed to linger.
And as Prince Hatim grew, so did the shadows in the court.
But none knew of the storm still hidden behind the stars.
For Chandini’s child still lived.
And fate—fickle, wild, and ancient—was waiting for the right moment to return what the palace tried to erase.