“You can let go of me now, you know.”
Nila sat on Harsha’s lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
“No... I’m scared you’ll leave,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I scared you... You ignored me all this time. I just wanted to talk, but seeing you run away—I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”
His arms tightened around her, as if trying to keep her from disappearing. Nila shifted closer, her hand gently cupping his cheek as their foreheads touched.
“I’m sorry... I wouldn’t run away,” she whispered, teary-eyed, planting a tender kiss on his forehead.
“But why did you ignore me?” he asked, his voice low. “Tha... that night... I... I saw...” Her voice trembled as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“What? What night?” he pressed, trying to understand. Nila instinctively leaned back, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her in tighter until she faced him, their eyes locked.
“Nila, please... don’t pull away. Just tell me.” “That night... with the Queen...” she finally said.
Harsha’s eyes widened. He let out a heavy sigh. “You saw that?” he said, cringing. “Gods, that was... horrifying. I still get chills thinking about it. Yuck. I was lucky to get away!”
Then suddenly, his expression shifted. A grin crept across his face. “You were jealous,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
Nila’s face turned red as she looked away in embarrassment, clearly caught. “But... but you kissed her...” she pouted.
Her adorable expression made him burst into laughter. He pulled her close and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. As they slowly parted, he looked deep into her eyes and whispered,
"It’s your lips I’ve been craving… all this time."
Before he could even react, she leaned in and kissed him again—willingly, warmly.Beneath a sky full of stars, they melted into each other, lost in a world made for just the two of them.
…….
The King had started to notice troubling changes in Chandra. She had grown distant—locking herself in her chambers for hours, barely eating, and carrying a shadow of sadness wherever she went. Her smiles had faded. Her laughter, once the music of the palace, had become a memory. She avoided his gaze, his touch, and often him altogether.
Each time he entered their chamber, he would find her sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking gently back and forth, lost in a trance-like state. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence. And when he tried to touch her, she would recoil with a sharp hiss, as if his touch repulsed her—like she couldn’t stand the feel of his skin on hers. The sight broke his heart. This wasn’t the Chandra he knew—his radiant queen, his love.
Desperate to bring her back to him, he planned a candlelight dinner in the royal garden. He arranged everything—under the grand tree where they once danced in the moonlight. Tonight, the garden glowed under a sky of stars and the warm flicker of a hundred candles. The moon hung low and full, casting a silver sheen on the petals scattered across the grass. It was perfect.
She didn’t eat much, as usual, but to his relief, she agreed to join him for the evening walk. As they walked down the corridor in silence, he softly called out, “My love…”
She paused and turned to look at him with distant eyes. “Come with me,” he said gently, taking her hand to guide her toward the garden.
When they reached the glowing scene, her eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, just a moment, she seemed like the Chandra he remembered—mesmerized by the soft candlelight, the romantic stillness of the night.
The King’s heart soared. He felt like he had won back a piece of her, a sliver of their past love. Smiling, he reached for her hand and gently laced his fingers with hers. “My queen,” he whispered, breathless with hope.
But suddenly—she pulled her hand away.
The shift in her expression was instant and jarring. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by something cold and unfamiliar.
She turned away without a word and began walking off into the dark.
“My love… Love…” he called after her, confused, heart sinking.
He rushed after her and caught her by the wrist. She stopped, slowly turned, and looked at him—not with anger, but with hollow indifference.
Her voice was low and sharp.“I want to go to bed.”
Her eyes held no affection. No softness. No trace of the woman he married.
……….
He is mine.
Chandra could no longer bear the way Harsha had been avoiding her. His silence, his distance—it tore at her, unraveling the delicate threads of her sanity.
She became restless, desperate for his attention. Pride, reason, even reality began to slip from her grasp. She forgot that she was a queen. She forgot she had a husband. All she could think about was him.
With each passing day, her obsession deepened. She began to ignore the king completely—as though he no longer existed in her world.
Tch... where is he taking me now? she muttered in her thoughts, following the king without interest.
A soft breeze brushed her bare skin as they stepped outside. Her eyes widened the moment she saw the scene before her: the garden floor glowing with the warm flicker of candlelight, and above them, the full moon hung low, bathing the earth in silver.
She gasped softly.
It’s the same... the same as that night.
Her mind slipped back into the memory. She remembered him—his touch, the heat of his breath on her skin, the way her body trembled with tension and longing. She had never felt more alive than in his arms.
As she stood, dazed, a warmth brushed against her fingers.
She turned.
It was him. He was smiling at her.
“My love…”
But the voice—it wasn’t right.
The smile twisted. The face shifted.
It wasn’t Harsha.
It was the king.
The fantasy shattered. Her heart sank as reality came rushing back.
She yanked her hand away, disgust crawling across her skin like a sickness. Her eyes filled with fury.
Tch… I only want him, she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible as she turned and walked away—back to her chambers, back to the emptiness that only he could fill.
……….
It had been a long day in the kitchen. Harsha hadn't realized how late it had gotten—midnight had already come and gone.
He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair.
Everything’s a mess, he sighed, the queen's haunting presence lingering at the edge of his thoughts. Just the memory of her recent behavior sent a shiver down his spine.
But then—Nila. As soon as her name passed through his mind, everything shifted.
The heaviness in his body faded. His lips curled slightly at the thought of her. Anything for her, he smiled inwardly, closing his eyes for a second.
He remembered how small she had felt in his arms, how naturally she fit against him—as though she belonged there. He could still feel the way her fingers had brushed his cheek, the way her heartbeat had matched his.
That feeling… that need to protect her, hold her, love her—it only grew stronger.
Lost in thought, Harsha continued walking through the hallway.
But then something made him pause.
The silence.
Too silent.
He frowned and looked around. The hallway was empty.Unusually empty.
“Where are the guards...?” he muttered under his breath.
Even at this hour, there should’ve been someone stationed here—at least two guards, if not more. This stretch led directly to the inner palace.
A sudden chill crept up his spine.
He stopped walking.
The air had changed. It was colder now, heavier. The only sound was the faint hissing of the wind brushing against the ancient stone walls.
His eyes scanned the darkness, every shadow suddenly deeper, every corner now holding the weight of possibility. He had the unshakable feeling that he was not alone.
That something—or someone—was watching him.
He took a slow step back, his breath shallow.
No... something’s wrong.