It was an excellent art– the skill to smile when the heart was screaming. Being a man always under public scrutiny and judgmental stares, Hridayank learnt how to be sweet. So sweet that it turned him bitter inside. 

Most of the palace dwellers knew about Roshanak's pregnancy by now. There was to be a formal declaration soon. Sikander was happy and taking good care of Roshanak. Fish, that used to be her favourite, was now prohibited in the kitchen because she could not stand the smell of it.

Sikander had forgotten that Hridayank still loved fish.

Sometimes he wondered if he was just an ungrateful man. He had so much– he was the second strongest man of the world, one whose every word (well, almost every word) the Shah listened to. The one who could rebuke the Shah, yet had his affections. He was where a politician would dream to be at the age of fifty and with greying hair. He achieved it in his tender thirties. In comparison to that, Roshanak would have to meet more criticism because of her heritage. She would be measured in value of the number of children, specifically boys, she provided. She would be admired for her perseverance to survive as a woman in a game which men played.

It was tougher for Roshanak, way tougher. To live as a woman often meant to not have the right to make a choice. Roshanak didn't choose to marry Sikander. Neither did she plan to get pregnant by a man she didn't love.

A needle pricked his heart. Did she really not love him? One day she would, definitely. It was inevitable. Sikander was always so sweet and kind to her. Why would a woman not fall for him?

Sikander used to be very bubbly and bright back in the olden days when they were in Greece. Persia had moulded Sikander into a Shah so much that the latter became his whole identity. Sikander became a forgotten name, almost extinct.

Hridayank was losing on Sikander. He still loved the Shah, but it wasn't the man he expected to live a whole life with.

"Is it even wise to imagine two men being together? I can never take the place of a queen. I will always be a man– a brute, a cold-hearted beast. I am made to execute plots and scheme against the Shah's enemies."

I am not made to warm up his bed. I am not made to embrace anyone's heart, even if my name says it's my fate. Or perhaps, I am here to give, but not expect.

Nothing to have in return.

"Can I come and talk to you?"

Ah, you will live long, Roshanak. She came just in time, when he was thinking about her. "The garden feels lonely with no one around. Come, give me company." He shifted to make space for her to sit beneath the shade of the tree. "Do you need help?"

"I am just a month old. Help me when I am round and fat."

It brought a smile to his face. She was cheerful most of these days. There was something about her that reminded Hridayank of a little sister that he never had– someone who would irk him, demand unnecessary gifts and throw tantrums. Roshanak was opposite to it all and was very sensitive. It made her an even better candidate for sisterhood.

He had seen her around other men. She would curl up and keep her guard like a queen should. But with him, she loosened, like in the safety of a cocoon. Hridayank didn't know what he did to deserve such acceptance from her, the wife of his beloved.

It was a messy triangle.

"I know you love fish. I have asked the cooks to bring some for you secretly." Roshanak placed her palm over his. "They will send them to your room every night."

Mouth agape, Hridayank stared down at her hand. When Sikander would touch him, he would feel a sizzling fire crackling in his core, burning everything that came in its way. It had a cavernous longing as vast as the cosmos. While when Roshanak touched him, he was reminded of his mother, of the servant girls giggling amongst themselves, of astute old ladies with wrinkles. There was an uncanny warmth, goosebumps skittering on his skin. In front of Sikander he had to pretend to be strong so often that it would ultimately lead to a breakdown. With Roshanak, there was no barrier. No pretence.

Sikander, the man he loved, had forgotten his favourites. But the woman who had unwittingly come in between him and his lover remembered his liking.

"Thank you." His words came out cracked and broken. He cleared his throat. "The weather is so grey."

"Even if it's nearing sunset, there is no red at all."

"I wish I could paint it scarlet for you." He winked. "Shahamsaram would then gift me something very expensive."

"Well, what do you want?"

"Maybe free fish for whole life?"

"Nah, tell me something serious."

Hridayank stiffened. Her earthy brown eyes swirled like honey in an ocean of milk. "I-I will be happy with just fish. Or whatever else you can give me."

Roshanak coiled her arm with his, scooting closer to him. "You are like a brother to me, Hridayank. I feel safe with you."

Hridayank raised a brow. "I do know that, but why did you suddenly, out of the blue, say it? I am going to protect you no matter what, Roshanak. Some bonds take little time to be born but last forever."

"What if I have hurt you the most?"

"You haven't."

"I have." Roshanak glared, then the loudness of her gaze quietened down. "I know I have."

