Secrets in Hastinapura were like debts.

And Rhea had just taken on one too many.

She wasn't sure when the tension in the palace had started to feel so suffocating. Maybe it had been the moment she saw the erased name in the archives. Maybe it was when Vidura confirmed that the missing heir wasn't the only one erased from history.

Or maybe, it was right now, as she sat in an empty courtyard, struggling to breathe.

She had made a mistake.

A real one. A dangerous one.

Duryodhana was testing her. The Pandavas were watching her. And now, Karna had made it clear that she wasn't invisible anymore.

Her hands trembled as she pulled the parchment from her cloak.

The proof Vidura had given her. The name that shouldn't exist.

She should burn it.

She should destroy it and pretend she never saw it.

But she couldn't.

Because now, she wasn't just curious.

She was terrified.

A sound pulled her from her thoughts—a quiet shuffle of feet against stone.

She stiffened, stuffing the parchment into her cloak before turning sharply.

A familiar figure stood at the edge of the courtyard.

Nakula.

He had the same sharp grace his brothers carried, though his features were more open. Where Arjuna was intense and Bhima was imposing, Nakula had a quiet, unreadable elegance.

But right now, his brows were furrowed, and his usual ease was gone.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he said.

Rhea forced a chuckle, though it felt weak. "Maybe I have."

Nakula watched her for a long moment before stepping closer.

She tensed.

"You're afraid," he said quietly.

Her pulse quickened. She should deny it. She should brush it off.

But for the first time in days, she didn't.

She let out a slow breath, her fingers gripping the fabric of her cloak tightly. "I think I made a mistake."

Nakula tilted his head slightly. "What kind of mistake?"

She hesitated.

Then, in a rare moment of honesty, she whispered, "The kind that doesn't end well."

Nakula didn't ask more. He didn't press.

Instead, he did something unexpected.

He sighed and sat down beside her.

For a while, they sat in silence.

Not the heavy, suffocating kind that had been following her for days.

But something else.

Something almost... steady.

"You know," Nakula finally said, voice quieter now, "I once asked Yudhishthira if he ever doubted himself."

Rhea glanced at him. "And?"

"He laughed and said, 'Every day.'" Nakula gave a small, lopsided smile. "But he also said doubt is a sign that you still have choices."

Rhea huffed a short, breathy laugh. "That's not very reassuring."

Nakula shrugged. "Maybe not. But you don't seem like the type to break easily."

Rhea didn't respond.

Because right now, she wasn't sure if that was true.

But for the first time in a long while, she felt like she wasn't entirely alone.

Author's Note:



👀 Rhea lets her guard down for a moment. 👀 Nakula reminds her that doubt doesn't mean weakness. 👀 But peace never lasts in Hastinapura.