Paridhi was sitting in front of the mirror, her red wedding dress was shining in the light.....

Her face was adorned with jewelry, but her eyes looked empty and sad.

She stared at her reflection, struggling to recognize herself.

This blank expression was familiar, but the growing sadness inside made it hard for her to breathe sometimes.

It felt like something heavy was pressing on her chest, suffocating her.

She was thinking about her family. They were in the next room, laughing and talking as if this were the happiest day of their lives.

They didn't seem to care about her feelings. They were marrying her to the king for their own benefit.

Her father always prioritized status and money, and marrying her off to the king was a guaranteed way to improve their standing.

Her mother seemed more interested in the social advantages of this marriage than in Paridhi's happiness.

Paridhi felt incredibly alone. She had always felt somewhat distant from her family, but today it was worse than ever.

Her parents never really understood her. They saw her only as a means to achieve their goals.

Her brother was no different. He was too wrapped up in his own life to notice or care about her sadness.

Suddenly, memories of her childhood came back. Those days felt like a distant past.

Her life had changed so much since then. She grew up in a house where love was scarce and expectations were high.

Her parents always pushed her to be the perfect daughter, and now, the perfect bride.

They had prepared her for this day, the day she would marry a man they chose, a man who could bring them wealth and status.

But why did the king want to marry her?

That question had been on her mind since she first heard about the engagement.

She was just an ordinary girl. She didn't possess any special talents or exceptional beauty. She was plain in every way.

So why had the king chosen her?

Of course, she had heard rumors.

Some said the king had seen her once and liked her simplicity and grace.

Others claimed it was a political move, a way to strengthen alliances.

But Paridhi had no answers, only more questions.

She felt scared.

What kind of life awaited her in the palace?

She had heard stories about the king, about his power and his anger.

She didn't know if she was strong enough to handle it. She wasn't sure if she could survive in a world so different from her own.

The palace was full of secrets and danger, where she would be surrounded by people who might not care about her wellbeing.

Paridhi sighed, her breath unsteady. She felt like a pawn in a game she didn't understand.

Her life was controlled by things beyond her influence, and she felt powerless to change it.

She had thought about running away, escaping this fate, but she knew that wasn't possible.

There was nowhere to go, no place to hide.

She was trapped!!!.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly wiped them away.

She couldn't cry now.

She had to be strong, to face whatever was coming with courage. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

She needed to believe that somehow, things would improve. She had to hold onto hope, even if it was just a small glimmer in the dark.

Paridhi imagined her future. She saw herself in the palace, living a life of luxury and ease.

But it was hard to see herself in that world. She had always been a simple girl, content with simple things.

The palace would feel like a prison to her, with its high walls and strict rules.

She was wondering if she would ever find happiness. Joy seemed distant, as if it belonged to another reality.

She missed the days when she could laugh freely, when her heart felt light and unburdened.

Now her heart felt heavy, weighed down by fear and uncertainty.

As she sat there, caught up in her thoughts, the door opened, and her mother entered. Her mother looked at her with impatience.

"Paridhi, it's time," she said firmly.

"Everyone is waiting."

Paridhi nodded, her throat tight. She stood up, feeling the heaviness of the wedding dress pulling her down.

She glanced at herself in the mirror one last time, searching for any trace of the girl she once was.

But all she saw was a stranger, a bride dressed for a marriage she didn't want.

Her mother grasped her hand and led her out of the room.

Meanwhile, the king of Rajasthan, Abhimaan Singh Rathore, was sitting in the wedding area, performing rituals with his usual expressionless face.

His name alone was enough to instill fear in others.

People whispered his name with a mix of awe and trepidation, aware of his power.

Abhimaan wasn't just a king, he was someone to be feared.

Because he was sitting with such an authority, the air around him felt heavier.

The priests, accustomed to carrying out ceremonies with ease, clearly showed their nerves.

Their hands trembled slightly as they said the prayers, careful not to make mistakes.

They understood that a single misstep could provoke the king's wrath, and no one wanted that.

Abhimaan's eyes were sharp and piercing, showing his cold nature.

No one dared to meet his gaze. His presence was intimidating, constantly reminding everyone of his strength.

Even his family, who loved him dearly, felt uneasy around him. They respected and admired him, but they carried a hint of fear.

The court officials were equally cautious.

They moved carefully, ensuring every detail was perfect.

The flowers were arranged neatly, the fire blazed steadily, and the offerings were placed with precision.

They had witnessed the king's anger before and were determined not to provoke him today.

Abhimaan's family sat nearby, observing the ceremony with a mix of pride and anxiety.

His mother, Maithili Rathore, loved her son deeply, but she couldn't ignore the fear he inspired in others.

