The evening air in Dwarka felt alive, like the city itself was breathing in anticipation.

From my chambers, I could hear the distant hum of flutes, the steady thrum of dhols, and the occasional bursts of laughter rising from the gardens below.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of gold and violet, casting long shadows across the palace.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air, my heart a wild drum in my chest as I moved towards the gardens, my presence felt by all, an unyielding force amidst the crowd.

The palace halls were alive, bustling with activity as servants scurried about, trays of sweets and pitchers of cool sharbat in their hands.

But everything halted for a moment when I passed by. I could feel the gazes on me, like parasites that sucked my sanity.

My need to run was strong, but I held it back. Pushing it in far corners of my mind.

As I walked in a slow, elegant way, one royal was expected to. Like I fit in perfectly in this lustrous world, and I didn't't feel like an imposter at all.

I walked with an air of confidence, pulling it firmed around me like a sheild.

It was just another show. One of the many, that we royals we were expected to put up.

I let my eyes flicker around for a moment.

Every surface gleamed-polished marble, hanging tapestries of rich blues and reds, vases brimming with freshly cut flowers from the royal gardens.

The scent of jasmine and sandalwood lingered in the air, calming, yet charged with the excitement of the evening.

As I approached the grand garden, the rhythmic sounds of dance and song grew louder.

The open space before the temple in the garden's center was a breathtaking sight. The garden stretched vast and green, illuminated by torches and decorated with delicate white flowers that cascaded like waterfalls from archways and trellises.

On one side, the forest framed the horizon, dark and mysterious, while on the other, the sea sparkled, its waves crashing gently against the shore, a constant reminder of Dwarka's maritime glory.

The temple stood in the middle, a pristine structure of white stone, its spire reaching toward the heavens, as if in conversation with the gods.

The royalties had gathered here in their finest silks and jewels, each more lavishly dressed than the next.

Laughter mingled with the soft tunes of the vina, as dancers spun in elegant circles, their feet moving in unison, creating a mesmerizing spectacle.

The soft clink of gold bangles, the shimmer of gemstones, and the heady fragrance of roses created an intoxicating ambiance.

My gaze swept the scene, catching sight of familiar faces-kings and queens, warriors and diplomats, all gathered in unity for this celebration.

Servants weaved in and out of the crowd, offering drinks and delicate morsels, while Brahmins, seated in concentric circles near the temple, chanted mantras that rose and fell in a rhythmic crescendo.

The sound of their voices, combined with the gentle rustle of silk and the occasional peal of laughter, created a peaceful harmony amidst the chaos.

But peace was an illusion. Beneath the splendor, beneath the smiles and festivities, something simmered. I could feel it, like a current, an undercurrent of unease that flowed through the garden, through the palace, through me.

"Princess, you should not walk so fast!" Kirti, my hand maid called out from behind me, struggling to keep pace.

I glanced back at her with a smirk. "Try to keep up. You wouldn't want me to leave you behind, would you?"

Sukirti, her sister and my second hand maid, rolled her eyes at my teasing, "As if we could ever keep up with you, Drau."

I laughed lightly, though the weight of the night had already settled in my chest. Something was coming, something big. And all this glittering distraction wasn't enough to dull the edge of that knowledge.

As I neared the temple steps, the sounds of the festival around me faded slightly, my mind already preparing for whatever awaited.

As we made our way toward the entrance, I paused just before stepping out.

One more step and I'll be in the spotlight. I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. A moment of hesitation. The weight of a thousand eyes awaited me on the other side. The thought made my skin crawl.

"You're going to be late," Prakriti, my third hand maid and their oldest sister, teased, raising a brow.

I rolled my eyes, straightened my spine, and pulled the mask of indifference firmly into place. The Princess of Panchaal does not falter. She commands.

I reminded myself.

Stepping into the open garden, the world seemed to freeze. An announcer's voice boomed through the evening air, declaring my entrance. All eyes turned toward me.

Stunned silence followed. Hundreds of people-royalties, nobles, and servants-stood motionless, their gazes locked on me as I glided into the garden.

Their expressions ranged from shock to awe, admiration to envy, and in some cases, even a touch of fear.

I felt their eyes bore into me, felt their collective breath hitch at the sight of my entrance, and though I despised the attention, I had learned long ago to wear it like armor.

Every step I took was deliberate, each movement regal and commanding.

My mind was a storm, swirling with thoughts I refused to let surface. But my gait was steady, my chin held high, as I walked through the sea of silence toward the center of the celebration.

The sounds of the Ramnavmi celebration faded into the background as I made my way toward the heart of the garden, my steps deliberate, my expression a mask of indifference.

The eyes of the crowd followed me, full of admiration and envy, but none of it reached me.

Not really.

They didn't understand that everything came with a price, and I had paid mine. . .or I was still paying. . .

My heart burned, it was sheer years of practice that didn't let anything show on my face.

I had learned long ago how to detach myself from their stares, their whispered words, their assumptions about the woman they thought I was.

I had become a master of this. Of walking through a world that expected nothing but perfection from me while burying the parts of myself that would have shattered under the weight of those expectations.

Tonight was no different. And yet, with every step I took, memories clawed at the surface, memories I had tried to bury, but that refused to stay hidden.

The murmur of the crowd faded completely, and suddenly, I was sixteen again.

The stone floors of the training hall were cold beneath my feet, and my body trembled—not from the cold, but from the raw humiliation that curled like a fist in my chest.

I stood in front of the instructor, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down, her face twisting in disgust. My limbs were stiff, awkward, and no matter how hard I tried to move with the grace she demanded of me, I failed. Over and over again.

