Five days had passed since Aksh had broken down in Rishikesh's study. The palace had slowly found its rhythm again. A new one. One where conversations no longer ended in silence, where breakfast stretched a little longer than before, and where someone inevitably found a reason to drag Aksh away from work every evening.
Wedding preparations had resumed in full swing, and Viraj, true to his word, made sure Aksh was involved in almost every decision, from guest lists to security arrangements. Those five days had quietly stitched together pieces that sixteen years had torn apart.
For the Flame to Burn, It Needs a Spark These words—these poems, musings, echoes of soul—they are pieces of me, offered to the void. If they’ve ever stirred something in you, made silence feel understood or chaos feel poetic… Then let your support be the wind beneath this fire. A small gesture. A mighty impact. Because art survives on love—and the occasional coffee. ☕✨
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