Sanya

I was working on my latest assignment, going through every detail for the hundredth time. The story was ready, pictures were in my hand, the interview was to be shot, it was important, and I couldn’t afford mistakes. My eyes skimmed over the checklist—lenses, batteries, backups, permits—everything in place. I let out a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

Coffee. I needed strong coffee before heading out.

But before I could even turn toward the kitchen counter, my phone buzzed sharply, insistent and urgent. One glance at the screen was enough to freeze me.

Mom.

I pressed accept, but before I could say anything, her voice cut through the line—firm, commanding, the tone that always left no room for questions.

“Come back to Jodhpur with Suhana immediately. I’m sending the chopper for both of you.”

And just like that, she disconnected.

I stared at the screen, her words still echoing in my ears. That tone didn’t just mean 'call back to negotiate'. It meant drop everything and obey.

I inhaled slowly, letting silence stretch for a moment. She wanted us home. No excuses. No arguments. No delay.

Without wasting a second, I dialed Suhana.

She answered in a rush, her voice already tense. “You got scolded too?” Just hearing her voice loosened the tightness in my chest a little.

“Obviously,” I sighed. “I heard Ma yelling before she even called me. It’s like her voice travels across dimensions.”

“So, what do we do? How can I go there?” she asked, nervousness dripping from every word.

“But we have to,” I murmured.

“We?? Both? No!” she groaned. “Are you even thinking what you’re saying? We can’t both go.”

“I know,” I admitted softly. “I have a shoot. The brand team’s flying in, but I can make it on the day of the engagement—smile for the photos, then fly back before anyone notices.”

“How am I supposed to handle this alone? You know what’s at stake.” Her voice was low, tight, and almost breaking.

“Calm down! We’ve handled worse than this,” I reminded her gently.

“I’m not so sure this time,” she whispered. “Everything feels… exposed. The whole family will be there. What if something slips?”

“You won’t let it slip. You never have.”

“I hate this,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “The lying, the pretending, carrying this secret—it’s exhausting.”

“I know,” I said softly, my throat tight. “This needs to stop.”

“Hmm. But with half the royal families in Rajasthan attending, and Dad showing off his political image, we can’t afford to crack,” she retorted bitterly.

“Right. But after this is over, we should come out with this secret. How long are we going to hide it, Suhana?”

“As long as it takes,” she replied firmly.

“You’re just scared. That’s okay. But we’ve held this together for years. Trust yourself.”

Her silence stretched, then she murmured, “What would I do without you?”

“Nothing! That’s why God sent me with you. See, you can’t even draw eyeliner straight. Forget your passwords every week.”

She laughed despite herself, and the sound eased me.

“I’ll keep the bags packed, don't worry, I will not forget anything we might need, and even if I forget we can get it there. Don't panic.” I promised. “I’ll fly on the day of the engagement. Just keep me updated. If anything feels off, call me.”

She agreed, and we hung up.

I made a foolproof plan to get out of this situation clean. I had to see if we wanted everything to go smoothly. We could not let anyone know about our little secret. So I went home and arranged everything we could need, and together we packed everything we needed.

We moved quickly, making the arrangements we might need. Clothes, everything... papers, backups—everything had to be ready. Subtly, I also made sure the nanny was ready to travel with me to take care of our... little Bhavya. Suhana could never handle it all alone, not with the pressure of the family, the scrutiny, the eyes that never stopped watching.

The moment Suhana’s helicopter lifted off, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. She was gone. And I was left behind with deadlines, logistics, and a storm waiting for us in Jodhpur.

---

By midday, I finished the assignments lined up for me. Photography shoots, a few investigative notes, and interviews. Work always kept me grounded. Behind the camera, I wasn’t the daughter of Sahil and Manyata Malhotra, who wasn’t bound by tradition or watched by a hundred disapproving eyes. Behind the camera, I was just me.

And yet, as I packed my equipment and prepared cover stories in case anyone asked about my travel, the weight of the secret I shared with Suhana pressed harder.

We had done this dance for years—balancing appearances, juggling duties, living in shadows. But lately, the cracks were beginning to show.

Finally, I pulled up the checklist: hotel bookings, flight confirmations, security details, backup contacts. Everything had to be precise. One tiny slip, and the carefully balanced secret we shared could crumble.

I played with Bhavya, made her eat and sleep.

“Alright, Sanya,” I muttered to myself as I adjusted the lens in its case. “Calm down. We’ve handled worse. This is just another storm. And you’ve never let a storm break you.”

Still, the unease in my chest wouldn’t leave. We had to go to Jodhpur. To our family. Half of Rajasthan’s royal circles would be gathered under one roof. One mistake… and everything would collapse.

---

The next day.

By the time I landed in Jodhpur, the city shimmered under the golden sun. Sandstone palaces rose proudly against the sky, their domes glowing in the light. The streets bustled with quiet rhythm, as though preparing for a festival.

I wanted to go straight to the palace, but no. First, the plan had to stay intact. I couldn’t afford risks.

The nanny and Bhavya were with me, settled quietly, hidden in plain sight. To the world, it would look ordinary—a caretaker traveling with a child. To me, it was the most fragile part of my world, the one truth no one could know.

We drove to the hotel first. My heels clicked against polished marble floors as I crossed the vast lobby. The scent of jasmine and expensive polish filled the air. Grand chandeliers sparkled above.

I kept my head low, checked in under the alias I always used for work trips. Every arrangement confirmed: rooms, security, backup contacts. One by one, each box was ticked off.

For a moment, I almost felt in control. Almost.

I reached the suite, glanced around once, twice, thrice—old habits.

I called room service and ordered food for all of us, keeping my voice steady even though my nerves were fraying. Then I told the nanny to freshen up Bhavya and make her comfortable. My little girl deserved to feel comfortable and safe, no matter what storm was building around us.

Then I sank into a chair and reached for my phone to message Suhana.

I’m here. Everything’s fine.

Only—my hand froze. My bag was open, but my phone wasn’t inside.

I searched again, heart pounding. Then realization hit.

I’d left it at the reception desk.

“Shit,” I whispered under my breath.

The one mistake I couldn’t afford, and I had just made it.

And as I rushed out of the suite, a cold shiver ran down my spine— A feeling that I had not felt in years... That scared me.

Somewhere deep inside, I felt that something was going to happen that might ruin everything.