“So quick to smile with him,” he whispered, a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

“You did not even hesitate.”

Sanskriti’s eyes widened slightly.Her lips pressed into a thin line, anger flickering across her face before she could hide it.

He tightened his hold just enough to make his point.

“Strange,” he continued softly, jealousy slipping through his calm,

“how easily others step into your space.As if you belong nowhere in particular.”

Her brows drew together.She turned her face slightly, her jaw set, clearly displeased, yet she said nothing.The music forced her to keep moving, to keep her composure intact.

“I do not like that,” he added quietly. “And I am not someone who hides what unsettles him.”

Her expression hardened.The fake smile returned for the watching crowd, but her eyes burned with irritation and defiance.

Within his grasp, she danced on, furious at his words, disturbed by his closeness, and unwilling to let him see just how deeply he had shaken her.

Sanskriti lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with quiet defiance.Her voice was low, controlled, yet edged with restrained anger.

“You mistake courtesy for consent,” she replied. “A dance does not give you the right to question my choices.”

She pulled her hand slightly, enough to make him aware of her resistance.

“And your displeasure,” she continued calmly, “is not my concern.”

Her expression remained composed for the watching eyes, but her words carried unmistakable firmness.

She met his gaze steadily, her expression calm but resolute, and said softly,

He smiled with composed confidence and said softly,

“Perhaps not this evening, my lady… but soon, everything that concerns me will become your concern as well. And in time, my pleasure will find its place among your priorities.”

Sanskriti’s expression shifted at once.The brief surprise in her eyes hardened into quiet anger, carefully contained behind practiced composure.She did not meet his gaze again.

With measured grace, she eased her hand from his hold and offered a polite, distant nod. Without uttering a single word, she gently excused herself from the dance and stepped away, her calm withdrawal speaking far more clearly than any protest could have.

Atharva did not stop her.He let his hand fall back to his side, watching her retreat with unhurried attention.A faint smile touched his lips, one of quiet amusement rather than surprise.

Her silence pleased him.The fact that she chose to leave instead of speaking told him more than words ever could.

As she disappeared into the crowd, his gaze lingered, the music swelling around him, and his expression carried the calm certainty of a man who knew he had unsettled her perhaps more than she wished to admit.

From across the hall, Saudamini noticed the dance.Her gaze had found Sanskriti easily, as it always did, but the man beside her made her still.

She observed him closely, taking in his posture, his confidence, the way he held her daughter with a familiarity.

Saudamini recognized him,the second prince. The realization softened her expression, replacing concern with quiet approval.His bearing, his confidence, the ease with which he commanded attention all of it pleased her discerning eye.

She watched the exchange more carefully now, noting the restraint with which he carried himself even as Sanskriti stepped away.

A faint, satisfied smile touched her lips. Whatever unease she felt earlier was tempered by a single thought she could not dismiss this was a man of stature, and his interest in her daughter was not without merit.

Sanskriti returned to her mother’s side, her movements composed though her thoughts were anything but.Saudamini glanced at her briefly, then back toward the dance floor, her mind already arranging possibilities.

From the edge of the hall, Atharva watched quietly, his gaze following her every move.The music, the lights, and the celebrations carried on around them, but a silent tension lingered an unspoken game of glances and withheld words, each aware of the other’s presence without daring to cross the line again… for now.

After the party,

Sanskriti returned to her room and changed into her night attire.She sank onto her bed, the soft glow of the lamps casting gentle shadows across the room.Her thoughts, however, were far from calm.

Her mind replayed the evening the dance, his intensity, the sharp possessiveness in his gaze. She could still feel the firmness of his hand at her waist, the weight of his stare, and the quiet amusement that lingered even as she excused herself.

Despite her lingering anger and irritation, Sanskriti couldn’t entirely dismiss the pull she felt toward him.

Her heart beat faster at the memory of his intensity, and a flicker of unease settled in her chest.

Yet, even as she thought of Ved, a part of her mind kept replaying Atharva the way he had held her, the possessive tilt of his gaze, the quiet amusement in his expression.

She wondered, with reluctant curiosity, why a man she barely knew and whose reputation painted him in sharp, reckless strokes had managed to leave such an unshakable impression on her thoughts.

_______________________________

Atharva's P.O.V,

The night draped itself across the palace, yet sleep eludes me.

I cannot stop seeing her,Sanskriti.

That fleeting moment on the dance floor has planted itself in my mind and refuses to leave. Every detail haunts me: the way she held herself, the faint spark of indignation in her eyes, the polite, controlled smile she forced me to accept.

