The Royal Silence

40. Intoxicated

It was the evening of the fifth day of the exhibition, the award night. I was attending as a private collector. An invited high-net-worth guest though Dhwani thinks I was attending the function with her as a ‘friend’

Ishaan was ready, and was attending some last minute meetings as the women were not ready.

I went to Dhrithika’s room first to check if she was ready. She wasn’t.

After arguing for five unnecessary minutes about earrings, I stepped out and walked toward Dhwani’s room. As much as I know her, she must be doing her touch up now.

I knocked.

“Come in,” her voice floated from inside.

I pushed the door open, still glancing at the email notification on my phone.

The moment I shut the door and looked up, my phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull sound.

I didn’t even blink.

She stood in front of the mirror.

Wearing a floor-length champagne-gold gown that looked like it had been poured over her body rather than stitched. The fabric shimmered under the soft light and had delicate beadwork and crystal detailing that traced every curve with dangerous precision.

The bodice was sculpted and structured, forming a corset-like pattern across her torso. Thin straps rested over her shoulders, barely there, drawing attention to her collarbones, the graceful line of her neck and of course her cleavage.

The gown hugged her waist flawlessly before cascading down. A thigh-high slit revealed one leg, smooth and confident, every step promising distraction.

Her hair fell over one shoulder in soft waves, framing her face. Minimal jewelry. Just enough to shine without competing.

She didn’t look like an artist tonight. She looked like a headline.

My gaze moved slowly — from her heels… up the slit… to the way the dress fit her waist… and finally to her face.

She noticed, her brows lifted slightly.

“What?” she asked.

I swallowed.

“For someone who claims she doesn’t like attention,” I said slowly, voice rougher than intended, “you’re about to destroy an entire room.”

A slow smile curved on her lips.

Holy hell.

That deep maroon shade made her mouth look sinful, bold, rich, unapologetic. It should have been illegal to wear a color like that.

For a second, I genuinely forgot how to breathe.

My jaw tightened as I dragged my eyes from her lips back to her face.

“Is it too much?” she asked, pretending innocence, though the glint in her eyes told me she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Too much?” I repeated, stepping closer without realizing it. “Dhwani, that lipstick alone is a public hazard.”

Her brows arched. “Oh really?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice dropping lower. “Because right now I’m fighting the very strong urge to ruin it.”

Her pulse fluttered visibly at her throat and then she bit her lower lip.

That was enough.

I crossed the distance between us in a few quick steps. My hand caught her arm, and I pressed her back against the vanity mirror. A few bottles and brushes fell to the floor, but neither of us paid attention.

My fingers slid to her chin, tilting her face upward.

Then I pressed my lips against hers. Hard.

For a second she seemed stunned, breath caught, body tense, as if her mind hadn’t caught up with what was happening. But when my hand tightened at her waist, pulling her closer, she gasped softly against my mouth.

“Yug...” she tried to say, but the word dissolved as I deepened the kiss sliding my tongue inside her mouth, not giving her space to finish.

Her perfume, floral with something faintly spicy wrapped around me, clouding my thoughts. It mixed with the heat rising between us, with the way her fingers instinctively gripped my shirt.

I tightened my hold on her waist, just enough to make sure she stayed exactly where she was.

“You say you don’t love me,” I murmured, my voice low and steady, “and yet my touch unravels you. You forget to breathe. You lose yourself in me.”

Her fingers trembled slightly against my chest.

“It… it’s just ph- physical,” she managed. “I’m physically attracted to you. That’s all.”

A faint smile touched my lips.

“Physical attraction doesn’t make your pulse race like this,” I said, brushing my thumb lightly along her jaw. “It doesn’t make you look at me like you’re fighting something inside yourself.”

She didn’t respond.

“When two people cross that line,” I continued more quietly, “it changes things. Intimacy releases chemicals — oxytocin, dopamine. They create attachment. They blur boundaries. They make it hard to separate body from emotion.”

Her eyes flickered.

“And since we’ve been together,” I finished, my gaze steady on hers, “you’ve been trying very hard to convince yourself that what you feel is just physical.”

Silence settled between us. Her breath was still uneven.

“If it was only attraction,” I added softly, “you wouldn’t look hurt when I mention another woman.”

“It’s just in your mind,” she replied, lifting her chin. “I don’t feel anything.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Very sure.”

