15. The position as king and queen

As Shivaay reached for the door, his hand gripped the handle with a sense of urgency, wanting to step out and move past the discomfort of the morning. But just as he opened it, a rush of nervousness hit him. He hadn’t expected Niharika, who had quietly entered the room to wake him up, to be so close.

The door swung open quickly, and Niharika, who had been walking towards him with her eyes on the floor, didn’t see it coming. She lost her balance, stumbling forward as the door collided with her. Time seemed to slow as she teetered on the edge of falling.

Shivaay’s reflexes kicked in instinctively. Without thinking, he reached out and caught her just in time, his arms steadying her body against his chest.

For a moment, they both stood frozen, the proximity between them so sudden and unexpected. Niharika's breath caught in her throat, and she found herself looking up at him, her heart racing. The warmth of his body was undeniable, and the closeness was almost suffocating in its intensity.

Shivaay, still holding her, felt the heat of her skin through his fingers. His own breath was shallow, his heart pounding erratically. He could feel her delicate frame against him, and something inside him stirred, something he hadn’t planned on feeling.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice strained, though his grip remained firm. He was trying to maintain control, trying to push away the feelings that were creeping up on him.

Niharika, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, quickly pulled away from him, her eyes avoiding his. "I—I’m fine," she stammered, steadying herself as she straightened up.

Shivaay stepped back, silently cursing himself for the lapse in control. His eyes flickered briefly to her, the silent tension between them thickening. He had caught her, but for a moment, it felt as if something else had shifted—a momentary connection, something deeper than either of them were prepared to acknowledge.

Niharika, feeling the weight of the moment, cleared her throat and took a step back. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Shivaay, still processing the unexpected shift, said nothing. He just stood.

As Shivaay descended the stairs, his usual composed demeanor betrayed nothing, but his mind was far from calm. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying the brief moment when his hand had touched her waist.

Her skin had been soft, her waist so slender and delicate under his grip. It was an innocent gesture, a necessary one to keep her from falling, yet it had unsettled him in ways he couldn't understand.

His steps faltered slightly as he reached the last few stairs, his jaw tightening in frustration. Why am I thinking about this? he asked himself, annoyed at the distraction. He was a man of control, a man who prided himself on his discipline and coldness. Yet, a simple touch had stirred feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Shivaay clenched his fists, forcing his focus back to the day ahead. This is ridiculous. She’s just my wife in name. Nothing more.

But the warmth of her skin, the way her cheeks had flushed when she had looked at him—it refused to leave his thoughts. There was something about her, something about her innocence, her beauty, that chipped away at his carefully constructed walls, and he hated it.

He finally reached the bottom of the stairs, where his family waited for him, unaware of the inner turmoil brewing within him. He took a deep breath, schooling his features into their usual cold mask. Whatever he was feeling, he decided, would remain buried. It was a distraction he couldn’t afford, and he would make sure it stayed that way.

As Shivaay stepped off the last stair, his younger sister, Riya, came rushing toward him with a wide grin. Before he could react, she flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Bhai! You’re finally ready! You look amazing,” she said with excitement, her voice filled with pride. “Today is your day!”

Shivaay stiffened slightly at the sudden contact but quickly softened when he realized it was Riya. She was the only person who could break through his icy exterior without effort.

He patted her head gently, his cold demeanor melting just a little. “Riya, stop behaving like a child,” he said in his usual stern tone, but there was a faint softness in his eyes that only she could bring out.

“I’m just excited! You’re going to be officially crowned today, and I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when they look at you,” she said, pulling back to beam at him. “You’re the perfect king, Bhai.”

Shivaay smirked faintly at her enthusiasm, but her words struck a chord. He was about to step into a position of ultimate power and responsibility. Yet, a certain someone upstairs was distracting him far more than he cared to admit.

“Where’s Niharika bhabhi?” Riya asked suddenly, glancing toward the stairs. “Is she coming down soon? She should be by your side for this.”

At the mention of Niharika, Shivaay’s smirk faded, replaced by a faint tension in his jaw. He straightened his posture, his cold mask firmly back in place. “She’ll come,” he said curtly, brushing past Riya toward the living room.

Riya noticed the subtle change in his demeanor and frowned slightly. “You’re not being mean to her, are you?” she called after him.

Shivaay stopped but didn’t turn around. “Focus on the ceremony, Riya,” he said, his tone final, before continuing on his way.

Riya sighed, shaking her head. Bhai will never admit it, but I can see something is already changing in him. Let’s see how long he can keep up this cold act, she thought with a knowing smile before heading to check on Niharika upstairs.

Riya reached upstairs and walked into Shivaay and Niharika’s room without hesitation. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Niharika, already dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, deep in thought.

Niharika wore a soft peach lehenga with intricate embroidery, her dupatta draped gracefully over her shoulder. Her jewelry gleamed in the morning light, and her long hair fell in neat waves down her back. She looked like the picture of elegance, but her expression carried a hint of nervousness.

Riya’s face lit up, and she called out warmly, “Bhabhi! You look absolutely stunning!”

Niharika snapped out of her thoughts and looked up, smiling at Riya. “Oh, Riya, you’re here.”

“Yes! And you look amazing!” Riya said, rushing over to her. “Seriously, bhabhi, no one will be able to take their eyes off you today.”

Niharika blushed faintly at the compliment. “Thank you, Riya,” she said softly.

Riya plopped down beside her, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “But why do you look so lost? It’s such an important day for the family, and you’re the star of the show alongside Shivaay bhaiyya!”

