Myra stood outside Ranvijay's study, her heart pounding as she hesitated. She could hear his voice—low, sharp, commanding.
"I don't care how long it takes. Find out who's backing her." His tone was ice, laced with barely controlled fury.
Myra's fingers curled into fists. She knew exactly who he was talking about—Niyati.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open.
Ranvijay's eyes snapped to her instantly, his jaw tightening. He ended the call without another word, setting his phone down with a deliberate slowness.
"You should be resting," he said, his voice calmer than she expected.
"I should," she agreed, stepping inside. "But instead, I'm here. Because I want to know what you're doing."
Ranvijay leaned back in his chair, watching her. "I'm handling things."
"By 'handling,' you mean planning to destroy people again?" she asked sharply, her eyes flashing.
His gaze darkened. "People who hurt you."
She exhaled sharply. "Ranvijay, I don't need you to fight my battles."
He rose from his chair in an instant, closing the distance between them. "Then who will?" he asked, his voice rough with frustration. "You? You'll just stand there and take it? Let them walk all over you?"
"I can fight for myself," she shot back. "I don't need you to play savior!"
His fingers grazed her wrist, firm but not forceful. "Maybe not," he murmured, his gaze locking onto hers. "But I can't stand by and do nothing, Myra. I won't."
Something twisted in her chest at his words, at the sheer intensity in his eyes. She hated how much his protectiveness affected her.
"You think I'll fall for this?" she whispered.
A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "You already are."
She stiffened, ready to deny it, but the air between them had thickened, charged with something undeniable.
Before she could pull away, Ranvijay reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, his touch unbearably warm.
"You drive me insane, Myra," he admitted, his voice husky. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to step back, breaking the moment.
"I won't be a pawn in whatever game you're playing," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Ranvijay tilted his head, watching her closely. "And what if I told you… you're not a pawn?" His lips curled into something softer, almost dangerous. "You're the queen, Myra. The only one that matters."
Her heart stuttered.
She turned on her heel and walked out before she lost herself in him completely.
But she knew—deep down—she was already slipping.
------------------
Myra sat in the garden, running her fingers over the chain with her mother's picture. The sun was warm against her skin, the slight breeze carrying the scent of fresh roses. But her mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of everything that had happened.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard a voice behind her.
"Myra."
She turned to see Anika standing there, dressed in a chic outfit, her sunglasses perched atop her head.
"You're free, right?" Anika asked, though it wasn't really a question.
Myra hesitated. "I… I suppose so."
Anika smirked. "Good. You're coming with me."
"Where?"
"Shopping," Anika said simply, crossing her arms. "I need someone with good taste, and you seem to have that."
Myra blinked, taken aback. Shopping? Anika wanted her company?
Noticing her hesitation, Anika sighed dramatically. "Look, don't make me beg. I hate shopping alone. I need a second opinion, and if I take Shiv, I'll end up murdering him halfway."
At that, Myra almost smiled.
"Fine," she agreed, standing up. "But don't expect me to know much. I never—" She cut herself off before she could say I never got the chance to go shopping like this.
Anika gave her a curious look but didn't press. "No problem. You'll get the hang of it."
As they walked toward the car, Anika glanced at her and smirked. "Also, if we happen to accidentally leave a dozen shopping bags in Ranvijay's room just to annoy him… Well, that's a bonus."
Myra laughed, shaking her head. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
The luxury boutique was a world of its own—bright lights, elegant displays, and shelves lined with designer outfits. Myra felt slightly out of place as she followed Anika inside, watching as she confidently walked toward the clothing racks.
"Alright, let's get to work," Anika announced, tossing her sunglasses into her bag. "I need something breathtaking. Something that screams 'I am the queen, bow down before me.'"
Myra chuckled softly. "That's… quite a requirement."
Anika grinned. "You'll get used to me." She pulled out a deep emerald gown and held it up against herself. "What do you think?"
Myra hesitated. "It's beautiful, but… maybe something softer? Like a pastel shade?"
Anika raised a brow. "Huh. Not bad." She put the gown back and picked up a blush pink dress instead. "This?"
Myra nodded. "It suits your complexion better."
Anika stared at her for a moment before a sly smile formed on her lips. "You know, Myra, you surprise me."
"How so?"
"You're quiet, reserved… I thought you'd be more hesitant, but you speak your mind when it counts."
Myra lowered her gaze. "I just… never had chances like this before."
