The palace above slept beneath a wash of silver moonlight.In the corridors below, where the air smelled of stone and metal, laughter echoed—rough, nervous laughter that didn't belong in royal walls.
"—I told you, if I sneeze one more time, you'll have to explain to His Majesty why I died tied to a chair!"Veer's voice bounced off the damp basement walls, exasperated but somehow still amused. "For God's sake, at least untie my hands so I can scratch my nose!"
A guard standing nearby tried very hard not to laugh. "Orders are orders, Rajkumar."
"Orders?" Veer huffed, twisting in his ropes. "What am I? A threat to national security? I fetched a gift, not a kingdom!"
The other guard coughed, still holding his spear. "Sir, please don't make me laugh. You'll get me killed."
"Well, if I'm dying of humiliation, you might as well join me." Veer leaned his head back against the chair and sighed dramatically. "If this is his idea of royal gratitude, remind me never to run errands for His Highness again."
The heavy door creaked open.A hush fell like dust.
Anirudh Singh Rathore stepped in, shadows following him like loyal soldiers. His presence filled the cold chamber without effort. The guards straightened instantly.
"Leave us," he said, voice calm, even—too even.
The guards obeyed at once, their footsteps echoing up the staircase until only the two men remained.
Veer looked up from the chair, squinting in the lamplight. "Finally. You know, cousin, if this is your idea of royal hospitality, remind me never to accept a dinner invitation again."
Anirudh walked closer, unhurried, the faintest trace of a smile at the edge of his mouth. "You're surprisingly talkative for someone in your position."
"What do you expect me to do, meditate?" Veer snapped. "I did what you asked. The plan worked. Aayat's yours, she confessed, and you're king. So why am I down here tied up like a criminal?"
Anirudh stopped a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful. "You did your job well."
"Then untie me."
"But…" Anirudh's gaze lifted, and something sharp flickered in his eyes. "You did it too well."
Veer blinked. "Too well?"
Anirudh's lips curved—not a smile, something heavier. "You got too close."
Veer let out an incredulous laugh. "Close? Anirudh, I helped her pick a gift, not steal your throne."
"You held her hand."
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Veer groaned. "She tripped! The ground was uneven! Are you serious right now?"
Anirudh's gaze didn't waver. "You know me well enough to answer that yourself."
There was a beat of silence, and then Veer shook his head, half amused, half weary. "You've officially lost it. Obsessed, jealous, irrational… should I add paranoid to the list?"
Anirudh circled the chair slowly, hands behind his back, voice steady as stone. "Do you know what I see when I close my eyes, Veer?"
"Hopefully a therapist?"
Anirudh's voice stayed calm, but his words struck like frost. "You're lucky, cousin. I still remember the blood we share."
Veer rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm tied up, or I'd throw that glass at your head."
Anirudh took a slow sip, his tone quiet, almost contemplative. "You think this is about jealousy."
"Isn't it?"
Anirudh's expression didn't change. But his silence said enough.
After a long pause, Veer sighed. "Fine. Since I'm already a prisoner, at least tell me what exactly I did to earn the honor."
Anirudh's eyes flicked toward him, and for a moment, something far away passed over his face — a shadow from another night
The flicker of the basement lantern pulled him back to another night —the same walls, the same shadows, weeks before the coronation.
Veer had been standing exactly where he was now, but his wrists had been free, his tone curious rather than annoyed.
"You're sure about this?" Veer had asked then. "You want me near Aayat — to make it look like something it isn't?"
Anirudh had stood near the old wooden table, a half-empty glass in his hand, eyes sharp and cold as steel.
"She's going to confess soon," Veer had said. "If you already have her heart, why keep playing shadows?"
Anirudh had stood by the window then, voice calm.
"Because love doesn't give rights, Veer. It offers chances—and chances can be taken back."
He'd turned, gaze hard.
"I want her to know what losing me would feel like. I want her to see that even her choices are bound to me."
Veer had frowned. "You want to test her?"
"I want to bind her," Anirudh had corrected quietly. "Emotionally, completely. Until she stops thinking of freedom as leaving me."
"Then isn't that good?" Veer had replied, baffled. "You've spent months waiting for this."
Anirudh's laugh had been low, humorless.
"Love, Veer, doesn't give you rights. It gives you the illusion of them. And illusions fade."
"You're testing her?"
"No," Anirudh had said, setting his glass down. "I'm protecting what's mine."
He'd turned toward the shadows, his tone coldly methodical.
"I need her to realize that even if she turns away, even if doubt ever touches her heart — she's already mine in every way that matters. This is how I make sure she never forgets."
Veer had frowned, incredulous.
"By making her think she's betrayed you?"
"By reminding her what it feels like to lose me," Anirudh had answered simply."Only when she fears that, will she stop questioning how far I'd go for her."
Veer had scoffed. "You're not building love, you're building a story."
"And she'll believe it," Anirudh had said, his voice terrifying in its certainty."The call about the punctured car, the photo — my men will handle that. It'll look real. Pain always does."
He'd stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"When she looks at me afterward, I want her to see both — the ruin and the safety. So she'll never wonder where she belongs again."
Veer had gone quiet then, looking at his cousin like he didn't recognize him.
"You realize, one day, she'll find out."
Anirudh had smiled faintly.
"Then she'll understand I didn't lie to hurt her. I lied to keep her."
The memory faded with the faint crackle of the lamp.
Anirudh's eyes focused again on Veer — the same man, but older now in ways that had nothing to do with time.
"You planned it all," Veer said quietly. "Even that damn photograph."
Anirudh's voice was low. "I plan everything."
Veer let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You're insane."
"Maybe."
"Then untie me, Your Majesty. Let me at least be insane on my own terms."
Anirudh finally reached for the ropes, unfastening them with slow, measured movements. The fibers creaked, falling loose.
"You're free," he said simply.
Veer stood, rubbing his wrists, watching his cousin carefully. "For what it's worth… you didn't need all this. She already loved you."
Anirudh didn't look up. "Love makes people free, Veer. I'm not interested in freedom."
Veer's expression softened, heavy with pity. "And that's exactly why you'll lose her."
He turned and walked toward the door, pausing only once. "I hope, someday, she teaches you what love really is."
The door shut behind him.
Anirudh stood alone, the faint echo of his cousin's words lingering like ghosts in the dark.He looked down at the fallen ropes, his reflection flickering in the steel jug nearby.
A faint, tired smile curved his lips.
"I already know what love is," he murmured. "It's the only thing worth controlling."
The lamp guttered once — then steadied, throwing his shadow long across the wall.And somewhere above, in her quiet room, Aayat turned in her sleep, unaware that the man she loved had just redrawn the boundaries of her world.