Chapter 8: When Arjuna Returned

The forest was still when he came.

Long before footsteps could be heard, Draupadi felt it — the slight change in the wind, the way the trees held their breath.

She turned her head just as the light shifted at the cave’s entrance.

And there he was.

Arjuna.

Dust clung to his shoulders. His bow, Gandiva, rested across his back like a memory. His eyes… calm, but unreadable — like a man who had looked into fire and returned with silence.

Yudhishthir rose first, smiling faintly. “Welcome home, Partha.”

Arjuna bowed, touching his brother’s feet. “The forest is colder than I remember.”

Bhima looked up from where he sat by the fire — his massive arms wrapped protectively around a tiny child, who sat on his thigh playing with a string of beads.

Her hair was soft and messy, her cheeks round and pink from sleep. She wore a shawl much too large for her, trailing like royal robes behind her small frame.

Arjuna paused mid-step.

“…Who is that?”

The baby looked up.

Big, curious eyes locked onto him.

She blinked.

Then sneezed.

Bhima chuckled. “This,” he said proudly, “is Agnika. Our firefly.”

Arjuna frowned slightly. “Whose…?”

Draupadi appeared behind Bhima. “She’s not from anyone. She came to us. Or maybe… we were waiting for her.”

“She’s very small,” Arjuna said softly, crouching.

Agnika wobbled slightly and leaned forward, reaching for one of Bhima’s long curls.

Bhima leaned down and whispered, “No biting this time, alright?”

“She doesn’t even have teeth,” Arjuna murmured.

“She has spirit,” Bhima grinned.

Agnika made a sound — soft and delighted — as if she found something funny in Arjuna’s face. She waved her tiny hands clumsily, then yawned mid-motion, drool sliding down her chin.

Arjuna stared at her.

She was too small to speak, too young to walk…

And yet something in her eyes pulled at him.

An ache.

A silence.

As if her soul was older than her body.

“She saw something,” Draupadi said gently. “In her dreams. Something that left her crying like the sky was falling.”

Arjuna reached out — and hesitated.

But Agnika, in her own innocent way, leaned into his hand.

Her little fingers touched his thumb. Soft. Sticky. Warm.

And for a moment… he felt it.

A flicker.

Of a courtroom.

A voice shouting.

The sound of silk being pulled.

And Draupadi’s eyes, wide with fury and shame.

Arjuna looked up sharply.

Draupadi met his gaze. She didn’t need to explain.

> The child had seen it.

That moment.

The one that still haunted them all.

Arjuna gently lifted Agnika in his arms.

She nestled against his chest without fear, a small hand fisting into his scarf.

> “She’s so small,” he whispered.

“And yet… it feels like she’s been here before.”

Draupadi smiled softly. “Maybe she has.”

Bhima leaned back, arms crossed, pride in his voice.

> “She’s part of us now. She may not speak yet, but she listens better than any court I’ve ever sat in.”

Arjuna looked down at Agnika — who had now fallen asleep, face resting over his heart.

> “Then I will protect her,” he said quietly.

“Not because she’s ours…

But because she remembers what we try to forget.”

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And outside, the forest whispered through the trees.

Not loud.

Not sudden.

But like the gentle hum of fate — beginning to turn again.

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🕊 End of Chapter 8