Chapter 108: chapter 108

R A N A J A Y ---The air in the royal chambers felt heavier that day, laden with an unspoken tension that had hung over the palace for weeks. The light of the morning was dimmer than usual, as if the sun itself had been dimmed by the sorrow that filled the halls. My father, Jayavikram, lay in his bed, frail and gaunt, his body failing him in a way that even the most seasoned physicians could not prevent. The man who had once been a towering figure of strength and authority now seemed small, his once-commanding presence reduced to little more than a shadow of what he had been.I stood beside him, my hand resting lightly on his, feeling the faint pulse that reminded me he was still there. His breath was labored, shallow, and every moment I expected him to slip further away. He had been ill for some time, but today, it felt final. There was no denying it—the end was near.“Ranajay…” His voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it carried a weight of regret that I had never heard before. I leaned in closer, hearing the tremor in his words, and I knew that this moment was not just about the passing of a king, but the reckoning of a father.“Yes, Father?” I replied, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within me. He had not been an easy father, nor had he been the kind of man who offered affection freely. For years, I had struggled to reconcile my loyalty to him with the deep scars his decisions had left on my heart. But now, in this final moment, all those complexities seemed to fade. He was my father, and I could not bring myself to abandon him, even after everything.“I… I have wronged you, son,” he said, his voice trembling. “So many mistakes. So many things I wish I could undo.”The words were almost inaudible, and yet they stung more deeply than any criticism he had ever given me. This was the admission I had waited for, perhaps even craved for all these years, but it came too late. Still, I forced myself to listen, to hear the sorrow in his voice. After all, this was the man who had once cast me aside in favor of his ambitions, the man who had allowed Nandini’s poison to seep into our lives. The man who had never fully seen me as a son, but as an heir to be shaped and controlled.“I have failed you, Ranajay,” he continued, his words thick with regret. “I… should have been there for you. Should have recognized the burden I placed on you.”I didn’t know how to respond. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many things I had buried in my heart for years. But the pain of those years seemed too vast to articulate now, and I found myself lost for words. What was the point? What was the point of reopening old wounds, of digging into the past when the man before me was already on the verge of leaving this world?Instead, I simply nodded, my throat tight. “Father… you have always been my king. But now, I just… I just wish you peace.”He closed his eyes briefly, and for a moment, I thought perhaps he had drifted away. But then he looked up at me, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, and I knew he was holding on to something. Holding on for a reason.“I am sorry for the pain I caused you. And I am sorry for what I allowed to happen with your mother,” he said, his voice cracking.The mention of my mother was a sharp pang in my chest. I could feel the anger rising, even as my heart ached for the loss that had been taken from me long ago. She had died, poisoned, the victim of a conspiracy I could never undo. And he, my father, had done nothing to protect her. Nothing to keep me safe from the harm that had come from his own bloodline.But I couldn’t allow the anger to consume me. Not now. Not in this moment, when the man who had wronged me, who had wronged us all, was dying before me. There was no redemption for him now, and yet, I had a choice. I could choose how to face this.I took a deep breath and knelt beside him, my hand still resting gently on his. “You have been my father, for better or worse,” I said quietly, my voice rough with emotion. “And now, you are my king. I forgive you.”He let out a shuddering breath, his lips parting in a small, fragile smile. “Thank you… my son.” And with that, his eyes closed, his body surrendering to the inevitability of death.I sat there for a long while, listening to his soft breaths as they gradually slowed, each one drawing closer to the end. And when it came, when he finally breathed his last, I felt a strange emptiness fill the space around me. The death of a king. The death of a father. There was no grand release, no triumphant moment. Just the quiet slip of life from one man to another, the passing of the torch that had been dimmed long before it reached me.I felt the coldness of his absence and yet—surprisingly—there was no satisfaction. No sense of triumph. Just a deep, aching sadness that, perhaps, had been building up for years. The man who had shaped my life had gone, but in his wake, there was no joy. Only grief, and a sense of finality that had long since settled over our kingdom.I had not expected this to be easy, but I also hadn’t expected it to feel so hollow. In some strange way, I found myself wishing for the man who had once been a part of my life—the man who had held me in his arms as a child, who had shaped my destiny with his vision. But that man had disappeared long ago, leaving only a ghost behind.I stood slowly, taking one last look at the man who had fathered me, and then I turned to leave. But before I could step out of the room, I felt a warm hand slip into mine. I looked down to find Sanmayi standing there, her expression soft but strong. She had been there, as always, her presence a steadying force in the midst of my storm.“I’m here, Ranajay,” she said, her voice a gentle balm on my frayed emotions. “We will get through this. Together.”And in that moment, I understood something important—something that had eluded me for so long. My father’s death was not just the end of a reign, it was the end of an era. But it was also the beginning of something else. Something new. Something I could build with Sanmayi by my side. She had been my rock through all of this, and as we walked away from my father’s deathbed together, I realized that my future was no longer bound to the past. It was bound to her.I squeezed her hand, grateful for her presence. “Together,” I echoed, my voice thick with emotion. “Together, Sanmayi.”And with that, we turned toward the future, leaving behind the past and all its shadows, ready to face whatever came next.Farewell.