The Promised Queen

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎

Hruday sat on the edge of his couch, his posture rigid, staring at the wedding invitation samples scattered on the coffee table. His laptop was open, though he wasn't doing anything with it. He was too busy thinking—and Hruday was cursed with the kind of mind that rarely slowed down, especially these days.

The upcoming wedding with Ridhima loomed over him like a storm cloud he couldn't outrun. It wasn't that he didn't want to marry her. He did. At least, part of him did. But the other part, the more stubborn part, held on to a grudge—a grudge that festered since the day she left him, without so much as a goodbye.

He glanced down at the stack of wedding invitation designs on the table in front of him, each more intricate and over-the-top than the last. But none of them felt right. It wasn't about the invitations. It was about everything else. The expectations, the traditions, the ghosts of promises made when he was a child. Promises that no longer felt like his own.

Just as Hruday was about to reach for his phone to avoid his thoughts for a few more minutes, the door to the room flung open with a dramatic bang, breaking the oppressive silence. In walked Ishaan, his cousin, and possibly the only person who seemed completely unaffected by the weight of royal responsibilities.

Ishaan, the exact opposite of Hruday in every conceivable way. Where Hruday was measured and reserved, Ishaan was reckless and unapologetically carefree. He sauntered in, as though he owned the place, with his usual grin plastered across his face.

"You look like you're about to burst into flames," Ishaan announced, strolling in as if he owned the place and flopping down onto the couch beside Hruday. His carefree energy filled the room instantly.

Hruday shot him a sideways glance. "How do you just barge in everywhere without a second thought?"

Ishaan grinned, completely unfazed by the pointed comment. "It's one of my many talents. Right up there with my ability to have fun and not overthink literally everything, unlike someone I know."

Hruday sighed, closing the laptop that had been sitting uselessly in front of him. "You wouldn't get it."

"You know, if you scowl any harder, you'll scare away your own wedding guests," Ishaan continued, propping his feet up on the table, nearly knocking over the stack of invitations.

"Would you stop putting your dirty shoes on the furniture?" Hruday muttered, nudging Ishaan's legs off the table.

"Oh, sure, let's talk about my shoes. Classic Hruday deflection tactic," Ishaan smirked. "What's really going on, Bhai? You've been walking around like you've got the weight of the entire kingdom on your shoulders. It's not the napkin colors for the wedding, is it?"

Hruday shot him a flat look. "Napkins?"

"Yeah, you know—those little fancy pieces of fabric? For wiping your face? Wedding planning can drive a man insane," Ishaan continued, his voice full of mock concern.

"I'm fine," Hruday muttered, though even he didn't believe it.

Ishaan wasn't buying his "I'm fine" act either. Leaning back, he studied Hruday with that unnerving ability of his to see through every wall he tried to put up.

"Yeah, sure," Ishaan said casually, lacing his hands behind his head. "You're 'fine.' You've been acting like a brooding prince straight out of a tragic novel for weeks, but you're totally fine."

Hruday clenched his jaw. "It's just... there's a lot happening right now. The wedding, Baba-Sa's promise... Everything's happening all at once."

"I promised him I'd marry her," Hruday said, his voice quieter now.