The first rays of dawn spilled through the royal chamber's tall windows, casting a golden glow on the marble floor. Aayat stirred slightly, her breath soft and rhythmic, still lost in slumber. But Anirudh Singh Rathore was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at her with the same burning intensity he had the night before when his jealousy had flared. His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than usual, replaying his own words to her—his warning about Veer, his demand that she never test his patience.
He had not touched her, yet his very presence pressed against her world like a cage of fire.
Aayat's eyes fluttered open slowly, catching him watching her. For a moment, her heart stumbled. There was a strange tenderness in the way his gaze lingered, like he was memorizing every curve of her face. She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around her, trying to steady herself.
"Why are you staring like that?" she asked softly, her voice still husky with sleep.
Anirudh tilted his head slightly, a humorless smile playing on his lips. "Today the world will bow to me, Aayat. They will call me their king. But none of it matters if you look away from me, even once."
Her breath hitched. His words were always a strange mix of obsession and truth, sharp enough to cut yet heavy enough to bind.
"You should be thinking about your coronation, not me," she whispered.
His eyes glinted dangerously as he leaned closer—close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, though he still did not touch her. "You are my coronation, Aayat. The crown, the throne, all of it is meaningless if you are not mine. Do you understand?"
Aayat's chest tightened. She could not deny the pull anymore; she had fallen for him. The ruthlessness, the possessiveness, the way he devoured her with his eyes—it should have scared her. But somewhere inside, it thrilled her, made her feel alive in ways she couldn't explain.
She looked down, trying to compose herself. "We should get ready. Rajmata will be waiting."
Anirudh's lips curved, satisfied.
---
The palace buzzed with activity as preparations for the coronation unfolded. Servants rushed about, decorations glittered across the vast halls, and the scent of roses and sandalwood filled the air.
Aayat, dressed in a soft pastel saree for the morning, walked beside Anirudh as they made their way downstairs. She felt the eyes of the palace staff on them—on her—and strangely, instead of feeling like an outsider, she felt like she belonged. His queen.
As they passed through one of the courtyards, a familiar voice called out.
"Bhabhisa!" Veer, Anirudh's cousin, approached with a mischievous grin. His tone was playful, his eyes filled with genuine warmth.
Aayat smiled despite herself. "Veer, you've started teasing me with that word already?"
"Why not? You're the queen now. Besides, it suits you," Veer said lightly, bowing dramatically.
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
"Only when it comes to irritating you," he teased again, and the two shared an easy, natural banter that brought a rare lightness to her.
What Aayat didn't notice was the pair of eyes watching them from afar. Anirudh stood on the opposite side of the courtyard, his entire body taut with fury. His chest rose and fell heavily, every muscle tense. His hands clenched at his sides, aching to march across and pull her away.
But just as he stepped forward, Rajmata appeared beside him. "Anirudh, the ministers from Jaipur are waiting. You must greet them before the ceremony begins."
His jaw locked. "Now?"
"Yes, now," Rajmata said firmly. "This is important."
Anirudh's gaze flicked back to where Aayat and Veer stood, laughter spilling easily between them. His blood boiled. His eyes darkened into something murderous, but he forced himself to nod. "Fine."
As Rajmata led him away, his teeth ground together. Enjoy this moment, Aayat. Let him make you laugh. Because soon, very soon, I will erase every trace of him from your world.
---
The grand coronation ceremony began by midday. The palace hall glittered with gold, silks, and jewels, the air heavy with incense and chants. Nobles and dignitaries from across the region filled the chamber, their eyes fixed on Anirudh Singh Rathore as he stepped forward in royal attire—deep crimson sherwani embroidered with gold, his presence commanding silence from the room.
Aayat stood among the women of the royal household, her hands clasped tightly. Her eyes never left him.
As the crown was placed on his head and the hall erupted in applause, her chest swelled with pride. She had known him as the man who scared her, the man who caged her with his obsession. But in this moment, she also saw the man who carried the weight of a kingdom, whose strength was both terrifying and mesmerizing.
Her heart whispered what her lips had not yet dared to say: I love you, Anirudh.
And she promised herself—tonight, she would confess. Tonight, after the celebrations, she would tell him.
---
After the ceremony, the royal family returned to their chambers to prepare for the grand evening banquet. Inside their private chamber, the atmosphere thickened.
Anirudh closed the door behind them with deliberate calm, his eyes burning into her. Aayat froze near the vanity, sensing the storm building in him.
"You were laughing with Veer this morning," he said, his voice low but sharp as steel.
She turned slowly. "He's your cousin, Anirudh. We were just talking."
His jaw flexed. "Just talking? You think I didn't see the way he looked at you? The way you smiled back? Don't test me, Aayat. Don't make me show you what happens when my patience runs out."
Her breath hitched, fear and something else tangling inside her. "You're imagining things—"
"I don't imagine," he cut her off, stepping closer though still not touching her. "You belong to me. Only me. If you ever—ever—let him stand too close again, if you ever give him what is mine, I swear, Aayat…" His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, his eyes glinting like a predator's. "Even the gods won't be able to protect him from me."
The air left her lungs. His warning was so fierce, so consuming, that her body trembled. Yet underneath her fear, her heart hammered with something dangerously close to desire. He was terrifying, yes, but he was hers.
