Zoya's POV
I sat on my bed, grabbed my phone, and called Kiara.
"Hello, girl! What's up?" Kiara's voice came through, light and teasing.
I let out a long sigh. "I'm not going. I don't want to."
I could practically hear her frown. "Whoa, what happened? Why are you pissed?"
Leaning back against the headboard, I felt the frustration bubbling. "The royals sent an invitation today. Some palace ball or whatever. And my father—of course—made the decision for everyone. I said I'm not going, but he didn't even listen."
"Wait—what? The royal invitation?" Kiara gasped. "You got invited to that and you're saying no?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes. And before you start, I already know what you're going to say."
As expected, Kiara let out a dramatic gasp. "Zoya Kapoor, do you even hear yourself? It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! People would kill to get that invite! I swear, I wish I had one."
"T um aur Ishani ek jaise ho," I huffed. "I don't get what's so exciting about going somewhere crowded with people. That's exhausting."
"Because you're an introvert, miss bookworm!" Kiara teased. "You spend all day buried in those damn novels. Come on, touch some reality and talk to real people."
"Main mar jaungi par khud se logon se baat nahi karungi," I muttered.
Kiara burst out laughing. "You're hopeless, Zoya. But seriously, go. You might actually enjoy it. Who knows, maybe the universe is planning something for you there."
I didn't argue. Talking to Kiara always calmed me down a bit. By the time we hung up, the irritation had faded—though deep inside, I still wasn't sure what exactly I was walking into.
That night, as I drifted off to sleep, I had no idea it would be my last peaceful night—before everything changed.
AAAHH MOM, WHAT SHOULD I WEAR?! I HAVE NOTHING!
Ishani's scream jolted me out of sleep like someone had set off a bomb. I shot up, clutching my chest.
"What the hell, Ishani!" I yelled, still half blind. "Was that an earthquake or just you losing your mind again?"
I grabbed my phone and squinted. "It's—six-thirty in the freaking morning!"
Ishani was standing in front of her closet like she was fighting a war. "You don't understand, Zoya! Today decides my entire future!"
I groaned and faceplanted back into my pillow. "Yeah, and I decide whether to suffocate you with that future if you yell again."
"That's rude, Zoya!" she shot back.
By then, I was fully awake. I threw my blanket aside and dragged myself to the bathroom. After brushing and washing my face, I stepped into her room—the crime scene.
"What's wrong with you, Ishani?" I snapped. "The party's at noon. Why the hell are you disturbing everyone's sleep at six in the morning?"
Mom walked in just then, holding a single cup of tea—the faint cardamom scent drifting in the room. She handed it to me.
I blinked. My mom NEVER brings tea. Not even for Dad.
Either she was possessed or something cursed was happening today.
"Good morning," she said calmly.
"Well, it's not a good morning," I muttered, sipping cautiously. "Thanks to your younger daughter who nearly gave me a heart attack at dawn."
Ishani ignored me and continued digging through her clothes like her life depended on it.
Mom turned to me and asked, "So, Zoya, have you decided what you're wearing for the royal party?"
I froze. I hadn't planned anything. Mostly because I wasn't planning on going.
Before I could answer, Dad appeared at the doorway. "You both need to get ready by nine. We're going shopping for the royal party."
My brain stopped functioning for a second.
Forced socializing AND forced shopping. Fabulous.
Before I could tell him I'd wear whatever I already had, he'd already left.
Ishani, meanwhile, was bouncing like she won a lottery. "Mom, can we go to the salon too? I need to get my hair done... and maybe a facial."
"It's a party, not your wedding," I muttered.
She gasped like I'd insulted her ancestors. "Easy for you to say, Miss-I-don't-care-about-anything!"
Mom pretended she wasn't enjoying any of this chaos. "Fine, we'll see about the salon later. First, we're going shopping."
Exactly how I DIDN'T want to spend my day.
After breakfast, we headed out. Ishani launched herself into the dress racks like a woman possessed while I walked behind, already drained.
Most dresses were too loud, too glittery, too... everything.
Then Mom stopped in front of a wine-colored ball gown.
Simple. Soft shimmer. Off-shoulder. Fitted waist. Layers of satin.
It hugged my skinny frame perfectly.
I didn't say it aloud, but... I liked it. A lot.
Ishani chose a pink sequined lehenga, and Mom picked a pastel saree.
Then came the salon. Ishani buzzed with excitement, Mom gave instructions, and I got forced into a facial I never wanted.
By the time we got home, it was past eleven. Dad reminded us—again—to be ready by twelve.
But as I stood there in front of the mirror, brushing out the last few strands of hair, something inside me stirred. A strange chill crept down my spine, a whisper saying that whatever was about to happen... wasn't good. Maybe it was just nerves. Maybe not. Either way, I pushed it aside, forcing a small smile as I looked at my reflection. For a second, I almost admired what I saw.
By twelve, I headed downstairs—and walked straight into chaos. Ishani was screaming about her missing heels, Mom was yelling for everyone to hurry up, and Dad was already in the car, honking like it would make us faster.
Before leaving, I went to Kiko. He tilted his tiny head, his feathers puffing up like he sensed something off. "We'll be back in a few hours," I told him softly, but my voice wavered.
Still, something deep inside me twisted—like a quiet warning I couldn't explain. Kiko gave a small peck on my cheek, his way of saying goodbye, and for some reason, it felt heavier than usual.
We left home at twelve, but the city traffic was insane. Cars piled up, horns blaring, and Mom kept muttering about being late. Between the long queues and royal security checkpoints, the drive dragged on. By the time we finally reached the royal palace, it was already four.
The sight of it left us speechless—tall marble gates, glittering under the sun, guards lined in perfect rows. None of us had ever been this close to royalty before. Even Mom went silent for a moment.
As we approached the entrance, the guards asked for our invitation. I could feel my pulse quicken. Royal security... it felt like stepping into another world. We handed over the envelope, went through their checks, and finally... the gates opened for us.
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