Hridayank laughed. "Pretty women cannot hurt me. I love them."

"I am the cause of your pain, Hridayank." She dug her fingers into his forearm. "I am the reason why you aren't loved enough."

"You speak as if I am a jilted lover crying for unrequited love?" Hridayank squeezed her cheeks. "You are too good to even poke me."

"Don't act too clever!" Her nostrils fumed. "I-I know I destroyed your world."

Hridayank's face turned wan. "Why?"

Does she...does she know everything?

"You love the Shah, don't you?"

The blood in his veins clotted. He felt a pang in his heart. Guilt ate him up. Averting his gaze away from Roshanak, he uttered in a shaky voice, "Everyone does. We respect the Shah and would die for him."

"I didn't mean it that way." Roshanak firmly held him in place when he tried to get up from the spot. "You love him."

Hridayank leant against the bark of the tree. Life escaped out of his lungs. His ears turned red and hot in shame. Roshanak had caught him– a culprit, a cheater. He was the thorn in the relationship of a married couple. He was the other one. The odd one.

The home-breaker.

"I am sorry." His voice quavered. Tears spilled from his eyes. "I-I didn't mean to. It ju-just happened. We have been together since childhood, so I couldn't help it–"

"I should be the one sorry, Hridayank." Roshanak wiped his tears. "I am the wrong one," she whispered.

Hridayank caressed her hair. "No, little star. No. You aren't. You didn't choose this fate."

"Neither did you choose to be a man."

He chuckled through salty tears. "I wish I was a woman." He placed a hand over her belly, gently rubbing the soft skin. "This child..."

"This child would have been yours," Roshanak completed.

Dread danced in his eyes. "I-I want no harm!" He shook his head. "This child, this baby is innocent. A child can't be blamed for the troubles we have brought upon our lives."

"Forgive me, Hridayank." This time, Roshanak teared up too. "I wish I was a man and you were a woman. I don't mind being a man or a woman, really. I pray that you may get a good life in another birth."

"Ah..." He heaved a sigh. "I am satisfied. We don't get to have everything. I am happy to love. I am happy to see him flourish and progress. It's inevitable that he would marry and have children. I can't be so stubborn as to stop him from that. I love him too much to see his legacy dry out." He paused to take a deep breath. "He deserves a fulfilled life, one beside a woman who can truly, in mind and body, be his half."

"Yet, I would never be able to be a part of his soul."

Hridayank gasped. "Do not speak such."

"We are both incomplete, Hridayank. I may find happiness somewhere ahead, but I would never be able to wash the sins away."

"You aren't a sinner," he chided. "You are a queen. You are a wife. You are a mother. None of these is equivalent to a sinner. If someone is to redeem, it's me, for I have been stealing your husband. I am the one to suffer, not you."

"But–"

He shushed her. "No, Roshanak. We end this here. That's it. We both know the truth. No need to talk about this any longer."

"As you wish..." Roshanak gulped. "I have something else to say too. Something to warn you about."

"A warning?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I know how much the Shah means to you. So I want to tell you that we have an enemy disguised as a friend."

"Craterus?"

"No. Not the old man. It's Perdiccas. He doesn't want either my good or the Shah's. He threatened me, yes. I could do nothing. He said he would tell the Shah about Kazu."

"How did he get to know?"

"I-I thought you shared with him?"

"I don't juggle secrets." He groaned. "Perdiccas? Out of all people, Perdiccas?"

"I don't have a good feeling about him. I am scared. He might try to put us in danger."

"I will be vigilant. Don't worry." He looked at the sky. "It's late. We should go back. I will accompany you till your room. And yes, I will keep my eyes and ears open."

They didn't exchange any more words till they reached her room. "Be careful, and you can trust me," he assured her, and then left.

The weight of the whole world was on his shoulders. It was a huge burden.

But he knew what to do.

"I will let no peril plunder this peace. Roshanak, Sikander and their baby will live."

Even if I have to die.

He had not felt this before. Dying was a warrior's greatest fate, but so long he had wished to live for the sake of Sikander.

Now, he began reconsidering.

"No, don't. Don't." He clenched his fist. "I-I will just keep distance from Sikander. He needs to have a healthy marriage. I will be far from him."

I wish I was the farthest from him.

And a desperate wish, made from the heart, is always answered. Sooner or later.

****

word count: 1852 words
Total word count: 28,244 words

I think I made it crystal clear that a tragedy is going to happen.