The day had started with sunshine, gentle and soft — like the world was pretending nothing had ever gone wrong. But the weight in the royal haveli hadn't lifted.
That's why Anika practically dragged Myra out.
"You'll suffocate inside those four walls," Anika said, looping her arm through Myra's as they walked into a quaint little café tucked on a quieter street of the city. "One coffee, one smile. That's all I ask for."
Myra smiled gently, adjusting the peach-colored cotton saree she'd worn — simple and breezy, her dupatta fluttering with the wind. She hadn't said no to Anika. Not because she wanted to escape, but because... her heart had been heavy, and fresh air sounded like a balm.
Inside, the café buzzed with soft music and the clinking of teacups. The aroma of freshly baked pastries mingled with roasted coffee beans.
Anika ordered. Myra stood by the window, watching the crowd pass by. A young couple laughed over a milkshake. A father fed his child a spoon of melting ice cream.
She felt... ordinary.
Human.
Her fingers rested on the table edge when suddenly — she felt a gaze.
Cold. Calculated. Curious.
Myra turned slightly, and her eyes met a man's — just for a second.
He stood across the street, leaning casually against a dark-colored car. Jeans, a plain black t-shirt, sunglasses — too normal, and yet... something off.
He removed his glasses slowly.
Aditya.
Myra froze.
Her fingers curled.
He didn't move toward her. Didn't wave. Didn't smile. But his eyes pierced her.
There was no danger in them.
But there was something more unsettling: a knowing calm.
Almost as if he'd been watching her longer than she knew.
She turned her head quickly, heart thudding in her chest. "Anika," she whispered. "We need to leave."
Anika raised an eyebrow. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just... don't feel like coffee anymore."
They exited the café, and Myra didn't look back.
But she felt it.
He was still watching.
And just as the car door closed beside her, she saw it again — in the reflection of the rearview mirror.
Aditya was gone.
---
Later That Night:
Ranvijay sat on the couch, reading something, but his eyes lifted the second Myra walked in.
"You okay?" he asked, voice low, sensing the change in her energy.
She nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just a little tired."
His eyes narrowed. "Something happened?"
"No," she replied — but too fast.
He didn't push.
But she didn't know he'd already received a report from one of his guards that a man had been spotted outside the café.
A man that didn't belong.
And Ranvijay's blood was already boiling.
The room was cloaked in dim golden light, the bedside lamp flickering gently as the wind teased the curtains. Myra tossed in bed, eyes wide open, even as her body trembled beneath the sheet.
Her chest felt tight.
Like a wall was pressing down on her lungs.
Like a scream was caught in her throat, and the silence only made it louder.
That gaze.
That man.
Those eyes.
They shouldn't mean anything. And yet…
She sat upright suddenly, clutching her chest, the world spinning.
She couldn't breathe.
Her hands shook as she tried to grab the glass of water on the bedside, but it slipped and crashed to the floor.
The sound shattered the stillness.
Ranvijay, who had just returned from the study, burst through the door the second he heard the crash.
"Myra?!"
She was curled into herself, eyes wild, lips trembling.
Ranvijay didn't think — he rushed to her side, kneeling in front of her. "Breathe, sweetheart—slow. Look at me."
She shook her head, gasping. "I—I can't—"
"Yes, you can. You're safe, Myra. It's me. Look into my eyes."
His voice was low but firm. The edge of command barely masking the fear trembling beneath it.
Her eyes locked onto his.
And for a moment—just one—she felt anchored.
But her body kept trembling, her lips forming words she couldn't voice.
Ranvijay gently cupped her cheeks, his forehead pressing against hers. "I'm here. No one will ever hurt you again. Do you understand me? "
Her panic slowly ebbed, but she collapsed into his arms, completely shaken.
He wrapped his arms around her like a shield, pressing her close to his chest, his own heartbeat louder than it should be.
He closed his eyes.
This is what he feared most.
Not Aditya showing up.
Not the family's devastation.
But this haunted look in Myra's eyes — a look that screamed she had seen something her mind had buried, and now it was starting to surface.
She trembled in his arms long after the panic had passed.
Ranvijay didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
He just held her tighter — as if his arms could pull her away from whatever darkness tried to rise again.
She had no idea.
And he prayed she wouldn't remember.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Because the truth wasn't just painful — it was soul-ripping.
He knew what Aditya meant to her.
He knew what had happened, what had been done to her, and what Aditya was running from too.
But Myra was fragile, like a porcelain sculpture still trembling from a life of silent torment. She had just begun to smile again. Just begun to look at life like it wasn't a punishment.
And tonight?
One glance from that man…
One buried memory clawing its way back…
It nearly shattered her again.
He closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to her temple. His voice was barely a whisper, "Not yet, Myra… please, not yet…"
She had fallen asleep again, exhausted from the emotional hurricane.
But he stayed awake.
Eyes on the ceiling.
Heart racing.
Because Ranvijay wasn't afraid of Aditya's return.
He was afraid that Myra's past would consume her, and that when she remembered it all, she would never forgive herself she would break.
Because in protecting her from the truth…
He had become a part of the lie.