The Royal Silence

27. Club

“I am not offering you a deal this time, Dhwani. I am offering you myself. No conditions. No five nights. No contracts. Stay because you want to. Not because you have to.”

His voice wasn’t commanding. It was desperate. I pushed his hands off my face instantly.

“You’re asking too much, Mr. Raizaada,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “I told you, I don’t love you. I don’t want to stay and you don’t love me either. You’re just… attracted. That’s it.”

His jaw tightened.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. “Do you really think I’m some hormonal teenager who doesn’t know the difference between attraction and love?”

I closed my eyes for a second. He was making this harder than it needed to be.

“Yes,” I snapped. “It’s attraction. Obsession. Ego. Control. You’re used to getting what you want, and suddenly I didn’t fit into your neat little world, so now you want to own me.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“You don’t love me,” I continued harshly. “You’re intrigued by me. That’s different. I’m chaos in your controlled life. I’m a challenge. And you don’t like losing.”

His eyes darkened.

“And let’s be honest,” I added, my voice lowering, “I’m not your type. You belong with polished, perfect women who attend Gala’s and smile for cameras. Not with a mess like me who lies, runs away, and drags trouble behind her like luggage.”

Silence.

“I only need one thing from you,” I said, swallowing. “Help me bring my brother back. Once bhai returns… I’ll leave. I won’t stand in your way. You can marry someone suitable. Someone your family approves of. Please help me.”

He looked at me as if I had committed a crime.

“I’ll help you,” he said calmly.

I blinked.

“But,” he added.

Of course, there is always but

“There’s always a but with you,” I muttered.

“If you don’t want to marry me right now,” he continued, ignoring that, “then pretend.”

I stared at him.

“Pretend?” I repeated.

“Yes. Be my wife for a few months until things settle.…” He paused, looking straight at me. “Until you fall.”

Until I fall?

“Excuse me?” I laughed. “Is this some kind of twisted game? What are we doing? Playing house? Husband-wife rehearsal edition?”

“It’s not a game.”

“It absolutely is, Sir!” I snapped. “You want me to stay here, act like your wife, smile in front of your family. What is this, Stockholm syndrome deluxe?”

His lips twitched despite himself.

“Don’t joke about this,” he warned quietly.

“I’m not joking!” I shot back. “You want a fake marriage again? Haven’t we done enough drama already?

“It’s just for a little time,” he said, voice controlled. “I promise everything will go back to normal.”

Normal?

What normal is he talking about? There has never been anything normal between us. He is literally stress-testing my patience at this point.

“You’re helping me bring my brother back,” I said firmly, “or else..”

“Or else?”

He stepped closer.

I hate how he does that. One step and suddenly my confidence drops two levels.

I swallowed. “I’ll tell your grandparents the truth that you lied and we’re not married.”

His expression didn’t change.

“You’re going to do that anyway, Dhwani,” he replied calmly. “So do whatever you want.”

That threw me off.

“But remember one thing,” he added, his eyes locking with mine. “One day you’ll come back to me and you’ll say exactly what I’m saying today. You’ll admit you love me and when that day comes…” he paused, jaw tightening, “things might not be in our favor anymore.”

Arrogant. Insufferable. Overconfident man.

He turned and walked out, shutting the cabin door behind him.

The sound echoed louder than it should have. I stood there staring at the door.

How is he so sure I’ll come back and say I love him?

When I know I don’t.

Right?

Really, Dhwani? my subconscious whispered.

I swallowed.

Yes. I won’t fall for him. He’s not my type also I don’t even have space for love in my life, I don't need anyone.

Love requires peace and my life is a war.

?

I was halfway up the stairs when Daadi’s voice drifted through the corridor. She was in her room.

“Gala is in one day… and they must be coming.”

My steps slowed automatically.

“Yes,” Daadu replied, lower but tense. “What will happen when they find out that Yugant is married now?”

Married.

Oh great. My fake existence is trending again.

But who are they talking about? And why does it sound like someone important enough to shake this entire mansion?

Even Yugant has also been very restless. That means it’s serious.

More family?

Does he have secret siblings I don’t know about? Some dramatic bua? A business rival disguised as blood relation?

I exhaled sharply.

Why does every calm day in this house feel like the trailer before an explosion?

I shook my head.

No. Not my problem. I already have one criminal uncle and one imprisoned brother to deal with. I straightened and continued walking toward my room.

Eavesdropping is tempting. But self-respect first.

Okay maybe curiosity second.

Still… whatever is coming, I have a very bad feeling, It’s going to involve me.

Reaching my room, I dropped the shopper of paints onto the bed and grabbed the water jug. I drank a glass of water because I was exhausted. Thirsty. Mentally fried.

After that, I picked up my phone and dialed Ishaan’s number again but it didn't connect again.

