The royal garden shimmered under the early morning sun, but the air felt heavier than usual. Aviraj had returned to Rajgarh from Suryagarh earlier than expected. Something had kept tugging at his heart. Restlessness. A strange fear. As if his soul sensed something had gone terribly wrong.

He was barely off his horse when Rajmantri Vashisht approached him, face taut with urgency.

Rajmantri (hesitantly): “Maharaj, ek zaroori baat hai... lekin aapko sabr se sunni hogi.”

Aviraj (frowning): “Aarohi thik toh hai na?”

The minister hesitated, then gave a solemn nod.

Rajmantri: “Sharirik roop se haan, lekin mann se... shayad nahi.”

Those words were enough. Aviraj’s heart began to pound.

Aviraj (sternly): “Kya baat hai, Rajmantri ji? Spasht kehna ab zaroori hai.”

And so, in hushed but urgent tones, the Rajmantri told him all he had heard and pieced together—from the servants’ whispers, the guards’ awkward silences, the unexplained tears in Aarohi’s eyes when no one was watching. The name Virat came up. More than once.

Aviraj didn’t wait to hear more. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with unspoken rage. But more than that—pain. His Aarohi had cried... and he hadn’t been there.

---

Aarohi’s Chamber – Noon

Aarohi sat on the diwan by the jharokha, her eyes blank as she watched the pigeons flutter across the courtyard. She hadn’t slept all night. Her thoughts were a maze of doubt and shame. Was she overreacting? Was this how devars behaved with bhabhis in royal homes?

But her heart kept whispering — nahi... yeh galat tha... sab kuch galat tha.

The door opened with a thud.

She turned, startled, and saw him.

Aviraj.

Not the Maharaj. Not the heir of Rajgarh. Just her Aviraj.

His face was pale, his hands clenched at his sides. But his eyes—his eyes searched her like a storm looking for answers.

Aviraj (softly but firmly): “Aarohi...”

She stood up, suddenly overwhelmed. Her lips trembled.

Aarohi: “Aap... aap kab aaye?”

He walked straight to her, stopping just a foot away. He wanted to touch her, but stopped himself. Her eyes were glassy. Her cheeks pale.

Aviraj (gently): “Mujhe batao... kya hua? Tum theek nahi lag rahi ho.”

Her lips parted. No words came out.

Aviraj: “Main jaanta hoon... kuch toh hua hai. Aur main sunna chahta hoon. Tumse. Sirf tumse. Mujhe sach sunna hai, Aarohi.”

Her eyes welled up again. The dam she had built within herself cracked. A sob escaped her lips.

Aarohi (whispering): “Mujhe samajh hi nahi aata Aviraj... kya galat tha... kya theek... sab kuch itna ajeeb sa ho gaya hai...”

Aviraj stepped forward, cupping her face gently, his thumbs brushing her tears.

Aviraj (painfully): “Kisne kiya yeh sab? Mujhe naam nahi chahiye... bas tumhare jazbaat sunna chahta hoon. Tumhare dil ki har woh baat jo tum daba kar jee rahi ho.”

She shook her head, more tears falling.

Aarohi: “Main... main nahi samajh paayi... har baar lagta tha... shayad meri galti hai... main hi zyada soch rahi hoon... lekin...”

Aviraj: “Lekin?”

She took a deep breath, her voice cracked.

Aarohi: “Woh... woh mujhe dekhta tha alag nazar se... baat karta tha... ajeeb tareeke se. Mujhe chhoota... bina wajah... lekin sabke saamne sab normal tha.”

Aviraj’s hand on her cheek turned into a fist.

Aviraj (through clenched teeth): “Virat.”

She didn’t respond. Her silence was confirmation enough.

Aarohi (sobbing): “Main nahi samajh paayi... main bas... darr gayi thi. Akele mein aata tha, ajeeb baatein karta tha... mujhe lagta tha main kuch galat samajh rahi hoon.”

Aviraj pulled her into his arms without another word. Tight. Fierce. Protective.

Aviraj (whispering into her hair): “Tumhari koi galti nahi thi, Aarohi. Tum masoom ho... lekin kamzor nahi. Aur jab tak main hoon, koi tumhari taraf aankh utha ke bhi nahi dekhega.”

She cried against his chest, her sobs muffled. He let her cry. Every tear carved guilt into his soul. He hadn’t been there. He had failed to protect the one he loved more than his own crown.

After minutes of silence, he cupped her face again.

Aviraj: “Main chahta hoon tum mujhe sab kuch batao. Har woh pal... har woh baat jo tumne chupayi. Main tumhara pati hoon, tumhara saathi. Tumhara dar bhi mera hai, tumhari takleef bhi. Main sunne ke liye tayyar hoon, Aarohi.”

Aarohi (breaking): “Main thak gayi hoon, Aviraj... har roz apni hi soch se ladti hoon. Mujhe darr lagta hai... ke log mujh par yakeen nahi karenge. Mujhe hi doshi thehra denge.”

He kissed her forehead with reverence.

Aviraj (firmly): “Is puraane mahal ki deewarein chahe tum par sawal uthayein... par main kabhi nahi. Tumhari baat meri aakhri baat hai. Agar tumhe takleef hui, toh woh mere liye sabse badi galti hai. Uska jawaab milega, Aarohi. Tumhare har aansu ka.”

---

They sat on the jharokha for a long while. No more words needed. Aviraj held her hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. He didn’t ask for proof. He didn’t seek revenge yet. He simply wanted to heal her first.

To be the shield she deserved.

But in his eyes now, there was fire.

The prince was done watching in silence.

And soon, the kingdom would hear his wrath.

