**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, thus does not revolve around the real world. Any kind of words or incidents mentioned does not signify anything related to the real world. **
While Shivantika and Rajveer, both barely out of adolescence—nineteen and twenty-two—stood rooted in bewilderment, unsure of the man cloaked in shadow before them, Nayantara, now twenty-one and no stranger to hidden truths, took a bold step forward. Her gaze fixed sharply on the silhouette.
"Looks like there is no need for introductions, am I right, Ms. Nayantara?" the man said, his voice smooth, touched with a teasing calm—familiar and haunting all at once.
It was Anirudh.
Now twenty-three, the boy they had once known was long gone. In his place stood a man shaped by time, solitude, and unsaid words. He had been their childhood friend—their confidant, their storm, their sun. The third thread in their village-bound trio. Once inseparable, once innocent.
He had always been different. Born to an orphaned, underaged mother who passed during childbirth, Anirudh had been left on the temple stairs—a newborn with no name, no cradle, no lullaby. The chief priest raised him, christening him Anirudh Das. Even in his youngest days, he brimmed with a quiet fire. While the other children played, he learned. He studied scriptures with monks and trained with a wandering swordsman who had stayed in their village for a year. Martial arts. Literature. Healing. His mind and body sharpened in equal measure.
But beneath all the strength, it was his heart that truly set him apart. He gave away his meals to street dogs, shielded the frail from tormentors, and every evening, sat under the banyan tree with Nayantara and Rajveer, dreaming of futures that never quite came true.
Until love found him. Or at least what he believed was love.
He had loved Nayantara—quietly, fiercely. But when he finally confessed, offering his trembling heart, she, already in love with Rajveer, had to refuse him. Gently, yet firmly. It crushed him.
He left the village that very day.
No one saw him again—until a letter arrived weeks later, trembling in Nayantara's hands.
***
"Dear Nayantara,
The day you rejected me, it shattered something in me. I felt like I lost my last thread to this world. When no one wanted me—not even those who gave me life—you were my guiding light. But I misunderstood your kindness.
That day, I sat under a tree, broken and aimless, when fate offered me a path. I saved a man from a tiger—he turned out to be Prince Ahil Chandra of Braheshwat. He offered me a place in his court to repay his life. I took it—not for power, but to become someone worthy of memory.
I know we can never be what I wished for. But if you ever think of me, just remember—I'm here. In Kayati. And you'll always have a friend in me.
Yours, always,
Anirudh"
***
Now, three years later, he stood tall before them—six foot two, broad-shouldered, his skin a sunlit dusk. His eyes were darker now, quieter. The boyish charm was still there, but it had matured into a silent magnetism that could turn heads across kingdoms.
"You look... different," Rajveer muttered, almost to himself.
Anirudh's smile was kind but distant. "Time changes people, Rajveer. That's what it's supposed to do."
Without another word, he turned to his men. "Untie them."
As their bindings dropped, cold hands regained warmth. He led them through a narrow corridor, toward a back room dimly lit by lanterns.
"I had to do it this way," he explained as they walked. "If word spread that people like you had entered Kayati, you wouldn't survive the hour. So I staged a kidnapping. Safer that way."
He paused before the door. "Your father came searching for you, Nayantara. He's the reason you're still breathing."
Nayantara stopped breathing for a heartbeat. Shivantika's soft voice broke the silence.
"Uncle... is here?"
Anirudh nodded gently. "Alive, but badly wounded."
Nayantara didn't wait. She pushed open the door—and there he was. Jairam Singh. The esteemed village physician. Her father.
Bloodless. Broken. Barely breathing.
She collapsed beside him, holding his limp hand. Her cries shattered the room.
But it wasn't only grief that filled her. It was blame.
Her tear-streaked face twisted as she turned to Shivantika, voice burning with rage.
"You... You brought this on us. Ever since you entered our lives, everything has fallen apart. My home. My father. Rajveer... Everything!"
Shivantika, just nineteen, stood fragile and frozen. Her lips parted, but no words came. The wounds of her kingdom, her family, her soul—none hurt as much as this. Without a word, she turned and fled.
Anirudh was quick to follow, worry etched into his face. But Rajveer stepped forward and caught Nayantara's shoulders.
"Nayantara, stop," he said, firm. "I know you're in pain. But she is not your enemy."
Her lips quivered. "But—"
"Your father is still here. We've all lost people. Shivantika—she lost a kingdom. A family. Her identity. Everything. She's fighting to stay alive. Just like us."
He softened his tone.
"And I knew you loved me. I always knew. But I... I couldn't return it. I'm sorry."
Nayantara's fury crumbled into sobs.
Meanwhile, Anirudh found Shivantika alone in the hallway, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm not a princess anymore," she whispered bitterly. "I'm just a curse."
"No," he said, kneeling before her. "You are a survivor. And you still have purpose."
Moved by his steadiness, she allowed him to bring her back.
Inside the room, Nayantara turned to Shivantika. Her voice cracked.
"I'm sorry. I let the pain speak louder than the truth."
Shivantika nodded, eyes glistening. "And I'm sorry… for all the destruction that followed me."
The tension in the room softened—just as Jairam stirred.
"Ahil... Sidharth... Shivantika…" he murmured faintly.
Everyone froze.
"Father!" Nayantara cried, clutching his hand.
He did not respond.
The physician arrived again. After examining him, he explained, "He's stable. But in a coma. He can hear you—but his body cannot respond. For now."
He glanced toward Shivantika and Nayantara—both veiled.
"They're not from here, are they?"
Anirudh gave him a crooked smile. "From farther than you think."
The physician raised an eyebrow. "Don't lie to me, Anirudh."
"I'm not. I'm protecting them."
The physician nodded once. "And I won't report it. For your sake—and my daughter's."
When he left, Shivantika prepared dinner and brought it to Nayantara. The girl hadn't eaten in hours.
"Smells divine," Nayantara grinned weakly, digging in.
Shivantika smiled faintly. "Funny… food is what first brought Veer and me close."
She told her story. Slowly. Quietly. The tale of a girl betrayed by love, betrayed by blood, left in ashes.
This time, she cried for real.
Not just for what she lost. But for who she could never be again.
Nayantara held her tightly. "You're not alone anymore."
Later that night, the disguises began to fade. Their appearances slowly shifting back to their natural selves. Anirudh brought them lehengas in Braheshwat style—tie-and-dye silk, with silver-threaded motifs. Jewelry, veils, everything they'd need.
That night, Nayantara refused to leave her father's side. Shivantika sat by the window. Rajveer fell asleep beside the hearth.
But Anirudh did not sleep.
He sat on the rooftop, alone. Watching the stars. Wondering what might have been.
In his heart, Nayantara still lived. Her laughter. Her defiance. Her warmth. He loved her still. Quietly. Silently.
As dawn broke, Shivantika tiptoed to the rooftop and called gently:
"Brother Anirudh… wake up."
In an era where men and women were separated by rigid decorum, this bond—of sister and brother forged by choice, not blood—stood unshaken.
Anirudh stirred. And the day in Kayati began again.
But in Shivantika's heart, one thought refused to quieten—the child in the market… and Jairam's final whispered names.
Ahil. Sidharth. Shivantika.
A mystery lingered. And the past wasn't done with them yet.