I had already called him ten times since morning, but got no response. He wasn’t at the mansion. He wasn’t at the office either.

And I had gone there specifically to talk to him.

Because let’s be honest decoding Mr. Yugant Raizaada’s brain is harder than solving a murder mystery but Ishaan? He at least drops hints and now even he has vanished.

Perfect.

The only sane person in this entire setup has turned into Mr. India. I threw my phone onto the bed.

“Great, Dhwani,” I muttered to myself. “Now solve everything alone. As usual.”

I think it’s time I stop waiting for people to fix my mess. If no one is answering me, I’ll take the next step myself. I grabbed my phone again and opened Instagram.

Scrolling past the chaos of reels and fake motivational quotes, I stopped at one of my paintings the one I made in Raizaada Mansion when I was pretending to be mute. Back when silence was my shield and art was my only voice.

Without overthinking, I uploaded it.

For Sale.

I added a price not too high, not desperate either, just enough.

Within minutes, my DMs exploded.

Offers.

Serious buyers.

People negotiating.

People ready to pay immediately.

I stared at the screen, stunned.

For years Maheshwar Pratap Rathore sold my paintings and kept every rupee. But that's how I sold a few paintings of mine and earned a little for my survival and saving.

I checked my bank balance.

Three lakhs.

It’s not a fortune but it’s enough.

Enough to book a flight for Dubai.

Enough to at least stand outside whatever prison my brother is locked in.

Once I reach there, I’ll figure out the rest on my own. I’ve survived worse. I can survive this too.

I don’t need Yugant or Ishaan. I just need courage and a one-way ticket.

Yeah, you don’t need anyone, my brain clapped sarcastically, just a passport and visa you absolute idiot.

I froze.

Passport.

Of course.

International flight. UAE. Immigration. Visa.

I slowly lowered the phone from my face and stared at the ceiling.

Brilliant, Dhwani. Truly brilliant. Planning jailbreak operations in another country without basic documents.

I flopped back on the bed dramatically.

“Wow,” I muttered to myself, pressing my palms to my eyes. “Strategic mastermind, international rescuer doesn’t even know where her passport is.”

Urghhh.

I wanted to cry. Not because I couldn’t go. But because every single time I try to take control, something small, stupid, practical slaps me back to reality.

Do I even have my passport?

Did Bhai ever make one for me?

Did I… ever check?

I groaned and rolled to my side.

This is what happens when you live in survival mode for years. You learn how to manipulate people, lie smoothly, fight, run, threaten but basic adult logistics? Zero.

I covered my face with a pillow.

“Independent woman,” I mumbled into it. “Can’t even cross borders.”

I came home, completely burnt out. The Gala preparations were draining every last nerve I had left.

“Yugant.”

Daadi’s voice stopped me mid-stride in the corridor. She was standing outside her room, waiting.

“Yes, Daadi?”

“Come inside. I need to talk to you.

I wasn’t in the mood but I followed her anyway.

She sat on the bed. I lowered myself to the floor near her feet.

“Sit here. The floor is cold. You’ll fall sick,” she scolded gently, placing her hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head. “I need peace. I’ll get it here only.” Before she could argue, I rested my head in her lap.

I didn’t need to look up to know she was smiling.

Her fingers slipped into my hair, stroking slowly, rhythmically. No words. Just warmth.

Mom used to do this.

Whenever I was frustrated. Angry. Lost. She would pull my head into her lap and say, “The world isn’t ending, Yugant. You’re just dramatic.” And Dad… he would pat my shoulder and say I’d grow up one day.

They loved me even when I was wrong.

And I was wrong a lot.

Reckless. Irresponsible. Careless.

This maturity I carry now? It was never mine. It was forced onto me the night everything ended.

After we lost them, time didn’t let me remain irresponsible. I became the head of the house overnight. Younger sister. Old grandparents. Business empire. Reputation. Legacy.

Even Maama and Maami who were more like friends than elders—were gone.

Four coffins in one day and one survivor of that accident was my cousin.

Aryaman Shekhawat.

Royal name. Royal blood. Broken fate.

He survived the crash with a severe head injury. Skull fracture. Internal trauma. Weeks between life and death. When he finally opened his eyes, we thought we had been blessed.

We were wrong.

He lost most of his memory. Faces blurred.

Names erased. Sometimes he recognizes Daadi.

Sometimes he asks who she is. Some days he speaks like a normal man.

Other days he stares at walls, muttering incomplete sentences like a child, getting aggressive, breaking things, reliving moments that only exist in his fractured mind.

Doctors call it traumatic brain injury with severe cognitive and psychological impairment.

He’s in a private psychiatric rehabilitation facility now. The best one money can buy.

Money can’t buy his mind back.

