Royal Secrets (Shhhh)

Chapter 3. Dhara's Beauty ~ Her Curse ? ~

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After finishing his morning routine, Samar stood before the mirror, adjusting his crisp white kurta pajama. With his glasses perched on his nose, he looked striking-imposing yet effortlessly graceful.

(I have shaped Samar's personality based on two well-known politicians. I won't mention their names here, as I don't think it would be appropriate. However, if you've recognized the resemblance, then you already know who they are.)

But beneath this composed exterior, only he knew the darkness that lurked within him.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he ordered, his eyes still fixed on the screen as he checked his emails.

The door creaked open slowly. A faint, rhythmic chime filled the air-the delicate sound of anklets brushing against the marble floor. Samar's fingers froze mid-gesture. His heart, which had been unsettled for the past four days, suddenly pounded for a different reason.

As his gaze lifted, he saw her.

Dhara.

She lowered her head and joined her hands. "Pranam, Hukum."

He had heard these words countless times before, yet today, they felt different. Today, he wanted to hear them again.

A veil concealed her face, a barrier between her and his piercing gaze. He despised it. The mere thought that something so precious, so breathtaking, was hidden from his sight ignited an unfamiliar fury within him. In that moment, a reckless desire took root-he wanted to rip away that veil, claim her lips, steal her breath until she had no choice but to surrender to him.

But he couldn't.

Tradition bound her to that veil, and he knew it well. Yet, logic abandoned him in her presence. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to suppress the storm raging within.

No. He had to put an end to this.

He could not allow himself to be swayed. He was Samar Singh-a man of principles, a man who felt nothing, a man with an unyielding heart. No mere girl could shatter his discipline so easily.

With a sharp inhale, he steeled himself.

"Out," he commanded, his voice cold and detached.

She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before lowering her head and quietly stepping away.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Samar exhaled slowly, his hands tightening into fists.

This had to stop. Whatever this was-it had to end before it even began.

●□●■●□●

In the Royal Court

Samar sat in the grand yet familiar halls of Rajdarbaar, engaged in a serious discussion with Abhinav regarding his upcoming meeting. His sharp gaze remained focused, his mind working through every possible outcome.

Just then, footsteps echoed in the chamber, followed by a respectful voice.

"Pranam, Bhaisa."

Sakar approached with a warm smile, bending down to touch Samar's feet. Samar sighed, reluctantly offering his blessings, though his expression betrayed his frustration.

"Sakar, how many times do I have to tell you? Don't do this," Samar said, his voice laced with annoyance. "I don't like it when my own brother touches my feet like this. Outside, it's different. Out there, people admire me, they believe I am something more than just a man-they worship me as if I were their god. But inside these walls, within Rajgardh, I am just Samar. Your brother. Your *Bhaisa.* Dadamaharaj and Dadisaheb's grandson. Why is it so hard for you to understand this?"