And now, those moments breathe only in memory —fragile echoes of a time my heart still wanders in. How I wish I could live forever within those days, to be his, endlessly — beyond the grasp of time.
He was the first human I ever beheld, and the only man my soul ever loved. He taught me the language of love, held my heart as if it were his own, and through him, I learned what it meant to feel alive.
He was the reason I returned to this world. We were bound in marriage, and the universe tied us with an invisible thread — one that stretches through births and lifetimes, unbroken, eternal.
This is my final prayer. O Lord, Creator of worlds and keeper of destinies, if ever I am born again, let me be born for him and him alone. Let my soul find his across the veil of time, as the moon finds the tide, as dawn finds the sun.
A single tear descended, and its kin followed in silence. The world outside lay still — dark, hushed, and holy. I waited for him, heart stilled between beats, wishing he would come before the dawn awoke, so I might tell him once more that I have loved him across lifetimes, and beyond them too.
The diyas had surrendered their final flame, their ashes whispering stories to the wind.
A soft breeze touched my skin — the breath of night itself. I closed my eyes, and the night wishpered his voice: “Shivali.”
My breath faltered. The heavens paused. Even time forgot its rhythm. He came — he finally came for me.
I turned, and there he stood —my eternal beloved.
A sorrowed smile curved upon my lips as I rose to meet him. In his embrace, I found the peace of worlds unspoken, the warmth of every sun that ever burned. He was my shelter, my beginning , my end — my first and my only love.
"Aapne itni der kyun laga di." I wishpered between hugs. "Ham aapki pratiksha kar rhe the. Ham bohut dar gaye the, hame laga aap kahin hamse bina mile chale toh nahi gaye."
His hold tightened, leaving no gaps between us.
"Aapse mile bina kaise chale jaaye." His voice as always deep and calm. Everything around us changed but him. He was same. "You are my world, Shivali. I wish not to live in any other world except yours. I wish I can always find a place in your beautiful enlarged world. I want to remain forever in your faded memories."
"You will forever and ever live in me. I breathe only for you, Shivraj." My soul promised, heart heavied and tears pooled in eyes.
The pain was too much to hold. "Shivali toh kabka mar jaati, agar Shivraj nahi hote. Aapne hame jeena sikhaya h, aapke bina ham kaise jiyenge." Before we get separated, I want to say everything that I never said before.
"Shivali", he called.
"Jii kahiye", I responded.
"Aap hamse kuch kehna chahti hai." He asked.
"Ham aapse bohut kuch kehna chahte hai." I spoke almost a whispers.
"Ye hamari aakhri mulakat hai, hamari aakhri baatein." These words pierced through me. His voice trembled. I had never seen him crying infront of anyone but me.
"Aisa mat kahiye. Ham phir milenge aur tab hame sansaar ki koi shakti alag nhi kar paayegi." I tried to sound well, but the very truth has already broken me.
"Shivali aapne kabhi kaha nahi ki aap hamse prem karti hai." He spoke and I smiled.
"Yeh bhi koi kehne wali baat hai." I spoke.
"Ham sunn..naa chahte hai." He continued. "Ek baar, aakhri baar, bichadne se phele. Ham apne saath sabse kimati pal ko yaadon mein samet kar le jaane chahte hai."
I loosened the hug, faced him and brought my hands to cup his face. Met his eyes, and confronted.
"Shivraj, Ham aapse bohut prem karte hai. Aapke bina ham kuch bhi nahi. Aapse milkar hamne jeevan jeene sikha. Hamesha aapke saath hi jeene ki ichha rahi. Aapse vivah kiye, aapse hi Prem kiye. Aapke liye jee rahe h, aapke liye hi ham yahan aaye hai. Har prarthana mein hamesha aapko hi maanga hai. Ham har roop mein sirf aapke hai. Hamara hriday sirf aapke naam par hi dhadakta. Hamne har singaar sirf aapke naam par kiye. Hamne har bhojan sirf aapke liye banana sikha. Ham aapko jaante gaye aur sansaar ko bhulte gaye. Aapne hame brahmand ki sabse badi Shakti di, aapne hame aapna prem diya. Ham vachan dete hai, jeevan ke har kaal mein ham sirf aapse prem karenge."
I hugged him. Love surely is dual natured. How could a feeling so peaceful and painful exist together.
"I Love you, Shivali. I have always loved you and will always love you." His gentle hold tightens as he expressed his feelings. It felt majestic. This is not the first time that he ever confessed but everytime he express his love for me, my heart beats a little faster, a smile curve on my lips, my eyes blinks and shyness blushes on my cheeks. I'm sure he loves me a little more seeing how my body response. Warmth of his presence engulfed me and leaves a tingling effect that I couldn't name. I never learned how to response to his love. I just existed beside him, in every moment, in every situation. I learnt from him only to be always there for your beloved one especially when they need you, when they ask you and when they try to fight to alone.
