The sun filtered softly through the ivory curtains, painting warm gold on the marble floors. The palace was wrapped in an odd silence, too quiet for a house that never slept. Myra stepped out of her room, still in her delicate sky-blue nightrobe, hair falling loosely over her shoulders, eyes sleepy yet curious.
She looked around the corridor, expecting to hear Anika's laughter echo from somewhere—the kitchen, maybe the courtyard. But nothing. Just silence and the distant rustle of trees outside.
"Anika?" her voice called gently, unsure. No reply.
She padded down the hallway, peeking into rooms. Empty.
The breakfast table was neatly set, but there was only one cup of tea placed. The second one that Anika usually demanded—the one she always sipped lazily while chatting—was missing.
"She must've gone shopping… maybe met her friends?" Myra murmured to herself, brushing a hand through her hair as a strange unease curled in her stomach. She tried to shake it off. After all, Anika was spontaneous like that—running off to cafes or stores without notice.
Yet… today, the silence felt heavier.
Myra walked toward Anika's room and gently knocked. No answer. She pushed the door open—it was empty, bed perfectly made, no sign of life or clutter.
A small frown formed on Myra's face.
"Strange," she whispered.
She stood at the doorway for a moment longer, a sudden wave of loneliness washing over her. The palace that once felt too crowded now felt far too empty.
Myra's brows knitted in quiet concern as she turned from the empty room. Her bare feet padded softly across the floor as she made her way to the kitchen.
"Have you seen Anika?" she asked one of the maids, who paused with a tray in hand.
The maid shook her head, offering a polite smile. "No, Rajkumari. She didn't come to the kitchen today. Perhaps she left early?"
Myra nodded slowly, though the knot in her stomach tightened.
She asked another staff member… then another.
Each gave the same reply—polite confusion, uncertain glances.
"She didn't inform anyone," said the head housekeeper finally. "Maybe she left with Maharaj Ranvijay?"
Myra's heart skipped. "No… he left last night. I was with him."
The silence grew heavier.
By now, it was nearly noon.
Myra sat in the garden, where she and Anika usually shared tea. The cup in her hand had gone cold, untouched. The breeze fluttered the dupatta around her shoulders, but even nature seemed subdued today.
Every sound made her turn, expecting familiar footsteps or Anika's voice calling her name with teasing affection.
But nothing came.
And somewhere inside her… a soft worry bloomed into a whisper of dread.
Myra stood by the grand staircase, her dupatta slipping off one shoulder, brows knitted with worry. The palace felt too quiet. Anika hadn't returned, and none of the staff knew where she'd gone. The sun had dipped lower, and a strange unease began to wrap around Myra like a shawl too heavy to shrug off.
Then—
The door creaked open.
She turned, hope rising… only for it to crash within seconds.
There she was.
Niyati.
Back.
A figure from a chapter Myra thought had been closed forever.
She hadn't changed. Short, scandalous dress hugging her body, lips blood red, long nails tapping against her phone. She didn't bother to greet the guards, didn't wait to be announced. She walked in like she had every right to.
Myra's heart pounded. Her voice barely made it past her lips. "You… what are you doing here?"
Niyati's gaze landed on her like a knife. Slow. Calculating. A smirk played on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Relax," she said, tossing her purse onto the couch. "I'm not here to take your prince."
Myra stayed still. Watching. Waiting.
"I came with a message," Niyati continued, walking closer. Her heels clicked like a ticking clock. "From someone… who knows everything about this palace. About your mother. About your marriage."
Myra's breath caught.
Niyati leaned in slightly, her perfume suffocating. "He said—'Tell the girl her mother's secrets are rotting in the walls of this palace. And not all ghosts wear white.'"
Myra's throat tightened. "What are you talking about?"
But Niyati only smiled—this time with a flicker of something darker in her eyes. "That's all I was asked to say. What you do with it... is up to you."
And just like that, she turned around.
Not waiting for questions.
Not offering answers.
Leaving behind silence, the click of her heels, and the ghost of a threat Myra couldn't yet understand.
Just as Niyati reached the door, she paused—
turned slightly—
and looked over her shoulder with a smile far too composed for what came next.
"Oh… and Myra," she said casually, "you were looking for Anika, weren't you?"
Myra's breath hitched. Her nails dug into her palms. "What do you mean?"
Niyati slowly pulled out her phone, tapping a video open. "Thought I'd save you the time."
She held the screen toward Myra.
The world tilted.
Anika.
Tied to a chair.
Blindfolded.
A red bruise on her forehead.
Her wrists bound. Her lips trembling beneath the cloth gag.
The camera shook as a gloved hand tilted her face toward the light—Anika flinched, letting out a muffled cry.
Myra staggered back, her vision swimming.
"No…" she whispered, a cry caught between her throat and lungs.
Niyati didn't flinch. "Cute, right?"
Myra's voice cracked, "Where is she? Who—"
But Niyati held up a finger.
"Tsk. Don't be dramatic. Just listen carefully."
She leaned in.
All traces of fake sweetness gone.
Her eyes now cold.
Metallic.
"If you want to see her alive, you won't tell anyone. Not your prince. Not his guards. Not your staff. No one."
Myra's lips trembled. "W-What do you want?"
Niyati smirked. "You don't need to know what I want. But the person who sent me… they want you. Alone. Midnight. No security. No Ranvijay. No lies."
She slipped a note into Myra's hand. "Address. Time. Don't be late."
And then she left.
Just like that.
No explanation. No remorse.
Leaving Myra alone in the silence, her heart pounding like war drums, the weight of the video still burning in her chest.