Beyond Destiny ~ A Saga Of Timeless Love

29 ~ The distance

"It is always by the way of pain one arrives at pleasure."

Ruhanika

For the entire night, I didn’t get a wink of sleep. The image of his empty eyes haunted me, lingering in the shadows of my mind. Those olive-green eyes, usually alive with warmth, were hollow once more. It was as if the light within him had dimmed, leaving only an unnerving void. Something in me twisted at the sight; it was a pull I couldn’t explain, a desperate need to feel every agony he endured and, somehow, bring back the sparkle that once danced in his gaze. My own eyes had dried up, too exhausted to shed another tear. I was done crying, sick of feeling weak. Now, all that remained was a hollow ache and a deep-seated fear about the decision he might make.

Today is Holika Dahan, and the day after tomorrow is Holi. Everyone around is caught up in preparations, bustling with the same energy they bring every year. Holi, the festival of colors, is one of the grandest celebrations, a time when people honor the arrival of spring, love, and new beginnings. This festival, so deeply connected to the eternal love of Radha and Krishna, also signifies the victory of good over evil, commemorating Lord Vishnu’s triumph as Narasimha over Hiranyakashipu. In my heart, I cling to the hope that this Holi will somehow bring me peace, that perhaps he will forgive me. If he decides to end things, I’ll accept it. All I want is his forgiveness. That’s all I need.

Preparations for the festival swirl around me, drawing me in. The royal kitchen hums with activity as sweets are made, while attendants scurry back and forth with decorations for the palace. Holi is celebrated lavishly here, in true royal style. I find myself mixing the colors for the celebration, hands dusted in reds, yellows, and greens that feel like they mock the colorless state of my life. I’ve never liked Holi. It’s always been too bright, too joyful for me. How can I love a festival of colors when my world has always felt so painfully gray?

I shake off my thoughts, determined not to worry. I have learned, through bitter experience, that nothing ever bends to our will. Kalindi Amma used to say that life unfolds at its own pace and nothing good comes from forcing it. I never truly understood her wisdom until now. There’s a strange kind of peace in accepting that.

For now, I shift my focus to Arjun Bhaisa. He’s going to regret speaking to me the way he did. How dare he yell at me! Yes, I made a mistake—I should’ve told him I was leaving. But that doesn’t mean he can shout at me whenever he pleases. I’ll make sure he regrets it.

But I need a plan. Should I put something in his drink? A mischievous smile tugs at my lips as I picture adding a splash of bhaang to his thandai. The thought of him staggering around in a daze is tempting, but no—I don’t want him to make a fool of himself in front of everyone. A pinch of extra chili in his food, or a bit of salt in his dessert, should do the trick. As I head to the royal kitchen, lost in my thoughts, I catch a soft murmur nearby.

Attendants are decorating the hallways, whispering among themselves. One word—a single, electrifying word—snaps me back to reality: prince. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but my heart hammers in my chest as I lean in closer.

“Yes, I’ve heard there was a furious fight between the prince and the commander. My husband, a soldier, saw the commander’s black eye. He swears the prince struck him,” one of the attendants says.

My heart stops. What? How could this have happened? Did he find out about Arjun Bhaisa? Or is there something else?

“I know! I saw the commander this morning—he had a black eye for sure. But why would they fight? They’ve been friends since they were children.”

“I don’t know,” the other says, her voice full of worry. “The prince is usually so calm. He never gets involved in such matters. There must be a serious reason. They said the prince even punished the commander, sent him to work at the new palace construction site. He left right after breakfast.”