The certainty in her voice didn’t match the tremor in her pulse.

Still, I loosened my grip and stepped back.

Not because I believed her.

But because I wasn’t sure I could handle hearing that again.

For months I thought she was confused. That she didn’t understand what she felt.

Now I realized she understood everything perfectly. She just didn’t want me.

“Get ready,” I said, my voice neutral again. “I’ll wait outside.”

I turned before she could see the shift in my expression and walked out, pulling my handkerchief from my pocket to wipe the faint stain of her lipstick from my mouth.

?

After an hour, we reached the venue.

The place was glowing under warm golden lights, cameras flashing at intervals as guests moved inside. Dhwani immediately blended into her world — fellow artists greeting her, organizers shaking her hand, someone congratulating her on the auction results and I stood there.

Burning.

Not because she was succeeding that part made me proud.

I was burning because of the way men looked at her.

Their eyes lingered too long.

Their smiles stretched too wide.

Their bodies leaned a little too close when they spoke to her.

My jaw tightened.

My hands slid into my pockets before I did something stupid like walk up and remind every single one of them to maintain their distance.

She laughed at something one of them said.

And I hated that I couldn’t hear it. I hated that I wasn’t the reason.

Dhrithika nudged my arm lightly. “Relax, Bhaiya.”

“I am relaxed.”

She raised an eyebrow.

I wasn’t.

Not when some tall idiot in a tailored suit stood just a little too close to the woman I love, bending toward her ear making her smile.

“I need a drink,” I muttered, turning toward the bar.

Dhrithika and Ishaan followed immediately.

“Sir, don’t,” Ishaan said, catching my wrist midway. “It’s an important day for her.”

“Exactly,” I replied coldly, pulling my hand free. “Important for her. Not for me.”

I downed the first glass in one go. The burn did nothing. Didn’t quiet the noise. Didn’t kill the irritation clawing under my skin.

I reached for another.

“Bhaiya, stop,” Dhrithika said this time, her fingers closing around my arm.

I looked at her. Not angrily. Just enough.

She slowly let go.

This was her idea.

She brought me here while I was actually trying to move.

After a few minutes the announcements began and applause filled the hall. I didn't care until Dhwani’s name was announced.

My head snapped toward the stage. She walked up gracefully, composed, accepting the award with that small, controlled smile of hers. She won second prize.

First prize had gone to someone who sold five paintings, the total value matching hers.

Three paintings, highest individual price.

I took another drink.

“Do whatever you want, Bhaiya,” Dhrithika said, frustrated this time. “We’re going anyway.”

She grabbed Ishaan’s hand and pulled him away before he could argue.

I was smiling.

The second-place trophy felt heavier than it looked, cool metal resting against my palm. To anyone else it might have been “just” second prize.

But to me?

It was everything.

Success was never about standing first on a podium. It was about reaching a place many couldn’t. About surviving what tried to break you and still showing up.

There were dozens of artists who applied.

Many didn’t get selected.

I did, that was enough.

When I was younger, I was never extraordinary in academics. Average. That word followed me everywhere. Teachers would complain to my mother constantly. She would listen quietly, nod, thank them.

But on our way back home she would always say, “You don’t have to look up at the top every time. Sometimes, just make sure you’re not looking down at yourself.”

That line stayed and tonight, standing under these lights, holding this trophy, I wondered—

Would they be proud? If everything in the past hadn’t shattered the way it did…If I hadn’t run…If we had stayed together…

Would life still have broken us in some other way?

I didn’t want to think about it because missing her always hurts. But tonight, instead of pain, I felt something emptier. Like there was a space beside me that applause couldn’t fill.

“Dhwani.”

Dhrithika’s voice cut through my thoughts sharper than usual.

I looked up as she stood right in front of me.

“See,” I said softly, lifting the trophy toward her. “I won second prize.”

She forced a tight-lipped smile. “Congratulations.”

I nodded, still tracing the engraved letters with my thumb.

“You got what you came here for,” she said after a pause. “But what about my brother, Dhwani?”

I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Her expression shifted serious.

“He came here for something too,” she said quietly. “And he’s walking away with nothing.”

“Did he also come for an award ceremony?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “And that award was supposed to be you. But the award herself isn’t ready to go into the hands of the one who deserves her.”

My grip tightened around the trophy.

I didn’t like where this conversation was heading.

