We Could Have it All (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 6

Tarini POV

Everything is okay. 

This is what I try to convince myself when the sound of silk ripping enters my ears. Sumitra stares at me in panic, urging me to examine the hem of her emerald green saree. 

"Why don't you sit down, so I can check without letting anyone notice it." I prompt, pulling her into the large carriage. 

Sumitra grumbles as she sits down, waiting for the procession to begin moving. "I hate whenever this happens. It's always at the most inconvenient of times like right now." 

I snap my gaze back to her in surprise. "No way! This happened to you before?"

Sumitra shakes her head, scrunching up her nose. "I think it's time to discharge my tailor from her work, which she is doing quite half-heartedly."

"Do you think you may have just pissed her off... like just a little bit?" I ask her, raising my eyebrows at her. 

"What could have I possibly-" she counters, only to abruptly stop as realization dawns on her. "Oh no. Is it because I yelled at her for bringing in one of my sarees too late?"

"Sumitra it was the most intricate design I ever saw. It was beautiful. You never ended up wearing it anyway, so she got yelled at for no reason. Imagine how offended you'd be if your husband told you to buzz off after spending all day cooking something up for him?" I question, recessing into the backrest of the palanquin. 

It's comical. watching Sumitra's eyes grow distant in thought, her ideas impassively slipping out of her mouth. "I would be infuriated for sure. I'm sure he wouldn't do something like that to me, but he wouldn't escape my wrath if he did. What would I do though? I could always break one of his woodwork pieces but I don't want to hurt his feelings so badly..."

Now that she has started rambling out her pleasant intrusive thoughts, I can ease back into my seat and enjoy our hour-long journey to the hilly village of our soon-to-be sister-in-law. 

...

Devavrata POV

The ornate decorations adorning the streets are a sight to behold as the village prepares to welcome its new queen. The crowd is eagerly anticipating to catch a glimpse of the grand procession, led by the king atop a majestic chariot. I anticipate bearing witness to many such joyous events in the future. The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the king finally snaps out of his reverie, waving back at the enthusiastic children. However, I couldn't help but detect a tinge of sadness in the countenance of King Kashya.

Upon arrival as a guest, I and my fellow royals, including Kings, Queens, princes, and princesses, were clearly informed to enter one by one after Maharaj Kashya's greeting.

"Quite an interesting wedding isn't it?"

I turned my head the slightest to look at who spoke to me. I have to say, he was definitely not the one I was expecting to greet in such an informal manner. Yet there he stood, Yuvraj Gaoshik in all his glory, a wicked grin plastered to his face. "It's a wedding. I don't understand why you would think it is interesting."

"Crippled bride, a groom who already has everything he needs in a family," he replies, ripping apart petals from a bright red rose. "It just doesn't make sense."

Something in my conscience flips on when he breaks the innocent rosebud, destroying its beauty so effortlessly. 

"It's none of our business Yuvraj. Unless of course, you are a gossip-monger." I implicate, turning my attention back to the passing procession. He immediately frowns, and looks away from me, much to my relief.