Chapter 29: 29. Apologise

As we arrived at the palace, a wave of unease washed over me. Abhimaan’s grip on my hand tightened as we were walking back , his silent reassurance grounding me amidst my growing anxiety.

When we stepped out of the car, the servants informed us that my father and brother -Shekhar, were waiting in the living room. Abhimaan’s expression instantly darkened, a cold fury brewing in his eyes.

“Stay close to me,” he whispered, his voice calm but firm.

his touch gentle but protective, never straying far from my side. I appreciated his quiet strength, feeling grateful that he was here with me .

We walked towards the palace, Abhimaan’s strides long and purposeful. I had to quicken my pace to keep up, my heart pounding in my chest with anticipation and dread.

As we entered the living room, my father and Shekhar were seated on the couch, their faces stern and disapproving. Abhimaan’s grip on my hand tightened further, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let them harm me.

“Mayura, you need to explain yourself,” my father said coldly, his voice devoid of any warmth.

Abhimaan’s anger was almost tangible, his eyes blazing as he growled, “She doesn’t need to explain anything to you.”

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for Abhimaan, standing up for me so fiercely.

“But Mayura, you need to come back with us,” my father insisted, his tone firm but laced with desperation. “This marriage is a sham, a business arrangement that’s no longer necessary.”

Abhimaan remained silent, his intense gaze fixed on me, silently asking what I wanted. His hand, still holding mine, tightened just a bit more, urging me to stay with him.

“Mayura, come on,” Shekhar added with a sneer. “You don’t belong here. You’re one of us, not some royal pawn.”

Abhimaan finally spoke, his voice low and commanding. “Jaana, come with me.”

He led me to the throne sofa, guiding me to sit down. I felt a mix of anxiety and curiosity as he knelt before me, his eyes locked onto mine.

“Do you want to go back to them?” he asked gently, yet firmly.

I shook my head quickly, anxiety momentarily forgotten. “No, I won’t leave you. You’re my husband, my home.”

Abhimaan’s expression softened, and he took my hand in his. “You’re my wife . And I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

Standing up, he turned to face my father and Shekhar, his tall frame radiating authority. His voice rang out, powerful and unyielding, “Enough! Mayura is mine now. Mere pyaar ko kisi ki ijaazat ki zaroorat nahi hai.”

Abhimaan pulled out his phone and made a quick call. “Do it,” he instructed firmly before cutting the call. Turning back to my father and Shekhar, his eyes glinted with determination.

“Yes, I married her for the deal, but now she’s my wife. Tumne kaha, iss shaadi ka wajood nahin hai, toh main dobara se shaadi karunga, saari duniya ke saamne.”

His gaze returned to me, fierce love and possessiveness shining in his eyes. “Let the world know that Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat belongs to her, just as she belongs to me.”

My father and Shekhar looked taken aback, their earlier confidence faltering. They exchanged uneasy glances, realizing they were no match for Abhimaan’s resolve.

Shekhar, ever defiant, took a step towards me, his expression hard. “Mayura, enough of this nonsense. You’re coming with us, whether you like it or not.”

Before he could take another step, the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked filled the room. I looked around in shock as a small army of guards, armed and ready, surrounded us. Every single one of them had their weapons trained on my father and Shekhar, their fingers on the trigger, awaiting Abhimaan’s command.

“Touch her, and you’ll regret it,” Abhimaan’s voice was deadly calm, yet laced with menace. “My wife is not going anywhere with you.”

My father, visibly shaken, tried to muster some authority. “You’re making a mistake, Abhimaan. This isn’t over.”

But Abhimaan remained unfazed. “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to. This is over, and you’re leaving. Now.”

Shekhar, realizing the futility of their situation, placed a hand on our father’s shoulder. “Enough, father. Let it go.”

Abhimaan nodded towards the door, his stance unwavering. “Leave, and don’t come back unless you want to face the consequences.”

With no other choice, they left the palace, their defeat evident in their stiff postures. I watched them go, a mix of relief and sadness swirling within me.

Abhimaan turned to me, his expression softening. “Jaana, turn on the TV, please.”

I picked up the remote, switching on the television, curious about what Abhimaan had planned. The news channel flickered to life, and the anchor’s voice filled the room.

“Breaking news: King Abhimaan Deep Shekhawat of Rajasthan has announced his plans to marry publicly , officially, in front of the whole world. And the bride is none other than Miss Mayura Maity, daughter of Maity Corps’ owner.”

My breath caught in my throat as the anchor continued.

“According to sources close to the royal family, King Abhimaan has declared that this marriage is based solely on love. He is not interested in the Maity Corps or any political gain. His only wish is to make Miss Mayura his queen.”

The camera switched to a live shot of Abhimaan standing outside the palace, addressing the media with calm authority.

“I want to make it clear that my marriage to Mayura is genuine. I have no interest in her father’s company or any political benefit. I simply want to spend my life with the woman I adore.”

A surge of happiness and pride welled up inside me.

As my father and Shekhar departed, I felt a wave of conflicting emotions. Relief that Abhimaan was standing up for me, yet lingering anger over how my father had tried to manipulate me initially.

Abhimaan approached me cautiously, sensing my inner turmoil. “Mayura, I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m truly sorry. Please, forgive me.”

His expression was one of genuine remorse, his eyes filled with regret. But before I could say more, I found myself apologizing as well, my voice trembling. “I’m sorry too, Abhimaan. You deserve better than me. The deal is no longer valid, and if you want to end this, I’ll—”

I couldn’t finish my sentence. In an instant, Abhimaan’s lips crashed onto mine, cutting off my words. His kiss was rough, almost punishing, as if to erase the very thought of ending our marriage. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as he poured his emotions into the kiss—anger, frustration, and something deeper, more possessive.

His teeth grazed my lower lip, biting down just hard enough to draw a gasp from me, sending a shockwave of sensation through my body. He took advantage of my parted lips, deepening the kiss, his tongue exploring with a fierce intensity that left me breathless.

My hands found their way to his shoulders, trying to steady myself, but he wasn’t done. His lips moved to my neck, trailing down with a mix of rough kisses and gentle bites, each one leaving a mark on my skin as if he was branding me as his own. When he bit down on the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, a soft moan escaped me, my body reacting instinctively to his touch.

Abhimaan’s kiss was overwhelming, both gentle and rough, as if he was giving me a punishment for uttering those words, for even suggesting that he could do better. But beneath the intensity, I could feel his need—his need to claim me, to make sure I knew that I was his and his alone.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and his eyes were dark with desire and determination. “Don’t you ever say that again, Jaana,” he growled, his voice low and husky. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

His words, combined with the lingering sensation of his lips on mine, left me shaken and speechless. I could feel the possessiveness in his gaze, the fierce determination to keep me by his side no matter what. And despite everything , I couldn’t deny the pull I felt towards him, the deep connection that had formed between us.