The Promised Queen

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝓈𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃

HRUDAY

I stood in the center of the now-empty mandap, my mind a storm of emotions. The sacred flames that once symbolized new beginnings now flickered quietly, casting long shadows in the grand hall.

The guests—those who had arrived in splendor and excitement—were now leaving in hushed murmurs, guided out by the palace staff. 

Their whispers lingered in the air, sharp and cutting.

The bride is missing.

My fingers clenched into fists at my sides. Humiliation burned through me.

The weight of their stares lingered, though they avoided meeting my eyes as they quietly began to leave under Ishaan's instructions.

Ridhima's face kept flashing in my mind.

Her smile during the Haldi ceremony. The way her eyes softened when she wasn't aware I was watching. And now, her absence.

I felt like a fool. Left at the altar.

Behind me, I heard the sharp, cutting voice of Rani Sa, piercing through the growing quiet. She never missed an opportunity to create a spectacle.

"Typical," Rani Sa's sharp voice pierced the heavy silence, cutting through my thoughts.

I turned slightly, just enough to see her, standing with her chin held high, her expression twisted into a mask of disdain. Her voice dripped with venom.

"I knew this girl was trouble from the start," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Mark my words, I warned all of you. But no, she was brought into this palace like some gift."

Ridhima's mother, standing near the edge of the hall, flinched at her words. Her hands trembled, clutching her saree tightly.

"I always knew this girl wasn't fit for our family," she said loudly, her tone dripping with disdain. Every word felt like a blade cutting through the silence.

Her posture was regal, proud, as if she were addressing a court rather than tearing someone down.

"She has brought shame on us," Rani Sa continued, her voice sharp and biting. "Running away like this? How disgraceful. Leaving our family humiliated in front of the entire kingdom!"

My jaw tightened, but I remained silent. Each word against Ridhima felt like a cut, but my mind was too clouded with anger to think straight.

"Mark my words," she added, her eyes narrowing with contempt, "I never trusted that girl. She was never worthy of the Tanwar name."

I stared at her, the weight of her words pressing down on me, but my gaze shifted to the side—to my father.

I took in the sight of him. He looked pale, exhausted, his fragile body leaning heavily against the armrest of his chair. 

His eyes, once filled with hope and pride, now seemed dimmed, burdened by the weight of what had just unfolded.

The sight only fueled the fire burning inside me.

She promised him.

Despite everything—our differences, our arguments, our unresolved past—she had promised. And Ridhima had never broken a promise.

Until now.

The weight of it pressed heavily on my chest, and I couldn't stand there any longer. I needed to leave. My jaw tightened as the anger bubbled to the surface, threatening to consume me entirely.

"She doesn't deserve the title of Yuvrani," Rani Sa continued. "To humiliate our family like this, in front of everyone. I always knew she wasn't worthy of Hruday, and today she proved it."