Rajvansh Palace – Rajasthan | Reception Night
The night air in Rajasthan carried a slight chill, but inside the grand courtyard of Rajvansh Palace, warmth shimmered in the form of golden lights, laughter, and music. The reception had been nothing short of a royal affair — from the sitar playing in the background to the fragrant trail of rose petals along the marble steps.
Yukti stood tall, poised like a queen, dressed in a magnificent red and gold Banarasi silk saree, adorned with layers of heavy temple jewellery, her wrists glowing with bright red chooda and gold kadas. Her hair was neatly tied in a bun with fresh mogras, her sindoor line deep, her neck upright — regal, bold, and yet carrying a calm softness.
Beside her, Yuvraj Rajvansh looked every bit the royal groom in a black sherwani, buttoned flawlessly with a traditional, richly patterned shawl draped over one shoulder. The red pocket square echoed Yukti’s attire, and his presence matched hers — calm, composed, yet quietly observant.
As the night moved toward its end, the guests had started bidding their goodbyes. Dadi sa was sitting with Manjri and Manish near the central jharokha, smiling proudly. Yugant was entertaining a group of younger cousins who wouldn’t stop teasing him about when his turn would come.
Everything was perfect on the outside.
But inside Yukti, a storm was rising.
The weight of her saree, the pressure from the waistband, the constant standing, the hunger — and most of all, the period cramps that had crept in silently an hour ago — were slowly becoming unbearable. The nausea was hitting in small waves now, subtle but increasing. Her lower back ached, her legs felt heavy, and a sheen of sweat had begun to build beneath her layers of clothing.
Yet she smiled.
She shook hands, clicked pictures, returned compliments — not once letting the pain show. Her inner strength was sharper than her jewellery tonight.
But there was only so much she could take.
When the final group photo was being set up, Yukti quietly leaned toward Yuvraj and whispered, “I’ll just be back in a minute.”
“You okay?” he asked, brows furrowed.
She smiled — one of those ‘don’t worry’ smiles. “Bas five minutes,” she said confidently, patting his hand lightly.
She walked away gracefully, her saree pleats flowing behind her like molten gold, heels clicking softly. Her posture remained perfect, but her hands were cold, and her stomach had started to cramp more sharply now.
She made it to their room just in time, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. Kicking off her heels, she let out a breath she’d been holding all night. She sat on the bed, clutching her stomach, trying to relax her body. Her back slumped as she massaged her lower abdomen. The pain wasn’t overwhelming — not yet — but it was wearing her down.
She removed the heavy necklace, letting it drop gently onto the table, and loosened the pins of her dupatta. The silence of the room was comforting — away from the crowd, away from expectations.
Meanwhile, Back at the Reception
Yuvraj was greeting a distant uncle when he glanced back at the spot Yukti had stood minutes ago.
Still not back.
He waited another five minutes before excusing himself politely. Something tugged at him — maybe it was instinct, maybe something else — but he didn’t like not knowing where she was.
He walked through the corridor quietly and reached their room. He knocked twice before gently opening the door.
“Yukti?”
She looked up from the bed, caught mid-motion — trying to hide her discomfort.
His heart clenched.
Her saree was slightly loosened, her jewellery laid out in a hurry, her expression pale. “You should be downstairs,” she said with a faint smile. “Guests—”
“Sshh,” he interrupted, walking toward her and crouching beside the bed.
“You're in pain,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She sighed. “I didn’t want to make a fuss. It’s just... cramps. It started a while ago.”
He gently took her hand. “You’re not supposed to fight through it alone. I’m your husband, Yukti — not a guest at your reception. You could’ve just looked at me once.”
She gave a soft smile, her eyes moist. “Because I knew you’d find me.”
He helped her lie down properly and tucked a cushion under her legs for comfort. Removing his sherwani shawl, he placed it gently over her like a blanket. “You rest. I’ll ask Manjri Ma to send warm water and some kada.”
As he turned to leave, she stopped him. “Yuvraj…”
He looked back.
“You looked really handsome tonight,” she whispered, her voice teasing but tired.
He smirked. “And you, Mrs. Rajvansh, looked like trouble wrapped in a red saree.”
She chuckled softly, her cramps easing slightly — because he was there.
He walked to the door and turned off the main lights, letting only the bedside lamp glow softly. And as he stepped out, he looked back once more — at the woman who had smiled through pain, who had owned every moment in that royal courtyard, and yet now lay vulnerable behind closed doors.
She was strong. But tonight, he would be her strength.
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