The streets of Paris weren’t meant for heartbreak.

Not for a girl who once believed the world could never lie to her.

The night had settled like a cold blanket, shadows dancing under the dim golden street lights. The world moved around her — people walked, cars passed, and laughter echoed from a café nearby — but inside her, everything had stilled. Broken.

Srisha Rajyavardhan walked aimlessly down the cobbled street, her coat hanging off her shoulder, her phone in her bag untouched, her soul somewhere far from here.

Her eyes were vacant. Lips dry. Face pale.

She didn’t even notice when she collided with someone.

“Are you okay?” a deep voice asked, steady hands catching her just before she could fall. He had only glanced at her face, planning to move on, but something stopped him. Something… in her eyes.

That emptiness.

That ache.

That pain of a soul screaming silently.

And then, she looked up at him — and before he could even repeat the question — she broke.

Completely.

Tears fell, as if her heart had shattered in that very second. Her breath became uneven. Her body shook. She couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Kya… kya mai itni buri hu?” her voice cracked like glass.

("Am I… really that bad?")

Her words pierced the silence like thunder.

“Bhai, papa se… ab kaise nazare milaugi main?”

("How will I ever face Bhai, Papa now...?")

Devraj stood there, stunned. He’d seen many storms in his life. Fought wars, built empires. But nothing had prepared him for the storm inside the woman standing in front of him.

“Sab… sab ne kaha tha… he’s not the right person for me.”

("Everyone told me...")

Her words came in between sobs.

“But maine… sabki baat ke khilaaf jaake uska saath diya… har kisi ke against gayi… aur usne mujhe…”

("But I went against everyone for him… stood by him… and he...")

She paused, choked, the truth refusing to leave her tongue but burning in her heart.

“… usne mujhe dhokha diya…”

("He betrayed me…")

She laughed, bitter and broken, tears still rushing down her cheeks like they had waited too long to be released.

“Itna bada dhokha… kyuuuu?” she screamed toward the sky, as rain began to drizzle softly, almost like nature weeping with her.

("Such a big betrayal... whyyyy?")

Devraj caught her as she swayed. Her knees weakened, and her voice became slurred. He held her tightly, as if instinct told him she was more fragile than she looked.

“It’s okay… bas… bas…” he whispered, unsure why he was comforting a stranger but unable to step back.

His PA, Kartik, had rushed behind him.

“Sir, we’re getting late for the—”

“Ruko.” Devraj stopped him cold, raising his hand.

("Wait.")

Because nothing else mattered right now.

Not the business meeting.

Not the time.

Not the world.

Only her.

This broken stranger.

This storm in human form.

This girl who cried like she had lost not just love, but herself.

“Let her cry…” he muttered under his breath.

His eyes didn’t leave her face.

Srisha kept repeating things between sobs — about love, betrayal, her father, her brother, trust… pain. Her voice had become weak, slurred, and soft.

And then suddenly… silence.

Her body went limp in his arms.

She had fainted.

Devraj caught her just in time, holding her close to his chest as the rain poured harder now — soaking them both, but washing away none of the pain.

She was unconscious, but the tears still lingered on her cheeks.

He looked down at the woman in his arms. He didn’t even know her name yet.

And yet, his chest tightened.

Because she didn’t deserve to be shattered like this.

Because in this very moment, the king of Rajasthan was holding a queen he had never met — but fate had just introduced her.

Srisha Rajyavardhan.

And Devraj Pratap Sisodia.

The rain kept falling.

The night kept hiding secrets.

But a storm had been born — and neither of their lives would ever be the same.

______________________

Author’s POV

The city lights reflected faintly through the tinted windows of the black SUV. Rain continued to fall lightly, as if the sky still wept for the woman held gently in Devraj Pratap Sisodia's arms.

He sat in the back seat, calm yet unusually thoughtful, cradling Srisha with quiet protectiveness. Her head rested on his chest, soaked strands of her hair sticking to her tear-streaked face. Her soft breaths were barely audible… fragile… like she would break with just a word.

Devraj's eyes lingered on her.

He had seen strength, chaos, empires fall. But this woman’s silence shook something in him. The pain she carried felt familiar — too familiar.

Kartik, sitting in the front passenger seat, hesitated before turning around.

“Sir…” he began carefully, “Do you know who she is?”

Devraj didn’t look away from her. His fingers gently moved a wet strand from her cheek.

“No. Do you?” his voice was cold, calm… but soft when it reached her ears.

Kartik swallowed, then nodded.

“Sir, she is the Princess of Jaipur. Daughter of Mr. Abhijit Rajyavardhan… and sister of Tejas Rajyavardhan. Her name is Srisha Rajyavardhan.”

The name struck the air.

Devraj finally shifted his gaze fully to her. His eyes paused on her again — this time with deeper recognition.

A long silence.

And then a whisper — only for himself.

“Srisha…”

Her name melted off his lips like a prayer caught in a storm.

Without turning, Devraj said coldly, “I want Tejas Rajyavardhan’s number. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Kartik nodded quickly, pulling out his phone.

—––––

At the hospital…

The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the white, dim room. Srisha lay unconscious on the hospital bed, her face pale, lips chapped, dark brown lashes resting heavy under her tired eyes. Her hands were clenched faintly, as if still gripping pain in her dreams.

Devraj stood by her bedside, arms crossed, but his eyes — they didn’t leave her for a second.

