Chapter 82. Rekindling Hope

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His eyes traced the intricate patterns formed by the silvery moonbeams as they danced on the resplendent ceiling of his personal chambers whilst his usual equanimity remained an elusive dream within the chambers of his troubled mind. The silence of the room was in sharp contrast to the turbulence in his thoughts, which echoed with the deafening loudness of the unexpressed desires of his wife and the murmurs of even louder memories of his childhood, starring his mother. His thoughts took him back to the events of the evening.

.

.

.

It did not take his archer's eyes attuned to spotting details to spot the disarranged cluster of half faded scarlet tracks running across unblemished skin disappearing just as furtively as they had emerged. His breath hitched for a moment, his eyes widening simultaneously with realization.

Those were stretch marks.

Karna raised his head, an unhurried pace marking the motion. The deliberate inclination of his wife's head away from his but angled enough for her to steal discreet glances were enough to single out his one concern from the panoply of them that had raced through his mind in the few minutes that had passed.

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He glanced upward to find her beautiful face marred in a frown. In the unfathomable depths of her eyes, there was a flicker of something fragile, perhaps a hint of frail vulnerability or was it stubborn wistfulness. It was quickly overshadowed by a fiery resolve. This reminded him of the subtle tremor of fear and panic he believed he had witnessed in her almond-shaped eyes that morning, before she concealed it with a practised grace, transforming from a troubled woman to a regal queen.

Abruptly, his thoughts dispersed when she pulled away with a sudden force, causing him to release his grip. A whirlwind of thoughts swept through his mind. As he straightened his back, he could feel the giddiness in his heart dying a slow death, to be replaced by an unwelcome heaviness. His mood now mirrored the despondency permeating the chambers. He pondered over how he had missed the underlying melancholy, earlier. Perhaps, the memory of the radiant brightness of the day had masked much of the darker emotions from sight.

The image of the wavy, scarlet, half-faded marks burned in his mind.

It was a bitter reminder of how she had left behind not just relations which had betrayed her but also a part of her own flesh and blood. It wasn't just that she was recovering from her failed marriages and lasting trauma, but was also in anguish at the loss of affection and presence of her beloved children. Those marks, which would have once been emblems of joyous moments, now seem to serve as a visible echo of the scars etched on her heart.

"Panchali-"

"Arya!" She interjected. Her brisk voice echoing through the chamber as she gracefully glided to the pedestal table, methodically removing the half-wilted blossoms from the vase resting atop it, her gaze darting between the balcony and the chamber doors. He knew he needed to tread carefully.

"Yagyaseni, should we-"

He trailed off, the subtle shaking of her head drew his attention, as if she was letting go of a disturbing, yet lingering notion. The sun had set, purging the chambers in a darkness, very akin to the one which was clawing at her heart. She could feel the lingering touch of his fingers on her waist. Her heart beat faster and fingers curled up.

"Angrani, we've committed to being honest with each other," he started, his voice a gentle whisper, as though afraid of breaking the tenuous peace that had fallen between them. "Do you-"

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