She knew he loved her as well, but a distance always kept them apart.

She remembered when Abhimaan was a little boy, full of energy and mischief.

Those days were long gone, replaced by the image of a stern and commanding ruler.

His father, Abhimanyu Singh Rathore, had also been a strong king, but even he recognized that his son was a force of nature with a stronger will.

After Abhimaan was born, he told Maithili that Abhimaan would be a king like no other, a ruler who would earn both respect and fear.

And he had been right.

Abhimaan's younger sister and cousins sat quietly, glancing at him occasionally.

They loved their brother, but they also understood the importance of not irritating him.

His brothers, Abhay Rathore and Shivansh Rathore, admired Abhimaan's strength and aspired to be like him someday, even though the weight of such responsibility made them feel both proud and fearful.

His sister, Yashvi Rathore, cared for him but often wished he could be a bit softer and easier to talk to.

The guests at the wedding were the elite of Rajasthan, nobles who had come to witness their king marry Paridhi.

They maintained their distance, speaking in hushed tones. Their eyes reflected both respect and fear.

They understood that being in the king's favor could yield great rewards, but a single mistake could lead to disaster.

As the ceremony proceeded, Abhimaan's expression remained unchanged.

He was aware of how he affected others, but he had learned to live with it.

Power came with a cost, and he had accepted that long ago.

He understood that fear was necessary to maintain control and order.

But that didn't mean he lacked feelings. He loved his family deeply, even if others couldn’t see that.

He was thinking about his bride, Paridhi.

His Pari.

He had chosen her for reasons only he knows.

He knows she was scared, but he hoped she would come to understand him in time.

He isn't an easy man to love, but he believes Paridhi is strong enough to see past his cold face.

"Nervous, bhai sa?" Abhay whispered, breaking his concentration with a grin.

Abhimaan shot him a hard glare that made him gulp.

"I know! Why would you be nervous? Right! You make people nervous instead."

He muttered the last line to himself while grinning at Abhimaan.

Before Abhimaan could respond, a hush fell over the crowd.

He looked up to see his siblings eagerly following Paridhi's sister-in-law and mother, who were escorting the bride to the mandap.

The soft jingling of ankle bells grew louder, and suddenly, there she was.

Paridhi entered the area, a vision in red and gold. Her lehenga sparkled under the lights, and her veil was intricately embroidered.

Abhimaan's breath caught as their eyes met for a fleeting moment before she quickly looked away.

As she approached him, Abhimaan couldn't take his eyes off her.

She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, each step purposeful and poised.

When she finally stood beside him, he found himself stealing glances at her exquisite face.

"Bhai sa," Abhay's voice interrupted Abhimaan's reverie.

"You might want to pay attention to the priest. He's asking for your hand. Please shift your focus away from Bhabhi sa."

He shot his brother a warning glare and then turned back to the priest, not before sneaking one last look at Paridhi.

"Now the bride and groom must join hands," the priest announced.

Abhimaan reached out, his hand enveloping Paridhi's smaller one.

Her skin was soft, but he sensed a slight quiver. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, trying to provide some comfort.

Paridhi looked up at him then, her dark eyes meeting his.

For a moment, Abhimaan thought he saw a glimmer of something, fear? Hope?

"Paridhi," he whispered so only she could hear.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, Rana sa," she murmured,

Abhimaan's heart raced at her calling him 'Rana sa'.

It was tradition, but hearing it from her felt more genuine somehow.

The priest continued with the rituals, guiding them through each step.

As they circled the sacred fire, Abhimaan became acutely aware of Paridhi's presence beside him.

The warmth of her hand in his, the soft rustle of her lehenga, and her sweet jasmine scent all overwhelmed his senses.

"Now the groom will apply sindoor to the bride's hair," the priest announced.

Abhimaan's hand trembled slightly as he picked up the small container of vermilion powder.

He turned to face Paridhi, who tilted her head, allowing him better access to her hairline.

Their eyes met once more, and this time, Abhimaan noticed something unmistakable in her gaze, a deep sadness that tugged at his heart.

He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to promise her that everything would be okay. But the words got stuck in his throat.

Instead, he carefully applied the sindoor, his touch gentle. A small amount fell onto her nose, and, to his surprise, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

The priest said out.

"It's a good omen. Your married life will be filled with love and happiness."

Abhimaan saw Paridhi's lips curve into a small, bitter smile.

He yearned to ask her what was troubling her, to understand the pain he saw in her eyes.

But this isn't the right time or place....

________________________

Hello🎀💗

This is the first chapter of the book...starting ke chapters bohot boring honge so have patience please🌷

See you soon!😚

Take care🎀💗