Chapter 52: chapter 52

S A N M A Y I The night was heavy with the kind of silence that only the countryside could provide—so complete that it seemed to press in on us from all sides. The soft hum of crickets was the only sound that broke the stillness as we sat in the garden beneath the dim glow of the lanterns. The air smelled of wet earth and growing things, a fragrant reminder that the world, in its own quiet way, continued to turn.Ranajay sat across from me, his dark eyes reflecting the dim light as he watched me carefully. The tension between us had eased over the last few weeks, the raw edges of our past slowly being smoothed over by the gentle passage of time. But tonight, something felt different. There was a weight in the air, an unspoken understanding that what had been unsaid for so long needed to be spoken. I could feel it in the way Ranajay’s gaze lingered on me, as if he knew that something was about to change between us.I had spent so much of my life hiding from the truth of my own heart—hiding from the pain of the past and the wounds that I had carried for so long. But here, in the stillness of this place, with Ranajay’s patient silence urging me to speak, I felt the walls I had built around myself begin to crack.“Ranajay,” I began, my voice a little unsteady as I searched for the words. “There’s something I’ve never told you. Something I’ve carried with me for so long that I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to let it out.”He didn’t speak at first, simply waiting, his expression open and understanding. He wasn’t rushing me, wasn’t pressing for answers. He just... waited. And in that waiting, I felt the safest I had in years.I took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak of things I had long buried deep within me. “My hatred for you, for your kingdom—it wasn’t born out of some abstract idea of justice. It was personal. Very personal.”Ranajay’s brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent, his gaze unwavering. He could see that I was struggling with something that went far deeper than political disagreements, something that had been gnawing at me for years. He had always been perceptive like that, able to see what others missed.“My mother—Queen Vaijayanti—was poisoned on my sixth birthday,” I continued, my voice barely a whisper, as if speaking the words too loudly might make them too real. “It was supposed to be me. The poison was meant for me, not her. I... I never understood why. But I know now.”I paused, feeling the weight of those memories crash over me like a wave. The image of my mother’s face, pale and unmoving, flashed before my eyes. The sound of her collapsing to the ground as I stood by, helpless, filled the silence between us. The weight of it all—the fear, the confusion, the grief—was still so raw, even after all these years.“I was just a child. I didn’t know who to trust, who was behind it,” I went on, my voice trembling as I spoke. “But it wasn’t just the poison. It was everything that came after. My father’s grief, his rage, the way he shut me out. It was as if I became invisible to him after that. He couldn’t protect her, and I was all he had left. But it was never enough. The kingdom came before me, and I was always just a pawn.”I stopped then, not sure if I should continue, but something in Ranajay’s gaze—the understanding in his eyes—urged me to go on. The truth, however painful, was something I needed to share. Not just for him, but for myself as well.“The one who poisoned my mother,” I said, the words tasting bitter on my tongue, “was someone I trusted. Someone I loved. Nandu—your ex fiancee. Nandini.”I watched his reaction closely, looking for any hint of disbelief or anger, but all I saw was quiet surprise. He didn’t say anything at first, but his brow furrowed, his lips pressing together as he processed what I had just revealed.“I don’t know why she did it,” I continued, the words coming faster now, as if the confession was finally loosening something deep inside me. “She was my closest friend. My confidante. I never saw the betrayal coming. But when I found out... when I learned what had happened, it was like the world fell apart. My mother’s death, the kingdom’s ruin—it all became a part of this terrible game. A game I never chose to play. But I had to keep fighting, keep surviving. Because there was nothing else left.”I finally stopped speaking, my heart racing in my chest. I had said more than I ever intended to—revealed more of myself than I thought I ever could. But now, sitting in the quiet garden with Ranajay, I felt strangely lighter. As if something that had been binding me to the past had been loosened.Ranajay was silent for a long time after I finished speaking. His expression was unreadable, his eyes distant as he processed what I had said. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I could sense the depth of his contemplation. He wasn’t angry, but there was a sadness in his gaze—one that mirrored my own.When he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured, and full of quiet sincerity. “I had no idea. I never knew. Nandu... Nandini was like a sister to me. I’ve always wondered why she acted the way she did, why she turned against me when I needed her the most. But hearing this... hearing you say it... it makes sense in a way. A terrible, tragic kind of sense.”I nodded, my throat tight. “It’s not just the poison, Ranajay. It’s everything she did after. The lies, the manipulation. She used me, too. She convinced me that you were the enemy, that I had to fight for my people, for my family, for revenge. And I believed her. I believed in everything she told me. But in the end, I was only fighting against my own heart.”He reached out then, his hand finding mine in the dim light. The touch was gentle, but it held a weight of its own, a kind of unspoken understanding that passed between us. “I’ve done terrible things, Sanmayi. Things I can’t take back. I’ve hurt you, and I’ve hurt my own people. But I’m trying, every day, to make it right. I can’t change the past, but I can choose what I do with the future. And I want that future to be with you.”His words were simple, but they were enough. I didn’t need grand gestures or promises that could never be kept. I just needed to know that, despite everything—despite all the betrayal, the war, the destruction—there was a chance for something better. A chance to heal, to rebuild, to love again.“I don’t know what that future looks like,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “But I know I don’t want to face it alone.”Ranajay’s fingers tightened around mine, and I felt the weight of his vow, a promise not of perfection, but of effort, of hope, and of shared resolve.“Then we won’t face it alone,” he said quietly. “Together, Sanmayi. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”And in that moment, beneath the stars and the quiet hum of the night, I believed him.