The Promised Queen

𝓉𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃

Hruday

The palace was already teeming with activity, every corner buzzing with preparations for the wedding. I was walking through the main hall, trying to avoid getting pulled into yet another conversation about flower arrangements, when I noticed a commotion near the entrance.

Ridhima was standing by the large wooden doors, her entire face lighting up in a way I hadn't seen in days. I followed her gaze to a boy, no more than twenty, grinning from ear to ear as he rushed toward her.

"Swayam!" she called, her voice filled with joy. The way she said his name carried so much warmth, it made me stop in my tracks.

Before the boy could even respond, Ridhima closed the distance between them and pulled him into a tight hug. I stood there, watching them with an odd sense of fascination—the way her arms wrapped protectively around him, the way she pressed her cheek to the top of his head, her whole body radiating relief. She held him like someone who had missed him more than words could say.

When she pulled back, she gave him a quick once-over, fussing over his wrinkled shirt and messy hair. "Did you sleep on the train? You look so tired."

Swayam groaned playfully, swatting her hands away. "I'm fine, Didi! Stop treating me like a child."

Ridhima rolled her eyes, though her smile stayed intact. "You are a child." She pinched his cheek teasingly, and Swayam squirmed with exaggerated annoyance. "Look at you. How are you taller than me already? Who gave you permission to grow?"

"Time," Swayam said smugly, crossing his arms. "Also, I think it's illegal for big sisters to bully their brothers."

"Oh please," Ridhima retorted, her tone playful but affectionate. "It's my birthright."

She tried to sound stern, but there was something deeper beneath her words—something that reminded me of a mother's care more than just a sibling's banter. It wasn't just playful teasing. There was a sense of responsibility in the way she looked at him, a kind of protectiveness that ran far deeper than I had ever realized.

When she hugged him again, her eyes glimmered slightly, as if she was fighting back tears. She blinked them away quickly, keeping the mood light, but I saw the emotion in her gaze.

Just as I took a step closer, Rani-Sa appeared.

"Oh, how precious," she cooed, gliding toward them with all the grace of a cat preparing to pounce. "Swayam, isn't it?" she asked, her smile wide but sharp at the edges. "We've heard so much about you, child."

Swayam gave a polite but awkward nod, shifting slightly under the weight of her exaggerated kindness. He seemed just as uncomfortable around Rani-Sa as the rest of us.

"And how wonderful it is," Rani-Sa continued, her eyes gleaming, "that you got into the college of your choice. Such a prestigious institution."

Ridhima stiffened beside him, the joy from earlier draining from her face. Her smile wavered, just slightly, and I saw the way her hand brushed against Swayam's arm—a protective instinct kicking in.

Rani-Sa tilted her head, her smile widening. "Of course, not everyone gets accepted into such schools. Sometimes... a little help is needed."

I saw it before Ridhima could even react—the flicker of panic in her eyes. She was trying to stay calm, but I knew she understood exactly where Rani-Sa was going with this.

Rani-Sa was about to reveal the truth—that Swayam only got into the college because of her meddling, because she had pulled strings to secure his admission as a favor to Ridhima.