It had been several days since I had left Rudra, yet my heart had not once stopped aching with the weight of absence. The journey back to my homeland was neither long nor harsh, for my brother Siddharth had ensured every comfort along the way, and my bhabhi's gentle company had softened the silence of the roads. And yet—every mile that carried me away from him, from Rudra, seemed like a theft from my very soul.

Now, back within the familiar walls of my father’s palace, life had resumed with its unchanging rhythm. The courtyards echoed with the chatter of maids, the council hall bustled with its endless debates, and in the gardens, winter blossoms clung stubbornly to their stems as though defying the cold. It was the same as it had always been, and yet, to me, everything felt altered. I had returned not as the same princess who had once left, but as a woman whose heart had found its anchor far from these walls.