Instead of sparking anger, Megha’s confession seemed to soften something deep within Aryavardhan. He moved toward her, sitting quietly by the water's edge. He trailed his fingers through the surface of the pond, sending ripples that gently pushed the blooming lotus flowers aside. "Princess," he began, his voice heavy but laced with a strange tenderness, "I, too, carry the weight of a mistake. Once, I loved someone. On this very bank, by this same stream, I promised a girl that I would make her mine forever. But I allowed the crown to consume me. I became so buried in the