Morning arrived slowly in Darma Valley.
The sun had not yet climbed above the mountain peaks, but the village was already awake. Thin trails of smoke rose from stone chimneys, and the sound of goats bleating echoed between the houses.
Rajula stepped outside with a bucket of water, her hair loosely tied behind her head.
The cold air bit lightly at her face.
She liked mornings like this.
Quiet. Clear. Honest.
Unlike the thoughts currently spinning in her head.
She set the bucket down and looked toward the distant ridges where the sky was slowly turning gold.
"Promised to a prince…" she muttered.
The words from last night refused to leave her mind.
She had heard many strange stories from travelers before. Merchants often exaggerated things after long journeys.
But her father's reaction…
That was not normal.
Rajula frowned slightly.
Her father had gone silent the moment the traveler mentioned the promise.
And Sunapati Shauka was not a man who stayed silent easily.
Something was wrong.
Which meant, naturally, Rajula intended to find out what it was.
Inside the house, Sunapati was already awake.
He sat at the wooden table sharpening a small knife, the rhythmic scraping sound filling the room.
Rajula leaned against the doorway.
"Good morning."
Sunapati glanced up.
"Morning."
Rajula studied him carefully.
He looked normal.
Too normal.
She walked over and sat across from him.
"So…" she began casually.
Sunapati didn't look up.
"Yes?"
Rajula rested her chin on her hand.
"Those travelers yesterday."
"Mhm."
"They mentioned the prince."
Sunapati continued sharpening the knife.
Rajula waited.
Nothing.
She sighed dramatically.
"You know," she said, "normal fathers usually answer when their daughters talk to them."
Sunapati finally looked up.
"I did answer."
Rajula raised an eyebrow.
"You made a sound."
"That counts."
Rajula leaned forward.
"They said the prince refuses every marriage proposal."
Sunapati went back to sharpening the knife.
Rajula narrowed her eyes.
"And they said something else."
Silence.
"They said he was promised to someone."
The knife stopped moving.
Only for a second.
But Rajula noticed.
She always noticed.
Sunapati continued sharpening the blade as if nothing happened.
"Travelers say many things."
Rajula leaned back in her chair.
"Yes."
She smiled slowly.
"They do."
Sunapati didn't respond.
Rajula watched him for another moment before standing up.
"Well," she said casually, "I'm going to the market."
Sunapati nodded without looking up.
Rajula walked toward the door.
But just before leaving, she turned slightly.
"Father."
"Yes?"
"If you were hiding something from me…"
Sunapati finally looked at her.
Rajula smiled innocently.
"I would definitely find out."
Then she stepped outside.
Sunapati stared at the doorway long after she left.
The knife in his hand remained motionless.
The village market was small but lively.
Merchants laid out colorful fabrics, dried herbs, and fresh vegetables on wooden stalls while villagers moved between them chatting and bargaining.
Rajula walked through the crowd with relaxed confidence.
But her mind was still busy.
She stopped at a stall where an old woman was selling dried apples.
The woman looked up and smiled.
"Rajula. Falling out of trees again?"
Rajula grinned.
"Only the small ones."
The old woman chuckled.
Rajula picked up a slice of dried apple.
"Did you hear the travelers yesterday?"
"Of course," the woman said. "Half the village did."
Rajula pretended to examine the apples carefully.
"They talked about the prince."
The woman nodded.
"A handsome young king someday, they say."
Rajula shrugged.
"I wouldn't know."
The woman leaned slightly closer.
"But the strange thing was the rumor."
Rajula looked up.
"What rumor?"
"The one about the promise."
Rajula kept her expression calm.
"Yes… that one."
The old woman lowered her voice.
"They say many years ago a merchant made a deal with the royal court."
Rajula's heartbeat slowed.
"Really?"
"Yes."
"A promise for marriage."
Rajula placed the dried apple back on the table.
"And who was the girl?"
The woman shrugged.
"No one knows."
Rajula smiled.
"Interesting."
She turned and continued walking through the market.
But her mind was racing now.
Merchant.
Promise.
Years ago.
Her father was a merchant.
Rajula stopped walking.
The wind brushed across the village street.
And suddenly a strange thought appeared in her mind.
A ridiculous thought.
An impossible thought.
She laughed quietly to herself.
"No," she muttered.
"That would be insane."
But the thought refused to disappear.
That evening the mountains were quiet again.
Rajula sat on the same rock overlooking the valley.
The sky was filled with stars.
Her father's words echoed in her mind.
Travelers say many things.
Rajula picked up another small stone and tossed it into the darkness.
"Fine," she said to the night air.
"If you won't tell me…"
She smiled slightly.
"I'll figure it out myself."
The wind rushed down the mountain slopes.
And somewhere inside the house behind her…
Sunapati Shauka sat alone by the fire.
Staring at an old wooden box he had not opened in many years.
Inside it…
Was a promise.