THE PAST OF OUR LOVE

part 8

Prince Abhimanyu arjun didn't come for breakfast since he was in sword practice and is with his commander rupinder. antara felt relieved because she doesn't want to face him after what happened in his secret chamber since she was terrified of him.

A few hours after the breakfast of the royal members

Antara was tending to the lush garden in the palace grounds, her hands deep in the soil as she planted new flowers. The scent of blooming roses filled the air, creating a tranquil atmosphere that contrasted sharply with her inner turmoil. Just as she wiped the sweat from her brow, a sharp voice cut through the serenity.

"Hey, you!" called a kitchen worker, her tone brusque. "This soup must be given to the prince. Go and give it."

Antara looked up, startled. "Are there nobody else?" she asked, her voice tinged with hesitation.

The woman sneered, her lips curling in a sarcastic smile. "Oh, I forgot that you are a princess," she mocked. "If you are not the princess, don't act like a princess. Go and give this to Prince Abhimanyu Arjun."

With a reluctant nod, Antara took the tray, her hands trembling slightly. The weight of the bowl seemed insignificant compared to the dread that settled in her chest. She cursed herself silently as she walked towards the prince's chamber, each step heavy with fear and regret. She desperately wished to avoid this encounter, especially after that incident, yet here she was, forced by circumstance.

She was walking towards the hallway when she heard a noise in her way, there was a woman struggling to clean the roof with a stool, antara kept the soup aside and helped that woman and then again took the soup and walked towards the prince's chamber

The grand hallway seemed longer than usual, every ornate detail of the palace walls a reminder of the opulence she felt so distant from. Her heart pounded as she approached the prince's door, the echoes of her footsteps a steady drumbeat of anxiety. She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and knocked softly, bracing herself for what lay ahead.

Antara knocked on the heavy wooden door, its surface intricately carved with scenes of ancient battles. Two soldiers standing guard glanced at her, their expressions impassive.

"I've brought soup for Prince Abhimanyu Arjun," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

One of the soldiers nodded and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter. "Go ahead."

Antara stepped into the prince's room, her heart pounding. To her immense relief, the room was empty. Prince Abhimanyu was nowhere to be seen.

"He's not here," she whispered to herself, a surge of hope rising within her. "This is my chance to leave this place as soon as possible."

She quickly placed the tray on a small table near the door and turned to leave. But as she took her first step, something caught her eye-a painting on the far wall. It was a breathtaking work of art, vibrant and full of life. The colors seemed to dance and shimmer, drawing her in.

Without thinking, she reached out and touched the painting gently. The texture of the canvas under her fingertips felt almost magical, as if the painting itself were alive.

In a blink of a second, there was a sword at her neck from behind. Antara was shocked, her heart pounding in her chest as she stood frozen in place, her fingers just inches away from the beautiful painting.

"Who are you? How dare you touch anything here?" demanded the figure. Antara turned slowly, only to find Prince Abhimanyu Arjun standing before her, his expression a mix of anger and surprise.