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~ Najane yeh zamana kyun chahe reh mitana, Kalank nahi, ishq hai kajal piya ~
AMRITA'S POV
The mesmerizing jingling of anklets, harmonized by the soft tinkling of glass bangles, echoed melodiously through the grand, intricately adorned corridor of Shekhawat Mansion. The air was heavy with the fragrance of marigold and sandalwood, a signature of festive grandeur.
Two maids ascended the wide staircase-one carrying a tray brimming with fresh marigold garlands, their vibrant hues adding warmth to the space, while the other balanced a silver platter laden with delectable sweets. Their faces held a reverent glow as they approached Amrita, who stood poised near the banister. Bowing their heads slightly, they greeted in unison, "Shubh Deepawali, Rani Sa."
Amrita, regal yet approachable, adjusted the dupatta of her crimson embroidered anarkali, its golden thread shimmering in the light of the chandeliers above. Her smile, though subtle, carried an unspoken warmth as she returned their wishes, her graceful steps now leading her downstairs.
The staircase, bordered with an ornate banister wrapped in golden ribbons and fairy lights, reflected the festive spirit. Each step she took was deliberate, her hand brushing lightly against the cool metal as her keen eyes absorbed the beauty around her.
Inside the mansion, a soft golden glow illuminated every corner. Lamps and diyas lined the marble floors, casting flickering patterns on the intricately carved walls. The scent of roses from freshly sprinkled petals mingled with the aroma of the sweets, creating an intoxicating ambiance.
At the base of the stairs, her eyes landed on the intricate rangoli she had spent hours creating. Its vivid colors intertwined to form a radiant lotus, symbolic of prosperity. Four maids worked around it, carefully placing diyas to enhance its splendor.
A contented smile graced Amrita's lips as she knelt beside them, her hands deftly assisting in arranging the diyas. The maids exchanged shy smiles, touched by her humility, and whispered their festive greetings.
Amrita's warmth was no facade-it was woven into her very being. Her effortless camaraderie with the staff made her beloved, and her presence lent an air of intimacy to the grandeur of the mansion.
"Rani Sa, Hukum aapko kamre mein bula rahe hain," one of the maids informed her, breaking her focus.
["Rani Sa, Hukum is calling you to the room."]
"Hukum aa gaye?" she asked softly, her eyes lighting up with a blend of surprise and anticipation. The maid nodded before retreating.
["Has Hukum arrived?"]
Amrita rose, brushing her hands lightly on the pleats of her anarkali. She instructed the maids to continue before making her way to his office. Her heart quickened, knowing it was always his first stop upon returning home, even before their shared chambers.
The massive office door stood ahead of her like a silent sentinel. Its dark mahogany wood, polished to perfection, reflected her slightly anxious expression. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the double doors open.
The dimly lit interior welcomed her, the air tinged with his distinct scent-a mix of sandalwood and musk. The room, adorned with dark leather and aged wood, exuded authority. Her eyes searched for him, her senses heightened.
And then she felt it.
A wave of his presence swept over her as she froze mid-step. The air behind her grew heavier, charged with his unmistakable aura. Her heart thudded violently in her chest as she heard the slow, deliberate sound of his footsteps closing in.
Her breath hitched as she felt his warmth near her. His breath brushed against her hair, sending shivers cascading down her spine. For a moment, she stood still, savoring the tension.
Unable to hold back, she turned swiftly to face him, her excitement evident. But before their eyes could meet, he bent to her height, his hand reaching out to gather her silken hair. The strands wrapped around his fingers like a treasured possession as he inhaled deeply, his lips curling into a faint smile.
"Mohabbat ki khushboo hai aap," he murmured, his voice low and intoxicating.
["You are the fragrance of love."]
A visible shiver coursed through her, and she nervously bit her lower lip. Her delicate frame seemed even smaller as she wavered on her heels, caught in the intensity of his gaze.
He pulled back slowly, his towering form now fully visible. To her, he was no less than a predator-his piercing eyes, his calculated movements-everything about him screamed power. Yet, his touch was gentle as he cupped her cheek, his rough palm stark against her soft skin.
His eyes scanned her carefully, moving from her intricately braided hair to her perfectly pleated dress. The concern in his gaze was familiar, but today, it seemed laced with something deeper.
After spending hours adorning herself for him, she couldn't resist asking, her voice soft, "Kaise lag rahi hoon?"
["How do I look?"]
His features softened at her question, the warmth in his chocolate-brown eyes melting the tension between them.
"Be-Intehaan khoobsurat lag rahi hain aap," he replied, his voice dripping with sincerity.
["You look endlessly beautiful."]
Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink, her lips curving into an involuntary smile.
Watching her blush, he let his hand drop from her face, brushing aside a stray strand of hair before tucking it neatly behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a brief moment before falling to his side.
"Kaisa raha din?"
["how was your day?"]
she asked, her voice steadying as she regained her composure.
He walked to his large chair, shrugging off his suit jacket and placing it neatly on the armrest. "Theek,"
[ "Okay"]
he replied curtly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he reached for his phone.
"Kuch batana chahti hain aap?" he asked suddenly, his tone casual yet probing.
["Do you want to say something?"]
Caught off guard, Amrita blinked, shaking her head. Her confusion was evident as her wide eyes met his.
But then his lips curled into a netural, and his voice dropped an octave. "Bataya nahi aapne-apne aashiq se milne gayi thi aap."
["You didn't tell me-you went to meet your lover."]
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