Raghuveer began walking ahead. Pratiksha quickly paid for the dress and came outside. She looked around.
Because she was searching for Raghuveer. She saw Raghuveer. He was far ahead. She ran after him. All the young men outside were watching her. Looking at those boys, it felt like time had stopped for them. Because they were only looking at Pratiksha.
Soldiers, merchants — all the young men were watching only her.
She reached Raghuveer and started walking beside him.
"Why didn't you buy any clothes?" she asked Raghuveer. But Raghuveer said nothing.
People were jealous seeing Pratiksha with Raghuveer. They looked at Raghuveer with anger.
Because for them, Raghuveer was that thorn — the one that pricks when you touch the flower.
Raghuveer understood why people were looking at him with anger. Because of this, Raghuveer started walking quickly.
His sword was shifting. Raghuveer gripped the hilt tightly. He was very angry — that because of a girl he didn't even know, people were looking at him with anger. He had already endured a lot. The incident in the Mukt Kingdom — when everyone called him a thief, a demon — came before his eyes. He felt that even now, because of Pratiksha, people would think he was bad.
Some things never change. Even if you go anywhere, that thing never stops chasing you.
Wherever Raghuveer went, he was always known as a demon, a killer. All the kingdoms in the north recognized Raghuveer as a murderer. Because the news had spread throughout the north — that he had destroyed the Saka Kingdom. He hadn't spared a single person in Saka. From children to the elderly, he had killed everyone.
Because of this, he kept moving from one kingdom to another — because he wanted to erase the stain on him. But that stain kept growing. Eventually, he stopped paying attention to these things.
Pratiksha didn't realize that her beauty was making Raghuveer look bad in people's eyes.
Raghuveer, these people are looking at us with anger. We haven't done anything, yet they're looking with rage, Raghuveer told himself.
His head was heating up. His eyebrows were covering his eyes. His grip tightened even more. Pratiksha was walking behind him.
Did my dress not affect him at all? Everyone was looking at me. But he… but he didn't look, Pratiksha told herself.
Raghuveer, you really are different. The way you walk, your hair, your sword, your preferences — everything is different, Pratiksha told herself and smiled inwardly.
The sun's light began to intensify. Clouds slowly moved forward. A flock of birds flew across the sky. In the sunlight, the city sparkled — as if it were a golden city.
"Why is that beautiful girl walking behind that beggar?" one boy asked his friend.
"Yeah man, I was wondering the same," his friend replied.
A beautiful girl was walking behind a beggar — a beggar who didn't even receive alms.
Pratiksha was looking at his back. She was looking at his sword — the one that had never left Raghuveer's side.
She wanted to become that sword — the one that would never leave him.
But Raghuveer only loved that sword when it spilled blood.
Would Pratiksha have to become blood too?
Raghuveer's anger was rising. He couldn't tolerate the angry stares from those boys.
Their eyes were saying: Stay away from that beautiful girl. You are the stain on the moon that dims her beauty.
Raghuveer stopped. Pratiksha bumped into his back. "Ouch…"
Raghuveer drew his sword from its sheath.
Kill her, Raghuveer… Raghuveer told himself.
He gripped the sword tightly. People were watching.
"What happened, Raghuveer?" Pratiksha asked. But Raghuveer said nothing.
He slowly turned around. Pratiksha looked into his eyes — and saw humiliation in them.
Raghuveer swung the sword through the air and attacked Pratiksha's nape — but the sword stopped near her neck.