Anika's expression softened, but before she could say anything, a familiar voice interrupted them.
"Well, well. Look who we have here."
Both women turned to see Niyati, standing near the entrance, arms crossed. Her lips curled into a smirk as she sauntered closer.
"What are you doing here, Myra?" Niyati's voice was laced with condescension. "I didn't know this was your scene."
Myra's fingers clenched at her sides. She had no patience for Niyati today.
"I don't see how that concerns you," Myra replied evenly.
Anika, standing beside her, narrowed her eyes. "And who are you exactly?"
Niyati flicked her gaze to Anika, sizing her up. "I'm family," she said smugly. "Unlike some people who like to steal from their own blood."
Anika scoffed. "Oh, one of those." She crossed her arms. "Listen, lady, I don't know what issues you have, but don't you dare stand here and act like Myra owes you anything."
Niyati sneered. "You don't know anything."
"And I don't care to," Anika shot back. "But if you think you can waltz in here and ruin our day, you're mistaken."
Niyati's jaw tightened, clearly not expecting Anika to be so bold. She turned to Myra one last time. "You'll regret everything, just like your mother did."
Myra's breath hitched, but before she could react, Anika stepped forward, her voice icy. "Leave. Now."
For a moment, Niyati looked like she wanted to argue, but then she scoffed and walked away.
Anika turned back to Myra. "You okay?"
Myra took a deep breath. "Yeah."
Anika rolled her eyes. "Ugh. I can't believe people like her exist. But hey, at least we can make her jealous by looking fabulous."
Myra let out a small laugh. "You're impossible."
Anika grinned. "You're learning."
As they continued shopping, Myra realized something—Anika wasn't just Ranvijay's sister. Maybe, just maybe, she could become something more. A friend. A sister.
And for the first time in a long time, that thought didn't scare her.
Anika tossed the last pastel gown back on the rack and turned to Myra with a dramatic sigh. "Okay, enough of this royal and elegant nonsense." She grabbed Myra's wrist with excitement. "We're getting you something sexy."
Myra blinked in confusion. "What?"
"You heard me," Anika smirked. "We've spent too much time picking out sarees and flowy dresses. Let's find something bold."
"But—"
"No buts." Anika pulled her toward a different section of the store, where racks were filled with sleek, stylish Western outfits—bodycon dresses, high-slit skirts, crop tops, and heels that screamed confidence.
Myra hesitated as Anika started picking out dresses, placing them against her. "This one? Hmm, no. Maybe this?" She suddenly turned, giving Myra a knowing look. "Why do you always wear traditional clothes?"
Myra fidgeted slightly. "I… I just always have. It's what I'm comfortable with."
Anika raised a brow. "Or is it because of your stepmother?"
Myra's lips pressed into a thin line, but she remained silent.
Anika sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "Listen, Myra. No one in the palace cares if you wear a lehenga or a mini dress. If you want to keep wearing traditional, fine. But if it's because you think you have to—then that's a problem."
Myra looked down, unsure how to respond. The truth was, she never even considered wearing anything else. Her stepmother had always controlled what she wore, dictating that a 'respectable' girl should dress traditionally. Even after marriage, she stuck to it, not knowing anything different.
Anika suddenly shoved a sleek black dress into her hands. "Try this."
Anika tossed the black sleek dress into the shopping bag and grabbed Myra's hand. "Come on, we need to leave. Rajeshwari Ma just called—there's something important at the palace."
Myra barely had time to process as Anika dragged her out of the store, the shopping bags swinging in her other hand. The ride back to the palace was rushed, and the moment they stepped inside, Anika turned to her with a mischievous smile.
"You, my dear sister-in-law, are going to try that dress right now."
Myra's eyes widened. "What? But—"
"No excuses." Anika shoved the bag into her hands and nudged her toward her room. "Go, change."
Sighing, Myra gave in. There was no use arguing when Anika had that look in her eyes. She entered her room and slowly took out the dress, running her fingers over the smooth fabric. It was unlike anything she'd ever worn before. After a moment of hesitation, she slipped into it.
The dress hugged her figure perfectly, sleek and elegant, yet bold in a way that made her feel… different. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, her heart racing.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the changing room, expecting to see Anika sitting on the couch with a smug expression.
But the room was empty.
"Anika?" she called out, confused.
Silence.
And then—footsteps.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned toward the door.
Ranvijay.