Daadi’s fingers continued moving slowly through my hair.

“You’re thinking about that night again,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual. I let out a breath that felt heavier than it should have.

“What else am I supposed to do instead of thinking?”

Her hand paused for a second before resuming. “You can find Samarth, Yugant. I know he used to be your friend… but he is a culprit now. If only he hadn’t run away instead of taking my children to the hospital… maybe everything would have been a little fine.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

I pushed myself up from her lap and looked at her properly. Her eyes were wet.

“It wasn’t Samarth, Daadi,” I said firmly. “He’s innocent.”

She blinked at me, confused. “But that video? The car? His confession?”

“It was a trap,” I replied, jaw tightening. “Someone framed him. He’s been in jail in Dubai for four years. He couldn’t have caused the accident and disappeared again.”

Her lips parted. “Jailed? For four years?” Her hand dropped from my hair. “Why?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve sent Ishaan to Dubai. He’ll come back with Samarth before the Gala.”

She leaned back against the headboard, stunned. “He’s in jail… and I kept cursing him every day. I called him a murderer.” Regret settled on her face like a shadow.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said quietly, shifting closer. “Anyone in your place would have reacted the same. Maybe worse.”

She shook her head. “Still… I was wrong. I should apologize to that girl.”

I looked at her. “Will you?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I mean I can but she's so sticky.”

I smiled softly. “But you love her anyway. I saw how worried you were yesterday when she wasn’t home.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she snapped defensively. “She irritates me. I was only worried she was planning something to trouble us.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I teased.

She made a face and pushed my head back into her lap, resuming the gentle scalp massage.

After a moment, her voice turned serious again. “Gala is coming, Yugant. And so are they. You’re married now. How will you handle this? Things will get messed.”

If only she knew.

“Things aren’t messed,” I said evenly. “They’re as simple as they were two years ago.”

She narrowed her eyes. “They are not simple. You’re married now… or are you planning to divorce that girl?”

I couldn’t meet her gaze. I was feeling so guilty.

She grabbed my face and forced me to look at her. “Wait… did you lie?”

I gave the slightest nod.

Her eyes widened. “You lied to us? You lied that you married her?”

“I’m sorry, Daadi. I was just—”

“Ouch—”

She twisted my ear sharply.

“You were what? You lied to your own grandparents? Shame on you, Yugant!”

“Daadi! Leave my ear, please,” I hissed, trying not to laugh and cry at the same time.

She twisted it once more before letting go, crossing her arms like an offended queen.

“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely, taking her hand. “Please forgive me.”

She stayed silent avoiding me.

I exhaled. “Okay fine, I’m going—”

She grabbed my ear again. “Liar. Sit. Tell me everything else you’re hiding first.”

I smiled internally. My Daadi.

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell you.”

She released my ear and glared. “Speak.”

“I didn’t marry her. It was just a lie… to keep her here.”

“Why do you want to keep her here?”

I looked away, scratching the back of my neck.

Her eyes widened slowly. “Wait… don’t tell me you love her?”

How does she always read me?

I nodded.

She stared at me as if I had confessed to treason. “You love that hurricane? I was relieved for one second that you’re not married and now you’re telling me you love her?”

“Daadi, lower your volume,” I whispered urgently.

“Now I’m shouting? You’re the one who fell in love with chaos! I thought you would choose someone calm. Like your mother.”

I smirked. “I did. I chose someone like my Daadi. Even Daadu said Dhwani is your younger version.”

She raised her hand threateningly. “You and your Daadu both will get beaten one day.”

“Okay okay, don’t increase your blood pressure. You asked for truth.”

She inhaled deeply, calming herself. Then she looked at me, serious.

“Is this real, Yugant? Do you actually love her?”

I didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”

Her expression softened a little.

“They are coming the day after tomorrow,” she said. “What will you do?”

“Everything will go as promised.”

“You mean you will get engaged?”

I nodded.

“We don’t have any other option. They helped us when we had nothing. I gave my word.”

“And the girl you love?” she asked about Dhwani.

“Dhwani is here for her brother. Samarth will return. After the Gala, she’ll leave with him. And everything will go as planned.”

“But you love her.”

“Exactly,” I said with a faint smile. “I love her. She doesn’t love me. So the problem ends before it begins.”

Daadi stared at me for a long moment.

I knew she could see through the bravado.

She gently pulled my head back into her lap.

“You’re trying to be strong,” she murmured, her fingers moving through my hair again. “But strength doesn’t mean sacrificing yourself every time.”

I closed my eyes.

“I’m fine,” I said softly.

She sighed.

“My best grandson,” she whispered, pressing her palm to my forehead. “Too stubborn for his own good.”

I smiled faintly. If being strong means letting her go so she can be free…Then I’ll carry that too.

