"I am not your puppet I am not going to continue this relationship as if nothing happened I will never consider her as my wife"
Is this all a joke to you this marriage and stuff first you forced me to get married and when the bride ran away you tied...
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As I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him get ready for the office, I couldn't shake off the events of last night. We had agreed not to tell anyone about it, fearing the worry it would cause our family members. But the truth was, last night's incident had shaken me to the core.
Being attached to the royal family came with its own set of risks, and I never thought I would be a target. But there I was, confronted with the harsh reality that my life was in danger.
My mind drifted back to him, the image of his determined face as he shielded me from harm. "Dare touch her, I will break every inch of your body," his words echoed in my mind, bringing a small smile to my lips. But then, the smile faded as I remembered the sight of his bloodied hand, injured while protecting me.
As he emerged from the closet, dressed impeccably in a white fitted shirt and black pants, I couldn't help but notice the bandage wrapped around his right hand. The sight of it tugged at my heartstrings, reminding me of the danger he had for my sake.
He caught my gaze in the mirror and gave me a reassuring smile before turning his attention to the dressing table. With a pang of guilt, I realized how much pain he must be in, both physically and emotionally. I wanted to reach out, to offer him comfort, but I knew that words alone wouldn't be enough to heal the wounds he carried.
Instead, I watched silently as he rummaged through a drawer, searching for something.
He took out his watch from the drawer, fumbling as he tried to fasten it around his wrist, but his bandaged palm made it impossible. Watching him struggle, I couldn’t just sit there, so I got up from the bed and walked over to him.
He lifted his gaze, meeting mine as I approached. I stopped just a step away, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. I gently took the watch from his hand, setting it aside on the dressing table without a word. I hesitated for a moment before lifting my hands to button his shirt, my fingers trembling slightly every time they brushed against his skin. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, heavy and unyielding, and I had to swallow the nervousness building in my throat.
With the last button done, I reached for his necktie.
“Aap thoda jhuk sakte hai?” I asked softly. (“Could you bend a little?”)
He nodded and leaned down, tilting his head to my level. Standing this close to him, my nerves were a mess. I tried to keep my composure, but my heart was pounding in my chest. I focused on the task, wrapping the tie around his neck and carefully knotting it, my fingers brushing the collar of his shirt.
He inhaled deeply, breaking the silence. “Thank you.”
“Huh?” I looked up, my brows furrowed slightly.
“For helping me,” he said again, his voice softer this time.
“You could have asked me for help. Why were you struggling alone?” I asked, my tone more concerned than I intended.
