The weight of silence settled over the grand hall.
Whispers turned to murmurs, and murmurs into gasps as Prince Shubman Gill stood firm, his hand wrapped around Yashasvi's wrist.
The princess stared at them, her expression unreadable-cold, calculating. Then, she let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"You think this will end well for you?" she asked, her voice laced with something almost amused. "For him?"
Shubman's grip on Yashasvi tightened. "I will not let anyone harm him."
Yashasvi, who had barely breathed since the moment their affair was discovered, finally found his voice. He gently tugged his hand away, looking up at Shubman with something close to fear. "Your Highness..."
"Shubman," the prince corrected, softer this time.
Yashasvi swallowed.
He wanted to believe him.
He wanted to believe that the man who had stolen his heart would protect him from the wrath of the court, from the scandal, from the punishment that awaited him.
But reality had never been so kind to men like him.
The princess tilted her head, watching them closely. "You misunderstand me," she said, stepping forward. "I do not care that my husband has found love elsewhere."
Yashasvi flinched at the word love, but Shubman remained steady.
"What do you care about, then?" Shubman asked.
The princess smirked, as if she had already won the game. "Power."
The court gasped at her audacity, but she did not flinch. She turned to Yashasvi, studying him like a queen observing a pawn on a chessboard.
"If you truly love him," she said, "you will walk away."
Yashasvi's breath hitched.
Shubman's expression darkened. "You do not command him."
The princess ignored him, her gaze locked onto Yashasvi's. "You know the truth, don't you? No matter what he says, no matter how fiercely he fights, you will always be the one to suffer. He may be the prince, but you-" she exhaled, a cruel smile forming, "you are nothing but a servant."
The words cut through Yashasvi like a blade. He felt the weight of a hundred eyes on him, waiting, judging.
Shubman took a step forward. "Enough."
The princess finally turned back to her husband. "This kingdom does not belong to you alone, Shubman. The throne is not a prize for lovers to claim. If you wish to keep him by your side, you must be willing to go to war against the very world you were born into."
A heavy silence followed.
Yashasvi clenched his fists. He had always known this would happen. He had always known that love, in a place like this, was never meant for someone like him.
And yet-
Shubman turned to him. "Yash."
He swallowed hard. "What are you doing?" he whispered, desperate. "If you defy them, if you-" He shook his head. "They will make you choose. And no matter what you say, no matter how much you fight, they will never let you choose me."
Shubman cupped his face, fingers firm yet gentle. "I already have."
Yashasvi's breath stuttered.
Shubman turned back to the princess, his voice unwavering. "I have never cared for the throne. If they wish to strip me of my crown, so be it. If they wish to exile me, I will leave. But I will not let anyone dictate who I love."
The princess's smirk faltered "You're serious."
"I always have been."
The court erupted into chaos. Advisors, noblemen, and guards alike whispered among themselves, trying to determine the weight of the prince's words.
Could he truly be willing to throw everything away-for a servant?
Yashasvi felt his head spinning. "Shubman," he breathed, shaking his head. "You can't-"
"I can." Shubman's thumb brushed against his cheek, eyes searching his face. "But only if you're willing to stay by my side."
Yashasvi had spent his whole life running. Running from power, from danger, from things he was never meant to have.
But Shubman-Shubman had never given up on him.
So, with a steady breath, Yashasvi made his choice.
He laced his fingers with Shubman's.
And the halls of the palace bore witness to the birth of a love that refused to be broken.
To Be Continued...?