We sat there for a while until a servant informed us that dinner was ready.

I excused myself, went to my room, freshened up, and came back to the dining area.

Everyone had settled down but two chairs were empty.

One was Ishaan’s expected. He wouldn’t be here tomorrow either.

But the second one…

Dhwani.

And as much as I know that silly girl, she cannot stay hungry even if her ego is on fire. So why wasn’t she here?

Is she angry?

But why?

“Where is Bhabhi?” Dhrithika asked casually, looking around.

“She is not your bhabhi,” Daadi snapped instantly, throwing a sharp glance at me.

Dhrithika frowned. “But she’s bhaiya’s wife, so she is my bhabhi.”

“Exactly, Sharda,” Daadu added calmly. “You didn’t stop her from calling Dhwani ‘bhabhi’ all week. Suddenly what changed?”

Oh God.

Before this turned into another courtroom drama, the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor echoed through the hall.

All our eyes shifted toward the staircase.

Correction, heels.

Sharp. Confident. Deliberate.

Dhwani Rathore appeared at the top of the stairs wearing four-inch heels that made her look taller than usual. A flared mini skirt, a fitted crop top, hair tied in a pony tail.

Okay.

Hot.

Unnecessarily hot.

But also… thinner.

Too thin.

There was something off. She looked more thinner now. I made a mental note to take her to the doctor.

Full body checkup. Soon.

She glanced at all of us once, expression unreadable.

Then instead of walking toward the table, she walked toward the main door.

My eyes moved to the clock. 9:00 PM.

Not very late. But late enough for her. And she doesn’t have friends here.

She only invites trouble.

“Where are you going?” I asked sharply.

She stopped mid-step but didn’t turn immediately. Then slowly, she looked over her shoulder.

“Out,” she said simply.

“Out where?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does,” I replied, standing up now.

Daadi and Daadu exchanged looks. Dhrithika froze with her spoon mid-air.

Dhwani rolled her eyes lightly. “Relax. I’m not running away. I just need air.”

“In that?” I gestured toward her outfit before I could stop myself.

Her eyebrow arched.

“Oh? Suddenly you care about my wardrobe?”

“I care about timing,” I corrected. “It’s 9 PM.”

“And?” She turned fully now, crossing her arms. “Last I checked, Mumbai doesn’t shut down after sunset.”

“You don’t know this city.”

“And you do? Planning to file a missing report if I’m ten minutes late?”

This woman.

“I asked you a question,” I said, voice steady but controlled. “Where are you going?”

She stared at me for a long second.

Then softer but still guarded she said, “For a walk.”

“In heels?”

“Yes they help me walk away from stupid situations faster.”

Dhrithika coughed to hide a laugh.

I stepped closer. “Take the driver.”

“No.”

“Take security.”

“No.”

“Then don’t go.”

She held my gaze. Challenging.

“Why?” she asked quietly.

Because I don’t trust the world with you.

“Because I said so.”

“I’m going and you can’t stop me.”

Her voice wasn’t loud, it was firm. Final.

Tuck. Tuck. Tuck.

The sharp rhythm of her heels echoed across the marble floor as she walked away

The main door opened and closed.

I sighed, my jaw tightening until it hurts.

She never listens.

When I turned back toward the dining table, three pairs of eyes were fixed on me.

Daadi.

Daadu.

Dhrithika.

“Karwa li beizzati?” Daadi asked dryly.

(Got yourself humiliated, didn’t you?)

I didn’t respond. What was I supposed to say? Silence felt safer.

Daadi shook her head. “Let her go. Have dinner now.”

Her tone carried irritation but beneath it, something else. Maybe understanding. Maybe helplessness.

“I’m not feeling like eating,” I muttered.

Without waiting for another comment, I turned and walked upstairs towards my room.

I closed the lights and lied down trying to sleep. Trying to shut my thoughts. An hour passed like that. I walked out and went to Dhwani’s room to check if she came back but she didn't.

Mad Woman.

I came back to my room again, grabbed my phone and dialed Ishaan’s number.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Ishaan, I want Dhwani’s fucking location right now.”

Silence. The kind that makes your blood boil faster.

“Awasthi,” I snapped, “are you fucking dead?”

A slow exhale came from the other end. Calm. Controlled. Irritating.

“Sir… I’m in Dubai.”

“I don’t fucking care where you are,” I cut him off. “I want her location. Ten minutes.”

I disconnected before he could respond.

The room suddenly felt too small.

I stared at the black screen of my phone, pulse hammering in my ears.

I waited, roaming inside my room like a mad man. Right after ten minutes my phone buzzed.

Location shared.

“ Fucking Club!” Without wasting another second, I grabbed my car keys and walked out of the room.

??????