The morning sun bathed the Rathod Palace in a soft, golden light, casting a serene glow over the vibrant decorations that adorned the palace grounds. Flowers of every hue were strung in garlands, and lights twinkled from every corner, creating an atmosphere of festive anticipation.
Queen Amaira moved through the palace with a practiced grace, her eyes keenly inspecting the arrangements. She ensured that the prayer materials were in perfect order, pausing to adjust a misplaced flower or straighten a wayward light. Satisfied, she smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment as she surveyed the beautifully decorated palace.
Upstairs in her chamber, Princess Aaira Rathod was preparing for the prayer ceremony. Her attendants carefully helped her into an exquisite lehenga, a blend of soft pastel pink and gold. The intricate embroidery shimmered with every movement, catching the light beautifully. Her dupatta, a delicate sheer fabric in matching shades, draped elegantly over her shoulders. Aaira's jewelry was simple yet stunning—a pair of gold earrings, a delicate necklace, and a few bangles that jingled softly with her movements.
As Aaira sat before the mirror, her emerald-green eyes reflected a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She applied a touch of kohl to her eyes, accentuating their vibrant color, and her thoughts drifted to Prince Aditya. The memory of their encounter at the temple, and the way his warm brown eyes had looked into hers, filled her with a warmth she couldn't quite understand.
A soft knock on the door pulled her from her reverie. Turning, she saw her father, King Virat Rathod, entering the room with a gentle smile. He held two roses in his hands, their red petals vibrant against his dark attire.
"Aaira," he said, his voice unusually tender, "you look beautiful today."
Aaira blinked in surprise. Her father rarely showed such open affection. "Thank you, Pitaaji," she replied softly.
Virat stepped closer and gently tucked the roses into her hair, the red petals contrasting beautifully with her dark locks. "These flowers suit you," he said, his eyes filled with a warmth she wasn't accustomed to seeing.
Aaira looked at her father, her heart swelling with emotion. This was a side of him she had rarely seen, and it touched her deeply. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.
As she adjusted her veil, it kept slipping, and she found herself struggling to pin it correctly. Virat noticed her struggle and stepped in to help. With a few deft movements, he secured the dupatta perfectly. "There," he said, stepping back to admire his work. "Now you're ready."
Aaira looked at herself in the mirror, feeling a sense of completeness. "Thank you, Pitaaji," she said again, her voice stronger this time.
Virat nodded, his expression softening. "Come downstairs when you're ready. Our guests will be here soon."
Curious, Aaira asked, "Who are our guests, Pitaaji?"
A mysterious smile played on Virat's lips. "It's a surprise," he replied before turning to leave the room.
As Aaira finished her preparations, her mind was filled with thoughts of Aditya. She couldn't shake the feeling that today would be significant. With a final glance in the mirror, she took a deep breath and headed downstairs, ready to embrace whatever the day had in store.
~~~~~
The Rathod Palace was a sight to behold, bathed in the morning light and adorned with vibrant flowers and twinkling lights. The air was filled with the scent of fresh blossoms and the soft hum of anticipation. The servants bustled about, making final preparations, ensuring everything was perfect for their esteemed guests.