“I didn’t ask him to come,” I replied, turning my face away.

“Yes, it was my fault,” she agreed. “But you didn’t stop him either when he got closer to you.”

Silence settled between us. The noise of the hall felt distant now.

“He’s trying,” she continued. “In his own stupid way and you keep acting like there’s nothing there.”

“There isn’t,” I said firmly.

Too quickly.

Her eyes narrowed.

“If there wasn’t,” she said calmly, “you wouldn’t look at him the way you do when he’s not looking.”

My throat went dry.

“I don’t owe him anything,” I whispered.

“Maybe not,” she said. “But you owe yourself honesty.”

“Honest?”

“Yes. You can lie to me. You can lie to my brother. But how long are you going to lie to yourself, Dhwani?”

“Lie about what? I don’t even understand what you’re saying.”

“Lie that you don’t love him,” she said, gripping my arm this time. “When we both know you do.”

I pulled my arm away.

“I don’t love him,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended. “I don’t even know what love actually means. When you don’t understand something, how are you supposed to feel it?”

My throat tightened.

“I’ve never known how it happens. People just say it. They throw the word around like it’s simple. For me, it’s empty.” I let out a shaky breath. “And if it ever had a definition in my life, it started and ended with my brother. Except him… no one else.”

My voice cracked at the end.

Because that was the truth.

I didn’t grow up watching gentle love. I didn’t grow up learning how it’s supposed to feel when it’s healthy, safe, steady. Everything I had seen either broke… or burned.

So what was I supposed to recognize?

How was I supposed to know that what happens to my breathing when he comes close… isn’t just attraction?

“I don’t understand my own feelings,” I admitted, quieter now. “Sometimes I want him close. Sometimes I want to run. Sometimes I feel angry at him for things I can’t even explain. Is that love? Or is that just attachment? Or habit?”

Dhrithika looked at me shocked.

My eyes stung, but I refused to let tears fall.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “And I’m scared to choose something I don’t even understand.”

“If you know,” I said, my voice barely steady now, “which feeling out of all this is love… then tell me. Explain it to me. If I understand it, I will…”

My words trailed off.

Will what?

Accept it?

Admit it?

Run from it?

“ I don't know….” Dhrithika mumbled, “ I don't know myself.” She turned and walked away.

See, when it's about them I am wrong, but when it's about me they didn't know things. Hypocrisy.

A tear rolled down my cheeks, but I wiped that harshly, not wanting to show anyone I don't even understand my own feelings.

But you want an answer, don't you? My brain asked.

“ Yes I do, but who will answer my questions?” My eyes roamed around the room for a moment and stopped at Ishaan without thinking, I walked towards him. “ Ishaan.”

He turned instantly and looked at me confused.

“ I wanted to ask you something.”

“ What is it?”

“ What is love? How am I supposed to feel when I love someone?”

He looked at me briefly, non-judgemental though.

After a few seconds we were outside the venue.

The night air was cooler, calmer. I sat on a bench beside him, staring at the nearly empty road, trying to untangle the mess inside my head.

He handed me a bottle of water.

I let out a dry chuckle. “I need alcohol.”

I felt his gaze shift toward me, steady, unimpressed.

“Does your brother know his ‘innocent’ sister experiments with alcohol?” he asked, tone edged with mild sarcasm.

“Obviously not,” I muttered. “But he isn’t here.”

“But I am,” he replied calmly. “Respect that at least before I call him.”

That shut me up, I grabbed a water bottle from his hand and took a few sips.

“Can you please just open your mouth and tell me what love exactly is?” I snapped, frustration cracking through my voice.

“Why do people talk about it like it’s some divine thing when they themselves don’t even know what it actually means or feels like?

” I was indirectly talking about Dhrithika here.

“Ask someone else,” he finally said,“I won’t be able to answer.”

“But why?”

He looked at me, hardly.

The kind of look that comes from someone who has buried something and doesn’t like being asked to dig it up.

Why do I feel like he’s hiding something painful?

“You want to know about love?” he said slowly. I nodded instantly. He is the only one who can answer my question properly.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the empty road instead of at me.

“Love isn’t just butterflies, It’s not just attraction. It’s not just wanting someone.”

I exhaled sharply. “Then what is it?”

He rubbed his jaw once before continuing.

“It’s when their happiness affects you more than your own. When you get angry not because they hurt you… but because you’re scared of losing them.”

