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Chapter 35

Chapter 34

A Journey To Mahabharata

"Sorry you had to lose all your jewellery," I said to Draupadi as we made our way to the carriage. We were heading to the Panchal castle for an evening wedding.

She laughed. "Don't worry about it. It's better than being split into six parts."

I smiled. "It's good you can joke about it."

"Are you sure you're alright?" I could see concern in her eyes. I'd been asked that question countless times. It had taken considerable effort to get the Pandavas to give me space, but they still insisted Draupadi accompany me. I suppose we'd grown close.

"I'm positive. Don't worry," I replied.

"Also, I'm sorry for how I acted at first. It was uncalled for," she added, a bit embarrassed.

"It's alright," I smiled. I didn't mind a rocky past as long as the present was good.

"No, it's not. I thought... I didn't realize Prince Yudhisthir loved you," she said.

I looked down, nervously fidgeting with my hands, and whispered as the realization finally hit me, "He does, doesn't he?"

I think I'd slowly started to like him. But he loved me. It was hard to believe. How could he love me? I wasn't easy to love. But he loved me, a small voice inside me whispered. I decided not to let that small voice be drowned.

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The Brahmanas had declared today an auspicious day, and the wedding would take place after sunset in a grand hall. The hall was a three-story foyer, with staircases spiralling up to each floor, and at its centre stood the mandap, adorned with lotus flowers. The ceremony had already begun, and, as expected for a royal union, the rituals were many.

I wore the lehenga Krishna had sent with the maids—a lavender piece with delicate embroidery along the edges. It was beautiful. I'd asked for Krishna's whereabouts, but no one knew. Still, I was certain I'd catch sight of him at some point during the wedding. I had many questions and I really wanted to meet him. But standing here, I couldn't even catch the hint of his presence. Granted I was standing in the edge of the hall.

"Did you hear about the recent rumour about Prince Duryodhan?" I caught whispers of maids standing behind me.

I shouldn't listen into other's conversation. But I was curious and I couldn't help myself, especially after I heard the word, 'Duryodhan'.

"It's not a rumour. I am sure the news is true. I've heard it directly from Vidhi, who's her personal maid now." Other voice answered.

"At this point, Hastinapur will have two great news to celebrate." The first voice answered.

"Not really. Not everyone will think it's good news," the second voice replied. Will they even say what the news is?

"Why would anyone think that? I mean, Prince Duryodhan-"

I shouldn't have overheard that. Why? Why would he do this? He shouldn't affect me, I reminded myself. And yet, it feels like every step I take forward, he pushes me two steps back.

A tap on my shoulder broke my thoughts. I turned. It was Mata Kunti. I forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine.

She smiled warmly in return. "What are you doing here?"

"I was just—nothing," I said quickly. "Nothing."

"Then come sit with us," she said, not waiting for a reply. She took my hand and gently guided me toward the mandap, where the rituals were taking place. Typically, only the main family of the bride and groom sat there. I didn't know why she took me.

She seated me beside Yudhisthir. My cheeks flushed as I sat down. Does she suspect something? After the incident, I was sure she had her doubts. Could this be her way of showing acceptance? It was so different from Queen Gandhari's reaction. The warmth of being accepted felt... comforting.

Yudhisthir leaned toward me and whispered, "You look beautiful."

I turned to face him. Our faces were so close. His eyes seemed unusually bright today, as if they held a secret joy. It wasn't the first time he had complimented me, but it was the first time I found myself speechless. His words, though simple, carried a weight—a promise of something more, something beyond this moment.

"Excuse me, Princess Aarohi."

I broke our gaze and turned toward the voice. It was one of the maids I had overheard earlier.

"Yes?" I asked, noticing a piece of folded paper in her hands.

She extended it to me, and as soon as I took it, she left without another word. She didn't say who had sent it, but I already had a feeling. Even though it was just a folded piece of paper, opening it felt like unlocking Pandora's box.

I knew he was watching me. Waiting for me to open it. To read it. I even had an idea of what it might say. For a moment, I thought about not opening it at all. But I knew it wouldn't matter. The message would find its way to me—he was stubborn like that.

I stared at the paper, took a deep breath, and unfolded it. The familiar handwriting made my stomach tighten.

Meet me outside this hall.

I crumpled the paper in my hand, anger bubbling under my calm exterior. The audacity of this man for straight up ordering me. I was not going out. But then he would just come here and create a show.

"Are you alright?" Yudhisthir's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Hmm. I just need to step outside," I said.

He glanced over my shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly. I didn't need to turn around to know Duryodhan was standing there.

Yudhisthir then looked back at me, his gaze steady and reassuring. "Call me if you need anything," he said firmly.

I nodded in response. There were two exits from the hall: one led deeper into the main castle, while the other opened into the garden. I chose the latter, the quieter one with fewer people. As I walked, I could feel his gaze trailing me, unrelenting and heavy.

I stepped out and cool air greeted me. The garden was serene, a stark contrast to the bustling hall. Only a few maids moved along the edges, their quiet steps blending into the stillness. I went deeper into the garden.

In the moonlight, the flowers seemed to glow, their delicate forms distinct against the shadows. My fingers brushed against a white rosebud. It was so pure, so fragile—its innocence felt like it was mocking me. For a moment, I wanted to rip it out. I didn't. Mother said not to pluck the flowers not yet grown.

I am reminded of an image of little me picking flowers from our little garden consisting of a few flowering plants and a big mango tree. I remember my mother gently scolding me as I bought her the flowers not yet bloomed.

I was cold and the shock of sudden warmth shook me to my core. His hands searing, rested on my waist as he pulled me into a fierce embrace from behind. He held me as if I might disappear in the next moment, his grip, unyielding, desperate. I could feel the pain and relief seeping out of him. This wasn't one of the several simulations I had ran in my mind of the day I confront him.

"Where were you, my shooting star?" His voice whispered against my ear.

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Word count: 1210

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