Scene 1: The Confrontation

The grand royal courtyard buzzed with tense murmurs. Word had spread like wildfire — Maharaj Aviraj Singh Rajvanshi had summoned his cousin Virat publicly.

Virat walked in, feigning calm, arrogance dancing in his smirk. But the sight that met him drained the color from his face — Aviraj, standing in full royal attire, eyes blazing like a storm waiting to break. The sword at his side wasn’t just ceremonial today.

Aviraj (coldly): “Tumse kuch sawaal hai, Virat. Jawab taiyaar rakhna.”

Virat (smirking): “Kya baat hai, Maharaj? Itna gussa? Zaroor kisi ne aapke kaan bhar diye honge.”

Without another word, Aviraj charged forward and landed a punch across his face. Virat stumbled, blood trickling from his nose.

Aviraj (roaring): “Kaun kaan bharega jab meri patni khud roti mili mujhe?! Tu ne meri Aarohi ko haath lagane ki himmat kaise ki!”

The entire courtyard fell into a stunned silence.

Rajmata, Dadisa, all the royal ladies, jethanis, and even court ministers were present. Aarohi, hidden in a corner behind Rajmantri, shivered at Aviraj’s rage. She had never seen this side of him.

Aviraj punched again. Then again. Virat tried to defend, but Aviraj was beyond restraint.

Aviraj: “Tujhe bhai samjha... par tune toh meri izzat, meri patni ka samman, sab kuch mitti mein mila diya!”

Blood smeared across Virat’s lips as he gasped.

Virat (shouting): “Jhooth hai! Main kuch nahi kiya! Tum sabka vishwas jeetna chahti hai woh... woh mujhe fasa rahi hai!”

Aarohi (sobbing, stepping forward): “Ruko Aviraj... ruko...”

Aviraj froze. He turned slowly to look at Aarohi, her eyes full of terror. Not at Virat... but at him.

She had seen the beast hidden behind the crown.

Aarohi (whispering): “Mujhe... darr lag raha hai, Aviraj. Yeh tum nahi ho.”

He blinked, and it was like water splashed on a fire. His fists loosened. His breath shook.

Aviraj (gently): “Tumse kabhi darr mehsoos hua, Aarohi?”

She didn’t reply. Just stood there trembling.

The royal women began murmuring among themselves. Dadisa stepped forward.

Dadisa (harshly): “Yeh sab tamasha ek aurat ke kehne par? Ek nai naveli bahu ki baaton par rajgharana apne hi khoon ka khoon karega?”

Jethani no.1: “Aarohi ke chehre par toh hamesha nakhre rehte hain, koi bhi baat badha chadha kar keh sakti hai.”

Chhoti Rajmata: “Hamare zamane mein toh bahuein chup chap seh leti thi, ghar ki izzat ke liye.”

Rajmata (raising her hand): “Bas! Ek shabd aur nahi!”

All turned to look at the regal figure of Rajmata Devyani Singh as she rose from her golden throne.

Rajmata: “Yeh Rajgarh hai, jungle nahi. Hamare yahan nari ko devi ka darja diya gaya hai. Agar Maharani Aarohi kuch keh rahi hain, toh uska moolya hai.”

She turned to Aviraj.

Rajmata: “Beta, gussa theek hai... par sabke saamne khoon baha doge toh farak kya reh jaayega tujh mein aur un mein?”

Aviraj (gritting his teeth): “Yeh farak rahega ki main apne parivaar ki raksha karta hoon. Apne pyaar ki izzat bachata hoon.”

Rajmata: “Phir bhi, shastra nahi, shabd istamaal karo.”

She turned to Virat.

Rajmata (sternly): “Rajgharane ke naam par, parivaar ke sammaan ke liye, tumhein ek mauka diya ja raha hai, Virat. Magar yaad raho, yeh tumhara antim avsar hai. Agar phir kabhi tumhari nafrat ya hawas ki parchhayi bhi Aarohi par padi, toh tumhara astitva mit jaayega.”

Virat (muttering): “Aap sab ko andha bana diya hai isne.”

Rajmata (raising voice): “Aurat ki asmat par sawal karne se pehle apne aaine mein chehra dekhna sikho, Virat.”

---

Scene 2: Aftermath in Aarohi’s Chamber

Later that evening, Aarohi sat quietly, staring at the rose Aviraj had placed on her table. He hadn’t spoken much since the courtyard drama. Neither had she. She was overwhelmed.

He entered, slowly.

Aviraj: “Main maafi maangne layak nahi hoon.”

She looked up, unsure.

Aarohi: “Mujhe darr lag gaya tha, Aviraj.”

He nodded, kneeling beside her.

Aviraj (softly): “Mujhe khud se bhi darr lag gaya tha.”

Silence.

Aviraj: “Lekin tumhara dar dekh ke meri aankhein khul gayi, Aarohi. Main apna gussa tum par kabhi nahi dikhana chahta. Main chahta hoon tum mujhse har baat keh sako... bina kisi darr ke.”

Her eyes softened, a tear rolling down.

Aarohi: “Mujhe ab bhi samajh nahi aata ki jo hua, usmein meri kya galti thi.”

Aviraj (gently): “Koi galti nahi thi tumhari. Tum bas... is rajniti se anjaan thi. Magar ab nahi. Main tumhe sirf apna pyaar nahi, apni takat bhi banaana chahta hoon.”

He extended his hand.

Aviraj: “Saath chalogi, Maharani Aarohi?”

She looked into his eyes. No grand answer. No forgiveness spoken. But she placed her hand in his.

A signal of trust rebuilt.

End of chapter

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