My fingers tightened around the water bottle.

“It’s when you act strong in front of them,” he went on, voice steady but distant, “but still look for them in every room without even realizing.”

My chest tightened, because I do that. I search for him when I shouldn't.

“It’s when you push them away,” he continued, glancing at me briefly now, “because you’re afraid they’ll leave first.”

I looked down at the trophy still in my hand.

“That’s fear,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said. “Love and fear walk together in the beginning.”

He leaned back now, crossing his arms loosely.

“It’s when their name still changes your heartbeat months later. When you rehearse conversations in your head. When you pretend you’re unaffected… but the moment they step close, your entire script disappears.”

I swallowed because everything he was describing…I had felt.

“You think love is supposed to be peaceful,” he raised his brows looking at me. “It’s not. Not always. Sometimes it’s messy, confusing, and scary as well.”

My thoughts spiraled.

Messy? Yes.

Confusing? Absolutely.

Scary? More than anything.

“If you keep thinking about them even after deciding not to…” he added quietly, “if their presence still shakes you… if the thought of him belonging to someone else makes something inside you hurt…”

He didn’t finish because he didn’t need to.

I stared at the dark road ahead.

“What if we choose them,” I whispered, “and everything breaks again?”

He was silent for a moment.

“That’s the risk,” he said simply. “Loving anyone is a risk. Biggest risk.”

The night air felt heavier.

“But not choosing because you’re scared?” he added. “That’s also a choice and sometimes that regret lasts longer.”

I felt small suddenly.

“I don’t know how to love,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t know what it looks like. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. I’ve only seen it end badly.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“I’m not heartless,” I continued, my voice trembling slightly. “I’m just… lost.”

Ishaan looked at me properly this time.

“You’re not heartless,” he said firmly. “You’re guarded.”

My throat tightened. “And guarded people don’t lack love,” he added. “They just fear it more.”

Silence wrapped around us again.

For the first time tonight, I wasn’t denying anything.

I wasn’t accepting it either.

I was just sitting there realizing I’m not incapable of love. I’m just terrified of what happens after it begins.

“Do you think I love him?” I asked, finally looking straight into his eyes not wanting to mention his name.

“Yugant?” Ishaan asked, the moment his name hung in the air. My heart stumbled, and began racing like it had been waiting for permission.

I swallowed again and nodded.

“Did your heartbeat just rise hearing his name?” he asked calmly.

I hesitated, how did he even know that?

“You felt that shift, didn’t you?” he continued. I looked away, but it was pointless.

“If yes,” he said evenly, “there’s your answer.”

I looked at him again, the corner of his mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile. I had never seen him smile properly before. It was more like a quiet acknowledgment.

“That’s not proof,” I muttered weakly.

“No,” he agreed. “On its own, it isn’t.”

He leaned back against the bench. “But when a name alone changes your pulse, when your body reacts before your mind can control it… when you try not to say it and still feel it, that’s not indifference.”

My hands felt cold suddenly.

“Can… can we go back to the hotel?” I asked suddenly.

My stomach growled in protest. I hadn't eaten dinner but the thought of food made me nauseous. Everything inside me felt too unsettled now.

He nodded without question and stood up.

Just then his phone pinged. He glanced at the screen, reading something quickly.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Hm. Nothing major,” he said. “Sir is… very drunk. Dhrithika already took him back to the hotel. Apparently he has a fever too.”

“Fever?” I repeated instantly. “ Let's go back.”

Before I could think, I had already turned and started walking. I barely made it a few strides before his voice stopped me.

“Did it affect you?”

I paused.

“I mean,” he continued calmly, “knowing he’s sick.”

I turned back to face him.

There was no point pretending anymore, at least in front of him.

“Maybe,” I admitted quietly.

Maybe?

No. It did.

Ishaan chuckled softly, picked up the trophy I had completely forgotten on the bench, and handed it to me.

“You almost left the only proof of your achievement behind,” he said dryly before walking toward the parking lot.

I looked at it for a second then walked behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, we reached the hotel.

The moment the car stopped, I didn’t wait, I walked straight toward Yugant’s room.

My fingers were already on the door handle when it opened from inside and Dhrithika stepped out.

For a second, we just stared at each other.

“H-how is he now?” I asked quietly, my hand still resting on the handle as I tried to step inside before I could see anything, she gently pushed the door shut behind her.

