It was Manthara, my nurse and companion since childhood, who planted the seed. "Do you not see?" she hissed one day, her voice like poison in my ear. "When Rama becomes king, you and Bharat will be forgotten. Kaushalya will rise, and you will fall."

At first, I dismissed her words. My Rama, my golden son, would never cast us aside. Yet doubt, once planted, grows like a weed. Manthara's whispers became a storm, and I began to see shadows where there were none. What if she was right? What if my Bharat, my tender-hearted boy, was doomed to live in Rama's shadow forever?

The rest of the tale is well known. I invoked the two boons Dasharatha had promised me long ago-boons I had never thought to use. My voice trembled as I spoke the words that would shatter my world. "Exile Rama to the forest for fourteen years. Crown Bharat as king."

Dasharatha's face turned ashen, his love for me crumbling like sand under a tide. That night, he left my chambers, and I never saw the warmth in his eyes again.

. Give your review through votes and in comment section