Anuragaanjali ~ The Eternal Love ✅

Chapter 46 : The Wait

The Separation

The moonlight spilled softly through the trees, casting a silver glow over the vast, silent forest. The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the wind and the occasional crack of a twig underfoot. Arjun stood in the middle of his chamber, his face streaked with tears, his heart heavy with an unbearable ache. The walls of Indraprastha, which had once been filled with warmth and laughter, now seemed distant, cold. The silence was suffocating.

He couldn't understand it. The decision had been made for him, but the emptiness in his chest made him question everything. His heart ached with the thought of Aaradhya, of the love he had sent away, of the trust that had been shattered by the rumors. He had let her go, thinking it was for the best, believing that her safety came first. But now, without her, the world seemed meaningless. The pain of separation gnawed at him, and he couldn't escape it. He had trusted the voices of the people, his family, his own doubts. But now, the weight of his decision pressed on him like a thousand stones.

His mind replayed every moment with her, every touch, every laugh they had shared. How could he have let her go? How could he have sent her away, thinking that was what was right?

Tears spilled from his eyes, his hands shaking as he held onto the fabric of his kurta, as though it could ground him, remind him that she was real. That she had been there, beside him. He had promised her forever, and now it felt like he had betrayed that promise.

What have I done?

Arjun collapsed onto the ground, his hands gripping his hair in anguish. He could hear her laughter in his mind, see her smile, feel her warmth. But it was all fading. She was gone. She had been sent away, far from him, and the cruelest part was that he hadn't even seen her face to know if she was okay, if she was hurt, if she was in pain.

I let her go.

Tears fell freely, and Arjun's cries echoed in the silent chamber, a broken sound that seemed to fill the vast emptiness around him. He wanted to run to her, to take back everything he had done, to hold her again, to tell her that he loved her, that nothing—nothing—would ever separate them. But he couldn't. He had made his choice. The choice that had sent her away. And now, the regret was all-consuming.

Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Aaradhya sat alone on the forest floor, her heart broken and her soul torn apart. She had promised Arjun that she would wait for him, but how could she bear the weight of this pain? The thought of him, of the love they shared, was a bittersweet memory. She clutched her chest, feeling as though her heart might shatter. The cold night air didn't reach her—she felt numb, as if she was suspended in a world of loneliness.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes, but she refused to let them break her. She would not allow herself to give in to despair, not for herself, and especially not for the child she carried. She had to be strong for it, strong for the future they would build together, even if that future had to be without Arjun by her side—for now.

As if the universe had heard her silent pleas, a figure appeared from the shadows, stepping into the clearing where she sat. It was Krishna, his presence like a calming breeze in the midst of her storm. His eyes, filled with understanding and compassion, met hers. He said nothing for a long while, allowing her the space to breathe, to collect herself.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gentle yet firm. "Aaradhya," he said, "the pain you carry is a heavy burden, but you need not bear it alone."

She looked up at him, tears still streaking down her face. "Krishna, why? Why does life seem so unfair? I gave him everything... I loved him with all my heart. And now I am alone."

Krishna knelt beside her, his eyes filled with an ancient wisdom that only he could possess. "The love you share with Arjun is pure, Aaradhya. But the paths of fate are not always kind, and sometimes they force us to walk through fire to emerge stronger. Do not let your pain be the end of your story—it is only the beginning."

He stood up then, offering her his hand. "Come with me. I will take you somewhere where you can find peace. The time will come when you and Arjun will be together again, but until then, you must take care of yourself, and of the life you carry within you."

Aaradhya hesitated, still struggling with the weight of her emotions, but something in Krishna's eyes—something in his words—compelled her to trust him. Slowly, she rose to her feet, wiping away her tears.

Krishna led her through the forest, his footsteps light, his presence comforting. They walked in silence, and after a time, they arrived at a small hut—a simple, humble dwelling nestled deep within the woods. The air around it was warm, as if the earth itself was embracing it.

"This is where you will stay," Krishna said, his voice soft. "Here, you will find solace. And here, you will learn to heal."

Inside the hut was an elderly woman, her face kind and welcoming. She greeted Aaradhya with a warm smile, offering her a place to rest. The old woman's eyes shone with wisdom, as if she had seen many stories unfold in her long life. Aaradhya, despite her pain, felt a strange sense of peace as she entered the hut.

Krishna smiled gently at her, his hand resting on her shoulder for a moment. "Remember, Aaradhya, that this is not the end of your journey. You have the strength within you to endure. When the time is right, Arjun will find his way back to you. But until then, take this time to heal, for the future will be brighter than you can imagine."

With that, he turned and walked into the forest, leaving Aaradhya in the care of the kind old woman. As the door closed behind her, Aaradhya collapsed onto the small cot, her hands resting on her stomach as she whispered into the still night.

"I will wait for you, Arjun. No matter how long it takes. I will wait for you."

And somewhere, in the distant halls of Indraprastha, Arjun's cries for her continued, the bond between them unbroken, despite the miles that stretched between them.