queen hemanshi

Malani’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as she reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. That silence—the kind that carries unsaid pain—stretched between her and Hemanshi like a thread pulled too tight, ready to snap. The garden, once warm with soft lantern light and the quiet rustle of leaves, felt frozen in time. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Virender watched her with narrowed eyes—not out of suspicion, but concern. His brows furrowed like he was silently asking a thousand questions but knew this wasn’t the moment to voice any of them.

Then, he turned to me, trying to break the tension with a teasing smile.

“Now what have you done, hmm? Tell me, little storm.”

I grinned, raising a brow like I was the queen of all mischief.

“As if you don’t know. You all were there, standing like statues when I lit fire to that hall with my words. Why question me now?” My voice held both defiance and pride.

I looked at Tajveer, the calm anchor of the moment.

“So, she’s your wife?” I tilted my head slightly toward Malani. “Then why didn’t you stop that arrogant noble from insulting her? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Tajveer’s expression softened, but his eyes had a hint of steel.

“We were there, Tara. But we needed to know what you would do. We wanted to see… who you were becoming.”

That answer settled like a weight in the chest, heavy but full of quiet truth.

I sighed, shifting the air. “Fine. Ok, ok—I’m hungry.”

At that, Malani immediately moved, her instinct kicking in like it always did. She stepped forward, picking up the prepared plate and kneeling slightly beside me.

Her voice was low but laced with kindness as she looked at Hemanshi.

“Hemanshi didi… could you please sit? Tara is hungry.”

Her tone was soft, but something in it shook gently, like a thread pulling at the edge of a memory. The use of didi wasn’t casual—it was warm, familial… respectful.

Hemanshi’s face lit with a smile that wasn’t just about food or formality. It was the smile of a mother seeing her daughter be loved by another woman who loved her too—truly, completely.

The nearby lamps flickered as if moved by the emotion in the air. The scent of sandalwood and fresh cardamom wafted around us from the dishes nearby, grounding everyone in that garden not just in the moment—but in something more sacred.

And for a heartbeat, the past hurts, the wounds, the unspoken grief… it all sat quietly beside us, not forgotten—but allowed to rest, just for a while.

As Tara finished telling everything—her voice trembling, eyes cast low—Tajveer's hands clenched into fists at his sides. The veins on his arms pulsed like rivers about to burst their banks. His usually steady breath came sharp and ragged, chest rising with each furious inhale.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***