---
The banquet hall glittered with lights, music, and laughter that evening. Guests mingled, wine flowed, and the new king was celebrated by all.
Anirudh stood near the dais, conversing with a group of nobles, but his gaze kept drifting—always, always—to where Aayat stood across the hall. Dressed in a deep blue saree, she glowed like the moon, and even surrounded by women of the court, she stood out to him like no other.
His eyes never left her. Even when he smiled at a minister's joke, his mind was on her. She was his anchor, his fire, his undoing.
But then, one of the senior ministers approached him with urgent matters to discuss. For a moment—just a moment—Anirudh allowed himself to be distracted.
When he looked back across the hall, his heart froze.
Aayat was gone.
His chest constricted painfully as his gaze swept the hall again and again. She was nowhere. His mind raced, his breathing turned ragged.
Where is she?
A thought struck him like a blade. Veer.
He turned sharply, scanning the room for his cousin. The same realization hit him harder when a servant stammered in response to his demand: "M-maharaj… I… I saw Prince Veer and Queen Aayat leaving… together."
The world tilted.
Anirudh's eyes turned black with fury, a monstrous storm rising within him. His hands clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, his lips curling into something between a snarl and a promise.
"They dare," he whispered, his voice venomous. "They dare walk out together… as if she is not mine. As if I don't breathe for her. As if I would ever let him touch what belongs to me.", his tone almost inhuman as his mind spiraled. "Veer… you've chosen death the moment you laid eyes on her. And Aayat… sweet Aayat, you think you can slip away from me? No. I will burn the world if I must, but I will drag you back to my side. You are mine. Always mine."
The trembling servant approached again, holding an envelope in his shaking hands. "M-maharaj… this was… left for you."
Anirudh snatched it, tore it open, and read.
His eyes widened, then narrowed, his face twisting with rage so raw it looked almost inhuman. His body vibrated with fury, every breath like a growl. The paper crumpled in his fist, veins bulging along his temple.
The court around him felt the shift, the air thick with the king's anger. But no one dared speak.
"End this party," Anirudh barked, his voice booming like thunder. He shoved the envelope inside his coat and strode out of the hall, every step dripping with wrath. "Tell Rajmata the celebration is over. Now."
The hall fell into terrified silence as their king walked away, his shadow stretching long and monstrous behind him.
Anirudh's steps echoed down the marbled corridor as he left the hall, the envelope crushed in his hand. His face was calm to anyone watching, but inside he was a storm. His chest rose and fell like a beast barely held in chains, his blood pounding in his ears.
He stopped suddenly in the shadows, his knuckles white around the paper. His lips curled into a smile that was not joy but something far more dangerous.
"So, Veer…" his voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of death. "You dare put your filthy shadow near her? My queen. My wife. The woman whose very breath belongs to me."
He let out a bitter laugh, tilting his head back, eyes gleaming with madness. "And you, Aayat… my fragile, foolish Aayat. Did you think you could run? Did you think I wouldn't notice if you disappeared from my side for even a heartbeat? You belong to me, Aayat. To me. Not to the world, not to Veer, not even to yourself."
His breathing deepened as he pressed the envelope against his chest, as though it mocked him. "What games are you both playing? Do you think I am blind? Do you think this kingdom is strong because of mercy?" He spat the word. "Mercy is weakness. And I—" he tapped his chest with the edge of the envelope—"I am not weak. I am your king. I am your husband. I am your cage and your freedom, Aayat. You will learn this… you must."
He began to pace, his boots striking the floor like thunder. "If Veer has touched you—" his voice cracked with fury before rising into a guttural snarl—"if he has dared even look at you with hunger in his eyes, I will gouge them out myself. I will blind him, as I blinded that traitor in the forest. I will feed his screams to the beasts until silence swallows him whole."
His jaw clenched, and his tone dropped to a chilling calmness that was more frightening than his rage. "And you, Aayat… don't test me. Don't make me teach you lessons you will never forget. Because if I have to break you just to keep you close, I will. You think you're strong enough to run from me? Then you've underestimated what obsession looks like. You've underestimated me."
He looked at the envelope again, shaking his head, chuckling darkly. "Letters, tricks, lies… they think this paper can shake me? No. This only fuels me. Whoever sent this, whoever thinks they can snatch my queen from me, they don't understand the monster they have woken."
He pressed the envelope into his palm so hard that the edges cut his skin, a thin line of blood trailing down his wrist. He welcomed the sting—it sharpened him, grounded him in his fury.
"I will find you, Aayat. Wherever you've gone, whatever has happened, I will drag you back into my arms even if the world burns around us. And Veer…" his lips twisted into a cruel smile, "…your blood will be the ink with which I write my warning to anyone else who dares to even think of taking her from me."
He inhaled sharply, his eyes alight with dangerous calm as he strode forward again. The envelope hung from his hand, stained with the first drops of his own blood, yet held with unyielding grip. His voice was low but seething as he muttered one last vow to the empty corridor.
"Mine. Always mine. And anyone who forgets that truth will be erased."
With that, he vanished into the darkness of the palace, carrying the envelope like a promise of retribution, his fury echoing long after his footsteps faded.