Chapter 20: A God Takes Her Gently

The morning sun had risen — gold and soft, like it knew it needed to be kinder today.

But inside the cave, the air was heavy.

Agnika slept restlessly in Draupadi’s lap, her small chest rising slow and shallow, tiny fingers twitching at things unseen.

Bhima sat beside them, his arms wrapped around them both, his eyes refusing to blink — as if she might vanish the moment he looked away.

Arjuna stood by the fire, his bow untouched.

Yudhishthir sat in silence.

The twins were curled together, watching from the edge.

None of them spoke.

Until Krishna stood.

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“I will take her.”

The words came without drama.

No thunder. No flute.

Just truth.

Everyone looked up.

“What?” Draupadi whispered.

Krishna walked toward them.

His face was soft, peaceful — but his eyes… were far away. As if they already saw a place the others could not.

“She needs rest. Not of the body — but of the soul.”

“She’s sick,” Bhima said, holding her tighter. “You said it yourself — she’s remembering too much.”

Krishna nodded gently. “Yes. Things too old for words. Too deep for her little chest.”

“So what will you do?” Arjuna asked, quietly.

Krishna crouched in front of Bhima and Draupadi.

> “I will take her where the wind doesn’t scream and the earth doesn’t bleed stories.

I will sit beside her until her dreams quiet.

I will tell her jokes no one remembers.

And if she forgets me… that’s alright.

Because she will smile again.”

Draupadi’s lip trembled. “How long?”

“A month. Maybe two,” Krishna said gently. “No more.”

Bhima’s arms didn’t loosen.

He looked down at her — the girl who had once said ‘Baba’ like it was a prayer.

“She’s mine,” he whispered. “She called me that.”

“She still will,” Krishna said, placing a hand on Bhima’s shoulder. “But you must let her go… so she can come back.”

---

Agnika stirred.

Not with pain.

Just… weary.

Her hand reached toward Krishna’s robe.

He took it gently.

And smiled.

“You’re ready, little flame.”

---

Draupadi kissed her forehead — once. Twice.

Arjuna wrapped a cloth around her to keep her warm.

The twins placed a carved bird in her blanket.

Yudhishthir simply pressed her tiny palm to his forehead — a silent blessing in reverse.

Bhima was the last.

He didn’t speak.

Just placed her in Krishna’s arms…

…and whispered, “Come back calling me Baba. Or I’ll fight a god.”

Krishna smiled. “Then I’d best bring her back fast.”

---

He stood, Agnika curled against his shoulder.

She didn’t cry.

Just closed her eyes.

And for the first time in days—

> Slept peacefully.

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As Krishna stepped out of the cave, the wind stilled.

The mountain held its breath.

And somewhere in the distance, a single peacock called.

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🌿 End of Chapter 20