Seasons- Golden Hours

🌻Backstory🌻

Eshani

I'm not some lovestruck teenager pining over her first crush, but the way Agastya looked at me when I wore that saree felt... different.

Casual clothes are my comfort zone-vibrant colors, pastels, baggy fits. But there was something about being wrapped in that saree that sent my thoughts spiraling.

If he saw my bare waist, would he dream of touching it? How would his fingers feel, gently untangling the strings of my backless blouse?

I've always hidden my femininity, afraid of being objectified. But today... I feel like a woman.

For the fifth time, I let my hair down, stifling a giggle when Agastya's hand finds its way to the small of my back as he speaks to someone, his tone serious.

I glance at him, taking in the sharpness of his jawline and the slight furrow in his thick brows. His hand rests possessively on my back-does he know it sends shivers through me?

I realize I've been staring when everyone's eyes turn to me, a smile frozen on my face.

"Eshani, introduce yourself," Agastya says, his brow is still furrowed.

Oh.

I scratch my neck nervously and smile at the room. "Hello, I'm Eshani Sheoran. I'm pursuing my PhD in Psychology, and once I've completed it, I plan to open my own clinic."

Three men sit before me-two middle-aged, one slightly younger-and a woman who exudes a polished, strict demeanor.

"Sheoran? Which royal family do you belong to?" the woman asks, pouring tea as we sit in what is clearly her home, a stop before we head to the royal family.

I smile proudly. "I'm actually Jaat."

The tea pauses mid-pour, the liquid perfectly still. Her gaze flicks to Agastya, her eyes sharp.

"I hope you two are just friends," says the youngest man, cocking an eyebrow at Agastya.

"Not your concern, Jeet," Agastya replies coolly, picking up his cup and shooting the man a withering look. "By the way, I hear you still haven't qualified for your so-called MBA. Pity."

The atmosphere thickens as I shift slightly, trying to move away, but Agastya's hand remains firmly on my back, sending heat coursing through me.

The walls of the room are the same deep red as the lady's attire-crimson, with sharp dragon-like eyes and thin lips. This must be her domain. "We're not judging her, Rana sa," she says, her tone cutting, "but she'll need to learn proper etiquette if she's to meet the royal family."

Not judging me? Yeah, right.

"Don't worry, maasi," Agastya says, placing his cup down with regal authority. "You'll handle that, won't you?"

Maasi? Something about Agastya has changed since we arrived here. He's less the businessman and more... a king.

If that makes any sense.

Jeet steps closer, his eyes gleaming. "Green eyes, like Rani sa-"

"Jeet!" The woman's voice remains composed, but there's a sharp edge. Talking about Rani sa around me is clearly forbidden.

"How is Inder? He hasn't joined us," she asks, her eyes darting away from Jeet.

"You know he's..."

"Yes, not that I care," she interrupts, her voice suddenly distant, but heavy with meaning.

I decide to speak up, sensing the tension. "Could you tell me more about the royals, Kaki sa?"

Her eyes widen as though I've committed a grave offense. "Call me Miss Ranawat," she says, her voice polite but chilly. "As for the royals, why don't you ask your friend?" Her last word drips with sarcasm.