She circled me like a vulture, the cane in her hand tapping the floor with every step she took. The sound echoed in the large hall, but it wasn't the cane I feared—it was the words I knew would follow. The words that cut deeper than any physical blow ever could.

"You think you can be a princess?" Her voice was sharp, cold, filled with disdain. "Look at you. You're a disgrace."

I flinched but didn't move, my fists clenched at my sides. I wouldn't let her see how much it hurt. Not this time. But the ache in my chest was unbearable, and my heart pounded against my ribs, a familiar feeling of dread creeping up my spine.

"Not only are you clumsy and unfit to rule, but you're also foolish," she continued, her voice growing louder, more vicious with each word. "You trusted the prince of Hastinapur. You gave him your heart. And where did that get you?"

I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest deepening.

"You let him deceive you," the instructor sneered, and I could feel the eyes of the other girls in the room on me, their judgment, their amusement. "You let yourself be humiliated by him. And now look at you. Pathetic."

The other maids snickered, their laughter like shards of glass cutting into my skin. I could feel my cheeks burning with shame, but I kept my head high, refusing to let the tears fall. I wouldn't cry in front of them. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"You think someone like him would ever truly want someone like you?" Her voice dropped to a cruel whisper, her words slicing through the air like a blade. "He used you. He humiliated you. And now, everyone knows it."

My vision blurred with unshed tears, but I blinked them away, focusing on the ground beneath me, willing myself to stay strong, to survive this moment.

But the humiliation was overwhelming. The laughter, the taunts, the knowledge that they were right. That I had been naive, foolish. That I had believed in something that had never existed.

The instructor stepped closer, her cane tapping against my leg, and I flinched again, the instinct to protect myself taking over. But I didn't move.

"Outside," she commanded, her voice sharp. "Stand in the courtyard. You're not fit to be in here with the rest of us."

I hesitated, my body trembling as I looked up at her, but one look at her cold eyes told me that there would be no mercy.

I would be punished for every mistake, for every moment of weakness.

And so, I turned and walked out of the hall, feeling the weight of their laughter at my back.

The courtyard was empty, save for the relentless rain that pelted the ground in heavy sheets, the drops icy as they hit my skin. I stood there, exposed, the cold seeping into my bones as I faced the unforgiving sky.

My silk garments clung to my body, drenched, the chill biting through me, but I barely felt it. The physical pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside me.

My heart, already shattered by the betrayal of the prince of Hastinapur, now seemed to disintegrate completely.

I could still see his face—the smile that had once been my comfort, the eyes that I had thought held nothing but affection for me. How wrong I had been. How blind.

The instructor's words echoed in my mind.

You let yourself be humiliated by him.

You let him deceive you.

The rain fell harder, and I lifted my face to the sky, letting the drops mingle with the tears I could no longer hold back.

My body shook with the force of my sobs, but I made no sound.

I wouldn't cry out.

Not here, not now. But the pain was overwhelming.

The betrayal had cut too deep, and now, this—this public humiliation was salt in the wound, a wound that I knew would never fully heal.

The cold rain turned to ice, pelting my skin like tiny daggers, but I didn't move. I couldn't.

I was frozen, not just by the weather, but by the weight of my own failures.

I had trusted. I had believed. And now I was paying the price.

I could hear the instructor's voice in my head, mocking me. He doesn't care about you. No one does. You're nothing more than a naive girl who thought she could be more. You thought you could be loved.

The tears fell faster now, and I pressed a hand to my chest, as if I could somehow stop the ache that was consuming me. But it was no use.

The pain was too great, too raw. And the worst part was, I knew she was right.

I had trusted the prince, and he had used me. I had been a fool, and now, I was paying for it with my dignity.

My body ached from the cold, my fingers numb as I clenched them into fists.

The rain kept falling, harder and harder, and yet, I didn't move. I stayed rooted to the spot, letting the storm rage around me, much like the storm that raged inside me.

And then, as if the universe itself had turned its back on me, I heard the sound of footsteps.

Light, quick, like someone was running toward me. I turned my head, half-expecting to see another figure come to mock me, but instead, it was one of the maids.

She stood in the rain, her face pale as she approached, and without a word, she draped a blanket around my shoulders.

The warmth was a shock against my freezing skin, but it did nothing to stop the cold inside me.

"You should come inside, Princess," she said, her voice soft, but filled with pity. Pity I didn't want. Pity I didn't deserve.

I didn't move. I didn't respond. I simply stood there, letting the ice rain continue to fall, letting it sting my skin, because in some twisted way, I believed I deserved it.

The maid hesitated, her hand still on the blanket she had given me, but after a moment, she stepped back, leaving me alone once more.

Alone with the rain, alone with my thoughts, alone with my pain.

I closed my eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on me—his betrayal, the humiliation, the fact that I had trusted so easily, so foolishly.

And worst of all, the realization that I had believed in something that had never been real.

And as I stood there, the rain mingling with my tears, I promised myself one thing: never again.

Never again would I allow anyone to see the broken parts of me. Never again would I give anyone the power to hurt me like this.

From that day on, I would be the princess they expected.

The untouchable, the proud, the regal. But no one would ever know the pain that lay beneath it. I would never allow anyone to see.

The rain began to let up, but the storm inside me raged on.

I took a deep breath, wiped my tears, and slowly turned to walk back inside, leaving behind the girl I had once been. The girl who had believed in love.

That girl was gone.

I was Draupadi now. And Draupadi didn't cry.

As I returned to the present, walking through the grand garden toward the temple, the memory still clung to me like a shadow.

But I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and let my face return to its usual mask of cold indifference.

The people in the garden continued to watch me with awe and envy, but they would never know.

They would never know what it had cost me to become the woman they saw now.

The woman who no longer believed in anyone but herself.

***

Do Vote and Comment!

***