Krishnapriya Devashree

103. Decisions and resolves

Devashree POV

"Pathetic! Pathetic...absolutely fucking PATHETIC!!"

I shouted at the mirror. My reflection didn't flinch. It just stared back at me, eyes swollen, nose red, lips trembling. A mess. A complete and utter mess!

It was absolutely deplorable.

I slammed my palms on the edge of the basin, gripping it so hard my knuckles turned white. My whole body trembled with the aftershocks of everything that had just happened. 

And I hated it.

I hated that I caved in and gave in to my emotions the moment I started shouting at him. Why was it so hard to control the tears? Why did the tears spill hot and wild whenever I was angry? 

It was happening again.

Tears spilled down, angrier this time, hotter. My breath heaved in and out of me like I was drowning in open air.

I let them run their course and then swiped them away furiously with the back of my hand. Like they were betraying me, those damned tears, always betraying me.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my gaze to hold steady against the mirror's accusing silence.

"You're supposed to be stronger than this," I whispered harshly. "You're Mahalakshmi, for gods' sake. You hold the balance of the world. You are grace. You are fury. You do not weep for a man who forgot what your love meant."

"And you do not break down in front of such a pathetic man!"

Thankfully, my tears had stopped. And it didn't look like anymore were coming tonight. I was tired of those. It dawned on her that this is all that she would ever do. 

Just suffer in every freking lifetime! Just agony for her that would reduce me to tears. And who gave me that pain and suffering? 

My beloved husband!

Beloved, my foot.

In every lifetime, I wait. I trust. I believe.
And what do I get?

Silence. Disregard. Worship thrown at others while I am expected to endure with poise and a smile.

"I'm done," I murmured. My voice sounded foreign, even to me.

"I am done waiting. Done forgiving. Done being the second thought, the afterword, the footnote in his grand schemes."

I stood, slowly. My reflection met my eyes again, and this time, I didn't see the mess. I didn't see the swollen eyes or trembling lips. I saw fury.

"If I have to spend the rest of this lifetime and the next stitching myself back together, so be it. But he will never again be allowed to tear me apart."

A knock sounded at the door, soft and hesitant.

I didn't move.

"Rajkumari?" Vrinda's muffled voice. "Should I bring the little Rajkumar? He's been fussy..."

"No. Don't bring him here. Put him in the cradle. I will be out in a moment."

I stepped out of the room, still trembling slightly, though my face had dried.

When I reached the door, I could already hear him.

Tanu.

My son's sobs punched through the quiet like cracks in glass—sharp, raw, relentless. I pushed the door open and found him there, writhing and crying in his cradle, his tiny fists flailing in the air, his face flushed and wet with tears.