His Bride

13 / The King

Arushi's POV:

"I knew you would come," he said, his voice calm yet certain, as though my presence here had never been in question.

"I had to, and you knew it," I replied, steadying my voice even as my heart faltered under the weight of unresolved emotions. Aadhi's small hand remained tightly clasped in mine, her fingers curling around mine as if I were her anchor in this unfamiliar place.

His eyes shifted to Aadhi, curiosity softening his otherwise sharp features. "Is this the infamous Aradhya Mehara?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, though his gaze lingered with genuine intrigue.

Aadhi flushed, shy but unable to hide the flicker of pride in her wide eyes. She smiled at him, a smile so reminiscent of my own when I was her age that it tugged at something deep within me.

"She looks like you when you were young," he mused, his tone tinged with fond nostalgia. "But those eyes..." His voice trailed off as his expression darkened momentarily. "Those are his."

"Whose?" Aadhi tilted her head, her innocent curiosity breaking the momentary tension.

He looked at me, silently seeking confirmation. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard before offering a small nod. His suspicion was right—he had always been perceptive, perhaps too much for his own good.

"Your father's, dear," he said finally, his voice gentle yet deliberate.

Aadhi's eyes widened, her curiosity now burning brighter. "You saw my papa?"

"Yup, little one," he replied, crouching slightly so that he was at eye level with her. His tone softened further, the edges of his usual demeanor melting away as he spoke to her. "Your dad and your mother were my friends once."

Her face lit up at the revelation, her lips parting as though she were about to unleash a torrent of questions. But before she could, his assistants entered the room, their presence brisk and purposeful, cutting through the tender moment like a knife.

"Aadhi," he said, straightening and gesturing toward one of them, "this is Neeraj, my assistant. Go with him; he'll show you your room. I need to have a grown-up talk with your mother."

Aadhi turned to me, her wide eyes silently seeking permission. I forced a reassuring smile and nodded. She hesitated for a moment before finally releasing my hand and following Neeraj out of the room.

The door clicked shut, and silence enveloped the space, heavy and suffocating.

"How long are you going to hide it from her?" he asked, his voice sharp but not unkind.

"What?" I feigned ignorance, an instinctive defense mechanism that I knew wouldn't work on him.

He raised an eyebrow, his patience thinning. "You know exactly what I mean, Netra." His deliberate use of my real name hit me like a slap, a jarring reminder of a past I had tried to bury.

I exhaled heavily, the weight of my choices pressing down on me. "I'll tell her when she's old enough to understand," I said finally, my voice quiet but resolute.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes probing, searching for cracks in my resolve. "And her real name?" he asked, his tone softer now, less accusing.

"Aparna Mehta," I said, the name feeling foreign on my tongue despite its familiarity. I hesitated, then added, "Mom was the one who named her that."

A flicker of understanding passed across his face, followed by a slow nod. But I could feel the unspoken judgment lingering in the air between us, a tension neither of us cared to address.

"Time has a way of catching up, Netra," he said, his voice carrying a quiet warning that sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned my gaze toward the door Aadhi had disappeared through, a pang of guilt twisting in my chest. "I know," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

He broke the silence after a beat. "What should I call you? Netra or Arushi?"

I looked back at him, my expression guarded. "Call me Arushi," I said firmly. "I'm more comfortable in that identity. And Aadhi doesn't know my real name or anything about my past."

"Okay... Arushi," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement, though he didn't press further.

"First, we need to ensure Aadhi's safety," he continued, his tone shifting to one of urgency. "I know you can protect her, but..." He paused, his hesitation uncharacteristic and unsettling.

"Complete the sentence, dammit," I snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"But in Rajasthan, there's only one person who can truly save her—and you," he said, his words landing like a thunderclap.

"Who?" I demanded, my heart pounding in my chest.

"The king of Rajasthan," he replied, his voice steady but grave.