The corridors of the palace stretched before them, dimly lit by flickering torches.

The air was thick—not just with the scent of burning oil but with something unspoken.

Duryodhana was silent, his usual sharp wit dulled by the weight of the insult they had faced.

Ashwatthama walked beside him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

And Karna?

Karna, who had always seemed indifferent to insults, walked with a quiet intensity that Rhea had never quite seen before.

It wasn't rage.

Not the kind that erupted instantly.

It was something deeper.

A silence that felt heavy, like something had shifted inside him, but he refused to let anyone see it.

Rhea, trailing behind them, watched.

And for once, she didn't have anything to say.

Because she knew that words would mean nothing right now.

By the time they reached their chambers, the decision had already been made.

They would leave immediately.

There was no reason to stay.

The swayamvara was over for them.

Duryodhana and Ashwatthama were already giving orders to their attendants, making arrangements for their swift departure.

Rhea watched, arms crossed, trying to ignore the lingering frustration bubbling in her chest.

This whole event had felt wrong from the start.

And now?

Now, it felt like the pieces were falling into place—just not in a way anyone had expected.

She glanced at Karna, who had stepped away from the commotion, his expression strangely distant.

She was about to ask him what was wrong—

When a messenger entered.

The man bowed deeply, holding out a scroll.

"A message for you, Maharathi Karna."

Karna took it without hesitation, but as soon as his eyes landed on the seal, his grip tightened.

He broke the wax carefully, his gaze scanning the words within.

And then—for the first time since they had left the swayamvara hall—

Karna smiled.

It wasn't his usual smirk, nor the small amused grins he often gave when teasing.

It was something softer.

Something that didn't quite belong in the aftermath of what had just happened.

Rhea frowned slightly. "Good news?"

Karna exhaled, the weight in his chest loosening just a little. "Yes."

Duryodhana, who had been pacing, turned toward him. "What is it?"

Karna looked at him, then at the others in the room, before finally saying it out loud.

"Varushali has given birth to a son."

For a moment, the room was utterly still.

Then—Duryodhana let out a rare, genuine laugh.

"A son?" His grin was wide, his previous anger momentarily forgotten. "Another one?"

Karna nodded, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of pride, relief, something too complicated to name.

Ashwatthama smirked slightly. "So the little one you spoke about now has a younger brother?"

Rhea, who had been silent until now, exhaled softly.

She had met Karna's first son once before. A bright-eyed boy, curious and sharp, yet already carrying a quiet dignity.

She had watched as he clung to his father's arm, asking endless questions about the battles Karna had fought, about the world outside his home.

And Karna—who had always seemed so distant, so sharp-edged and controlled in the courts of Hastinapura—had softened in his presence.

It had been brief. A glimpse.

But she had seen enough to know Karna loved his children.

And now—he had another.

Rhea allowed herself a small smile. "Your wife must be relieved."

Karna nodded. "Supriya is with her."

That, too, made sense. Supriya had stayed in Hastinapura only for Bhanumati, but her bond with Varushali had been evident. It was a quiet kind of companionship, built on something unspoken.

Duryodhana clapped a hand on Karna's shoulder. "We'll celebrate when we return."

Karna gave him a look, amused but tired. "You celebrate for everything."

Duryodhana smirked. "Why not? A prince of Anga has been born today."

The words lingered for a moment, heavier than they should have been.

A prince.

It was a title the world would not give freely.

Because Karna, no matter what he had achieved, would never be seen as a king.

Not in their eyes.

Rhea glanced at Karna, but he did not react.

Instead, he folded the letter neatly and tucked it away.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

But Rhea knew—this moment would stay with him.

Because in this world where bloodlines ruled over deeds, Karna had built something of his own.

A home. A family.

And perhaps, in the end, that mattered more.