It was a bright afternoon, the sun gleaming high in the sky. The chirping of birds had slowed down, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves as a light breeze passed through the secluded area where Aditi and Ruchi sat, admiring their creation—a bow and a few arrows.

The dhanush was slightly crooked, its wood roughly shaped, and the string unevenly stretched. Yet, it held strong, enough for practice. Ruchi inspected it closely, tugging on the string to check its tension.

She scrunched her nose, tilting her head at the awkward-looking weapon and remarked, “Dikhne mein bekar hai, par kam ka hai.”

(It looks terrible, but it’s sturdy.)

Aditi let out an awkward laugh, brushing her hair back from her face. She took the dhanush from Ruchi's hand, her fingers lightly tracing its uneven surface.

A faint smile appeared on her lips as she stood up, walking toward a tree where she had drawn a makeshift target using charcoal earlier.

Aditi planted her feet firmly, her posture straightening as she nocked an arrow onto the bowstring. She stretched the string back. Her brows furrowed in focus, her gaze locked on the center of the target.

Behind her, Ruchi stood with her hands clasped together, silently wishing for success.

Aditi released the arrow, and it soared through the air, whistling slightly. But instead of hitting the target, it veered off to the side, embedding itself into the soft bark of a nearby tree.

Aditi groaned in frustration, lowering the bow as she turned to Ruchi. “Kya galti kar rahe hai hum?”

(What mistake am I making?)

Ruchi let out a long sigh, crossing her arms as she gave Aditi a sarcastic look. “Galti? Sab galti hai, Rajkumari. Pehla, toh aapka dhanush aesa hai jaise kisi ne lakdi ke tukde se khelna shuru kiya ho.”

(Mistake? Everything is a mistake, Princess. First, your bow looks like someone started playing with a random piece of wood.)

Aditi raised an eyebrow, slightly offended, “Hum itna bhi bekar nahi khelte hai.”

(I am not that bad at playing.)

Ruchi smirked, unable to hold back her laughter, “Haan, balki bahot bekar khelti hai.”

(No, you’re very bad at this.)

Aditi narrowed her eyes, pretending to glare at her friend, “Kuch adhik nahi bol rahi hai aap? Kya hum apko nishana banayein?”

(Aren’t you saying too much? Should I make you the target?)

Ruchi dramatically gasped, clutching her chest as though Aditi had truly frightened her, “Phir bhi aapka nishana chook hi jaayega.”

(Even then, your aim will miss.)

Her laughter echoed in the quiet forest, and Aditi stared at her in mock shock before shaking her head. “Ek din hum sikh jaayenge. Aur phir, aapko dikhayenge.”

(One day, I will learn. And then, I’ll show you.)

Ruchi chuckled, placing her hands on her hips. “Hume us din ka intezaar rahega, Rajkumari.”

(I’ll look forward to that day, Princess.)

Determined, Aditi turned back to the target. She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. Her fingers gripped the string tighter, and she took her aim again.

The afternoon stretched on as Aditi continued her practice, arrow after arrow missing the target or merely grazing the edges.

Each time, Ruchi’s playful comments brought a mix of irritation and amusement to Aditi. “Rajkumari, lagta hai aap yudh ke liye nahi, bas darane ke liye dhanush uthaengi.”

(Princess, it seems like you’ll carry a bow not for war, but just to scare people.)

Aditi groaned but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. “Hum haar nahi maane wale, samjhi aap?”

(I am not going to give up, understand?)

Ruchi grinned, clapping her hands dramatically. “Wahi toh hume pasand hai. Abb lagta hai kuch toh sikhengi aap.”

(That’s what I like. Now it seems like you’ll actually learn something.)

As the sun began to lower slightly, casting a golden glow across the forest, Aditi's focus sharpened. Her determination only grew stronger despite her constant misses. Ruchi watched her with quiet admiration, marveling at her persistence.

“Rajkumari, bas ek baat yaad rakhiye,” Ruchi said softly. Aditi glanced at her questioningly, lowering the bow slightly.

(Princess, just remember one thing.)

“Aap jitni bhi koshish karein, kabhi apna lakshya mat bhooliye. Chahe wo dhanush ke teer ka ho ya apke jeevan ka.”

(No matter how much you try, never forget your goal. Whether it’s the arrow’s aim or the aim of your life.)

The sincerity in her voice struck a chord in Aditi’s heart. She nodded, a small but determined smile on her face, as she prepared to try again.

Evening had set in, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson as the sun lowered itself on the horizon. The air was warm, yet carried a calming breeze, as Aditi and Ruchi carefully placed their self-made bow and arrow in the hidden nook near their practice spot.

“Yaha rakha rahe toh zyada behtar hoga,” Ruchi murmured, adjusting the bow and arrows carefully under the shade of a dense tree.

(Let's keep it here; it'll be safer.)

Aditi nodded, brushing off some dust from her hands. Her expression was thoughtful, yet she allowed herself a small smile. “Haan, waise bhi ghar le jaane ka matlab hai pakde jaana,” she muttered.

(Yes, taking it home would mean getting caught.)

They giggled softly, knowing the risk they had taken in practicing archery.

