Caged Princess and The King

10. Alone time?

Meera

It's been seven months since our journey together began, each day marked by cautious steps toward understanding. Though our conversations are still light—little snippets of our day or the occasional shared smile—I'm beginning to see another side of him. I can feel the way he's starting to let his guard down, trying to see me beyond the shadow of my uncle's betrayal. And though the walls between us are still there, I see cracks forming, hints of his true self peeking through.

This morning, as I'm carefully draping my saree, I catch myself in the mirror. Today, Aneesh's fiancée and her family are visiting. The whole palace is bustling, but my heart is racing for another reason—I'm hoping for a chance to be close to Devansh, even in these small, stolen moments.

After finishing up, I head downstairs, drawn by the familiar, comforting scent of Mom's laddoos. I smile, watching her delicate hands shape each one with a precision that comes from years of practice. There's a mystery to her that I can't quite unravel, as if something hidden in her eyes she doesn't let anyone see. But today, she's all warm and smiles as I step closer.

"Mom, would you like some help?" I ask, knowing she usually likes to handle this herself.

She gives me a warm look but waves me away. "No, beta. I have this under control. Why don't you check on your husband and Aneesh? Make sure they're ready."

I nod and head up, gathering my thoughts. A smile crosses my face when I picture Devansh's usual calm dissolving into frustration if he's still on one of his early calls. Sure enough, when I enter our room, he's pacing around in his nightwear, his face twisted in concentration as he argues with someone on the other end of the line.

Without a word, I move to the closet, choosing an outfit that I think would look good on him. I hold it up, but he barely glances at it, just shakes his head slightly, still deep in his conversation. Intrigued, I try another outfit, but he just scrunches his nose this time.

"Really?" I whisper, chuckling under my breath as I sift through the options.

Finally, I find a deep peacock-blue kurta that matches my own saree. Holding it up in front of him, I wait, watching his face. He pauses for a second, eyes flickering with approval, and nods.

A quiet satisfaction warms me as I lay the outfit on the bed, carefully placing his watch and a brooch on the dresser beside it. I whisper for him to get ready, and he nods again, flashing the briefest smile. And I realize, in these tiny acts of care, something is changing between us.

Leaving him to get dressed, I head to Aneesh's room, where he's already fiddling with his outfit, too excited to sit still. He spins around at my knock, grinning from ear to ear.

"Bhabi! Do I look okay?" he asks, clearly eager to impress his fiancée.

"You look wonderful, Bhai," I reply, beaming at his childlike enthusiasm. "It's clear you're head over heels."

"Can you blame me?" he laughs. "I've been counting down the days since she last left. This week has felt like years!"

A mischievous idea strikes me, and I can't resist. "If you're so happy, Bhai, does that mean I get a reward?"

"Anything for you, bhabi!" he replies without hesitation, laughter sparkling in his eyes.

"Then call me Meera," I say, giving him a teasing nudge. "You're older than me, remember?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You know I can't do that, bhabi. You're my brother's wife—I have to show respect."

"Respect?" I raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in my eye. "But I'm your sister too. Please, Bhai?"