𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

12⚚ Her heart

Vencie POV:

Nobody in the royal palace knew what had happened, and Viraj was determined to keep it that way—not because he feared the punishment he would get, but because he wanted to shield Amaira from any whispers or judgments that might paint her as weak.

She isn't weak, she is the strongest person he knew.

Throughout the car ride back, Amaira clung to Viraj, her small hands clutching his shirt tightly as though he were her only anchor in a world that had just shaken her to the core.

The atmosphere in the car was heavy. No one said a word. Gaurav was still back in collage dealing with Sanjay, Daksh had taken Ruhi home, and Ash was driving while Rithvik sat silently with Viraj and Amaira.

The air was filled with a silent understanding, a collective weight they all bore for their princess.

As soon as they arrived at the palace, Ash stepped out first, discreetly dismissing the guards and ensuring no one lingered nearby. Once the area was clear, he gave Viraj a nod.

Without a word, Viraj gently scooped Amaira into his arms, carrying her bridal style into her chambers.

Her head rested against his chest, her breathing uneven but slowly calming. Viraj carried her to her bed, laying her down as carefully as if she were made of glass.

He removed her shoes, tucked her under the soft comforter, and placed her favorite teddy bear in her arms—the one he'd learned she loved to cuddle when she needed comfort.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her sleeping face. She looked so vulnerable, so small.

But then his gaze fell on the red marks on her neck, the dark bruises Sanjay had left.

His jaw clenched, his fists curling so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. His teeth ground together as rage burned through him, hot and unrelenting.

Rithvik entered the room and placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his dark thoughts. "Let's go," Rithvik whispered, shaking his head gently.

Reluctantly, Viraj turned away, following Rithvik out of the room. They joined Ash in the living room, where Ash was brewing tea in the kitchen.

Viraj collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. Rithvik sat beside him, his presence quiet but grounding.

Inside, Viraj was a storm of guilt and fury. It's my fault, he thought.

I failed her. I should've been there. I should've protected her. She trusted me to keep her safe, and I let her down. She got hurt because of me.

The image of Amaira trembling, her tear-streaked face, and those bruises haunted him, gnawing at his heart. He could've lost her. The thought made his chest tighten painfully.

"It's not your fault, Vi," Rithvik said softly, as if reading his mind.

Viraj didn't lift his head but let out a bitter laugh. "How is it not, Bhai? She was in danger, and I wasn't there. What kind of protector does that make me?"

Rithvik placed a firm hand on his back. "You saved her, Vi. You got to her in time, and you brought her back safe. That's what matters. Blaming yourself won't help her now. What she needs is you. Not your guilt."

Viraj sighed deeply, his hands falling to his sides as he leaned back on the couch, his eyes staring at the ceiling. "I'll never let this happen again," he said, his voice low but resolute.

"No one will ever hurt her again. Not while I'm alive."

Rithvik nodded, his expression serious. "We'll make sure of it. Together."