“He’s just too drunk,” she said. “and that gave him a fever. He can’t handle that much.”

“I’ll just check once,” I said, twisting the handle again but she caught my wrist.

“You’re not a doctor, Dhwani,” she said firmly. “Bhaiya just needs rest, I gave him medicine, he’ll be fine.”

So now she’s protecting him from me.

Or protecting me from him?

I swallowed the sting.

“Okay,” I said softly. “Good night then.”

She didn’t respond, okay fair enough. I turned and walked toward my room.

But before I reached it, I heard her voice.

“Ishaan, we need to talk. Come with me.”

They walked down the corridor together.

The moment they turned the corner. I ran back towards Yugant's room, pushing the door open, I slipped inside, locking it behind me.

The room was dim..Quiet.

Yugant was lying on the bed, half turned to one side.

I moved closer slowly and sat beside him on bed.

His forehead glistened slightly. His breathing wasn’t steady either.

“You’re so stupid,” I whispered under my breath. “Why did you drink so much?”

He stirred faintly.

My hand hovered for a second before I finally placed my palm gently against his forehead.

Warm. Not too much but still.

I placed my bag and the trophy on the side table, slipped off my heels, and walked to other side of the bed.

The first aid kit was inside the drawer. I found a fever patch.

At least the hotel believed in emergency preparedness.

I went back to him and gently pressed the cooling patch onto his forehead. His skin was warm, not burning, but warm enough to worry me.

I brushed his hair back, studying his face.

He looked nothing like the arrogant, infuriating man from earlier. Right now, he looked… soft, almost boyish.

My fingers trailed down his temple to his cheek and then his hand wrapped around my wrist. His eyes opened slowly.

“Dhwani…” His voice was thick, heavy with alcohol.

“Hm. Sleep. I’m here,” I murmured.

“No.” He tried to sit up, I supported him before he toppled over. “What now?”

“I… want Alcohol.” He scratched his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

“You’ll get it in the morning. Now lie down.”

He frowned like a child denied candy.

“Okay… but I need hug.” I couldn’t help smiling. I climbed onto the bed on one knee and pulled him closer.

His arms slid around my waist, pulling me in. He buried his face against my chest, my heart started racing like it had just heard a gunshot.

A few seconds passed in peace, and then Warmth.

Wrong kind of warmth.

Something thick slid from my cleavage to under my dress and he started coughing. I pulled away and looked down

Yes. He had just vomited.

Over me.

Specifically my chest.

It trickled down the front of my dress like a waterfall.

God.

I stared at it in disgust and disbelief. Of all the cinematic moments in the world, this is what I get?

When I looked at him, he blinked at me with the most innocent expression possible like a toddler who had no idea how gravity works.

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, even the bedsheet wasn’t spared.

“Why didn’t you push me?” I asked, trying to process the absolute disaster.

“I was feeling you close,” he replied calmly, still dizzy.

Of course.

Romance level: vomit edition.

The smell hit me harder this time. I felt dirty. Sticky. Miserable, but strangely not angry at him.

Angry at alcohol? Yes.

He looked down at himself. “Yakk… I smell bad. I need to change.”

He started unbuttoning his shirt immediately, tossing it aside.

I scrunched my nose and despite everything, I laughed.

This man is looking cute for the first time.

I grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped the worst of the mess off myself before throwing it into a corner.

“Get up. Let's clean you first then I’ll deal with myself.”

He nodded obediently and tried to stand.

Wobbled and almost fell.

God, he was testing my patience on purpose.

I slipped his arm over my shoulder and half-carried him to the bathroom, so heavy.

I turned on the shower and made him stand beneath it.

“Take a shower. The smell won’t leave otherwise. I’m calling room service to change the sheets.”

He gave a weak nod and I stepped out. I was smelling like… a disaster.

Within five minutes, housekeeping arrived. They changed the bedsheets professionally though the looks they gave me suggested I had personally rolled in a drain before inviting them.

Wonderful.

After they left, I pulled out a clean trouser and T-shirt for Yugant.

I planned to shower in my room after making sure he didn’t collapse.

I knocked once on the bathroom door. “Yugant… are you done?”

He hummed in response, I opened the door and he was still standing under the shower exactly the way I’d left him.

Shower off by the way.

???

4300+ words chapter

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