Tales Of The Heart

(44)

Shahzaib stood inside his grand chambers for the last time, as he removed the remaining traces of his royal life. His once gleaming attire of silver and deep blue, embroidered with the insignia of the empire, lay discarded on the ground, replaced by simple attire.

The once proud crowned prince now wore nothing but the humble clothing of a common man. His hands hovered over the royal rings on his fingers, the final symbol of his lineage. He hesitated, her aching immensely, but with a firm resolve, he slid them off placing them on the vanity.

Shahzaib stood still, his gaze fixed on the gleaming sword that rested against the wall of his chambers. It was no ordinary weapon. The hilt was adorned with beautiful silver engravings, the family crest of the Azurah Empire etched proudly into the pommel. The blade had seen countless battles, but not a scratch marred its surface, it was a symbol of the royal bloodline's strength, honor, and authority.

His hand hovered just inches from it. That sword had been his since his crowning as the prince, it was gift from his father, the Emperor, when he was deemed worthy of royal responsibilities.

It had been more than just a weapon, it had been a part of him, an extension of his identity as the prince, a reminder of his duty to protect his empire and its people. Taking it with him now would be like clinging to the remnants of a life that no longer belonged to him.

Shahzaib's fingers twitched, longing to feel the familiar surface in his grasp, to remember what it had once meant to him. But deep inside, he knew he couldn't take it. Not anymore.

He was no longer the crowned prince.

His title, his crown, his place in the empire, they were all gone now. What right did he have to wield such a blade when he was no longer the man it was forged for?

With a deep sigh, Shahzaib dropped his hand to his side, clenching his fist as if to resist urge. His heart ached because of everything he was leaving behind. His mind screamed to take the sword, that it was his by right. But his heart knew better. The man who had earned that sword was no more.

Inaya watched Shahzaib from the doorway, her heart tightening as she saw the way his hand hovered near the sword, his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken longing.

She could see the struggle in his expressio. It wasn't just a sword, it was a part of his identity, a symbol of the power, honor, and responsibilities he had carried for so long. But gave up everything for her, for them, for their love.

Her chest ached as she realized how much this moment meant to him, how much he had sacrificed. Inaya knew that giving up the sword was more than just letting go of a weapon, it was Shahzaib accepting his new reality, stripped of the status and legacy he had always known. She felt a swell of pride for his strength, but her heart broke seeing him torn between duty and the love that had brought them to this point.

She longed to reach out, to reassure him that she would stand by him no matter what, but she knew this was something he had to let go of on his own. Still, the depth of his sacrifice made her love for him grow even more fiercely.

And he did, he turned around and walked away without looking back.

Inaya stood by his side, dressed in a simple yet elegant outfit she had brought from her home, no royal gowns, no jewels. Her eyes welled up as she glanced at the bedchamber one last time, not out of longing for its grandeur, but for the memories they had shared within its walls. The couple had made the ultimate decision, to leave behind the life of royalty and form a new path as commoners.

Shahzaib held onto Inaya's hand walked out of the chamber where Zaid and Eira stood firmly in front of the pair.

"We are coming with you", Zaid declared leaving no room for argument.
"I told you both to stay here. You do not owe us anything anymore", Shahzaib sighed, frustration tugging at his voice.