"Shivali, I want to tell you something." He broke me out of my thoughts. "Something that I never told you before."
"Kahiye," I said holding him. "Ham sun rhe hai."
He loosened the embrace, his warmth slipping away like the last glow of sunset. Wordlessly, he walked towards the couch in the balcony, where the evening wind had grown wilder, whispering through the air as though carrying the weight of unspoken tales. I followed him, and we sat side by side. His fingers found mine, gently clasping them — hesitant yet full of longing. I looked at him, then rested my head upon his shoulder, feeling the rhythm of his quiet breaths.
“That day…” he began, his voice low, almost trembling, as he toyed with the ring on my finger, “when I saw you for the first time in the forest—your eyes…” He paused. “They reminded me of my mother. She had the same eyes… full of grace, full of worlds untold.”
The breeze stilled for a moment, as though listening.
“I lost her there, in that very forest,” he continued, his tone darkening with pain. “Lobh… that vile creature… he took her from me. When I finally struck him down, I thought vengeance would bring peace. But then I saw you. And your eyes—those same eyes—tore the silence within me. I tried to hold back my tears, but the past came flooding like a storm. My heart froze between shock and sorrow, and a thousand questions rose within me. Before I could speak—before I could even breathe—you ran.”
He turned slightly towards me; the grief in his gaze felt centuries old.
“I called after you. I shouted till my voice broke the stillness of the forest. But you didn’t stop… you didn’t look back. I wanted to tell you not to run—because that forest has no end. One can enter it, but no one ever truly leaves.” His grip on my hand tightened. “I knew you were frightened… yet I couldn’t understand why. Someone who could walk into that forest should not have feared anything born within it.”
He fell silent, staring into the distance as if searching through the veil of memory.
“I waited,” he said softly. “I waited for the forest to fade… hoping that when the mist cleared, I might find you again. Yet doubt haunted me—what if you vanished with the forest itself? But when dawn broke, I walked on, and there you were—lying upon the ground, pale and still. I called you once more…”
He stopped there, his voice breaking into the quiet hum of the wind. He smiled faintly as he continued, his gaze lost somewhere beyond the balcony, as though the wind itself carried him back to that night. His voice softened, layered with memory and ache.
“‘Hey… hello… wake up. Are you alright?’” I murmured, calling you. “But you didn’t answer. I touched your palm—it was burning, like holding a flame. For a moment, I wanted to shield you, to protect you from whatever had hurt you. But the next moment, doubt crept in. What if you were one of them… one of the evils that roamed that cursed forest?”
He paused, exhaling slowly. “Yet, you didn’t look like an evil spirit… nor did you shine like an angel. You were something else—something I couldn’t name. I couldn’t risk saving you then, so I called the clouds and wrapped them around you—let them cradle your heat, calm the fire within you. And then I waited. The entire day I sat there, watching, hoping you would open your eyes.”
His hand trembled slightly in mine.
“When night fell again, and the moon rose among the stars, you stirred. I saw you moving and standing up, and life returned to your gaze. I didn’t come near—I just watched from a distance. When you finally stood, I gathered my courage and walked towards you, seeking answers.”
He looked down, smiling wistfully. “But instead of words, we found war. You were furious—burning with a force I had never seen before. I had fought many, but none possessed the power you did. Not my enemies, not my soldiers. You were different.”
He drew a deep breath, eyes glinting with a faint shadow of awe. “I summoned the Black Hunter then… to see if you knew of the Black Weapons. And you—” he looked at me now, “you astonished me. You knew. When I brought forth the third—the Black Bow and its arrows—you recognized them as though they were part of your very soul.”
His voice dimmed, like a fading fire. “Your anger grew wild, and I feared it would consume us both. So I sealed you within arrays and withdrew, hiding among the trees, just to see if you could break through. When morning came, I heard your cry—a sharp, aching sound that tore through the stillness. You were weakening. I wanted to run to you, to lift you out of that torment… but again, I held myself back. I was afraid—afraid of what you were, and of what you might awaken in me.”
The wind brushed softly across us, cold and tender.
“When you fell again into silence, I approached. Your skin burned like fire once more. So I did what I knew—I called the clouds again to shield you.” He smiled faintly. “And then, as night returned, so did you. You rose, unbroken—as if nothing had ever happened. You confused me beyond measure. I, who had known gods and beasts, could not understand what you were. You said you were a queen—but of which realm? And who had summoned you to that forest? Someone must have known you, but who were they… and why bring you there?”
