ROYAL HIGHNESS

46.PAST

They had just returned from the hotel, laughter echoing softly between them as they shared their feelings under the calm embrace of the night. The air felt different—something had shifted between them. Unspoken emotions hung heavy, stirring the silence with tension and tenderness. They were both struggling, caught in the delicate war between wanting to confess and fearing what might follow.

And then, there he was—Amyardh. Standing still, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes lingered on his reflection, but his mind drifted far beyond it. He remembered how, once, she had been a stranger. Someone he used to avoid, someone he thought he'd never understand. And yet now… now she was everything familiar. His comfort, his chaos, his quiet.

His home

Amyardh's POV,

The first time I met her, I almost wished I hadn’t.

It was the night I had sneaked out to the old khandhar on the outskirts of my hometown — a ruin of stones and silence I’d claimed as my sanctuary since childhood. I used to go there with Tara and Advait when we were little. It’s strange how a place becomes both a ghost and a home at the same time.

That night, I had gone there to clear my head, to scream into the void — something I often did to keep myself from suffocating under the weight of palace ceilings and legacy expectations. But instead of peace, I was greeted by a loud, terrified scream — “DRACULA!!!”

What followed was a girl — a ridiculously dramatic, wild-eyed girl — crashing into my arms, clutching a flashlight like a weapon. I stood there, stunned. She stood there, panting. Our eyes locked. And from that moment onward, I knew peace was not mine to claim anymore.

Her name? I didn’t care enough to ask. All I knew was, she had invaded my space and I hated her for that.

The second time we met, it was in the air — quite literally. By some cosmic joke, she ended up seated beside me in the flight. She was clearly scared of flying — muttering prayers under her breath, her hands trembling, her eyes shut tight as the plane took off. Instinctively — God knows why — I offered my hand. She took it. Dug her nails in like her life depended on it. I let her.

But when the turbulence passed, and she calmed down, what did she do?

She glared at me and called me a Terrorist!! Seriously? Me?

I nearly exploded. I had saved her from a panic attack and got branded a national threat.

I didn't know her name even then. But I knew her spirit. Reckless, unapologetic, frustrating.

And yet... oddly unforgettable.

The third time was no coincidence. Online, I had made a home in words. I read to heal. I wrote to remember Tara. And through that screen, I met her — the writer, the mystery. Her thoughts echoed mine. Her metaphors made my heart ache. I didn't know her face, but I knew her soul. We were best friends in DMs and comment sections, late-night chats, and shared heartbreaks.

Then came the meet-up. We had decided to finally see each other. And fate, the cruel comedian that it is, revealed that the online girl I admired... was the same girl who had called me Dracula and terrorist.

“Tum!?” I’d said. 
“Tum?!” She’d echoed.

It should’ve been the end, but somehow, it was the beginning.

Feelings? I didn’t acknowledge them. Not then. Not even when I began noticing how she laughed with her whole body, or how she cried like she was begging the world to listen. I convinced myself it was nothing.

Until I found out she was dating Advait.

Of course. My charming, too-perfect, royal cousin. My brother.

He had said, “Jab tu use achhe se samjhega, tu bhi usse pyaar kar baithega.” I had laughed it off then.

But he was right.

Because I was already falling, silently.

It wasn’t jealousy. It was something worse — the unbearable ache of watching someone fit perfectly into the life you never knew you wanted, but couldn’t have.

Then came the disaster. The family found out. She was dragged through the mud — accused, judged, stripped of her dignity. She was just 18. A teenager. Talented, passionate, full of fire.

But my family saw none of it. All they saw was a scandal.

What broke me was not just their cruelty, but Advait’s betrayal. He flipped. He let her burn for the sake of “our family name.” He told her to quit acting — her one dream — to save our legacy. Coward.

I had enough.

I stood up for her. I argued. I shouted. But I couldn’t stop her from running away.

I found her in the rain. She was squatting by the roadside, soaked to the bone, shivering and sobbing. Her face buried in her hands. Her words were slurred — blaming herself, breaking herself piece by piece.

And I… I broke too.

But instead of comforting her like I wanted to, I became the villain.

“You can ruin yourself all you want,” I said coldly, “Just don’t do it in my city. My image matters.”

She looked up at me like I had stabbed her. The trust she had — the little fragment — shattered.

It hurt. God, it hurt like hell.

But I had to do it. If I held her right then, she would’ve clung to me. And I wasn’t sure I could protect her… not when I wasn’t even sure I could protect myself.

Because you see… I’m scared.

Of love. Of losing. Of reliving Tara’s story.

Tara had loved blindly. She believed in fairy tales. And her prince turned out to be a nightmare. I warned her. I begged her to leave him. But she didn’t listen.

She said, “Agar usne mujhe chhod diya toh mein jee nahi paungi.”

And she didn’t. When he betrayed her, Tara ended her life.

I still remember the call. Her mother’s voice. The silence that followed. The way my knees buckled.

I visit that riverside sometimes. And the khandhar. Places she made mine.

But now… now those places whisper Ovie’s name too.

I don't know what this is between us. Maybe fate. Maybe punishment. Maybe healing in disguise.

But I do know this: I’m falling again.

And this time, I’m terrified.

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Finally amyardh pov you'll. Like and comment I want to know all the reactions.