ROYAL HIGHNESS

51. Game

Amyardh's POV,

The cigarette burned low between my fingers, its glowing tip flickering with each breath I took. The inside of my car was dim, silent save for the soft patter of rain drumming against the windshield. The windows fogged slightly from my breath and the warmth inside, but I didn’t dare wipe them clean. I needed the blur — it gave me a strange sense of comfort, like I wasn’t fully exposed, like I could stay hidden just a little longer.

And there she was.

After all this time… she was really here.

My eyes had been trained on her ever since she arrived, as if my soul had recognized her before my mind could. She sat alone on the wooden bench, an old navy-blue umbrella open above her, shielding her from the heavy downpour. Even through the distorted lens of the rain-streaked glass, I could see her clearly.

Ovie.

My Ovie.

Her posture was still regal, but now touched with a quiet strength. Her back was straight, shoulders firm but relaxed. Her face, once so bright with innocent rebellion, now carried the grace of a woman who had seen the world, who had fought her own demons and learned how to survive. There was a softness in her eyes still, but it was tempered now — edged with something wiser. Something that came from being wounded and healing alone.

She was breathtaking.

Even the way she held the umbrella — firm, precise, angled against the storm — spoke volumes about how far she had come. And yet, for me, she would always be that eighteen-year-old girl in a dripping kurta, begging me not to leave her.

I crushed the cigarette into the ashtray beside me and leaned back, my knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. Every nerve in my body screamed for me to get out. To run to her. To say something — anything. Two years of silence deserved a word. A gesture. An apology.

But I sat there like a damn coward.

The rain grew heavier, making it harder to see, but I couldn’t look away. It was like the world around us had faded, muffled by the grey curtain of water — as if time had slowed, bending just for this moment.

Then, she turned.

Her head tilted slightly, and those eyes — those deep, familiar eyes — locked onto me.

My heart stopped. Literally stopped.

She squinted, narrowing her gaze, as if trying to pierce through the fogged window, as if some primal instinct in her *knew*. Knew that it was me. That I’d been there all along. Watching. Protecting. Failing her.

I froze in place, heart hammering, unable to breathe. Her steps were tentative at first, one foot in front of the other, her flats splashing lightly against the wet ground. The umbrella dipped slightly as she moved, raindrops sliding down the fabric like they were suspended in time. And then—

Her eyes widened. Recognition hit her like lightning.

I saw it. The disbelief. The hope. The anger. The raw shock that made her pause mid-step. Her lips parted slightly, trembling as her fingers clenched tighter around the handle of the umbrella.

And I… I panicked.

Without thinking, I turned the key and the engine roared to life, louder than I’d meant it to be. My hand jerked the gear, my foot hit the accelerator. The tires splashed hard against the puddles as I tore away from the curb, windshield wipers flailing uselessly.

I didn’t dare look in the rearview mirror.

I couldn’t face her. Not like this.

Not when she had finally seen me. Not when she finally knew.