He turned towards me then, eyes shimmering with old wonder. “I watched you run through the rocks and mountains, searching restlessly, your steps uncertain. You looked frightened—haunted. You wore pale robes that once must have been white, now dulled with dust and moonlight. You looked… ethereal. Fragile, yet fierce. Your eyes, though… they shone like the ocean under the moon.”
He paused. “And then you saw the cave.”
The silence deepened.
“You ran towards it,” he said slowly, “and I was already there—sitting on a high stone, thinking of you, trying to untangle the riddle that you were. I had never been so lost in thought before. And when you entered, when our eyes met again—your face, once soft with relief, turned guarded, alert. I feared I had frightened you…”
He fell silent, his words trailing into the sound of the wind.
“I don’t know what overcame me that night,” he whispered, eyes distant, as though still lost in that moment. “I pulled you close—so close that our breaths mingled and the space between us ceased to exist. For an instant, it felt as though lightning coursed through my veins. My heartbeat stopped. My breath faltered. I couldn’t name what I felt… it was beyond words, beyond reason. All the questions that once filled my mind, all the doubts that clouded me—vanished. It was just that one moment… a moment that felt like eternity itself.”
He drew in a breath, his gaze softening. “Yet, even in that stillness, duty tugged at my soul. Responsibilities weighed heavier than my heart’s desires. I needed to understand you—to know you. And so I asked my first question…”
He looked at me now, as if reliving that night.
“‘What is it with you?’ I said. ‘You rise like a flame in the night, but by day you burn so fiercely that you fall back to earth like a lifeless star. Why?’”
His voice softened, touched with wonder. “And your answer… your answer was unlike anything I had ever heard.”
He paused, eyes half-lidded, remembering.
“‘I think,’ you said, ‘that big glowing sphere and those thousands of flickers give me power.’”
He chuckled softly, though his eyes glimmered with nostalgia. “I was astonished. You spoke as though the heavens themselves were strangers to you. I asked, gently, ‘That big glowing sphere is called the moon, and those flickers are stars.’”
He smiled faintly. “Your eyes widened, filled with disbelief and innocence all at once. You looked so… divine in that moment—curious like a child, yet regal like a queen lost in a world not her own. My heart… it stumbled. For a heartbeat, I forgot who I was supposed to be.”
Then, imitating my voice, he said, “‘You are lying.’”
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “That’s all you said. And I stood there, speechless, wondering—how could anyone not know of the moon and stars, when even the smallest creature bows to their light?”
He turned toward me then, the faintest trace of wonder still glowing in his eyes. “That was the first time I realized—you were not from this world. You didn’t belong to the heavens I knew, nor to the earth I guarded. You were something far beyond either. And from that night onward… I knew holding you here was dangerous. So I asked you to leave for your realm at earliest.”
And then I left you there hoping to never meet again. But destiny had other plans, we met again, as the night ruled, you were back to your adventure.
He smiled faintly as he continued, the soft wind brushing through his hair as though carrying whispers of that distant memory. His eyes glowed with that quiet, nostalgic ache only the past can give.
“After I left the cave,” he began, “I could not rest. Something in me urged to follow—to understand you more than words ever could. So I wandered, tracing every curve of the Himalayan range. The snow peaks glimmered under the fading sun, and I searched every shadow, every gust of wind, hoping it might carry some trace of you.”
He exhaled slowly, his voice like a sigh. “By dusk, I reached a river that flowed like silver between the mountains. The sky was painted in gold and crimson; the air was heavy with silence. I bathed in the cold stream, letting the water calm my restless thoughts, and then sat at the bank, half-lost in that stillness.”
His expression softened, almost tender. “And then… I heard it. Your scream—piercing, desperate, cutting through the calm like a thunderclap. My heart froze. Before I could think, before reason could stop me, you leapt into the river. Instinct… or maybe something beyond instinct… pushed me towards you.”
He looked down, as though seeing it unfold again before his eyes. “You were there, floating like a broken petal in the current—motionless, pale. I pulled you to the shore, calling your name over and over, my hands trembling. You didn’t respond. I patted your cheeks, whispered prayers I didn’t know I still remembered. And then—you coughed. A weak, shivering sound… but it was life. And in that moment, an unknown relief washed through me. I… I can’t even explain it. It was as if my own breath had returned.”
He chuckled softly, eyes glistening. “And the first thing I said—ah, I still remember—was the most foolish question I could have asked. Something so ordinary, so human, after everything that had just happened. You looked at me then, still dazed, yet your eyes… they carried the calm of galaxies. And your answer—” he paused, smiling with awe, “your answer wasn’t like anyone else’s. You spoke like one who had just learned the art of replying to mortals. Each word was strange, simple, and yet… it carried meaning deeper than anything I’d ever heard.”
