THE ANGER

The hall of Rajvansh Villa was heavy with silence. Outside, the storm still raged, the sound of relentless rain pressing against the tall windows. Inside, the storm had shifted—now it brewed between family members, unspoken but palpable.

Maharaj Veerandra Singh Rajvansh, the King, stood tall at the center, his face a mixture of fury and disappointment. His hand clenched the armrest of his chair, knuckles whitening, as his eyes flickered toward the staircase Reyaansh had disappeared up with the unconscious girl in red.

His wife, Maharani Mrinalini, sat frozen beside him, her expression stunned, lips parted yet unable to form words. She had seen many storms in her life, but none had prepared her for this sight—her heir, the future king, walking in drenched, carrying an unknown bride.

On the opposite side, Rajendra Singh Rajvansh, the King’s younger brother, moved forward quickly. “Bhai sa, shant ho jaiye,” he urged, raising a hand with quiet restraint. “He is Reyaansh… he must have a reason. Gusse se faisla lena sahi nahin hoga.”

The King’s eyes blazed, his voice sharp. “Reason? Do you call this a reason, Rajendra? The boy walks in, past the police, past the media, drenched like a fugitive… and with a stranger draped in red. Mangalsutra. Sindoor. And not a word to his family. Tell me, Rajendra—when did Rajvansh reduce to such theatrics?”

Rajendra lowered his gaze, respectful yet firm. “Bhai sa, Reyaansh hamesha se zimmedar raha hai. Aise bina soche kuch nahi karega.”

But the King cut him off, his voice cold. “He is my eldest son. The one meant to carry the weight of Rajvansh’s name. If he acts in shadows, hides his decisions from us—how different is that from betrayal?”

The words struck everyone like thunder. The Queen flinched slightly, but said nothing.

On the far side of the hall, Kavya stood still, her heart pounding. Her hands, cold and trembling, clenched the edge of her dupatta, but her voice when it came was clear, steady. “Bade papa… Reyaansh bhai sa would never dishonor Rajvansh name. If he brought that girl here tonight, it means she is already a part of this family, whether we accept it now or later.”

All eyes turned to her. For a moment, even the storm outside seemed to hush.

Kavya stepped forward, chin lifted, though her throat tightened. “I know you are angry, Bade papa. And you have every right to be. But if we cannot trust our own blood, then how do we expect the world to trust us?”

Her words echoed across the marble, sharp yet respectful. She wasn’t pleading; she was reminding.

The King’s jaw tightened, his silence heavier than any reply.

Across the hall, Devansh leaned against a pillar, his calm demeanor a mask for the calculations running behind his eyes. His gaze was fixed on the staircase, sharp, unblinking. He spoke at last, voice low. “We need answers. But not here. Not with tempers high.”

Beside him, Ekansh shifted restlessly. His fists were tight, his jaw clenched, his entire being unable to stand still. “Bhai sa can’t be left alone,” he muttered, already moving toward the staircase.

“Ekansh—” Devansh’s voice stopped him halfway. The elder twin’s eyes met his brother’s, unreadable. Then, after a beat, he straightened. “I will come with you. Bhai sa will speak, but only when he chooses to. And he will choose us first.”

Ekansh nodded once, relief flashing across his tense features. Together, the twins began walking toward the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing against the still hall.

Behind them, the King’s voice rose again, firm and commanding. “Bring him to me when he is ready. But until then—this stays within these walls. The world already waits at our gates. If even a whisper escapes tonight, samajh lo… it won’t just be Reyaansh’s reputation at stake, it will be the entire Rajvansh legacy.”

The warning sank into the marble, into their bones.

No one dared reply. The storm outside roared again, but within the Rajvansh Villa, the silence of fear, loyalty, and unanswered questions swallowed them whole.

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