ROYAL HIGHNESS

47. Dare to touch her

Amyardh's POV,

There’s something about the terrace of that old apartment complex that always felt like borrowed peace. I had a simple flat there — something far from the suffocating grandeur of the Pathak palace. It was a place no one from my world ever bothered to know about.

The sun was merciless that day — glaring, unforgiving, merciless. But I witnessed a mesmerizing scene that day. There she was. Ovie. Her back was arched, arms moving in a powerful arc, sweat gleaming off her skin like diamonds. Her body moved like poetry — fierce, unrelenting. But her expression wasn’t performance, it was penance.

I stood rooted in place, watching her dance like a storm caged in human form. There was rage in every movement, sorrow in every spin, fire in every stomp.

As if she was punishing herself for all the pain this world had thrown at her. As if her body was screaming the truths her lips could no longer bear to voice.

She didn’t see me. She wouldn’t have, even if I’d stood in front of her. She was in a trance.

Her flushed face, her drenched hair sticking to her temple, her chest heaving, her Snow White skin burning under the cruel sun — she was breathtaking.

And then… her body faltered.

Just a slight wobble in her step at first. A misstep. Her leg gave in. She stumbled — and before her body could hit the hot concrete, mine was already there.

My arms caught her.

She was burning. Her pulse was erratic. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, trying to recognize me. And then she let go — not just her consciousness, but her walls.

I carried her in my arms, close to my chest. She had fought something brutal up here. Something unseen. And now she had surrendered.

She was… everything. Everything broken. Everything strong.

Everything I wasn’t allowed to want.

But fate doesn’t give a damn about rules, does it?

Not long after that day, I saw a version of Ovie I never wanted to see again.

It happened so fast — I still have flashes of it like nightmares on loop. I swear to God, it still makes my blood run cold.

I didn’t hold back. I didn’t think. My fists were raw by the end of it. My knuckles bled.

All I could think was: if there was a punishment worse than what I had done, I would gladly inflict it. A hundred times over. For the trauma, for the fear, for the helplessness she had felt. For every single fucking second of it that I had to watch.

I held her face, forced her to look at me, and whispered, “Tum safe ho. Main hoon yahan. Kabhi kuch nahi hone dunga.”

She collapsed into my chest.

......

You know, some memories don’t arrive with a warning. They sneak up on you—soft at first, and then all-consuming. This one… this memory... is the kind that holds warmth and burns at the same time.

She was in danger.

That bastard—my sworn enemy—had threatened me. Not with war or legacy. No. With her. Ovie. My weakness. My strength. The only person who didn’t even know what she meant to me.

So I did the only thing that made sense in the chaos of my twisted, ruthless world—I glued her to me. Literally.

Wherever I went, she went. Business trip. Hotel. Meetings. Everywhere.