In an extraordinary twist of fate, the soul of a modern-day young woman named Aarna finds itself inexplicably swapped with that of a princess from the 9th century, wedded to none other than the formidable Rajadhiraja Yashwardhan Rao. Yashwardhan fal...
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The words hung in the air, heavy with disbelief and uncertainty. He wanted me to rule alongside him, to share in the responsibility of governing this vast kingdom-a kingdom that spanned almost the entirety of India. It was a proposition that seemed absurd, ludicrous even, considering that I had no right to claim such a position. I wasn't his wife, I wasn't royalty, and I certainly didn't belong in this century.
As his words sank in, a surge of anger and frustration coursed through me like a raging river. How could he even suggest such a thing? What was I doing, allowing myself to be swept away in this charade, dancing with him, singing with him, sitting on his throne? It was all a facade, a cruel illusion that threatened to unravel at any moment.
I rose from his throne in a flurry of motion, the fabric of my lehenga billowing around me as I stormed past him. Each step was fueled by a potent mix of anger and self-reproach. How could I have been so foolish, so naive as to entertain the notion that I could ever belong in his world?.
He called out to me from behind, his voice echoing down the corridor like a distant thunderclap. I ignored him, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to contain the tempest of emotions swirling within me. I couldn't meet his gaze, couldn't bear to see the disappointment and confusion etched upon his face.
But he caught up to me, his hand wrapping around mine with an urgency that left me breathless. He turned me around, his eyes searching mine for answers, for reassurance. I couldn't give him what he sought, not when I was teetering on the edge of a precipice, poised to plunge into the depths of my own despair.
"What's the matter? Did I say something? I am sorry. What happened?" His words were like a lifeline, tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of my own thoughts. But I couldn't bear to burden him with the weight of my own insecurities, my own fears, which will break his heart.
"Nothing is wrong," I replied, my voice strained with the effort of maintaining my composure. I pulled away from his grasp, my resolve hardening with each passing moment. I had to distance myself from him, had to sever the ties that bound us together in this twisted dance of deceit.
"I am sorry. I shouldn't have asked you such a question. You've lost your memory and I-"
"JUST STOP SAYING THAT WILL YOU!!!???" My words cut through the air like a sharpened blade, slicing through the facade of civility that had thus far restrained me. His gaze bore into mine, his jaw clenched with suppressed anger.
"Since the day I woke up every single person is like 'you've lost your memory' 'you've lost your memory' 'YOU'VE LOST YOUR MEMORY!!' no I haven't!!!" The words spilled forth like a torrential downpour, each syllable dripping with venom and rage.
Realisation hit me. I didn't mean to shout, didn't mean to unleash the full force of my fury upon him.
But it was too late. The damage had been done, the words hanging between us like an insurmountable barrier. I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth in a futile attempt to retract the venomous tirade that had escaped my lips.
