ROYAL REPLACEMENT [ON HOLD]

CHAPTER 2:THE FIRST NIGHT

Sahar couldn't recall how she got through the wedding. It was all a blur—her body moving on autopilot, performing each ritual mechanically. The smiles, the rituals, the vows—none of it felt real. And before she could grasp the enormity of what was happening, she was declared married.

Now, in the quiet of the hotel room, she sat before the dressing table, staring at the woman in the mirror. The woman who was no longer the daughter, the woman who was no longer in control. She hated the reflection staring back at her—the woman who had just become someone's wife, forced into a life she never wanted.

The sight of herself, adorned in the wedding jewelry, filled her with a sense of loss—of herself, of everything she had once hoped for. She began to peel off the jewelry, each piece feeling heavier than the last. The bangles clung to her wrists, too tight to remove, mocking her with their unrelenting pressure. It was a constant reminder of the chains she now bore.

A knock on the door interrupted her, pulling her out of her thoughts. She turned to see her father standing there, his expression as stern and uncaring as ever.

"Come, the media is here. They're waiting for couple pictures," he said, without a trace of guilt for what he had done to her.

Sahar swallowed the pain and heartbreak his earlier words had caused.

Without wasting another moment, she stood up and looked him square in the eye. "Before I go, let me make a few things clear to you, Mr. Rajawat," she began, her voice steady, yet laced with ice. "This marriage is the last favor I will ever do for you. From now on, we are no longer related. I am severing every tie with you. You are not my father anymore, and I will be submitting my resignation to you very soon."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with finality. She didn't wait for his response—she didn't need to hear anything from him anymore. Turning on her heel, she brushed past him, her steps quick and determined.

As she walked away, her vision began to blur, but she forced herself to keep her head high. Tears welled up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall

I won't cry for a man who never considered me his daughter.

It was well past one in the morning, but the wedding hall was still buzzing with energy, the air heavy with the clinking of glasses and murmurs of conversation. Most people, however, were unaware of the storm raging inside Sahar. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the day, each moment blurring into the next, suffocating her with a sense of despair.

As she descended the grand staircase, she spotted Abhimaan approaching, his figure cutting through the sea of guests. His expression was composed, unreadable, a perfect mask hiding whatever thoughts were behind his cool gaze. Without saying a word, he extended his arm toward her, and though every part of her resisted, Sahar reluctantly took it, knowing that making a scene now would only draw unwanted attention.

They made their way to the stage, the lights blinding and the cameras flashing incessantly. The media, eager for their perfect shot, shouted for them to smile.

"Ma'am, sir, please smile!" someone from the crowd called.

Sahar forced the brightest smile she could muster, her lips stretching painfully as she leaned in toward Abhimaan, her voice low but sharp. "Smile, Mr. Rathore, because this will be the last time you do."

Abhimaan's smile only deepened, a flicker of amusement flashing in his eyes. "As I said before, Rani Sa, I will be waiting."

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't respond. Instead, she turned back toward the cameras, her insides boiling with anger and frustration. It felt as though time was dragging on, each second stretching into an eternity. The lights, the flashing cameras, the people around her—it was all a blur, a surreal scene that felt more like a nightmare she couldn't wake from.