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

Chapter :- 7 {The Past Is Sweet But Rough Too}

(Continuing)
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Year 1870
सन् 1870
सन्१८७०
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He remained as silent and stubborn as ever. After what felt like an eternity of awkward tension, I decided to take matters into my own hands. With a sharp clap of my hands, two attendants promptly entered the chamber, each bearing a tray of food. They placed the dishes carefully on the table, bowed, and exited, leaving the aroma of freshly cooked Rajasthani delicacies to linger in the air.

I approached Yuvraj cautiously, like one might approach a wounded tiger. My hand reached out to his, but the moment our skin touched, he recoiled as if I had burned him, his attention stubbornly fixed on the clutter of his chamber. I swear, the mess looked more like a horse stable than the quarters of a prince, but apparently, it was more captivating than I was at the moment.

Determined not to be dismissed so easily, I caught his hands again, this time with a firmer grip, and pulled him toward the table. He offered little resistance as I guided him into a seat, though his sullen silence continued to gnaw at my patience.

Without waiting for him to respond, I took a plate and began serving him, hoping the sight and smell of the food might awaken some sense of appetite. He just sat there, staring at the plate with all the enthusiasm of a rock. Not even a spoon was lifted.

Alright, if he wasn't going to play along, I'd have to get creative. I picked up my spoon and took an exaggerated bite of Dal Bati Churma, rolling my eyes in mock ecstasy.

"Ah, this is absolutely divine!"

I exclaimed, sneaking a glance at him. He didn't even blink.

"But I suppose if no one else is interested, I'll just have to eat it all myself. Such a tragedy-especially when I have to take care of this beautiful Gulab Jamun all by myself."

Nothing. Not a twitch, not a flicker. It was as if I was performing for an audience of one... a particularly indifferent audience of one. I leaned in closer, practically thrusting the spoonful of Gulab Jamun under his nose.

"Come on, Yuvraj,"

I cooed.

"Just one bite. For me? For the sake of this poor, defenseless Gulab Jamun? It's begging you, can't you hear it?"

Still nothing. I narrowed my eyes at him, then at the Gulab Jamun. Clearly, I needed to up my game.

"You know, rejecting a Gulab Jamun is not just rude; it's downright heartless,"

I said, my voice tinged with mock severity.

"They say it's the sweetest thing on earth-after me, of course. And here you are, turning your back on it. Shame on you!"

Finally, a flicker of something crossed his face-amusement? Annoyance? It was hard to tell, but it was something.

"Oh, I see how it is,"

I continued, my tone dripping with playful indignation.

"You're too good for a humble Gulab Jamun, is that it? Well, let me tell you, Yuvraj, this Gulab Jamun has feelings, and you've just hurt them."

With dramatic flair, I placed the spoon down and crossed my arms, pouting like a child denied their favorite toy.

"Fine. Ignore me all you want, but I won't be held responsible if this Gulab Jamun decides to find someone who appreciates it."