The doctor finished checking her vitals and turned toward him.

“She had a severe panic attack,” the doctor explained calmly.

“She’s stable now… but she needs rest and care. Her body shut down from emotional trauma. She must’ve bottled up too much inside.”

Devraj nodded slightly, jaw clenched.

She didn’t deserve this.

No one did.

Behind him, Kartik stepped in quietly. “Sir… number.”

Devraj took the phone from him and dialed, walking a little away.

On the other side, Tejas picked up almost instantly.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Devraj Pratap Sisodia this side,” Devraj said firmly, his tone composed, neutral.

“Aapki behen… Srisha… abhi hospital mein hai.”

Silence. Then static. Then— “What?! What the hell happened?” Tejas’s voice cracked.

“She was unconscious… crying badly. Her condition wasn’t good. I found her on the road alone. I brought her here.”

His voice remained calm, but there was something underneath. Concern. Quiet fire.

Tejas’s breath caught. On the other side of the line, panic rose in him like wildfire. “Can you— I mean… what happened, how—”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Rajyavardhan,” Devraj cut him sharply, his voice like ice.

“I’m here. She’s safe now. Come as fast as you can.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Devraj handed the phone back to Kartik and turned toward Srisha again. The monitors beeped softly. Her breathing was steady now. But her face… still held the imprint of the storm she had endured.

He didn’t know why this affected him.

But tonight — the king had met a storm in silk, and her name would not leave his thoughts.

Srisha Rajyavardhan.

And for reasons he wouldn’t admit aloud — he was not ready to walk away.

_________________

Author’s POV

A dull white light filtered through the sheer hospital curtains. The steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft hum of machines filled the silence. Morning had arrived — but Srisha Rajyavardhan felt none of its warmth.

Her lashes fluttered slightly, her brows twitching as she came back to consciousness. The world around her felt blurry, heavy, and her body ached with every breath. Her head throbbed and her chest felt hollow, like something inside her had shattered into pieces too sharp to pick up.

She opened her eyes slowly… and the first thing she saw were familiar shadows around her bed.

Tejas sat on one side, holding her hand like it was something precious — something he was scared to lose again. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his eyes bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep.

Nandini — her bhabhi — stood just behind him, teary-eyed, holding a shawl that she had tried to wrap around Srisha during the night. Her face, usually full of mischief and joy, was solemn. Protective.

And right near her feet…

Abhijit Rajyavardhan — her father.

The man who raised a lion-hearted daughter but now looked like he’d been through a war of his own.

“Princess…” Tejas whispered, voice cracking as he saw her eyes open.

Srisha blinked a few more times, her lips trembling. Then something shifted in her gaze — something sharp, something heavy.

And suddenly, like a wave crashing down too hard, everything came back.

Kunal.

The lies.

The kiss.

The betrayal.

Her shattered heart.

And the moment she broke down on the road, crying under the dark sky.

She gasped—her body jerked slightly.

“Shhh… shhh… I’m here, I’m here… bhai is here, okay?” Tejas immediately wrapped his arms around her as she tried to sit up and failed, sobs escaping her lips one after the other.

Srisha clutched his shirt, burying her face in his chest like she had when she was five and afraid of thunderstorms.

“I’m sorry… bhai…” she whispered in between cries.

“I’m so, so sorry… I didn’t listen… I went against you… against Papa… against everyone… just for him.”

Tejas closed his eyes, his hand cradling the back of her head. His heart broke seeing her like this — broken, guilt-ridden, fragile.

“You warned me so many times, bhai… you said he wasn’t right. You begged me to listen. But I—I didn’t. I thought… he loved me,” she sobbed, her voice raw.

Abhijit moved forward then, unable to stay silent anymore.

Srisha looked up at him with wet, trembling eyes, guilt flashing across her face like lightning.

“Papa…” she whispered, her voice cracking again.

“I let you down… I let myself down. I trusted the wrong person. And I broke your trust. I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

But Abhijit didn’t wait for her to finish.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her into the kind of hug only a father could give — fierce, unshaken, safe.

“Don’t say that, princess,” he said, his voice shaking as he kissed her forehead.

“We were never angry… we were scared. Scared for you. And now… now you’re back. That’s all that matters.”

Nandini wiped her tears silently, placing a hand on Srisha’s feet gently. “You are allowed to make mistakes, Sri… it doesn’t make you unworthy of love. You just… needed to come back home. That’s all we wanted.”

Srisha cried harder, nestled between her father’s and brother’s arms, warmth slowly returning to her broken body.

“I should have listened to you all. I should have known,” she whispered, her body trembling as the storm of pain raged in her.

“But now you do,” Tejas said softly, holding her even tighter. “Now you’re safe. And we’re here.”

The room filled with the sound of her sobs, broken confessions, and the quiet, fierce love of a family reunited after heartbreak.

But as Srisha lay there — a thought crossed her mind.

There was someone missing.

She frowned faintly, struggling to remember. Her memories of last night were a blur — dark streets, cold rain, crying in someone’s arms… a voice.

A voice that had held her like she mattered. Like she wasn’t invisible.

But the face?

Gone.

"Kaun tha...?" she whispered to herself.

But her thoughts dissolved as her bhai kissed her hair again, saying, “Bas... ab kuch nahi sochna. Rest now, princess.”

knowing

And she did — letting her pain rest, knowing for the first time in days…

She was not alone.

______________