Anya stood outside Duryodhan’s chamber, her heart racing, hoping that this time, he would listen to her. She had tried so many times since that night, but he had shut her out, each attempt met with cold silence or a dismissive wave of his hand. Her chest felt tight with guilt, and the weight of the situation hung heavily on her shoulders.

“Duryodhan…” she whispered as she pushed the door open slightly, peeking inside. He was there, sitting on a chair, staring blankly out of the window. He didn’t even turn to look at her.

Gathering her courage, Anya stepped inside. “Can we talk?” she asked softly, her voice trembling as she approached him.

Duryodhan’s jaw clenched, his eyes remaining fixed on the view beyond the window. “There’s nothing to talk about, Anya.”

Her heart sank. *Nothing to talk about?* How could he say that?

“But... I need you to understand why I did what I did,” she said, standing in front of him, hoping he’d meet her gaze.

Finally, Duryodhan turned to face her, his eyes cold and distant. “Understand? You betrayed me, Anya. You went behind my back and ruined everything I had planned. Do you think you can justify that?”

Anya felt tears sting her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I didn’t do it to hurt you. I wanted Dushala to be happy—”

“Happy?” Duryodhan interrupted, his voice rising. “You think you know what makes her happy better than her own brother? I was doing what was best for her. And you—” He stopped, exhaling sharply, shaking his head. “You’re so childish, so self-obsessed, always thinking you know better than anyone else.”

Anya’s breath caught in her throat. “I didn’t mean—”

“You never mean anything, do you?” he spat, standing up abruptly and towering over her. “You just do whatever you want, like some selfish little girl. You don’t think about the consequences, about how your actions affect others.”

His words cut deep, and Anya felt her composure slipping. “Duryodhan, please…” Her voice cracked, and she reached out to him, but he stepped back, avoiding her touch.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore, Anya,” he said coldly. “I’ve had enough of your games, your meddling. You’re nothing but trouble.”

Her heart shattered at his words. She had never seen him like this before—so distant, so unforgiving. She wanted to argue, to fight for their bond, but the hurt in his eyes told her it was too late. The damage was done.

“Leave Hastinapur,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I don’t want to see you here anymore.”

The finality of his words crushed her. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced a weak smile, her voice trembling as she spoke. “If that’s what you want.”

Without another word, Anya turned and left the room, her heart heavy with the weight of his rejection. She packed her belongings in silence, the palace halls that once felt like home now cold and unfamiliar. As she passed Gandhari’s chamber, the elder queen called out to her.

“Anya, where are you going?” Gandhari asked, her voice filled with concern.

Anya wiped her tears quickly, putting on a brave face as she turned to Gandhari. “It seems it’s time for me to go back to Dwarka,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’ve overstayed my welcome here.”

Gandhari frowned, sensing the sadness in her voice. “Stay a little longer, child. Duryodhan is upset, but he will calm down.”

Anya shook her head, her smile wavering. “Thank you, Mata, but I think it’s best I leave now. You know how stubborn your son can be. And besides—Dwarka misses me.” She forced a light laugh, trying to lift the heavy mood. “My brother Krishna will surely throw a grand feast for my return.”

Gandhari sighed, knowing she couldn’t change Anya’s mind. “Take care, Anya. You are always welcome here.”

Anya bowed respectfully, her heart heavy as she took her leave. As she stepped into her chariot, she looked back one last time at the palace of Hastinapur. From the terrace above, Duryodhan watched her leave, his face a mask of anger and hurt. But deep down, beneath the layers of pride and betrayal, he felt an ache in his chest—a hollow space where Anya used to be.

His eyes followed the chariot until it disappeared from view, and only then did he allow himself to feel the weight of what had just happened. He had pushed her away. He had let her go. And despite the anger still burning in his heart, a part of him whispered that he might never be able to get her back.

*I told her to leave,* he thought bitterly. *So why does it hurt so much to see her go?*

---

**Meanwhile in Panchal**

Dushala and Drishtadyumna sat together under the moonlit sky, the soft glow of the fire casting warm shadows around them. The newlyweds were wrapped in each other’s warmth, their fingers intertwined as they spoke quietly, savoring the peace of their new life together.

Dushala looked up at Drishtadyumna, her heart swelling with affection. “I still can’t believe this is real,” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “That we’re here... married.”

Drishtadyumna smiled down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s real, my love,” he said softly, his voice full of tenderness. “And I’ll make sure you’re the happiest queen Panchal has ever seen.”

Dushala blushed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’ve never felt this way before. I was so afraid of what my brother would think, of disappointing him. But now... being here with you... I know I made the right choice.”

Drishtadyumna’s heart swelled with pride. “I’ve never met a woman as brave as you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to defy your brother. But I’m honored that you chose me.”

Dushala closed her eyes, the warmth of his embrace making her feel safe, cherished. “I chose love,” she said softly, her heart full. “And I don’t regret it.”

Their lips met in a gentle kiss, the connection between them deepening with every moment they shared. Dushala felt her worries melt away as she lost herself in Drishtadyumna’s arms, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.