𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

64⚚ Ruin

Author POV:

Sunlight peeked through the sleek curtains, warm rays falling on the figure sleeping on the bed — her cute pout visible even in sleep, body sprawled out like a little starfish.

Messy hair crowned her pillow, one hand tightly hugging her favorite unicorn plushie, the other draped protectively over her stomach, as if even in dreams she knew exactly where her baby was nestled inside her.

Slowly, her lashes fluttered open, lips pushing into an even deeper pout as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight spilling across her sheets.

She blinked again, then sat up, stretching her small arms above her head, a soft sleepy hum escaping her lips. Eyes squeezed shut for a second, rubbing them with the back of her hand before fluttering open again.

Her fingers reached to the side of the bed — cold sheets.

Empty space.

So he didn't come back in the night. For a second, a flicker of sadness crossed her sleepy eyes, but she reminded herself of his promise: By the time you open your eyes, I'll be right there, baby.

And Amaira trusted her hubby's word like it was carved in stone. So with a little sigh, she looked around the room, cheeks still puffed from sleep.

That's when her gaze fell on him.

There he was — her Viraj.

Sitting on the single armchair by her dresser like he owned not just this room, but the very air she breathed. One leg crossed over the other, his forearms resting casually on the chair's arms, body relaxed yet carrying that impossible stillness only he possessed.

He wasn't looking at her — he was looking into her. Not just her eyes, but straight into her soul. Into every sleepy thought, every worry, every piece of her heart that only he ever held.

And just like that, her pout vanished — replaced by that soft, shy smile she only ever saved for him.

She tilted her head a little, squinting to check if her Vijulu was even still on this planet — because the way he sat there, so still and regal, he looked like he'd slipped into some other world.

She pouted, nose scrunching, and waved her little hand at him from the bed. No reaction.

Her pout deepened as she whined, her voice the softest complaint in the whole palace, "Vijuluuu..."

That did it. She saw it — that subtle twitch of his lips, the way the corners curved up slow, warm, and so him. That soft smile he gifted only to her.

The second she heard his quiet chuckle, she giggled too, her sleepy grumble dissolving into sunshine as she made grabby hands at him, demanding up like a child.

Viraj — the man who turned to stone for the world but melted for her — placed his hand dramatically over his heart and acted like her cuteness had just killed him on the spot.

He pretended to stagger, making her laugh louder, her cheeks puffing pink as she squealed at his little act.

In two long strides, he was at her side, leaning down. She lifted her arms up like a baby waiting to be scooped — and he did, so easily, gathering her into his arms like she weighed nothing at all. Instantly, she wrapped herself around him like a little koala, nose buried in his neck, breath warm against his skin.

Not that either of them minded — everyone in this kingdom knew that Viraj pampering his baby was more of a rule than an exception.

"Morning, Vijulu..." she murmured, voice muffled as she nuzzled deeper into his neck, breathing him in.