𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

78⚚ Solace

One week later.

"Babyy..."

A voice rang out in the royal palace, low yet warm, filled with a softness that only one person could bring out of him. It was none other than King Viraj, his tone dripping with affection.

He was pacing slowly, his daughter nestled securely in his arms, when the delicate chime of anklets reached his ears. His head instantly lifted toward the grand staircase.

And there she was.

Amaira descended carefully, dressed in one of his oversized hoodie paired with soft night pants, her hair loose and cascading around her shoulders.

Her body still carried traces of pregnancy, gentle curves that hadn't yet faded, but to Viraj, she was nothing short of divine.

He froze mid-step, his breath caught in his throat. Tilting his head slightly, he let out a deep, lovesick sigh, his voice low and reverent as he murmured to the tiny bundle in his arms, "Your mama is literally glowing, princess."

But the little princess, just a week old, paid no heed... sleeping soundly against his chest, one tiny hand clutching tightly to his finger as though claiming him as hers.

Amaira reached him and, noticing the faraway look in his eyes, snapped her fingers playfully in front of his face. "Hubbyyy..."

He blinked, startled out of his daze, and chuckled sheepishly. "Oh! yeah, moon. Rithvik bhai is calling us for dinner. Let's go."

Amaira hummed softly. She had just taken a warm bath after feeding their little one, her skin still carrying the fresh glow of it.

With practiced care, she slid the baby from his arms into hers, cradling her daughter against her chest. "You go freshen up and come," she said gently. "We'll go there first."

Viraj nodded, though reluctantly, and pressed a tender kiss against her temple. "Careful, love," he whispered, his voice coated with worry.

She just sighed and nodded, because well... her husband could literally be too overprotective sometimes.

Like—if she even moved an inch, he was right there, steadying her, holding her back, helping her walk because of the stitches.

And though it was overwhelming at times, Amaira's heart melted at the thought that no one else in the world could love her this fiercely.

Carefully cradling her little princess in her arms, Amaira made her way out toward their brothers' palace. She slowed her steps as she passed the glasshouse, her eyes catching the faint reflection of her own tired yet blissful face.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she thought back on the whirlwind that had been this past week.

Becoming new parents... no one had prepared her for how tough it would be. The sleepless nights, the constant worry, the endless doubts.

She hadn't known how to feed properly at first, how to make the baby burp, how to coax her little one into sleep. Each time she failed, she'd felt like breaking apart.

But Achi was there—like a motherly hand Amaira didn't know she desperately needed—guiding her through it all.

Achi taught her everything gently, patiently. And Viraj also insisted on learning everything.

He never left her side. Not even for a second.

It was Viraj who held their baby in the dead of night when she cried endlessly. Viraj who made sure Amaira rested, whispering in his stern-yet-soft tone that she was his first baby and needed just as much care.