MYRA’S POV

I wore the pink anarkali suit he gave me. The soft fabric brushed against my skin, and for a moment, I caught myself smiling in the mirror. I was just about to step out of my room when a knock echoed through the door. I opened it—and froze.

He stood there in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, two buttons open, the dark fabric stretching slightly across his shoulders. Just a black shirt… yet it made my knees weak. His gaze trailed down to me, and for a second, he seemed breathless.

He placed a hand over his chest, a slow, wide smile spreading across his face. “You are so beautiful, Myra,” he said softly, like every word carried a heartbeat.

He looked impossibly handsome—dangerous in black yet disarmingly gentle. “Shall we go?” he asked, extending his hand.

“But where?” I asked, trying to hide the curiosity that had been burning inside me since last night.

“You’ll know,” he whispered, his fingers brushing against mine. I didn’t ask again.

We walked down to the grand hall, his hand warm in mine.

“Myraaa!” Sreehan’s voice came from across the room. He jumped off the sofa and ran toward me with a grin.

Before I could respond, Adhvay moved, placing himself in front of me. “What do you want?” he asked sharply, his tone cold enough to cut through the air.

Sreehan laughed, trying to push him aside. “Relax, bro. She’s my friend.”

I gently stepped forward, smiling to ease the tension. “What is it, Sreehan?”

“I heard it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, Myra,” he said, extending his hand. I took it politely.

“Tha—”

Before I could finish, Adhvay pulled my hand away from his grip, his voice dangerously calm. “Stop throwing yourself at her, Sreehan.”

Sreehan chuckled, unfazed. “Throwing? Bro, it’s impossible to even talk to her when you’re ready to kill me with your eyes.”

Adhvay’s lips curved into a smirk, sharp and knowing. “The only reason you’re alive is because you’re my brother.”

Sreehan raised his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. Take your princess with you.”

Adhvay’s hand found mine again, firm but tender, and he led me to the car. The moment we sat, he didn’t let go. His thumb drew lazy circles on my skin as the car moved, the silence between us humming with unspoken emotion.

When the car stopped, I stepped out, only to feel a soft silk cloth slip over my eyes.

“Hey… what’s happening?” I asked, startled, my hands instinctively reaching for him.

“I’m here, little storm,” he murmured on my neck, his voice calm, steady. “Trust me.”

I felt his fingers tighten around mine. His warmth guided me forward. My heart raced with every step. We climbed a few stairs, and I could hear doors creak open, the sound of wind brushing against something vast. Then he stopped.

He let go of my hand and slowly removed the blindfold.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

In front of me stood a beautiful house, bathed in soft lights, surrounded by a garden that looked like a dream. The air smelled of jasmine and rain. Inside, through the glass doors, I could see a warm, cozy interior—soft pinks, whites, delicate curtains, everything feminine, yet strong. Three rooms, a big kitchen, shelves of books, a training area, tiny details that screamed me.

My eyes landed on a wooden nameplate hanging by the door.

MYRA’S HOME

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. I turned to him, stunned. “What… what is this?”

He stepped closer, his voice deep, steady, and full of something I couldn’t name. “You said you don’t have a house, Myra. Well, you do now. This is your home. Even I can enter it only with your permission.”

My breath hitched. This  is too much. Too big. “No… no, I can’t accept this,” I stammered. “You’ve already done so much for me. Please, not this. I can’t.”

He didn’t let me step back. His hands came up to cup my face, his forehead resting gently against mine. “You don’t need to accept it, little storm,” he whispered. “Because this isn’t a gift. It’s your right—for being my queen.”

He kissed my forehead softly, and in that moment, the world around us disappeared. It wasn’t about the house anymore. It was about the way he looked at me—as if I was home.

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👑 Every thing

going so smoothly don't you think?