Love Across Time

Seventy Seven

-𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓡𝓮𝓯𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼-

The oppressive darkness within the chamber mirrored the one that had settled within Aanya's soul. Unlike nights past, bathed in the soft luminescence of the moon, this night offered no solace, no silver lining. It was a suffocating blanket, swallowing her whole, just as grief had consumed her.

Days, perhaps even weeks, had blurred together in a haze of despair. Aanya lay sprawled on the cold floor, her body a vessel devoid of energy. The lamps remained unlit, their polished surfaces gathering dust like a physical manifestation of her apathy. What was the point of light when it wouldn't illuminate his absence? His absence that hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the gaping hole in her life.

A faint rapping on the door startled her from her self-imposed oblivion. A flicker of awareness sparked in her dulled eyes. Should she respond? The effort of simply lifting her head felt insurmountable. Her body, once vibrant and alive, felt drained of all vitality.

Aanya remained sprawled on the cold floor, her world shrunk to the confines of this darkened chamber. Loneliness pressed in on her from all sides, a suffocating presence threatening to steal the very air from her lungs. Even the rhythmic chime of her anklets, usually a sound that brought her comfort, now grated on her nerves. Each delicate jingle seemed a mocking reminder of happier times, of stolen glances and playful laughter shared with Arjun. The sound, once a melody of love, now echoed the emptiness of his absence. It was a constant, irritating thrum, a poignant reminder of the life that had been ripped away from her. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. What was the point of adornment when he was not there with her to admire it? Each ornament on her body felt like a cruel joke, a shimmering reminder of a life now shrouded in grief.

I miss him.

A sob, raw and primal, ripped through Aanya. What had she done to deserve this cruel twist of fate? Just when she'd woven a tapestry of happiness with Arjun, life, the fickle weaver, had ripped it apart. Why? Why couldn't they have faced whatever trials together? A desolate despair settled over her, heavy and suffocating. Even the most wretched hell, she thought with a morbid flicker of defiance, would be a paradise as long as she had his hand to hold. The exile felt like a physical blow, her heart a leaden weight thudding sluggishly in her chest.

The vastness of the palace mocked her with its opulent comfort. It was a gilded cage, its beauty hollow without him by her side. Arjun, her laughter, her sunshine, exiled with him. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, a stark contrast to the desolation in her eyes. She looked around the opulent chamber, a testament to a future they were building together, a future now painted in shades of ash. The intricately carved furniture, the vibrantly colored tapestries, all seemed to whisper taunts of a love story left unfinished. What was the point of it all without him? Each beautiful detail was a stark reminder of a happiness stolen, a future tragically unraveled.

His exile felt like a living death sentence to her. Anya's heart, once a buoyant thing filled with the rhythm of love, now felt like a stone tethered to the bottom of a desolate ocean. Each beat a struggle, a heavy pull against the crushing weight of grief. The air itself felt thick and suffocating, pressing in on her lungs with every labored breath. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes, a constant companion to the ever-present lump in her throat.

She pushed herself off the cold floor, wincing at the protest from her stiff muscles. Her world had shrunk to the confines of this oppressive chamber, the opulent surroundings a cruel mockery of her shattered reality. Every ornately carved piece of furniture, every vibrant tapestry, seemed to leer at her misery. They were silent reminders of dreams spun together, a future meticulously planned, now lying in tattered ruins at her feet.