Chapter 7: Fate on the Line
I watched as Doctor Ravi stepped forward, opened his medicine box, and laid a handkerchief on the consort’s wrist. I stared at him, gritting my teeth as I emphasized:
“You must examine her carefully.”
Doctor Ravi lowered his eyes and replied softly. The pulse-taking took a long time. My heart couldn’t help but beat faster. Silently, I slipped my hand into my pocket, gripping my rudraksha mala, praying to my family deity for the child’s health.
The room was heavy with expectation—the slow tick of the wall clock, the flicker of the diya casting long shadows. A lizard skittered across the ceiling as everyone waited, not daring to breathe too loud. Suddenly, Doctor Ravi withdrew his hand and said clearly: “Three years ago, cold entered the lady’s body and damaged her health. Although it’s much better after years of treatment, she is still troubled and depressed. Over time, this will harm both her and the child.”
A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. Hearing the doctor’s words, my heart finally settled. Those pop-ups were indeed nonsense, trying to sow discord between me and my beloved consort. Now I only felt extremely guilty toward her, and was about to promise her the matter of removing the Maharani, when the pop-up suddenly exploded in a frenzy.
Somewhere in the distance, a conch sounded for evening prayers, echoing down the palace halls. Somewhere, a servant’s thali clattered, the smell of ghee and burnt sugar drifting in—reminding me that outside these palace walls, life carried on, oblivious to my torment. As the conch’s echo faded, another pop-up flickered—its words would decide not just my night, but the fate of the throne.