𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 ✔

Epilouge 2 (Last)

It's my Mother’s birthday. 

Also just vote which book should I focus on .

The beast's Beauty

Butterfly love. 

Vote for it. 

Word count - 18K

Three years had passed in the blink of an eye, and yet, every moment left an imprint on the walls of the palace—and their hearts. The grandeur of the palace remained untouched by time, still standing tall and proud like a monument of legacy, but within, everything had shifted, softened. Love had settled into the crevices once filled with silence.

Rumaisa, once fierce and guarded, now carried a serenity around her that only years of motherhood and healing could bring. She was still the queen—of the palace and of Ranvijay’s heart—but now she was also a mother of three, a soft command in her voice, a smile always tugging at her lips. She had mastered the art of balancing grace with chaos, poise with sticky hands and loud giggles.

Ranvijay, once the iron-willed, unreadable king—feared by his enemies and revered by his allies—was now the softest version of himself when it came to his children. If someone had told the old Ranvijay that one day he’d be caught playing peekaboo behind velvet curtains or braiding his daughter’s doll’s hair, he would’ve laughed. But today, he lived for these little rituals. He still commanded power, still held the reins of empires, but the throne he returned to each evening was no longer gold. It was wherever Rumaisa and the kids were.

The palace echoed differently now. Another permanent addition was made into the palace. Instead of cold business meetings and hushed footsteps, there was the sound of laughter, of footsteps running across marbled floors, of little voices arguing over toys or asking impossible questions.

Rehaan was eight now, the eldest, wise beyond his years yet cheekily charming. He had got Rumaisa’s quiet intelligence and Ranvijay’s sharp gaze. He was the responsible one, the little man who often declared himself the “protector of his siblings”… and then tattled on them five minutes later.

Ruhaan, at seven, had seamlessly become a part of their family. Though born from hardship and carried by a different past, he was no less a son. Ranvijay never once let him feel the difference, and Rumaisa loved him with the same intensity she did her other two. He was the balance between Rehaan's caution and Ruhani’s mischief—calm, kind, and secretly a mamma’s boy.

And Ruhani—little Ruhani—was now four. A bundle of fierce energy and sunshine, she had everyone wrapped around her tiny finger. She ruled the palace in her own way, with her declarations, her questions, her stubbornness that reminded everyone she was truly her parents’ daughter. She was her father's pride and her mother's little shadow.

Ruhaan and Rehaan were inseparable, often found plotting something absurd in the corners of the palace. And Ruhani? She’d usually barge in and demand to be part of their plans—or threaten to report to Baba if not.

Life in the palace wasn’t quiet. It was loud with joy, loud with love. The courtyards that once bore witness to cold meetings now held tea parties with invisible guests and board games that ended in dramatic exits. The royal halls that once saw coronations now saw birthday parties and puppet shows. And the king and queen? They ruled it all—with laughter, with love, with the deep-rooted understanding that this—this noisy, imperfect, beautiful mess—was everything they had ever wanted.

The palace shimmered like a dream woven from gold and heritage. Draped in silk, marigolds, and traditional bandhani, every corner breathed royalty. Echoes of shehnai, bangles, and laughter floated through the courtyards. It was the wedding of Ayudh, the youngest prince, and the air was thick with tradition, excitement, and unspoken emotion.