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A few days later, the whole of Anuvarta was alive with a restless, electric energy. The palace, usually a place of dignified silence and stately grace, now echoed with bursts of laughter, hurried footsteps, and the swish of silk fabrics as the final preparations for Nandini’s engagement surged forward like a tidal wave.
It was not just any engagement—it was the engagement, an event destined to mark a turning point, a declaration in its own right.
Nandini’s name was on everyone’s lips. From the florists carefully crafting exquisite garlands to the decorators transforming the palace halls into a dreamscape, every detail was being attended to with ruthless precision.
There was an urgency in the air, a feverish pulse that only grew stronger with each passing hour. This wasn’t merely a ceremony; it was a statement. The younger princess, once quiet and unassuming, was stepping into the spotlight with a roar that could shake mountains.
And the venue? Nothing less than a private yacht — a shimmering, luxurious vessel that Nandini had bought herself. It was personal, lavish, and powerful, just like her. It glided on the calm sea as if the waves themselves were paying homage to the firecracker bride about to set the world ablaze.
Inside the palace, the chaos had taken on the grandeur of a royal spectacle. Trunks filled with lehengas were flung open, revealing fabrics that sparkled like starlight. Jewelry sets lay arranged in meticulous rows, every precious gem catching the light. Makeup artists and stylists swarmed the corridors, their brushes and palettes ready to sculpt perfection.
Amid this whirlwind, Nandini stood at the center, a storm in human form—locked in a fierce argument with her stylist about heel heights, while her mother hovered nearby, trying—andfailing—to soothe the fire within her.
In Nandini’s room, the floor was a riot of colors and textures. Swatches of fabric lay scattered, jewelry boxes lay open with their treasures spilling out, and half-used makeup kits left behind the traces of hurried beauty rituals.
The delicate scent of roses mixed with the rich aroma of expensive perfumes filled the air, but nothing could quiet the tempest rising in Annahita’s chest.
Finally, Annahita grabbed Nandini’s wrist, her grip firm, pulling her toward the low divan by the window. The golden afternoon light filtered in, casting soft shadows, but the disbelief in Annahita’s eyes burned bright.
“Tu sach mein Veer ji se shaadi kar rahi hai?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and pain.
Nandini tilted her head, a mischievous, almost cruel smirk playing on her lips.
“Tujhe kya lagta hai, Anna?” she said, voice dripping with sly confidence.
Annahita frowned, her patience fraying. She wasn’t in the mood for riddles or games. “Mujhe samajh nahi aa raha tu kya kar rahi hai… You love Shivaay Bhaiya.”
