The Promised Queen

𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇

The first thing Hruday registered was warmth. A slow, lingering heat pressed against his side, something soft curled into him, the faintest scent of roses and sandalwood weaving through the hazy edges of his consciousness. He wasn't fully awake yet—not quite ready to leave the comfortable cocoon of sleep that had, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, actually found him.

The second thing he registered was the sound—hushed whispers, stifled laughter, and the unmistakable click of a camera shutter.

A frown ghosted over his lips, his brows knitting together as the intrusive noise shattered the peace of the early morning. He groaned softly, shifting, only to feel a weight against his chest—delicate yet grounding.

Ridhima.

His eyes fluttered open, sluggish and heavy-lidded, sunlight spilling through the window beside them, painting her in golden hues. Her face was nestled close to his shoulder, her breaths slow and even, her lashes fanning across her cheeks in the stillness of morning. One of his arms was draped loosely around her, her fingers still faintly curled into the fabric of his kurta.

Then another noise—a suppressed chuckle.

His gaze snapped upward.

And there they were. Nishi, Ishaan, and Swayam.

Crowding around them, phones held up, snapping pictures like a pack of gossip-hungry vultures.

Hruday blinked, still groggy, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. But the sight in front of him registered clearly enough. The sheer audacity.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. "Are you serious?"

At the sound of his voice, Ridhima stirred against him, a soft noise leaving her lips as she stretched. It took her a moment to wake up fully, her body shifting lazily before her drowsy eyes fluttered open.

The second her gaze landed on the trio hovering over them, phones still angled for maximum photographic damage, she froze.

A beat of silence. Then—

"WHAT THE—?!"

Another round of pictures. Another suppressed giggle—this time from Nishi, who was grinning

Ridhima jerked upright so fast she nearly toppled off the window seat, her hair a disheveled mess, eyes wide with barely-contained mortification. Hruday sat up more slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, already feeling the migraine forming.

Swayam, the youngest yet somehow the most shameless, looked way too pleased with himself. "Wow, this is gold. Like, actual gold. You guys were all snuggled up like a Bollywood rom-com poster. I think we should frame this."

Nishi, still giggling, nudged Ishaan. "Told you they were too cute to resist."

Ishaan, for his part, had the most outrageous smirk plastered across his face, his phone still held up in recording mode. "You know, Bhai, I always thought you were cold and emotionally constipated, but this?" He gestured between the two of them. "This is downright adorable."

Hruday pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "I swear to all the gods, if you three do not leave in the next five seconds—"

Ridhima cut in, voice laced with panic. "DELETE THOSE PICTURES. Right. Now."

Swayam gasped dramatically, clutching his phone to his chest. "But didi, these are memories! Precious, once-in-a-lifetime moments—"

"I WILL END YOU."

Nishi snorted. "Ridhima, sweetheart, I don't think you're in any position to make threats when you were literally cuddling your fiancé like a teddy bear five minutes ago. If anything you should be grateful that your mother wasn't the one who found you like this,"