AUTHOR'S POV
She had always been a quiet girl — the kind who spoke more with her eyes than her lips. Big, deep brown eyes, filled with softness and curiosity, the kind that could hold an entire world inside them. That evening she wore a pastel light lehenga, delicate and traditional like the culture of Rajasthan. The fine mirror-work on it shimmered gently when the light touched it, yet her presence was calm, unassuming… almost poetic.
Her name was Dhanvi.
She had come to the royal palace of Rajmahal with a simple intention — to explore, to see history with her own eyes. But the palace had other plans for her.
The corridors were endless, echoing softly under her steps. Every wall held centuries of stories; every archway felt like an invitation. And although she was usually shy, her soul moved fearlessly here — as if she belonged. The golden hours slipped away unnoticed as she kept wandering, forgetting time, forgetting the world beyond these ancient gates.
Then evening arrived.
The sky broke into shades of fiery orange and soft pink, as if Rajasthan itself was wearing its royal evening attire. As Dhanvi stepped into the palace garden, a cool wind brushed against her skin, gently lifting a strand of her hair. The scent of roses, wet soil, and desert breeze wrapped around her.
And then — the first drop of rain touched her hand.
She stopped.
Another drop kissed her cheek… then another… until the drizzle turned into a soft monsoon shower. Something inside her heart — something silent and hidden for years — opened.
She closed her eyes.
Her lehenga swirled around her ankles, her long hair clung against her back, and her deep brown eyes glowed with an emotion even she couldn’t name. A trembling breath left her lips as she lifted her hands slowly, surrendering to the moment.
And she danced.
Barefoot on the wet marble floor, amid roses and monsoon wind, she danced like the sky had given her music and the earth had given her wings. Her movements were not perfect — they were honest. She twirled, stepped, and swayed, forgetting who she was supposed to be and remembering who she truly was.
In that moment, she was not the quiet girl the world saw.
She was wild, free, unstoppable.
Her pastel lehenga soaked in rain shimmered like liquid starlight. Her bangles chimed softly with every move. The palace — ancient, grand, silent — watched her as though it had been waiting centuries for her to arrive.
Time melted away.
There was no yesterday, no tomorrow — just Dhanvi and her heartbeat. The garden became her stage. The wind became her companion. The rain became applause.
When she finally stopped, breathless and trembling, the world around her had fallen still again. The rain slowed to a whisper. The sky faded into twilight blue. Yet inside her, something had changed forever.
She hadn’t merely visited the palace —
a part of her soul had awakened here.
She realized she had not lost time wandering in the palace…
she had found herself.
And though the world would never know what happened in the garden that evening, the palace would remember —
and so would she.
Forever.
But she was unaware of one thing that not only this palace but also one pair of piercing dark eye was watching her with something darker than the night itself.
To be continued......
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