Not yesterday but now

Noon's Serenity

The soft glow of the library’s oil lamps flickered behind her as Draupadi stepped out into the long, winding corridors of Hastinapura’s palace. The weight of the words she had read still clung to her heart, an unsettling whisper echoing through her mind. 

'That which is lost may seek return, but in doing so, the heart shall be tested, both in love and in pain.'

A sigh slipped past her lips. The grandeur of the library, the wealth of knowledge it held, had momentarily transported her into another world, but now, as she walked the silent halls, reality pulled her back. Her usual radiant smile was absent, replaced by a thoughtful furrow of her brows, her steps slow and aimless. 

She had not intended to linger in her thoughts so deeply, but the unease in her chest refused to settle. The passage she had read felt too close, too eerily familiar, as if speaking directly to her heart. But what was it trying to tell her? 

Draupadi reached the grand staircase, pausing momentarily before turning to Sahadeva, who had been silently walking a few paces behind her. His calm demeanor remained unchanged, though his sharp eyes had not missed the shift in her expression. 

“Rajkumar Sahadev,” she addressed him, offering a small, polite smile. “Thank you for guiding me today. The library is truly magnificent.” 

Sahadeva inclined his head slightly. “I am glad you found it so.” 

She hesitated for a brief moment, as if debating whether to say more, but then merely dipped her head in farewell. “I shall take my leave.” 

Sahadeva, ever observant, noted the way her voice lacked its usual warmth. He did not ask her what troubled her, Draupadi was not one to voice her burdens so easily. Instead, he simply nodded, watching as she turned and walked away, her steps slow, lost in thought. 

As she wandered down the vast corridors of the palace, her gaze remained unfocused, the world around her turning into a blur. The golden drapes swayed gently in the breeze, the polished marble beneath her feet gleamed under the soft light of the chandeliers, yet none of it truly registered in her mind. The unease gnawed at her, a strange sensation of anticipation and dread intertwining in her chest. 

And then, a sudden warmth covered her eyes, plunging her world into darkness. 

Her breath hitched. For a moment, time stilled. 

The touch was familiar, too familiar to deny. 

But that was impossible. 

Her heart skipped a beat. 

The scent of sandalwood and wild tulsi filled her senses, a fragrance she had known since her birth, a presence so dear to her soul that she could recognize it even in the deepest shadows. 

Before she could react, a teasing voice murmured near her ear, laced with amusement. 

“If I let go, will my Krishnaa recognize me, or has she forgotten her Sakha already?” 

Her heart surged with warmth. 

"Sakha!"

The hands lifted from her eyes, and the moment her gaze found his, it was as if the weight in her chest dissolved entirely. 

Standing before her, draped in divine radiance, was Vasudev Krishna. 

His golden-yellow angvastra rested effortlessly over his shoulders, moving gently with the soft breeze that drifted through the palace halls. The intricate embroidery of delicate lotus patterns shimmered subtly, a reflection of his divine aura. A peacock feather nestled within his dark, flowing locks, tilting slightly as he moved. His flawless complexion glowed under the warm torchlight, and his smile, mischievous yet knowing, carried the warmth of a thousand suns. But it was his eyes, deep as the midnight sky, that held her in place, eyes that had seen time weave its course, eyes that held both laughter and boundless wisdom.