The Promised Queen

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

RIDHIMA

The night had taken on a life of its own. The club was still buzzing, the music pulsing through my veins, but all I could focus on was Hruday. He had finally let loose on the dance floor, his usual restraint melting away in the sway of our bodies, the teasing glances, the stolen touches. It was like we had entered some unspoken agreement to forget everything else tonight—the arranged marriage, the weight of family expectations—and just... be.

But even as the night stretched on, I could feel it. That tension between us—something simmering just beneath the surface, something we both were too proud to admit. Every glance, every accidental brush of skin sent a spark through me. It was undeniable.

Tonight, everything felt different. A little fuzzy around the edges, thanks to the drinks we had downed, but different.

Hruday and I were sitting in a booth now, leaning into each other, the space between us growing smaller with every ridiculous thing that spilled from our mouths. The club's music thumped in the background, but we were lost in our own little bubble, our laughter drowning everything out.

"You really thought you could just tell people you didn't want to be a prince, and they'd be like, 'Oh, sure, Hruday, no problem. Here's a normal life!'" I giggled, clutching my side.

Hruday leaned back, shaking his head, but there was a lopsided grin on his face. "I was seven, okay? I thought I could negotiate my way out of anything. I even tried to barter with my toys."

"Oh, the mighty prince of Suryagarh, negotiating with action figures." I couldn't help but laugh, my head falling onto his shoulder as the ridiculousness of it all sank in.

He laughed along with me, his body shaking against mine. I don't know if it was the alcohol or the fact that I had never seen him this relaxed, this open, but something about being this close to him—his shoulder pressed against mine, his warmth radiating through me—made my heart race. I wasn't sure how much was the alcohol and how much was... him.

"We should write a book about this," I suggested, sitting up slightly but still leaning into him. "How to Be a Royal Failure. You can be the star."

"Very funny," he muttered, but the smile on his face told me he wasn't annoyed. "And you? You'd be the editor?"

"Oh, please. I'd be the co-author," I shot back, grinning. "I'm marrying you, remember? I get half the credit for everything."

At that, his grin softened into something warmer, more intimate. He turned slightly, his eyes meeting mine in a way that made my stomach flip. "Half, huh?"

My breath caught, the space between us suddenly charged. The laughter died down, but we were still so close, our faces only inches apart, and for a moment, the air felt thick with something I hadn't expected—something that made me feel too warm, too aware of how close we were.

Before I could dwell on it, he shifted, breaking the tension. "You know, you never did answer me earlier."

I blinked, trying to pull my thoughts together. "Answer what?"

"If you've always been this crazy." He smirked, clearly teasing, but I could tell there was something else behind it—a question that wasn't about bossiness at all.

"Oh, I've always been crazy," I replied, playing along, my heart still hammering in my chest. "You just bring out the best in me."

"Or the worst," he muttered, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

I was about to make some joke—something about him finally acting human—when I noticed them. Two girls, both tall, confident, and dressed in tight outfits that barely left anything to the imagination, were making their way toward us. Their eyes were locked on Hruday like he was their next conquest, and suddenly, the lighthearted buzz in my chest turned into something sharp and sour.