As they entered the palace, walking down its grand halls toward Aditi's room, the evidence of her practice was apparent.

Her grey lehenga bore patches of dust, and her neatly tied hair had loosened into a messy cascade over her shoulders.

Despite her disheveled appearance, her face glowed with the satisfaction of effort and enjoyment.

Ruchi chuckled at a joke Aditi had cracked, their laughter echoing softly in the otherwise silent corridor. But their amusement was cut short by a sharp, piercing voice.

“Agayi aap?”

(You’ve arrived?)

Both froze, their smiles vanishing as they turned to see Vidya standing ahead, her posture rigid and her face painted with displeasure. Behind her stood Advika, her gaze neutral but heavy with unspoken judgment.

“Kaha thi aap abhi tak? Aur yeh apna kya haal bana rakha hai apne!” Vidya's voice was sharp, her eyes narrowing at Aditi’s untidy state.

(Where were you till now? And look at the state you've put yourself in!)

Aditi lowered her gaze, guilt tugging at her features. She couldn't meet her mother's furious glare. “KUCH PUCH RAHE HAIN HUM!” Vidya’s voice rose, causing both Aditi and Ruchi to flinch visibly.

(I’m asking you something!)

“Wo... hum… bus bahar bazaar mein tehel rahe the,” Aditi mumbled, her voice barely audible, carrying a hint of hurt.

(I was just strolling in the market.)

“Apke vastra dekh ke lagta nahi ke aap 'bazaar' gayi thi,” Advika remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm, her arms crossed.

(Looking at your attire, it doesn’t seem like you went to the market.)

Aditi’s fists clenched at her sides, her anger rising, but she remained silent.

Vidya marched toward her, grabbing Aditi’s arm and forcing her to look up. “Jhoot bolna band kijiye.” Her voice was biting. “Aapne phir wahi sab chalu kar diya hai? Ab mahal mein nahi toh kahi aur?”

(Stop lying. Have you started with all that again? If not in the palace, then somewhere else?)

Aditi’s eyes welled up with tears. She knew Vidya wasn’t talking about archery. This was about something else—something that haunted her past and filled her with regret.

“Aesa nahi hai,” Aditi whispered, her voice breaking.

(It’s not like that.)

“Aesa nahi hai?” Vidya’s voice turned even sharper. “Ek toh aap bina bataye, bina kisi sainik ke, bahar chali gayi, aur ab keh rahi hain ki aesa nahi hai?”

(It’s not like that? First, you left without informing anyone or taking a guard, and now you say it’s not what it looks like?)

She shoved Aditi back slightly, making her stumble. “Hume sharam aati hai aapko apni beti kehne mein,” she hissed, her words cutting deep.

(I’m ashamed to call you my daughter.)

Advika’s eyes widened slightly, her discomfort evident, though she remained silent.

“Apka vivah hone wala hai, aur aap abhi bhi yeh sab kar rahi hain? Apna naam toh dooba hi diya hai—ab apne hone wale pati ka bhi doobana chahti hain?” Vidya’s tone was scathing.

(Your marriage is about to happen, and you’re still doing all this? You’ve already ruined your name—do you want to ruin your future husband’s as well?)

Aditi bit her lip, her emotions a whirlwind of anger and hurt. Vidya turned her attention to Ruchi, pointing a finger at her. “Aur tum! Humari beti ko bigaadna band karo. Naukar ho toh naukar ke tarah raho.”

(And you! Stop spoiling my daughter. You’re a servant, act like one.)

Ruchi’s eyes brimmed with tears at the insult, her lips trembling, but before she could respond, Aditi stepped forward, shielding her friend.

“Unse kuch mat kahiye. Unki koi galti nahi hai,” Aditi said softly but firmly, looking directly at her mother. Her gaze lacked defiance but carried a quiet strength.

(Don’t say anything to her. It’s not her fault.)

Vidya’s eyes narrowed, about to retort, but another voice interrupted.

“Kya ho raha hai yahan?”

(What’s happening here?)

Dev’s authoritative voice echoed through the hall as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze shifted between his wife and daughter, his brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Yeh ladki phir wahi sab shuru karne lagi hai mahal ke bahar,” Vidya snapped, pointing at Aditi.

(This girl has started with all that again outside the palace.)

Dev’s eyes roamed over Aditi’s disheveled appearance, his expression hardening. “Yeh kya haal bana rakha hai apna?” He demanded, his tone sharp.

(What's with this condition of yours?)

Aditi opened her mouth to explain, but Dev cut her off with a raised hand. “Apne kamre mein jaiye. Aur ainda se aapka bahar jana mana hai.” His words were final, brooking no argument.

(Go to your room. And from now on, you’re forbidden from leaving.)

Tears spilled from Aditi’s eyes as she tried to protest, “Par--”

(But--)

“Hume kuch nahi sunna hai. Andar jaiye.” Dev’s voice was cold, his finger pointing toward the exit.

(I don’t want to hear anything. Go inside.)

Aditi gave one last glance at them, her gaze lingering on Advika, who stood with her head lowered, avoiding her sister’s tearful eyes.

Without another word, Aditi turned and ran, her payal chiming with each step. Ruchi hurried after her, her face etched with worry.

───※ To be continued ※───