𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

31⚚ Bond

Vencie POV:

It had been one long, frustrating week.

One week since Amaira officially took on the responsibilities of Crown Princess. Though overwhelming at first, she had quickly found her rhythm, adapting to the role with grace and efficiency.

The way she handled her duties, balancing diplomacy with compassion, had earned her praise from royals and advisors alike. She was acing it.

It had also been one week since the King's kidnapping. Despite the brothers' relentless efforts, he had refused to utter a single word of value.

Each interrogation ended with the same infuriating silence or cryptic remarks, leaving Viraj teetering on the edge of his patience.

The frustration was eating away at him, clouding his thoughts and pulling him into a darker space he hadn't visited in years.

But most importantly—for Amaira—it had been one week since she and Viraj had spent any quality time together.

Amaira hated it. She hated the silence, the distance that had grown between them. Viraj came home late every night, his body tense and his mind clearly elsewhere.

When they did talk, it felt surface-level, as though his thoughts were a thousand miles away. She missed their playful banter, his soothing voice, the warmth of his arms around her.

But more than anything, she missed him.

And yet, she refused to show it.

Amaira had always prided herself on being strong. She wasn't the kind of girl who would beg for someone's attention—not even Viraj's.

She hated the distance, the way his attention felt out of reach. But more than that, she hated how much she craved it.

She wanted to pull him close, to demand that he talk to her, laugh with her, hold her the way he always did. But no matter how much her heart ached, she refused to beg for his attention.

If he doesn't want to spend time with me, then fine, she thought bitterly, even though it hurt. I'll give him all the space he needs. But I won't beg. I won't be weak.

The brothers had noticed, of course. It was impossible not to.

Rithvik and Ash had seen the way Amaira's once-bright smile seemed dimmer these days, her laughter less frequent.

Gaurav had caught Viraj snapping at the guards unnecessarily, his frustration bleeding into everything he did. Daksh, noticed how Amaira's gaze lingered on Viraj whenever he entered a room, only for her to quickly look away when he didn't meet her eyes.

They had tried everything to help.

They had tried everything to bridge the gap. Rithvik had suggested family dinners, Daksh had tried teasing Viraj about Amaira in the hopes of sparking a reaction, and Ash had outright told Viraj to stop sulking and talk to her. But nothing worked.

Even Gaurav, had sat Viraj down late one night, his voice low and serious. "Don't let this distance grow, Vi. Whatever's haunting you, don't push her away. She's not the only one hurting, You are hurting yourself."

"It's useless," Daksh finally said one evening, leaning back in his chair as the brothers gathered in the palace garden. "This is something they have to sort out on their own."

Rithvik sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just hate seeing her like this. She's putting on a brave face, but we all know she's hurting."

"And Viraj..." Gaurav shook his head. "He's like a ticking time bomb. Whatever he's bottling up, it's eating him alive."