Niharika shook her head slightly, trying to brush off her lingering thoughts. “I’m just nervous. Everything is so new, and I want to make sure I don’t do anything wrong.”

Riya reached out and grabbed Niharika’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, bhabhi. You’re perfect just the way you are. Everyone is going to love you!”

The sincerity in Riya’s voice brought a small smile to Niharika’s lips. “You’re very sweet, Riya.”

“And I mean every word!” Riya declared. Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “But we should hurry. Bhaiyya is already downstairs, and Bauji is waiting for both of you. Let’s make an impression!”

Niharika nodded, standing up and smoothing out her lehenga. “Let’s go, then.”

With Riya’s playful chatter keeping her spirits high, Niharika followed her out of the room, ready to face whatever the day had in store.

The cars pulled up outside the grand royal temple, an architectural marvel that stood as a testament to the Ranawat family's legacy. The intricate carvings, towering spires, and golden domes shimmered under the morning sun. A huge crowd had gathered, eagerly awaiting the start of the ceremony. People craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the Ranawats, particularly Shivaay, who was to be officially crowned as the head of the family.

Niharika stepped out of the car first, her nerves returning as she saw the sheer number of people present. She felt the weight of their curious and admiring gazes as they tried to glimpse the new bahu of the illustrious Ranawat family.

Riya stepped beside her, linking her arm through Niharika’s. “Don’t worry, bhabhi. Just smile. You’ve got this,” she whispered reassuringly.

Shivaay exited the car next, exuding his usual aura of authority and cold confidence. His regal sherwani, adorned with gold embroidery, made him look every bit the powerful leader he was destined to become. His sharp features were unreadable, but his presence alone commanded attention, and the crowd erupted in cheers and admiration.

Niharika couldn’t help but glance at him, wondering how he always managed to seem so composed, so unshakable. For a brief moment, his eyes flicked to her, and there was something unreadable in his gaze before he turned away, walking toward the temple steps.

The family followed suit, with Riya keeping close to Niharika. As they ascended the stairs, flower petals rained down on them from above, and the sound of traditional instruments filled the air, adding to the grand atmosphere.

Inside the temple, the priests were already preparing for the rituals, the scent of incense filling the sacred space. The grand idol of the deity stood at the center, adorned with garlands and shimmering fabrics. The setting was as majestic as it was overwhelming.

As Niharika approached the ceremonial area, she felt the enormity of the moment settle over her. This was no ordinary event—it was a pivotal moment in the history of the Ranawat dynasty, and she was standing right in the middle of it.

Shivaay stood before the deity, his expression stoic as the head priest began the sacred chants. The family gathered behind him, and Niharika took her place beside him, feeling his proximity like a quiet storm.

For a fleeting moment, she felt a pair of eyes on her and turned slightly to find Shivaay watching her out of the corner of his eye. Their gazes met briefly before he looked away, his face betraying no emotion.

The ceremony began in earnest, the chants growing louder and the atmosphere charged with energy. Niharika clasped her hands together in prayer, silently asking for the strength to navigate the path that lay ahead.

The atmosphere inside the temple grew electric as the head priest raised his hands, signaling the most anticipated moment of the ceremony. The rhythmic chants of the priests ceased, replaced by a solemn silence that hung heavy in the air. All eyes turned to the center of the grand hall, where Shivaay stood tall and commanding, ready to be declared the king of the Ranawat dynasty.

The priest turned to Shivaay, his voice reverberating through the temple. “Today, we honor the legacy of the Ranawat family and proclaim Shivaay Singh Ranawat as the rightful king, the guardian of tradition, and the protector of our people.”

As the priest picked up the ceremonial crown, a collective gasp ran through the crowd. The golden crown gleamed under the temple's lights, adorned with intricate designs and encrusted with emeralds and rubies—a symbol of unmatched power and responsibility.

Shivaay stepped forward, his face calm yet stern, reflecting the weight of the moment. He knelt on one knee before the priest, who placed the crown upon his head with utmost reverence. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices echoing in celebration of their new king.

Shivaay rose to his full height, now officially crowned, and turned to face the crowd. His eyes scanned the room, his jaw set with determination. He looked every bit the ruler he had been groomed to become. But as his gaze shifted momentarily, it landed on Niharika.

The priest then turned to Niharika, gesturing for her to step forward. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before Riya gave her an encouraging nudge. With steady steps, Niharika moved beside Shivaay, her heart pounding as she felt the weight of countless eyes on her. Her lehenga shimmered in the temple’s light, her posture regal yet humble.

“And beside every great king stands a queen,” the priest announced, his voice filled with authority. “Today, Niharika Singh Ranawat is declared the queen of this dynasty. She shall share in the responsibilities and blessings of this family, a beacon of grace and strength for all.”

The priest held out a second crown, smaller but equally exquisite, symbolizing the honor and duty of the queen. As he placed it gently on her head, a wave of emotions washed over Niharika. She felt the magnitude of the moment—the role she had inherited, the expectations she now carried.

Shivaay extended his hand towards her, a gesture both symbolic and grounding. Niharika hesitated for a brief moment before placing her hand in his. The warmth of his touch surprised her, and for a fleeting second, she felt a connection—one that was unspoken yet undeniable.

The temple echoed with the sounds of celebration as the crowd cheered, flower petals showering down upon the newly crowned king and queen. Niharika glanced at Shivaay, his face unreadable as he held her hand firmly. Though their journey had begun on uncertain grounds, the sight of the two of them standing together felt powerful, almost fated.

As they turned to face the crowd, Niharika couldn’t help but wonder what this new chapter would bring—for the Ranawat family, for their dynasty, and for her own heart.