Vedavalli gently rapped her knuckles against the door, but no one answered. She tried again, but still, there was no response. Her gaze surveyed the intricate wood carvings on the door, which had withstood the passage of time.
Just as she was about to knock for the third time, the door slowly creaked open. Her father stood in front of her, his expression just as inscrutable as it was when she had left to work at the palace nine years ago. He gave a small nod and stepped aside, allowing her to enter. Nothing had changed. Despite every effort, nothing had changed!
Taking in her surroundings, Vedavalli felt as though she were a stranger in someone else's home. The interior had undergone a series of changes since she had last been there. Her childhood bedroom, once filled with toys, was now pristine, with everything packed away in a trunk.
Feeling lost, Vedavalli made her way over to the swing and sat down, unsure of what to say or ask. It was only after a long moment of silence that she finally managed to speak.
Stolen novel; please report.
"How are you, Appa?" she asked, her gaze focused on the small plant in the corner of the room.
Her father's response was delayed, and when he did finally speak, his voice was flat and devoid of emotion. "I'm fine, thank you," he said. "And how are you, Vedavalli?"
"I'm well, thank you," she replied.
For a while, they sat in silence, Vedavalli unsure of what to say or do. Her father didn't offer any conversation, and Vedavalli was hesitant to pry. It was only when she spotted a picture of her mother on the wall that she felt compelled to speak.
"I miss Amma," she said softly, her voice cracking with emotion.
Her father's expression softened slightly, and he nodded in agreement. "Yes," he said. "I miss her very much too."
There was something they needed to talk about, some unresolved tension that hung between them like a heavy fog. When she couldn't take it anymore, "I have the treaty ready. We can discuss it tomorrow at the council."
He nodded once. She stood up to leave.