Saga Of The Timeless (A Mahabharata Story)

63.Fractured Bonds

Awkward didn't even begin to describe how I felt as I stepped into Bua Kunti's chambers. And she wasn't alone—Maharani Gandhari and Rajkumari Dusshala were with her. The air in the room was thick, heavy, as if they already knew. The tension was palpable, and I could feel it pressing down on me.

"Tvarita?" A familiar voice startled me. My eyes widened as Aryan appeared from the corner of the room, equally surprised by my arrival. What in the world was he doing here? My mind raced, trying to process the scene.

Before I could even gather myself, Bua Kunti rushed forward, pulling me into a tight embrace. Her warmth was undeniable, but it only added to the suffocating weight. Dusshala stepped closer, her eyes fixed on me with that look—I have a thousand questions, and you'd better have answers.

My heart was pounding, but I forced myself to keep a straight face. "Pranam, Maharani Gandhari. Pranam, Maharani Kunti. Pranam, Rajkumari," I greeted them with folded hands, hoping that the formalities would help ground me. Anything to ease the chaos inside.

"Come, sit, Putri," Maharani Gandhari's voice was calm but commanding. "How have you been?"

"I am fine, Maharani," I replied, but the tightness in my throat betrayed me. I wasn't fine. I was barely holding on.

"You left so abruptly, Putri. Where did you go? My sons were quite worried," Maharani Gandhari asked, her blindfolded face turned toward me. Though she couldn't see me, her tone was laced with concern.

"I... I went home," I lied, the words sticking in my throat.

"Liar," Aryan muttered from the side, arms folded as he glared at me. His disapproval stung, but I couldn't look at him.

I ignored him, trying to focus on the conversation, but the tension was thickening with every second. Small talk felt hollow as we exchanged pleasantries, and eventually, Maharani Gandhari and Dusshala shared a glance—one that set my nerves on edge.

"Putri Tvarita," Maharani Gandhari's voice dropped, as if approaching something delicate. "We have heard... that you and Karna ... well...."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught, and I glanced nervously at Dusshala and Bua Kunti. So they knew. Of course, they knew. Did I really think I could avoid it? That somehow, magically, no one would find out?

"Yes," I forced the word out, my voice barely audible. "He's marrying someone else. His... long-time friend, Vrushali."

"Oh..." Maharani Gandhari sighed softly, her face unreadable. "I had heard something similar. It is... a shame."

I tried to laugh it off, but it came out bitter and hollow. "I guess it wasn't meant to be," I muttered, hoping the smile I forced would hide the cracks beneath.

Bua Kunti's hand found mine, her grip gentle and reassuring. I could see the sadness in her eyes, but what more could she say? There were no words that could undo what had happened.

Dussala leaned forward, her gaze sharp, as if searching for the truth hidden behind my facade. "But this feels so sudden, Tvarita. Are you... are you alright?"

I wanted to scream. My world had collapsed in a single moment. But I took a deep breath, trying to stay composed. "It was Vrushali's grandmother's dying wish," I said, swallowing the bitterness. "She wanted him to marry Vrushali. He had no choice."

Maharani Gandhari turned toward me again, her expression somber. "It must be difficult for any woman when something like this happens," she said softly, the understanding in her voice cutting deep.

"I..." My voice wavered, and I looked at Bua Kunti, hoping—desperately—for some protest, some denial. But her face only mirrored the grief I was trying so hard to bury.