The echoes of Maharaja Kathirvelazhagan’s voice still hung in the grand halls of the palace. The court was in stunned silence, each noble’s face painted with shock, confusion, and disbelief. The announcement had taken everyone by surprise—especially Mullaividhura, or Vidhura as Kathir had begun to call her.
“Prepare for the wedding,” he had said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. But to Mullaividhura, it felt like the earth had shifted beneath her feet.
Her heart raced. She hadn’t been ready for this—confessing her feelings had already been overwhelming. Now, the Maharaja had taken it upon himself to declare her as queen. In front of everyone. **How could he be so bold, so sure?**
Kathir’s gaze was fixed on her, his eyes a pool of determination, unwavering. His towering figure moved through the crowd of ministers and courtiers, his royal robes billowing behind him. Each step he took toward her was deliberate, and it felt like the weight of his authority bore down on her. She could barely catch her breath.
“Maharaja,” she whispered, almost as if in disbelief.
He took her hand, his grip firm yet warm. “Vidhura,” his voice was gentle but carried the command of a king. “This is the only way.”
“The only way?” she repeated, her voice shaky. “Kathir, what are you—”
His eyes softened, but only a fraction. “I cannot lose you again,” he murmured under his breath, his words meant only for her. His gaze flickered with the memories of a love lost long ago, a love that had transcended time, only to find its way back to him. This time, in the form of Mullaividhura.
She didn’t know. **She couldn’t know**. But Kathir did. And with the upcoming Pournami of Chitirai, there was no more time. The curse that hung over his family had already taken her from him once before. He couldn’t bear to go through it again. He wouldn’t.
But how could he explain all this without revealing the curse, without showing her the full depth of his pain and the stakes of their love?
“We’ll speak later,” he said, squeezing her hand briefly before turning to address the court.
---
Preparations for the wedding began immediately, the palace abuzz with the flurry of arrangements. The grand hallways were alive with activity—silk banners being unfurled, golden chandeliers polished to perfection, and flowers brought in from all corners of the kingdom to decorate the palace for the grand event. Word spread quickly, and soon enough, the entire kingdom knew that their Maharaja had chosen a bride, and she was to be crowned their queen.
Vidhura, however, remained in a haze. She had spent the next few days avoiding Kathir, unable to face him directly after the shock of the announcement. **What was he thinking?** She had merely confessed her feelings, a tentative, uncertain admission that she liked him. She hadn’t even fully understood the depth of what she felt. Now she was to become his queen? Just like that?
Kathir gave her space, knowing she needed time to process everything. But every time their eyes met across the grand halls or during court functions, there was a silent conversation between them. His gaze spoke of certainty, of an unshakable belief that this was their destiny. Hers flickered with doubt, confusion, and something else—something she wasn’t ready to confront yet.
---
On the third night after the announcement, Vidhura found herself standing on the palace’s western terrace, gazing out at the night sky. The stars glittered above, the moon casting its pale light over the courtyard below. She sighed, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn’t untangle.
