Subhadra flinched slightly at Krishna’s sudden presence.

His presence had always been comforting—like a warm light that could soothe any fear.

But today…

She felt nothing like that at all.

For as long as she could remember, her two elder brothers had been the greatest figures in her life.

Balram, with his strong hands and unwavering presence.

Krishna, with his clever words and unfathomable wisdom.

She adored them.

She admired them.

She worshiped them.

To her, there was no one greater than them.

And yet…

She was not like them.

*****

"What’s wrong, Ruchi?"

Krishna’s voice was as gentle as ever.

Subhadra looked up at him, her lips trembling.

How was she supposed to explain everything she felt?

How could she put into words the confusion, the sadness, the aching jealousy?

It was too much.

It was too big.

So instead—

She threw herself into his arms and cried.

Krishna’s embrace was warm, solid, safe.

He held her close, resting his hand lightly on the back of her head.

She fit so perfectly against him, her small frame nearly disappearing in his embrace.

He said nothing.

He simply let her cry.

And Subhadra did.

Her tiny shoulders shook.

Her fingers clutched his robes.

She let everything pour out.

After a while her sobs eventually softened, but her voice trembled as she finally whispered,

"Bhrata…why? why are you Krishna and Why I am Chitra?"

Krishna's brows furrowed slightly, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

"Why are we different?"

Her voice was so small, so fragile—as if she were afraid to even ask the question.

Her fingers clenched tighter around his clothing.

"Why… am I not like you?"

Krishna smiled gently, brushing away a stray tear from Subhadra’s cheek.

"And where does this question come from, bhadre?" he asked softly. "What happened?"

Subhadra sniffled, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his robes. She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out.

How could she?

How could she put into words the storm of emotions swirling inside her?

Her throat tightened. Her chest felt so heavy.

Krishna waited patiently, his warm hand rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Then—it all came crashing down.

"Bhrata—" her voice cracked.

"I heard people talking at the festival…"

Krishna’s gaze softened. "And what did they say?"

She gulped, sniffling as she recited the words that had been haunting her since that night.

"They were talking about Rajkumar Arjuna and Maharani Draupadi… and about you."

Her lips quivered, but she forced herself to continue.

"They said Maharani Draupadi and Rajkumar Arjuna. Both of them have the same complexion as you. And you and them was like family.’"

She took a shaky breath. Her tiny fists clenched.

"Then someone also said—‘how ironic that your real siblings looks nothing like you.’"

Her voice wavered, but she pushed through.

"They laughed.’"

A lump formed in her throat as she whispered

"At least dau has a great achievement even when he looks different from you, but me? I don't look like your not am I have a big achievement like you.’"

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clutched Krishna’s robes even tighter.

Krishna stroked her hair, remaining silent.

Subhadra’s tiny shoulders trembled.

"They don’t think I look like you… would that make me unworthy to be your sister?"

She hiccuped, trying to breathe between her sobs.

" And so, I.... That’s why… that’s why I tried to change it, Bhrata."

Krishna’s brows furrowed slightly.

"Change what?"

She hesitated, then finally confessed everything.

How she had sneaked into the kitchen.

How she had taken charcoal, lemon, and milk—the things she heard could darken skin.

How she had crushed the charcoal until her hands ached.

How she had mixed it with lemon and heated it with her magic stone, hoping it would become more powerful.

How she had spread it all over her body, covering every inch of her skin—

And waited.

Waited, until she finally fell asleep.

She hiccuped again, rubbing at her puffy eyes.

"But when I woke up, Bhrata… my skin didn’t get darker."

Her lips trembled violently.

"Instead it got brighter."

She buried her face into his chest, her voice muffled.

She hated it.

The praise she used to love now felt like mockery.

Every compliment about her bright skin felt like a reminder that she was not like him.

She sobbed harder, burying her face into Krishna’s chest.

"I tried so hard… but I’m still not like you."

Her voice was small, heartbroken, aching.

"Bhrata… why?"

Subhadra’s tiny fingers clutched at Krishna’s robes, as if holding onto him would somehow make her heart hurt less.

"Bhrata…" she sniffled, her voice small but desperate.

Krishna stroked her hair gently, his silence telling her that he was listening—truly listening.

Subhadra took a shaky breath, her little hands tightening.

"I don’t like it."

Krishna’s fingers paused for a moment before resuming their soothing motion.

"What don’t you like, Ruchi?"

Subhadra buried her face deeper into his chest.

"I don’t like… that people say Maharani Draupadi is more like your sister than your friend."

She let out a choked sob, humiliation washing over her.

"I know it's selfish! I know it’s wrong! Specially when our family has always been so selfless, mata, pitashri, you, bhabhi, everyone"

Her tiny fists pounded weakly against his chest before falling limp.

"But, Bhrata… I can't help it, i want to be your only sister."

Her voice broke.

"I don’t want anyone else to be your sister. I want it to be just me!"

Krishna remained quiet, letting her pour out her heart.

"I don’t like it when.... when people say that someone else is like your family more than me!"

She hiccuped, her shoulders shaking.

"And I know! I know it’s not fair, it's bad to be selfish, to be greedy, to be like this! But… but…"

Her little hands clutched her arms, as if trying to hold herself together.

"I feel jealous, Bhrata."

Her face burned with shame, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming.

"I feel jealous of every person who has dark skin like you."

She let out a small, shaky breath.

"Because when I look at them, I think—‘Maybe they belong to be with you more than I do.’"

Her tears fell faster, soaking into his robes.

"And I hate that I feel this way. I hate that I get angry and sad and jealous and — and—"

Her words got caught in her throat, her small body trembling.

"And it’s all too much, Bhrata."

She clung to him, desperate.

"It’s too much for me!"

To be continued