𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚 : 𝐸𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠

~🥀 In His Gaze 🥀~

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Anubhav’s fingers tightened around the cold metal anklet as he stepped away from the window. His gaze lingered on the faint light from the green room where she had vanished moments ago, her presence leaving an inexplicable void in his heart. The faint jingling of the anklet in his palm seemed to echo louder in the stillness of the room, as if mocking him for his unrest.

The king, who was known for his unyielding composure, now felt torn by emotions he couldn’t quite name. With every passing second, the curiosity—and obsession—grew stronger. His thoughts returned to her: the way her braid swayed with her every movement, the softness of her dusky skin glowing under the moonlight, and that maddening mole beneath her lips that seemed to challenge him to look away.

But he couldn’t.

His footsteps echoed through the dark, empty halls of the palace as he moved to his private chamber. The walls, adorned with centuries-old tapestries and relics of victory, felt suffocating tonight. Even his throne, the seat of his unparalleled power, seemed insignificant compared to the pull she had on him.

Anubhav sat down on the edge of his bed, the anklet still in his hand. He ran his thumb over its intricate design, wondering how something so delicate could feel so heavy in his grasp. His mind drifted to the moment he had found it near the palace gates, its presence as unexpected as her appearance.

“Fate,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Or destiny’s cruel game?”

He leaned back against the bedpost, his eyes closing briefly as fragments of her danced through his mind. Her laughter, the grace in her movements, the quiet determination in her gaze—it all haunted him now. And yet, he welcomed the torment, as if it was a punishment he deserved.

But the king was not a man to let himself drown in feelings. He stood abruptly, the anklet still clutched tightly, and moved to his desk. A single command would summon his most trusted men, and by morning, he would know everything there was to know about her.

As he dipped his quill into ink, his lips curled into a smirk—one filled with dangerous intent and a strange, consuming passion. “Haseena,” he whispered her name for the first time, letting it roll off his tongue like a secret he intended to keep.

Little did she know, her path was no longer hers alone. The king had made up his mind. She was no longer just a fleeting performer who had graced his court. She was now a thread intricately tied to his destiny—a thread he would follow, unravel, and claim.

The winds outside howled softly, as if carrying an unspoken warning. But within the palace, a king’s resolve burned brighter than ever.

The night outside had grown colder, but inside the green room, the warmth of laughter and chatter filled the air. Haseena was busy folding her costumes and helping her teammates pack up. Her delicate fingers worked quickly, yet her mind was elsewhere. There was an odd weight in her chest—a feeling she couldn’t quite place.

The performance had been everything she had hoped for, yet she felt as if she had left something behind. The anklet. She touched her bare ankle absentmindedly, her brows furrowing as realization dawned. A deep sigh escaped her lips. “I’ll come back for it tomorrow,” she reassured herself, brushing off the thought.

As her teammates joked around her, she tried to join in, but her eyes kept darting to the grand palace visible through the window. It loomed in the distance, its dark structure exuding an unshakable authority. The king had been seated at the very center of the court, his gaze so piercing that even from afar, it had felt as though he were watching only her.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. “Why would someone like him notice someone like me?” she muttered under her breath, a faint smile tugging at her lips at the absurdity of the idea. Yet, her heart betrayed her, beating just a little faster every time the memory of those hazel brown eyes surfaced.