His gaze drifted far away, to some invisible horizon. “There, in that forest, beneath the whispering trees and the endless sky… those moments became etched in me. Our words—your questions, your half-smiles, your silences—they turned into memories I could never forget. That forest, that river, that night—it all became a chapter I would live over and over, even if time itself forgot.”
He drew a long breath, as though each word carried the weight of years. His voice softened, carrying the hush of the mountains, the murmur of rivers, and the ache of remembrance.
“You turned and walked away,” he began quietly, “and I watched you go, your pale form fading into the dim light before dawn. I had already promised to help you find your way back—to take you to your home, wherever that might be. So I went to bring my horse.”
He smiled faintly, a trace of melancholy in it. “When I returned, you were already asleep. Curled upon the grass beside the river, your face calm, serene, and utterly unguarded. I stood there, simply looking at you. And I wondered—what had brought you here, to this realm of earth and mortals? You didn’t belong to this world; everything about you whispered of something far beyond it.”
He glanced toward the sky, where a few early stars shimmered. “I sat by the riverbank, dipped my feet into the cold water, and waited. The flow of the river lulled my thoughts into silence until your voice broke through it, soft and clear, calling me back from my trance.”
He smiled again, this time wistfully. “The horizon was already turning faint gold; dawn was near. You said, with quiet certainty, that you lived in Chiryut Mahal. The name struck me like thunder. For a moment, I thought I had heard wrong. I turned to you, asked again, and you repeated it—calm, sure, and unwavering.”
He shook his head, his tone caught between disbelief and awe. “I couldn’t believe it. Chiryut Mahal… the name of my home, my palace. How could you claim it as yours? For a moment, I tried to convince myself I misunderstood you. But your eyes told me otherwise. So I decided—if you said that was your home, then I would take you there. Even though every instinct in me whispered it wasn’t the place you truly belonged.”
He paused, the memory clouding his gaze. “We hadn’t even crossed half the way when I heard you fall—a sudden, heavy thud behind me. I turned, and my heart stopped. You lay motionless on the ground. How could I have forgotten?” His voice trembled faintly. “You could not bear the sun. Its rays were poison to you. Guilt doesn’t even begin to name what I felt at that moment. I rushed to you, lifted you in my arms, and carried you to the horse. Without a second thought, I rode as fast as I could—toward the deepest heart of the forest, where sunlight dared not enter. Only there, in the shade of ancient trees, did your fever begin to fade.”
He exhaled slowly. “You still didn’t wake. So I waited… again. It seems all I ever did was wait for you to open your eyes. When night finally came and the moon returned, you stirred once more. I wanted—oh, I wanted—to tell you how sorry I was. But the same doubt, that same cursed thought, held me back. What if she is a devil? my mind whispered. I hated myself for thinking it, but fear is a cruel companion.”
He looked away, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Still, I walked closer. I wanted to apologise, to ease the ache I’d caused. But the only words that left my mouth were cold and practical. I told you we must leave at once. That time was short. That we had a long distance to cover. I don’t even know if you understood what I meant, but you followed without question.”
A faint smile returned as he spoke again. “When we finally reached Chiryut Mahal, I could feel your curiosity spark like light itself. You had a thousand questions, I could see them dancing in your eyes—but you said nothing before my family. For that, I was grateful. They would never have understood.”
He chuckled softly. “I watched you wander through the palace courtyard, gazing at each trees and bushes, every curtain, every glowing lamp, as though you were rediscovering pieces of a dream. There was wonder in your gaze—and something in me… something warm… felt at peace for the first time in years.”
His voice softened again. “And then you did something that took even me by surprise—you bowed and touched her feet. I stood there in astonishment. I didn’t know if your realm had such gestures of reverence, or if it came from instinct, but the way you did it—so naturally, so gracefully—left everyone speechless.”
He smiled, the memory glimmering like an ember. “My sister, ever curious, asked for your name. And you said, in that calm, melodic voice, ‘Shivali. My name is Shivali. I am a queen.’ They gasped; I couldn’t help but laugh. You didn’t even know what that meant to them. You spoke the truth so simply, unaware that those words would echo in their minds long after you left.”
He sighed softly. “They took you with them then, delighted, full of questions and laughter. I watched from afar, smiling like a fool. Then I turned away—to check on my soldiers, to prepare for the morning prayer and the court. After all, it had been months since I had last stood beneath the roof of my own home.”
After meeting my soldiers and commander in chief, I walked towards my room to get freshen up and get ready for the day ahead. As I pushed opened the door, I saw you there standing, confused and unaware. I realised, now this room is not only my room, it's yours too. And before coming in, I have to ask for your permission. Before I could speak anything, your anger brust and I knew it was not easy to handle you.
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