Rhea had never thought about marriage.

Not because she was against it. Not because she had sworn herself to solitude.

She had simply never needed to.

She wasn't a princess to be offered in alliances. She wasn't a court lady with suitors lined up for political gain. She had spent her entire life existing on the edges of things, slipping between the cracks of the world without anyone looking too closely.

And yet—here she was.

Sitting across from Vidura, trying to process the fact that someone had casually suggested her name.

For marriage.

To Ashwatthama.

She stared at him. Not in shock, not in outrage—just pure disbelief.

"You're serious."

Vidura's expression didn't change. "Do I look like a man who wastes his time on jokes?"

She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temples. "Who in the world thought that was a good idea?"

Vidura leaned back slightly, studying her reaction. "People talk, Rhea. And at some point, when a woman reaches a certain age, those conversations take a particular direction."

She let out a laugh—short, bitter. "I am not old."

Vidura actually smirked. "No. But you are not young either."

That stung more than she wanted to admit.

She wasn't that much older than the Kauravas and Pandavas, and yet somehow, she felt light-years away from their lives. They had always had a clear purpose—warriors, kings, rulers in the making.

She?

She had just been trying to survive.

Rhea crossed her arms. "And of all people, Ashwatthama?"

Vidura shrugged. "Why not?"

She opened her mouth—then closed it.

Because what was she supposed to say?

There was no deep political reason behind it, no great scheme at work. It was simply that they were of the same age, both unmarried, and someone had made an offhand remark that had somehow reached Vidura's ears.

It was absurd.

And yet, now that it had been spoken aloud—she could not unhear it.

She wasn't angry at him.

She barely knew him beyond the occasional passing glance in court, the way people spoke of his temper, his loyalty to Duryodhana.

But this wasn't about him. This was about her.

"I never expected this conversation to happen to me," she admitted, almost to herself.

Vidura was silent for a long moment before he finally said, "That is precisely why it is happening now."

She looked at him sharply.

"You have spent years trying to be invisible, Rhea. But time moves whether we wish it to or not. And sooner or later, people notice."

She hated that.

She hated how true it was.

Rhea inhaled deeply, forcing herself to stay calm. "And what am I meant to do with this?"

Vidura simply met her gaze. "Whatever you wish."

That almost startled her. She had expected him to push, to tell her that it was wise, that she should consider it seriously.

But he didn't.

And somehow, that made it worse.

Because if there was no scheme, no manipulation, no pressure—then the only thing left was herself.

Her own thoughts.

Her own choices.

And for the first time, she wasn't sure what she wanted.