The prison was silent, yet heavy with the unspoken grief of an empire. Saleem walked forward, his chains rattling with each step, but his head remained high. His eyes carried no fear—only the weight of love that had already written his fate.
Anarkali, bound by the guards, stood across the courtyard. Her face was pale, yet glowing with the serenity of a woman who had embraced her destiny. She did not struggle, nor did she cry. Instead, her gaze was locked on Saleem, her lips trembling with the unspoken words only he could hear.
"Anarkali…" Saleem's voice was low, broken, but steady.
She smiled faintly. "My prince, today love wins, even if we lose."
The soldiers tightened their grip, pulling her toward the walls where her tomb was to be sealed alive. The emperor's command was iron—no plea, no rebellion could alter it. Yet, in that cruel silence, the world seemed to bend around the two lovers, making space for their final farewell.
Saleem took a deep breath, his heart burning with the fire of helplessness. He wanted to tear through the chains, to fight his father, to stop the walls from closing on her—but his power was nothing before the throne. His voice rose, heavy with despair and love:
"If love is a crime, then let history call me guilty forever!"
The guards hesitated, shaken by his words. Anarkali's tears glimmered, but she raised her chin with dignity. "Do not cry for me, my Saleem. They may bury me in stone, but my soul will live in you. In every heartbeat, in every silence of the night—you will find me."
The workers pushed the first bricks into place. The sound echoed like a death toll in Saleem's chest. He struggled against his chains, blood seeping from his wrists. "Anarkali!" he shouted, his voice tearing through the night.
Inside the narrowing space, Anarkali closed her eyes. In that darkness, she did not see fear. She saw Saleem's face—the prince who had loved her beyond power, beyond rules, beyond life itself.
The last gap of light between them began to fade. Saleem's voice broke, trembling like a child's. "Wait for me, Anarkali… if not in this world, then in the next. No throne, no crown, no father can keep us apart there."
With her last glimpse of him, she whispered, "I will wait, my love… until time itself bows to us."
And the wall closed.
Silence fell. The courtyard became empty, yet heavy with the eternal promise that no empire could crush. Saleem sank to his knees, his tears falling onto the stones that had stolen his beloved. His heart was shattered, but his love—untouchable, immortal—rose beyond the cruelty of the world.
For centuries, poets would sing of them. For generations, lovers would whisper their names in secret. Saleem and Anarkali—two souls chained by fate, yet freed by love.
Because true love never dies.
It becomes a flame—eternal, unbroken, and alive in every heart that dares to love.