As the last echoes of laughter settled into the walls of the living room, Khushi stepped forward again. This time, she didn't carry the guitar. She carried something far more fragile—hesitation.
She stopped in front of Kiaan.
Then,slowly, she knelt.
The movement caught everyone's attention, but no one spoke. Even the children seemed to sense the shift, their voices fading into a hush.
Khushi smiled at Kiaan,a little apologetic, a little embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know today was your birthday. If I had known, I would have brought you something special."
Kiaan looked at her, eyes wide, head tilting slightly. For a moment, he said nothing—just watched her, as if trying to understand why his chest suddenly felt warm.
Khushi glanced down at her own wrist.
There was a simple black thread tied there.Worn. Old. It had seen years.
She hesitated,fingers brushing it once, as if asking permission from something unseen. Then she gently untied it.
"This," she said quietly, holding it up between her fingers, "was given to me by a priest a long time ago. He said it was for protection. And blessing."
She reached for Kiaan's wrist.
"If you want,"she added, almost whispering now, "I'd like you to have it."
She tied the thread carefully around his wrist, making sure it wasn't too tight, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
The knot settled.
So did something else.
Kiaan stared at the thread, then at her. His lips trembled before breaking into a wide, unguarded smile.
"This is the best gift,"he said, his voice firm with certainty.
Before Khushi could respond, he threw his arms around her.
The hug was sudden.Tight. Honest.
Khushi froze for a heartbeat—then hugged him back,closing her eyes, a strange ache blooming in her chest. For reasons she couldn't explain, it felt like coming home.
Across the room, Bhoomi pressed her palms together softly, eyes shining.
Susheela smiled through tears,nodding to herself as if some unspoken prayer had just been answered.
And Kiaan,holding onto Khushi like he was afraid she might disappear, knew one thing for certain—
Some gifts didn't come wrapped in paper.
Some came wrapped in fate.
---
In the Fox Queen's Hall
Meanwhile, in a world veiled by shadow and flickering lantern light, Varun moved among the other servants, his fox cloak blending seamlessly with the gloom. The hall was dimly lit, polished obsidian walls reflecting the restless flames. His every step was careful, measured, and deliberate. His eyes never left the center of the hall, where a dark celebration was slowly taking shape.
A hush fell over the room as Shachini, the fox queen, ascended her throne. Her presence commanded the hall without a single word. The air thickened, charged with the weight of her authority.
Varun's pulse quickened. Every instinct screamed that something monumental was about to unfold.
"Bring him forward," Shachini's voice sliced through the silence.
A tall figure stepped forward—a fox wizard named Kadam. He knelt before the queen, face pale, hands clasped in submission. Shachini's eyes gleamed as she announced her decree.
"It is my decision that Kadam shall wed my daughter, the fox witch princess, in an unholy ceremony," she declared, her voice rich with triumph. "The union will solidify the power of our bloodline. The ceremony shall be held on the night after tomorrow."
A murmur ran through the hall, hushed but tense. Varun's stomach tightened. This was worse than he imagined.
And then she appeared.
Dilruba.
Varun froze where he stood. Her entrance was subtle yet magnetic. She moved with effortless grace, her nine tails sweeping behind her like living shadows. The hall seemed to bend around her presence. But she didn't look at him. Not even a flicker of recognition. She went straight to stand near Kadam, her eyes cold, her posture regal.
Varun's heart clenched. Nine years. Nine long years since she vanished. And now, here she was—alive, powerful, and yet untouchable.
Shachini's gaze followed her daughter approvingly. "Prepare yourselves," she said, her tone absolute. "Everything must be in place for the ceremony. No one shall interfere."
Varun's hands tightened into fists beneath the cloak. Every instinct told him he had to get closer, to find a way to reach her, but for now, he could only watch. The fox queen's unholy plans were unfolding, and Dilruba remained oblivious to his presence, standing near the very man she was being forced to marry.
Varun exhaled slowly, suppressing the storm inside.
He would find a way. He had to.
To be continued…