She shook her head. "You think I will sit here for decades waiting, wondering if you are safe, if you are eating, if you are happy? No. Wherever you go, I will go. If you live on Earth as a mortal… then I will live there too. I will learn to cook simple food instead of divine sweets. I will be with you."
Karna stared at her, "But… Gandharvaloka is your home. Your father… your people…"
Roshini smiled, small and determined. "My home is where you are, my love. I waited twelve years once. I will not wait even another year. Take me with you. Let me stand beside you on Earth. Let me share whatever life you must live there."
Karna felt something warm bloom in his chest. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. "Then… let's tell our parents."
Roshini leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.
Karna closed his eyes.
They sat like that for a long time, with their hands joined, while the gardens of Gandharvaloka bloomed around them.
The days after the decision passed in a soft blur of preparation.
Suryaloka glowed brighter than usual, not from the sun alone, but from the quiet joy that spread through the palace like morning light.
Servants wove garlands of golden champa and white jasmine until every pillar and doorway looked alive with flowers.
Musicians tuned their veenas and flutes in the gardens.
Sweet smells drifted from the kitchens, saffron milk, cardamom sweets, ghee-fried delicacies, all made with Sangya's own hands.
She moved through the halls with a small smile that never quite reached her eyes, but her hands never stopped working.
Every dish, every thread she touched carried her love for her son and the girl who had chosen to follow him.
The wedding was set for the next week, simple, sacred, without the grand spectacle of deva ceremonies.
Chitrasena had insisted: "Let it be like Gandharva tradition, love witnessed by the sky and the music of the wind." Lord Surya had agreed. Sangya had only nodded, her heart too full for words.
On the day of the wedding, the palace courtyard was transformed.
A small mandap stood under the open sky, four pillars wrapped in mango leaves and marigold flowers, with a sacred fire burning in the center. Soft music floated from Gandharva players hidden among the trees, veena notes mingling with flute and mridangam.
Roshini arrived first.
She wore a red-gold lehenga, silk flowing like water, embroidered with tiny suns and moons. Her hair was braided with jasmine, and a simple gold chain was around her neck.
She walked slowly, eyes lowered at first, then lifted to search for Karna.
When she saw him standing near the mandap, dressed in white silk with a thin golden border, her breath caught. She let out a shy smile.
Karna stepped forward and took her hand gently, the same way he had twelve years ago by the lake.
Roshini squeezed his fingers. There are no words needed.
Sangya stood nearby, tears already shining in her eyes.
She stepped to Roshini and placed a small tilak of vermilion on her forehead. "My daughter-in-law… welcome home."
Roshini bowed low. "Thank you, Mother."
The ceremony began quietly.
A priest chanted mantras, slow, steady, while Agni Dev's flames danced higher. Karna and Roshini sat side by side on the mat, knees touching. Surya stood behind his son. Sangya stood behind Roshini, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
The priest spoke the vows.
Karna turned to Roshini first. "I take you as my wife, in dharma, in love, in every life we may live. I promise to protect you, to honor you, to walk beside you through joy and through duty."
Roshini looked into his eyes, steady, unafraid. "I take you as my husband, in dharma, in love, in every life we may live. I promise to stand by you, to share your burdens, to follow you wherever your path leads, even to Earth, even through mortality."
They exchanged garlands, jasmine for her, marigold for him.
The priest tied their wrists together with a sacred thread.
They circled the fire seven times, slow steps, hands joined, promising to walk together through every phase of life.
Sangya watched every circle, whispered to herself, barely audible: "My son… my daughter-in-law… stay safe."
When the seventh circle ended, the priest declared them husband and wife. Karna looked at Roshini, his wife now, and smiled.
She smiled back, brighter than the moon.
Lord Surya stepped forward. and placed his hand on both their heads as they touched his feet to take his blessings. "May your union bring light to each other, and to the worlds you will touch."
Music played softly in the background. Gandharvas sang old love songs. Karna and Roshini sat together with their hands still joined, speaking little, simply being near each other.
As the guests had departed, some to their own realms, others to guest chambers in Suryaloka's palace, music had faded to silence. Only the soft sound of the night wind moving through the gardens remained.
Karna and Roshini walked together down a quiet corridor.
No servants followed them. No music played.
They had asked for privacy, just the two of them, no eyes, no voices. Roshini held his hand, fingers lightly laced with his, and her steps were slow, as if she wanted the walk to last forever. Karna matched her pace, silent at first, simply feeling the warmth of her palm against his.
They reached a small chamber near the eastern wing, one Sangya had prepared herself.
A low bed draped in white silk stood in the center. Lamps glowed softly on low tables, their light dancing on the walls. Fresh jasmine floated in a silver bowl of water. A single window opened to the night sky.
Roshini stepped inside first.
She paused just past the threshold, looking around. "Your mother did this… didn't she?"
Karna nodded. "She wanted everything to be perfect."
Roshini turned to him. Her lehenga shimmered faintly in the lamplight, red-gold silk catching the glow. She reached up and removed the heavy necklace she had worn during the ceremony, placing it carefully on a small table. Then she looked at Karna again, eyes soft, searching.
"Come here," she said quietly.
Karna crossed the room.
He stopped in front of her, close enough to feel her warmth. He lifted his hand and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with gentle fingers.
Roshini smiled, small and shy. "I waited twelve years for this night. And now that it's here… I feel nervous. Like I'm still that girl by the lotus pond."
Karna's thumb traced her cheek. "I feel the same, my wife."
Roshini's eyes glistened at that address. She stepped closer, planting her face into his chest, and wrapped her hands around his body
"Honestly, I was afraid," she then whispered. "Afraid you would change. Afraid the mountains would make you forget me. But you didn't. You came back the same, the same Karna who promised to play for me again."
Karna closed his eyes with a smile, replying, "I could never forget you. Every night in the ashram… when the others slept, I would sit under the stars and think of you. Your laugh. Your hand in mine. The way you looked at me when I played the veena."
Roshini lifted her face.
*
A few weeks later;
Sangya stood in Karna's room, folding his cloak with careful hands.
She had insisted on packing it herself, smoothing every crease, tucking it neatly into the small bundle he would carry. Karna watched her from the doorway with a heavy heart.
He stepped inside.
Sangya looked up.
Tears were already in her eyes.
She set the cloak aside and walked to him.
Without a word, she pulled him into a tight embrace. Her shoulders shook as she held him, as if letting go would mean losing him forever.
Karna wrapped his arms around her gently. "Mother… don't worry, I will come and visit home whenever it is possible."
Sangya looked at him, "Promise?"
Karna smiled with a nod, "Promise, Mother."
He kissed her forehead, the same way she had kissed his so many times. Then he stepped away, slowly, reluctantly, and picked up his bundle.
He walked toward the door.
He did not turn back.
Sangya watched him go.
When he reached the courtyard, Lord Surya and Roshini waited beside the chariot. Karna climbed in without looking behind him.
"Let's go from here quickly, Father."
Lord Surya glanced once toward the palace, toward Sangya standing in the doorway, then nodded.
The seven horses leaped forward. The chariot rose into the sky.
Sangya screamed his name, a single, broken cry. "Karn..."
Chhaya stepped beside her, silent at first. Then she sighed, a soft, tired sound. "Seeing her in pain doesn't feel good at all… unlike what I expected. Well… I guess I can understand her feeling. Goddess or not… a mother is still a mother in the end."
The chariot vanished into the golden horizon.
Sangya stood there, hands pressed to her chest, watching the empty sky long after it was gone.