The Promised Queen

𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝓉𝓌𝑜

The hospital room was quiet, filled only with the soft, rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the occasional rustling of sheets as Ridhima shifted slightly in her bed. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, sharp and clinical, a stark contrast to the quiet warmth between the two people inside.

The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a soft glow over the room, but neither of them seemed to notice. The world outside these walls continued as usual-nurses walking briskly through hallways, doctors discussing patients in hushed tones-but inside this space, time had slowed.

Hruday sat beside her, unmoving, his fingers still gently brushing away the tear that had slipped down her cheek moments ago. His touch was slow, deliberate-as if he was memorizing the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, as if he was grounding himself in the reality that she was really here, safe.

That he hadn't lost her.

Ridhima couldn't look away from him.

Something had shifted between them.

Not in a grand, dramatic way, but in something smaller, quieter-something that settled deep into their bones like an unspoken promise.

Hruday had just told her he wouldn't lose her again.

No matter what.

And Ridhima, for all the confusion in her heart, for all the words that had been left unsaid between them, believed him.

The silence stretched, thick and charged, their gazes locked in a way that made the rest of the world blur.

Then, of course, the doctors walked in.

Talk about bad timing.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and the sudden presence of movement shattered the fragile stillness between them. A doctor entered, followed by two nurses, their crisp uniforms rustling as they stepped into the room with practiced efficiency.

Ridhima blinked, momentarily dazed, her mind still caught in the lingering warmth of Hruday's touch, the intensity of his gaze.

The nurses barely made an effort to hide their knowing glances, flicking their eyes between her and Hruday before exchanging a small, amused look.

The doctor, ever professional, cleared his throat. "We need to run a few more tests, just to make sure everything is in order. If you could please..."

His eyes flickered toward Hruday.

The message was clear.

Ridhima turned to look at him, half expecting him to immediately get up and leave, to step away with that usual air of detached composure.

But he didn't move.

For a moment, he just sat there, his hand still loosely curled around hers.

Then, slowly, he nodded. But he didn't let go just yet.

Instead, his dark eyes swept over her, taking her in, as if reassuring himself that she was really okay.

As if committing the sight of her to memory.

Just when she thought he would finally stand and walk away, he leaned forward.

Ridhima barely had time to react before he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

Soft. Lingering.

Her breath caught.

It wasn't like the other times.

It wasn't heated, wasn't desperate, wasn't driven by frustration or unsaid words.

It was gentle. Deliberate. Steady.