Saga Of The Timeless (A Mahabharata Story)

59. Acceptance

They say there are seven stages of grief, like some epic quest where the rewards are hardly worth the effort. And let me tell you, the stages go something like this:

Shock and Denial: A stage I'm glad to be done with, though it was like being wrapped in confusion. Did that really happen? "Heartbreak? What heartbreak?" I'd ask myself, scrolling through every memory of Karna and me, sobbing into oblivion. Honestly, a tragic mess.

Pain and Angst: Oh, this was a real masterpiece. I spent my days trying to make my physical pain match the emotional turmoil—punching hard wood until my knuckles bruised. Great idea, right? Spoiler: it wasn't. It hurt later, but at the time, I didn't care anymore.

Guilt and Bargaining: Then the guilt kicked in. Maybe it was me. After all, Arjun and I were close, and perhaps my heart wandered too much. Maybe Karna was right in what he said . But then, how dare he? I didn't deserve that Slap. Or... maybe I could forgive him? It was just one mistake, right? Surely, it goes both ways. One wrong step here, one harsh word there, and suddenly I'm bartering with the universe, hoping for one more chance, as if everything could be undone with a single act of forgiveness.

Depression: Ah, yes, the abyss. I lingered here for almost two months, becoming a part of nothingness. Numb. I built a fortress around myself, isolating my heart from the world. At this point, the guilt and pain were gone. All that was left was the emptiness.

Upward Turn: And now? I think I've finally made it to stage five. I've crawled out of my fortress—reluctantly—and returned to Hastinapura. At first, it felt like a terrible idea, but it's not as awful as I thought. At least I can walk around without bursting into tears at every passing man.

That leaves Reconstruction and Acceptance—still miles away, of course. It's been three days since I returned, and I'm not shocked that no princes have come to check on me. Arjun, strangely enough, has been hanging around as much as he can. But Rudra? Oh, Rudra has been pestering me nonstop to teach him martial arts. As if I don't already have enough going on in my head! Plus, the idea of running into Karna... it makes my stomach churn. And I only promised to train Rudra when I was drunk, so that doesn't count, right?

Still, I know I have to face whatever fate has in store for me. It feels like I'm a pawn in some cosmic game of dice, constantly stumbling forward. "Move on," I tell myself, but it feels more like stumbling sideways after too many cups of bhang at a festival.

And now I dread the day I have to face Karna. I know it's inevitable—not because I want things to get better, but because I need closure. There's nothing between us anymore, not after what happened. At least, that much is clear. I don't need explanations, but I feel like he owes me an apology.

"Devi Tvarita," Varuni's voice felt distant, like it was coming from another world, one I wasn't part of. The fog in my mind was thick, and her words barely cut through it.

I blinked slowly, barely registering the question I whispered. "Yes?"

She didn't answer right away, and when I finally turned to look at her, the way she stood—the way her eyes were fixed on the floor—told me everything. My heart plummeted into a familiar, suffocating darkness.

"What is it, Varuni?" I asked again, this time my voice brittle, a warning tremor in the silence.

Her voice was softer now. "Devi... Vrushali is here."

The name hit me like a knife to the chest, sharp and cold, twisting deep into old wounds that hadn't yet healed. The air around me seemed to thicken, pressing down on my lungs. For a moment, I couldn't breathe.