|•Eclipsed Ardent Affection~The Tragedy In The Sands Of Chronicles•|

Chapter :- 3 {Accepting The Alliance On The Death Bed}

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Year 1870
सन् 1870
सन्१८७०
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The next morning unfolded with a serene, almost haunting calmness. The palace was shrouded in a serene blanket of white. Every family member, draped in the purest shades, moved with a quiet reverence as they prepared for the havan and puja. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and marigolds, mingling with the soft murmur of prayers and the distant echo of temple bells. Only the closest relatives were permitted to attend the havan, creating an intimate and solemn atmosphere that weighed heavily on everyone present.

As I moved among them, I felt an invisible barrier between me and the others, a sense of isolation heightened by my inability to meet Yuvraj's gaze. The events of the previous night played on an endless loop in my mind, each replay bringing a fresh wave of goosebumps. I still couldn’t believe what had transpired. I knew Yuvraj was hurting just as much as the rest of us, perhaps even more, but he always wore a mask of stoic strength. Last night, however, that mask had slipped. In the brief moment when I embraced him, I saw a flicker of raw pain in his eyes. He had tried to conceal it, but I could see right through him.

Because deep down, I knew. I knew he loved me. Because I loved him, more than anything in this world.

Ever since childhood, it had been ingrained in me that I was destined for him, that I belonged to him. The elders had always spoken of our union as if it were an unchangeable decree of fate. At times, it had felt suffocating, as if my life was being scripted by others. How could they possibly know what I wanted? How could they decide my destiny for me? Yet, standing there amidst the preparations, I felt a profound sense of clarity. Perhaps they had seen something I couldn’t at the time. Perhaps they had been right all along.

When I saw him that morning, dressed in a simple yet elegant white kurta, my breath caught in my throat. He was the epitome of effortless grace and beauty. His attire was plain, devoid of the usual royal embellishments, yet he looked more regal than ever. It was as if his very presence illuminated the space around him, making it impossible to look away.

He stood there, tall and composed, an aura of quiet strength radiating from him. His presence was magnetic, an invisible force that drew my gaze to him despite my best efforts to remain discreet. Every movement he made, every subtle shift of his posture, seemed deliberate and measured, as if he was fully aware of the effect he had on those around him—especially on me. His eyes, deep and dark, held a thousand unspoken words, a depth of emotion that was both captivating and intimidating.

Oh my God…

I found myself staring at him as if he were the last person on earth. It felt as though time had slowed, the world around us fading into a blur. In that moment, there was no one else, nothing else. Just him. I had all the freedom in the world to gaze at him, to take in every detail of his face, his expression, the way his hair fell just so. His gaze was equally intense, locking onto mine with a force that made my heart race. His eyes seemed to bore into my soul, making me feel self-conscious and exposed. Under his scrutiny, I felt small, vulnerable, as if all my defenses had been stripped away. He stood there with an air of command, exuding a confidence that was both intimidating and awe-inspiring. He looked like a king, even without the crown, as if he owned the world and everything in it.