And that golden suit… how it caught the light, how it clung and flowed, as if the glow itself had been meant for her.She moved like a whisper of silk and fire, and I could not look away.

When my hand brushed hers, or pressed lightly against her back,I felt the subtle tension beneath her resistance only made the sensation sharper,more intoxicating.

I have learned from Bhairav that her mother is desperate to see her settled,dragging her to parties and gatherings to secure a suitable match.Let them try.Let them look for another suitor.

I will not allow it.

She will not be placed in the hands of some other man,no matter the expectations of society or tradition.

I will speak to her mother.I will demand what is mine to claim.

She may resist me, she may even despise me for my boldness but that will change in time.

Everything about her, from that sharp,wary gaze to the way her,from that sharp,wary gaze to the way she moves with restrained elegance, tells me she belongs no place but where I choose.

And yet… I cannot help but admire her.

Her beauty is not mere ornament; it is intelligence, fire, and mischief woven into the most exquisite form.

Every glance she threw at me tonight whether in defiance or annoyance amused me in ways I do not often allow.

That same tension, the quiver in her hand as I touched her,the subtle stiffening of her back it all reminds me that I am alive in her presence, that she feels me as keenly as I feel her.

Yes. Soon, very soon, I will see that even her mother recognizes it.

Soon, everything about me will be her concern, and my pleasure… my desire… will be hers to guard.

By morning, my decision was already sealed.

Men like me do not hesitate, and we certainly do not wait for fate to be kind. Fate is commanded. And Sanskriti… she would learn that soon enough.

Her mother’s concern lingered in my mind.A woman pressed by failing health does not seek alliances out of vanity ,she seeks assurance. Security.

A name strong enough to shelter her daughter long after she is gone.I understood that language well.It was the same language palaces were built upon.

I would approach her not as a reckless prince, as the world liked to whisper, but as a man who could offer certainty.

Respect.

Power wrapped in dignity.I would give her what she wanted before she even asked for it.

As I lay there in the quiet of the night, a faint smile touched my lips.

And Sanskriti?

She would be mine.

________________________________

The next morning, Atharva paid a formal visit to Sanskriti’s residence.

He arrived with quiet authority, his presence composed and deliberate, the kind that did not seek attention yet commanded it the moment he stepped inside.The attendants announced him, and within moments, Sanskriti’s mother received word of the Second Prince’s visit.

Saudamini was taken aback but not displeased.

he said evenly, “I hope I am not intruding upon your morning.”

She studied him carefully the confidence, the calm strength in his voice, the unmistakable air of royalty.

“You are welcome, Your Highness,” she replied. “Please, be seated.”

Atharva took his place, his posture unyielding yet courteous.He did not rush his words.Men of his standing never did.

“I come to speak plainly, as suits matters of consequence.”

Saudamini’s eyes met his, alert but composed.

“I am aware of your situation,” he continued, “and of your concern for your daughter’s future. I know your health has not been robust,you are seeking a suitable alliance for her.A man who can offer stability, respect, and an unwavering name.”

He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

“I love Sanskriti,”he said quietly, deliberately,

“and I intend to take full responsibility for her well-being and for yours, as well as for your husband’s.Whatever debts or obligations weigh upon your household,I will see them resolved.I am aware of them, Mrs Rana,and they will be paid.”

Saudamini regarded him carefully, noting the resolve in his gaze, the authority in his tone.He spoke not as a suitor seeking favor, but as a prince stating a certainty that none could question.

“This conversation,” he added, his eyes meeting hers with unyielding seriousness,

“remains between us.I ask for no approvals, only your understanding and your trust.”

For a moment,the room was silent.

Saudamini felt a quiet admiration stir within her.A prince, yet not merely a name or a title.

A man who recognized responsibility, who acted decisively, and who spoke with both love and authority.

She inclined her head slowly, a faint smile touching her lips.

“I see,” she said softly.

“Then I am satisfied.You are a prince, and you love my daughter.That is more than enough for me.”

Atharva allowed a faint, controlled smile to touch his lips.

“Very well,Mrs Rana.I shall leave you to speak with Sanskriti,”

he said,his voice smooth, deliberate.

“When she has considered my words,I shall wait for her answer.”

He rose, bowed with measured grace, and departed, leaving Saudamini thoughtful yet reassured, knowing that the matter was now firmly in capable hands.

Atharva’s expression remained calm,but a satisfied gleam lingered in his eyes.The matter was settled in principle, and he had claimed the first, most crucial victory: her

mother’s approval.

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