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The air in Dwarka was thick with palpable tension, a stark contrast to the usually serene atmosphere that graced the grand palace. The sky outside mirrored the mood within, heavy with dark, swirling clouds, as if the heavens themselves sensed the unease rippling through the kingdom. Inside the palace walls, the main hall had transformed into a hub of anxiety and fear, where whispers of concern echoed from every corner. The servants hurried through the corridors, casting nervous glances at one another, the uncertainty of Anya’s whereabouts weighing heavily on everyone’s hearts.

Devaki paced back and forth across the polished marble floor, her usually regal composure replaced with deep lines of worry etched across her face. Her silk sari rustled with every anxious step, and her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her veil. "Where could she have gone?" she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion. "She was in her chambers last night, resting peacefully. And now… there's no sign of her." Her eyes, wide with panic, searched the faces of those gathered, hoping for some semblance of an answer.

Vasudev, ever the pillar of strength, stood by her side, though even he struggled to mask his own unease. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his touch firm yet comforting. "Do not lose heart, my queen," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "We have sent word to every guard, every servant. The palace grounds are being thoroughly searched as we speak. We will find her, Devaki."

Kunti stood near a wide-open window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of Anya's return. The wind tousled the loose strands of her hair, but she barely noticed. Her eyes, usually so composed, betrayed the depth of her worry. "Anya has always been free-spirited," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But this… this is different. Something feels wrong." There was a heaviness in her words, as though she could sense the storm that had yet to fully reveal itself.

In stark contrast to Kunti's quiet distress, Nakul was a whirlwind of frantic energy. He paced restlessly across the hall, his hands raking through his hair in frustration, eyes darting toward every door as if expecting Anya to walk through at any moment. His mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last. "She wouldn't just vanish without telling us!" Nakul’s voice cracked with worry, a raw edge to his tone. "Something is wrong, I can feel it in my bones."

Standing tall and unwavering at the center of the room, Balaram exuded an air of command and authority. His broad shoulders were squared, his deep voice resonating as he issued orders to the soldiers gathered before him. "I want a search conducted across every corner of Dwarka," he barked, his tone brooking no argument. "Leave no street, no alley, no corner unchecked. Find her before—" His words were cut off as the sound of footsteps echoed from the grand corridor.

All eyes snapped toward the entrance. A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating. And then, as if the world itself had stopped turning, Duryodhan and Anya appeared. Hand in hand, they stepped into the hall, garlands of vibrant flowers draped around their necks. The colorful petals seemed out of place amidst the grim mood of the palace, their brightness a jarring contrast to the heavy silence that followed their arrival. The garlands themselves were a silent proclamation, an announcement that none had been prepared for.

The stillness in the room stretched into eternity, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Every face was a mask of shock and disbelief. Devaki let out a small, strangled gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as she staggered back, her eyes wide in horror. Vasudev’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing as the weight of the situation settled over him. Subhadra’s mouth hung open in shock, her usually joyful demeanor replaced with wide-eyed incredulity. Kunti’s grip on her sari tightened, her knuckles white with the force of her grasp.

But it was Nakul whose reaction was the most visceral. He stood frozen, his eyes glued to the garland around Anya’s neck, disbelief clouding his features. His chest heaved with uneven breaths, his mind struggling to process the sight before him. The room seemed to tilt around him as reality began to crash down.

It was Duryodhan, ever composed and unnervingly calm, who broke the silence first. His voice was a blade slicing through the suffocating air. "I have come to announce that Anya is now my wife." The words hung in the air like an omen, their weight impossible to ignore.

Chaos erupted. Devaki let out a cry, her hand clutching her chest as though trying to steady her racing heart. Vasudev’s face twisted with a mixture of shock and anger, the once calm expression replaced by cold disbelief. Kunti gasped, stepping forward as if to approach Anya, but words failed her. Subhadra’s eyes darted between Anya and Duryodhan, her mind struggling to comprehend the bombshell that had just been dropped.

Balaram’s entire body tensed, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ground audibly. His gaze, sharp and unforgiving, locked onto the garlands as though they were the source of this calamity. "I didn’t expect this from you, Duryodhan," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "This marriage… I will not accept it."

Vasudev’s usually gentle demeanor was replaced with a cold, steely edge as he stepped forward to stand beside Balaram. His eyes burned with a quiet fury. "You’ve crossed a line, Duryodhan. A line that cannot be undone. This is unacceptable. How dare you take such a monumental step without our counsel?"

Nakul, still reeling, found his voice, though it trembled with anger. "You… you eloped with Anya?" His words were thick with disbelief and pain. "How could you? Did you force her into this? Is this some cruel joke to you?"

Duryodhan’s calm gaze slid toward Nakul, an infuriating glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. He chuckled softly, a low, mocking sound that only added fuel to the fire. "Do you really believe I would go to such lengths without genuine feelings for her?" His tone was smooth, unbothered by the anger radiating around him.

Before Nakul could respond, Anya, who had been silent throughout the ordeal, finally spoke. Her voice was soft, but it cut through the heated tension with an unexpected bluntness. "Dau…" she began, addressing Balaram with an affectionate, almost childlike tone. "I… I like Duryodhan." The simplicity of her statement sent shockwaves through the room.

The silence that followed was suffocating, every eye locked on Anya in stunned disbelief. She turned toward Nakul, offering him a soft, apologetic smile. "I’m sorry, Nakul," she said, her voice genuine, "but I don’t see you that way. You’re my friend, and you’re married to my friend. I… I just don’t feel that way about you."

Her words landed like a physical blow, and Nakul blinked in disbelief, struggling to understand. "But… Anya…"

Anya, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes, shifted uncomfortably before addressing the rest of the room. "I didn’t really get much time to think about my marriage," she confessed, her usual airheaded nature creeping into her words. "I was planning on saying no! But then… well, all of this happened!" She gestured vaguely toward Duryodhan and herself, her hands flailing in a dramatic, exasperated fashion. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much.

Subhadra, standing nearby, couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. She snorted, a sound that broke the mounting tension, and Krishna’s smirk only widened as he watched the scene unfold. "If it’s her decision," Krishna said, his voice calm yet laced with amusement, "then we really can’t do anything about it, can we?" He cast a glance at the garlands, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "They’re already married, after all."

Devaki, still shaken, took a deep breath and placed her hand over her heart, trying to steady herself. She glanced at Vasudev, who sighed deeply, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "If this is what Anya truly wants… then let it be."

Balaram, though still agitated, let out a dramatic sigh, his shoulders sagging. "Why do my sisters keep running away from their marriages and bringing back husbands?" he muttered under his breath, though the affection in his voice was unmistakable. The room erupted into laughter at his resigned tone, a ripple of light-heartedness easing the tension.

Anya giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "What can I say, Dau? We like making dramatic entrances!"