𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚 : 𝐸𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠

~🥀 Veiled Affection 🥀~

💗

The Next Morning

The first rays of dawn filtered through the intricate jaali windows of the palace, casting delicate golden patterns across the dark rooms atmosphere.

Haseena stirred slightly, the warmth of her quilt cocooning her in comfort. Her body felt sluggish, weighed down by the familiar exhaustion. She let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering open just as the door creaked slightly.

A silver tray was placed on the bedside table—its presence almost too quiet to be noticed.

Steaming herbal tea. A warm water bag wrapped in the softest cotton. A small bowl of soaked almonds. And beside it, a note, written in bold, precise strokes.

"Pijiye."

Haseena stared at the tray, then at the note. Her lips pressed together as a strange warmth settled in her chest.

She didn't need to look around to know who had placed it there.

The silence that followed was comfortable, almost… protective. A presence lingered in the air, strong yet unobtrusive. She turned her head slightly, and through the Dark velvet red curtains which were folded, she caught a glimpse of him.

Anubhav stood near the arched window, arms crossed, his profile sharp against the morning light. He wasn’t looking at her, yet she knew—he was aware of her every movement.

Without a word, she reached for the cup. The warmth seeped into her palms, the scent of herbs soothing her senses. As she took a slow sip, she could almost feel the unspoken command behind the note—Take care of yourself.

Her gaze drifted back to him. He hadn’t moved. He didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t ask if she needed anything else. He just was.

A silent protector. A quiet storm.

Haseena set the cup down with a small sound, and for the briefest moment, he shifted. Not much—just a slight turn of his head, just enough to confirm that she was drinking it.

Then, without a word, he walked away.

Not lingering. Not waiting for acknowledgment.

Because he didn’t need it.

Haseena exhaled, fingers brushing over the note once more.

A man like him, who ruled through dominance, who commanded without hesitation—he hadn’t just bought those pads last night.

He had prepared.

And somehow, in his own way, he was still preparing.

Not through words. Not through grand gestures.

But through the quiet certainty of being there.

The morning passed in an unusual calm. Haseena remained in her room, the tea warming her insides, her body still heavy with exhaustion. But there was a strange sense of… ease.

No unnecessary disturbances. No forced interactions. Just the soft rustling of curtains, the occasional chirping of birds, and the distant echo of disciplined footsteps in the palace halls.

She didn't know when she had fallen asleep again, but when she woke up, the sun had climbed higher.

And something had changed.

A soft, unfamiliar scent drifted into her room—rich, warm, mouthwatering. She blinked and sat up, her brows furrowing slightly. Khana?

It was only when she stood and made her way outside that she noticed the small yet deliberate alterations in the palace's atmosphere.