Begum Naraaj Hain® (Modified)

After a lifetime of Bad desicions Now I'm stuck as the Villainess

After checking myself out in the mirror for what felt like the millionth time, I finally decided to rest. I mean, it wasn’t an exaggeration in the story about how beautiful the villainess was. I’ve gotta admit, I’m kind of obsessed with this look now. The morning flew by as I indulged myself in dressing up in one stunning saree after another, each adorned with intricate gold embroidery, the fabric so luxurious it practically oozed wealth. And the jewelry! Don’t even get me started. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds—the works. I felt like I’d just raided a royal treasure chest.

You know, maybe I could get used to this life. Who needs love, ishq, or whatever when you’ve got all these aesthetics and the bank balance to match? Screw romance—I’m all about that money, honey!

I was just about to take a well-deserved nap, imagining myself lounging on a bed made entirely of gold coins—because why not—when suddenly, the door flew open with a bang loud enough to wake the dead. I swear, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Again? Is there a competition going on for who can give me the most heart attacks in a day?

As I shot a death glare at the intruder, my eyes widened in shock. Standing before me was a woman who looked like she’d just stepped off a celestial cloud. Her lehenga was so voluminous it practically swallowed the floor, and her jewelry was so blindingly bright, I honestly thought I needed sunglasses to look at her directly. Her makeup was flawless, enhancing her already stunning features. I mean, seriously, was this woman an apsara (heavenly nymph) sent to make the rest of us feel like trolls?

Before I could say anything, she spoke in the softest, most angelic voice, “Didi, are you okay? Have you recovered from the fall?”

Didi? Who’s Didi? It took me a second, but then it hit me—this is Leila, the female lead of the story. Ah, right. Of course.

I was just about to tell her I was fine, when—BAM!—someone else barged in. For the love of all that is holy, does no one in this palace know how to knock? Do I need to put up a sign that says, “Privacy? What’s that?”

And then, as if the universe wasn’t done torturing me, the door didn’t just open—no, it flew off its hinges. I kid you not, the door literally came off. In walked a burly guard holding the door like it was a toy. “Sorry, Maharaniji , I’ll get this fixed right away,” he grunted, clearly not sorry at all.

“Yeah, sure, just prop it up in the corner or something,” I said, rolling my eyes. It wasn’t like I had privacy anyway.

I turned back to Leila, only to find her eyes wide with shock as she stared at the broken door. Before she could say anything, Akram stormed in, his cape dramatically billowing behind him as if he was auditioning for the role of the next Dark Knight.

“Leila, what happened? Why did you come out even though you’re the one who’s injured?” Akram demanded, his eyes filled with concern.

Wow, what an epic moment. They’re the ones who invaded my room, and now they’re making me out to be the villain. Like I’m the one who ordered her to come here!

Leila, still sobbing, managed to choke out, “Didi… hic… hic… hasn’t done anything. I just asked her how she was, and she scolded me to mind my own business.”

Oh, give this girl an Oscar already! When did I even have the chance to open my mouth? These two lovebirds were too busy gazing into each other’s eyes to notice me. Why would I even bother scolding her?

And then it hit me—no wonder Kadira went down the villainess route. It must have been impossible for her to handle this constant nibba-nibbi (teenage couple) drama unfolding right before her eyes. Seriously, it’s like living in a bad soap opera.