Sanya

I slipped out of the suite, my mind on one single task—retrieving my phone from the reception desk. I hated leaving it there, of all places. One tiny mistake like that, and everything we’d been protecting could fall apart.

The receptionist gave me a bright, professional smile as soon as she saw me. She held out my phone.

“I just saw it, ma’am. I was going to call your room to inform you.”

“Thank you,” I said quickly, relief flooding me. I turned to head back toward the elevators, my thoughts already on Bhavya upstairs, when—

Something caught my eye.

A shadow at the far end of the lobby. A movement too deliberate to be ignored. My steps faltered. My lungs forgot how to work for a second.

Why was my chest tightening like this? Why did my skin prickle with the kind of warning you couldn’t explain, only feel?

I should have kept walking. I should have ignored it. But my instincts betrayed me, and my head turned.

And then I saw him.

Tall. Impossibly confident. Moving with the precision of someone who never needed to second-guess himself. His presence wasn’t loud, yet it dominated the entire space. People noticed him without meaning to. They looked, they glanced away, and then they looked again—drawn by something magnetic and dangerous.

My breath stopped. My heart thrashed in my chest. I froze there.

This couldn’t be real.

My heart raced in a way that demanded caution. Only a presence that made every instinct in my body scream, every muscle tensed. Every nerve screamed: Do not move. Do not be seen. Hide.

What was he doing here in India? In Jodhpur? I was so tense, so confused.

I pressed myself against the nearest column, letting its shadow swallow me whole. My palms pressed flat against the cool marble, my body stiff with fear. Every muscle locked tight, my mind racing for explanations.

I hadn’t seen him in years. Years where I thought we were safe. Years where I believed distance was enough. And now, out of nowhere, here he was—in India. In Jodhpur. In the very hotel where I was hiding Bhavya and the nanny.

My heart pounded in my throat. Was this some nightmare??

Was I getting hallucinations?

But no—the lobby light fell on his sharp profile, his steady movements. This wasn’t some trick of memory. He was here.

What was he doing here?

It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Jodhpur was hosting half the royal families of Rajasthan for the engagement, and yes, powerful people from across the world were invited. But him? He had no link to my family, no reason to show up here. Unless—

Unless he was here for me.

The thought nearly broke my knees out from under me. But why now? After all these years? And more terrifying—how would he even know where to find me?

My body screamed one thing: HIDE!!!

I stayed in the shadows, phone clutched so tightly in my hand my knuckles turned white. My breathing slowed to shallow, careful pulls of air, as if even the sound of a full inhale could give me away.

I watched him glide toward the reception desk. His tone was calm, clipped, carrying that edge of authority that made people listen before they even realized they were obeying.

“…here for a personal matter,” I heard him say when the manager asked about his visit.

Personal matter.

The words sliced into me.

Not business. Not politics. Not a public event. A personal matter.

I bit my lip hard to stop the small, panicked gasp that almost escaped. My chest ached from holding back every sound, every movement.

Could he mean the wedding? Maybe he was genuinely here for that—many royals had been invited. But if not… if that “personal matter” was connected to me…

I couldn’t finish the thought.

He turned, collected his keys, and moved toward the elevators. His stride was effortless, commanding. Staff bowed, guests stepped aside without thinking, as though the space around him bent to his will.

And all I could think was—if he so much as glanced in my direction, everything would be over.

I forced myself to stay still until the elevator doors swallowed him whole. Only then did I allow myself a single shaky breath.

He hadn’t seen me. Not yet.

But that didn’t mean I was safe.

Every carefully built plan, every detail I had controlled for days, suddenly tilted on its axis. I couldn’t risk going to the engagement now. Not with him here. Not when every camera, every eye, every whisper at the palace could expose us.

I waited a few more minutes, long enough to be sure he wasn’t coming back out. Then, moving fast but discreetly, I slipped into the elevator and returned to our suite.

Inside, I locked the door, leaned back against it, and pressed a trembling hand to my forehead. My chest still felt tight, my pulse racing like a trapped bird.

The nanny’s soft humming drifted from the bedroom where she was tending to Bhavya. The sound grounded me for a moment. I had to hold myself together. For Bhavya. For Suhana. For both of us.

Almost immediately, I pulled out my phone. Suhana would be panicking in the palace, her mind spinning in a thousand fearful directions. She hated uncertainty. If she didn’t hear from me, she would imagine the worst.

I typed quickly, forcing my fingers to steady:

> I won’t be able to attend the engagement tomorrow. Something came up. Please manage on my part. Don’t worry… I have everything under control. Everything is fine. Enjoy the engagement. Since I’m not coming, there’s no issue about our family finding out. Bye. Apologies on my behalf.

I read it twice, my chest tightening. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it would keep her calm. It would make her believe I was in control. And that was what mattered.

I hit send. The message left my phone with a soft whoosh, as if mocking the thunder in my chest.

I dropped the phone into my bag and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

Outside, Jodhpur buzzed with life—cars honked faintly, hotel staff moved about, and laughter floated up from the courtyard. The world continued, blissfully unaware.

But inside this suite, inside my chest, time had twisted into something sharp and merciless. Every sound felt like a warning. Every second dragged heavy with the weight of danger.

I couldn’t calm down. Not yet. Not until I had a new plan.

And as I sat there, trying to steady my breath, one thought cut through the noise:

He was here.

And if he had come all the way to Jodhpur for a “personal matter”… then maybe, just maybe, the storm I had been dreading all these years had finally arrived at my doorstep.

********

My heart was still racing after ten minutes, so I forced myself to breathe. My hands itched to call Suhana, but I needed to sound normal, calm, in control. So instead, I dialed reception first, planning to double-check if they provided some kind of security or guards on request. A small request for something extra to ground myself, making sure we were safe.

“Hello, this is Room 1903,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“Yes, ma’am, how may I assist you?” the receptionist replied politely.

Before I could even ask, a muffled voice drifted in the background—a colleague speaking too loudly, words tumbling carelessly through the receiver.

“Has Sheik Amir’s transport for the Rathore engagement tomorrow been confirmed? His security just called again, they would need three cars... ”

My breath caught. The receiver nearly slipped from my hand.

The receptionist returned, cheerful and oblivious. “Ma’am? You were saying?”

But I couldn’t answer. My pulse thundered in my ears. He wasn’t just here in Jodhpur. He was going to our family’s engagement.

And that meant everything I had fought to keep hidden… was already at risk.