In the vibrant city of Jaipur, a secret deal was struck between two worlds. Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat, the enigmatic King of Rajasthan, controlled the political and criminal underworld with an iron fist. His power was unmatched, his influence unparall...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The wedding day arrived with a swiftness that left me breathless, like a storm that had suddenly descended upon my life, sweeping me along with its force. I stood before the mirror, barely recognizing the woman who stared back at me. The red lehenga I wore blazed with its own inner fire, the intricate embroidery and delicate sequins catching the light and sparkling like diamonds. It was a masterpiece, crafted by the finest designers in the land. The silk fabric felt like butter against my skin, and the dupatta draped over my head and shoulders with the grace of a monarch’s robe. Yet, despite the splendor of my attire, my eyes remained dull, my heart weighed down by a heavy dread.
As I gazed at my reflection, a wave of fear washed over me. What if he was like my father? What if beneath the surface of this grand wedding, behind the facade of respectability, lay the same cruelty and deception that had marred my childhood? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I had no time to dwell on it.
My father confronted me earlier that day, his voice cold and calculating as he revealed the truth behind this marriage. It was all a business deal to him, a transaction that I had known before as I overheard their conversation on the phone one day . He wanted our family’s land for his own expansion, nothing more. But why would a man like Abhimaan, a king in his own right, agree to marry just for a plot of land? Something felt off, something didn’t add up.
I walked out of my room, feeling like I was stepping onto a stage where the actors around me were playing their parts with practiced ease. The royal family greeted me with warm smiles, their eyes shining with what appeared to be genuine affection. Abhimaan’s mother, the Queen, Suhanika Shekhawat, took my hands in hers, her gaze filled with tears. “You look stunning, Mayura. Welcome to our family.”
I forced a smile, though my lips trembled. The word “family” had always been a source of fear for me, a word that brought with it memories of pain and betrayal. I blamed my own family for that, for making me so distrustful, so wary of any expression of love or kindness.
The ceremony unfolded in a blur of rituals and chants, the priests’ voices droning on like a dirge in my ears. Abhimaan stood beside me, tall and imposing, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. His eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin crawl, yet I refused to meet his gaze. I kept my eyes lowered, my lashes veiling the storm of emotions churning within me. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, the man who was now claiming me as his own. I told myself it was just nerves, but deep down, I knew it was more than that.
As we exchanged vows, I felt like I was surrendering my soul, signing away the last remnants of my freedom. Yet, strangely, I felt no sorrow. As I stood at the threshold of my so-called new home, I couldn’t summon the tears that tradition demanded. I tried my best to cry, to appear like the dutiful bride saying farewell to her family, but the emotions wouldn’t come.
My parents, relatives, and so-called family members surrounded me, their faces etched with fake sorrow. They didn’t care about me, whether I lived or died; I was merely a pawn in their endless game of power and wealth. Their words of farewell were hollow, their embraces cold and distant. Despite my efforts, I couldn’t shed a single tear, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. I hugged them back, my arms stiff, my heart numb.
“Mayura, our dear daughter, go and make us proud,” my mother said, her voice dripping with insincerity. The words cut through me like a knife, slicing away at whatever remnants of affection I might have held for her.
I forced a smile, my lips trembling with suppressed rage. Proud? They had never cared about my happiness, my dreams, my life. All they ever cared about was their own interests, their precious son, and the empire they sought to build on the backs of their children.
Finally, I turned to Abhimaan—my husband, my captor. His face was impassive, his emotions concealed beneath a mask of indifference, but his eyes gleamed with something that resembled triumph, as if he had won a prize.
The car door closed behind me, and just like that, I was gone. I didn’t look back, refusing to acknowledge the people who had never truly loved me, who had only seen me as a means to an end.
As we drove to the palace, the silence between Abhimaan and me was palpable, thickening the air with unspoken words. Neither of us spoke, the only sounds the soft hum of the car engine and the gentle rustling of the dupatta against my skin. I gazed out the window, watching as the cityscape gave way to rolling hills and lush green forests. It felt surreal, as if I were being transported to another world, a world where nothing made sense.
When we finally arrived at the palace, I was unprepared for the grandeur that greeted me. The sheer scale of the structure, the intricate carvings on its walls, and the sparkling fountains that adorned its gardens took my breath away. It was a place out of a fairytale, a place where I felt like an imposter, out of place in this world of opulence and power.
As we stepped out of the car, Abhimaan’s family greeted us with open arms. His mother, now my mother-in-law, embraced me tightly, her eyes once again filled with tears. “Welcome home, Mayura. You are now a part of our family,” she said, her voice warm and sincere. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of disbelief. It felt like a dream, too good to be true.
His father, the former king, Mr. Aadarsh Shekhawat, placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We are glad to have you as our daughter-in-law. May you bring joy and happiness to our family,” he said with a kindness that felt almost foreign to me. The sincerity in their words was disorienting, as if I had stepped into a world where families truly cared for one another.
Abhimaan’s siblings, Prince Aaryan and Princess Riya, welcomed me with smiles that reached their eyes. Aaryan, the younger prince, was charming and friendly, while Riya, the princess, was kind and gentle. Their warmth was disarming, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this family was different.
We entered the palace, and the welcoming ceremony began. The priests chanted blessings, and the family showered me with gifts and words of encouragement. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere, like I was part of a family that truly cared.
After the ceremony, we gathered in the grand hall for a feast. The food was exquisite, the music lively, and the company warm and friendly. As the family regaled me with stories of their ancestors, their history, and their traditions, I found myself fascinated by their rich heritage. It was a world so different from the one I had known, a world where love and respect seemed to hold more value than power and wealth.
As the night wore on, we moved to the gardens, where a beautiful fountain show awaited us. The water danced and swirled in time with the music, creating a magical atmosphere that felt like a scene out of a dream. Aaryan and Riya pulled me into a game of tag, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to laugh, to forget the reasons behind this marriage and simply enjoy the moment. Marriage didn’t seem so bad after all.
But as I caught my breath and looked around, I noticed Abhimaan standing a little apart from the others, his gaze fixed on me. His expression was unreadable, his eyes intense, as if he were trying to decipher the secrets I held within me. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and in that silent exchange, something shifted. It wasn’t love or even affection, but a gesture of respect, a mutual acknowledgment of the roles we had to play in each other’s lives.
As the night drew to a close, we returned to the palace, the laughter and warmth of the evening still lingering in the air. I felt a strange mix of emotions—fear, hope, confusion. This family had shown me more kindness in a single day than I had experienced in a lifetime with my own, yet I couldn’t shake the nagging doubt in the back of my mind. Was this all just a facade, a mask to hide the truth? Or could it be that this was real, that I had finally found a place where I could be safe, where I could belong?
Only time would tell, but for now, I decided to hold on to that small glimmer of hope. After all, this was the beginning of a new life, and perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn’t be as terrible as I had feared.
