Chapter 49-Husband and Wife
Vikram became unbearable while recovering.
"I am perfectly capable of walking."
The physician stared at him.
"You nearly collapsed yesterday."
"I stumbled."
"You fainted."
"For a very short period."
Vinaya looked up from her book.
"You fainted?"
Vikram glared at the physician.
"Traitor."
The physician bowed to Vinaya.
"Your Highness."
Then fled.
Vinaya slowly closed her book.
Vikram immediately became suspicious.
"What?"
"You fainted."
"I briefly lost consciousness."
"That is the definition of fainting."
"It sounds less dignified when you say it."
"It wasn't particularly dignified."
Vikram pointed toward the door.
"Leave."
Vinaya blinked.
"This is my chamber."
He looked around.
He had forgotten.
Vinaya smiled sweetly.
"You leave."
"I am injured."
"How tragic."
"You said you loved me."
"I do."
"And yet this is how you treat me."
"Yes."
Vikram stared at her.
Then laughed.
Vinaya joined him.
And somehow that ordinary moment meant almost as much as the declarations.
They were learning how to be married.
Not Crown Prince and replacement princess.
Not grieving widower and unwanted wife.
Vikram and Vinaya.
When his injuries healed, they began sharing a chamber regularly.
Their intimacy changed too.
Sometimes it was tender.
Sometimes passionate.
Sometimes ruined completely because one of them started laughing.
One evening, Vikram was kissing the side of Vinaya's neck when she suddenly pushed him away.
He froze.
"What?"
"Your beard."
"My beard?"
"It scratches."
He looked deeply offended.
"You have never complained before."
"I was being polite."
"We are married."
"Exactly. I no longer need to be."
He stared at her.
Vinaya burst out laughing.
Vikram tackled her gently into the pillows.
"You are becoming insolent."
"You encouraged me to find my voice."
"A terrible mistake."
She kissed him.
"Yes."
His laughter disappeared beneath the kiss.
There was no dead woman between them now.
No mistaken name.
No fear waiting for morning.
Only husband and wife learning that desire could coexist with laughter, tenderness and trust.
Later, Vinaya lay with her head on Vikram's chest.
His fingers moved lazily through her hair.
"Are you happy?"
She considered the question.
"Sometimes."
Vikram looked down.
"Sometimes?"
Vinaya traced the edge of an old scar near his shoulder.
"I don't think happiness is somewhere people arrive and stay forever."
He was quiet.
"Ganga is still gone."
"Yes."
"I still miss her."
"So do I."
"Some days I will probably still be angry with you."
"I assumed."
She pinched him.
"Ow."
"But yes."
She looked up.
"I am happy with you."
Vikram kissed her forehead.
"That is enough."
Months passed.
There were no announcements.
No physicians rushing excitedly through corridors.
No temple bells.
And, strangely, Vinaya was grateful.
After everything, she and Vikram needed time simply to belong to each other.
Still, once they began discussing children again, hope quietly entered their marriage.
Vikram was cautious.
"If it never happens, it never happens."
Vinaya knew him well enough now to hear the fear beneath the casual words.
"You want children."
"I had a child."
His expression changed.
"I will always have a child."
Vinaya took his hand.
"Yes."
He looked at her.
"And if Ganga is the only child we ever have, she is enough."
Vinaya's eyes filled.
She kissed his fingers.
But neither of them stopped hoping.
One morning, months later, Vinaya woke before dawn.
She lay quietly, listening to Vikram breathe.
Then she felt the familiar ache low in her abdomen.
Her heart sank before she could stop it.
She slipped from bed.
Later, in her dressing chamber, confirmation came.
Her monthly cycle.
Again.
Vinaya sat very still.
It shouldn't hurt this much.
They had only been trying for several months.
There was time.
The physicians had told her so.
Yet disappointment had begun accumulating quietly.
Month after month.
Hope.
Waiting.
Then blood.
Vinaya closed her eyes.
She had not told Vikram how much she wanted another child.
Not because Ganga could ever be replaced.
Never.
But because loving Ganga had taught her that motherhood was not merely something that had happened to her.
It was something she wanted.
Again.
Outside, she heard Vikram waking.
"Vinaya?"
She quickly wiped her eyes.
A moment later he appeared in the doorway, hair disordered from sleep.
He smiled.
"There you are."
Vinaya tried to smile back.
Vikram's expression changed immediately.
He knew her too well now.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
He came closer.
"Vinaya."
Her composure cracked.
She looked down.
"My cycle came."
Vikram stopped.
Understanding slowly entered his face.
Vinaya waited for disappointment.
Fear.
Perhaps even the old Vikram's bitterness.
Instead he crossed the room and held out his hand.
She took it.
He drew her against him.
Vinaya closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
His arms tightened.
"For what?"
"I know you want—"
"No."
He pulled back enough to look at her.
"Do not apologize to me for what your body does."
Tears filled her eyes.
"We have time."
Vinaya nodded.
Vikram kissed her forehead.
"And if it takes years?"
His expression softened.
"Then it takes years."
"And if it never happens?"
His eyes flickered with pain.
But his answer was immediate.
"Then I still have you."
Vinaya rested her forehead against his chest.
She believed him.
What she did not yet know was that the months would become years.
That hope would slowly turn into questions neither of them could answer.
And that while Vinaya wondered whether her body was failing them—
Vikram would begin to fear something entirely different.
That perhaps the gods had heard the terrible wish he had once made about his first daughter.
And perhaps this was his punishment.