Subhadra stood in an endless expanse of twilight, where the sky shimmered in hues of gold and deep indigo, neither day nor night.

And there he was.

That man. The one who always found her in dreams, the one whose presence wrapped around her like the hush of the ocean before a storm. He had always been alone with her, always looked at her as if she was the only thing that existed in the universe. But tonight… tonight was different.

He wasn’t alone.

Subhadra’s breath caught as she saw him laughing, his hands moving deftly as he played with something—no, with three things?

A flame, flickering and wild, circling him playfully like a living spirit. It danced in shades of deep crimson and gold, crackling with energy, burning yet never consuming.

A green snake, sleek and silent, coiling itself around his arm as if it had always belonged there. Its emerald scales shimmered under the dreamlight, its gaze keen, intelligent, knowing.

And a sword—beautiful and deadly, its edge gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. It floated beside him, swaying as if it had a will of its own, reflecting the light of unseen stars.

Subhadra stood frozen, watching. She had never seen him like this before. He was still the same man, but something had changed. His attention, usually hers alone, was now shared. He was no longer solely hers.

A strange feeling tightened in her chest. She wasn’t sure what it was—perhaps sadness, or something far pettier, like jealousy. She felt like a forgotten melody, left behind as he danced to a new rhythm.

Her lips pressed together in a small pout.

And then, as if sensing her, he turned.

The moment his blurry face met hers, time stilled. The flame flickered quieter, the snake uncoiled slightly, and the sword steadied.

But Subhadra had already decided.

She spun on her heel, stomping away in what she hoped was a dignified exit, but in truth, it was nothing more than a childish sulk.

She had barely taken three steps before a familiar warmth wrapped around her wrist, fingers curling gently but firmly.

Again.

She stiffened but did not turn.

A deep breath, and then—

“Subh—”

The dream shattered.

Subhadra woke with a sharp inhale, heart hammering against her ribs as if it had been trying to escape her chest. The air around her was thick with something unspoken, an emotion too tangled to name.

The memory of his touch still tingled against her wrist.

Slowly, she sat up, her gaze falling upon the moon and then her painting tools.

Tonight she would paint again.

She reached for her brush, dipping it into the inky darkness of night.

She painted the flickering fire, the watchful snake, and the gleaming sword.

And at the center of it all, she painted him—his back turned to her.

Her fingers hesitated for a moment.

Would she ever know why he haunted her dreams?

A sigh left her lips.

And so, in silence, she painted.

*****

The painting was done.

Colors swirled and settled beneath the soft silver glow of the moon, capturing every detail of her dream. The wild flicker of fire. The coiled grace of the green snake. The sharp elegance of the sword. And him.

Subhadra frowned at the figure she had painted.

She huffed, arms crossed, her eyes narrowing at the canvas as if it had personally offended her.

For years, that man had haunted her dreams. Always appearing without warning, always existing just for her. It had always been the two of them, trapped in that strange space between reality and dreams, a place that felt more real than it should.

But this time… this time had been different.

This time, he had ignored her.

Instead of focusing on her, he had been preoccupied. Busy. Distracted. Laughing and playing—with them.

A fire. A snake. A sword.

Subhadra didn’t understand why it bothered her so much.

She was used to him. Used to him watching her, used to feeling like she was the center of his attention. But tonight, she had felt… left out. Forgotten.

And she did not like that feeling.

Grumbling under her breath, Subhadra stomped toward the open window. The night air was cool against her skin, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of waves. And above her, glowing in the vast expanse of the night sky, was the full moon.

She glared at it.

"Chandradev, You..., You," she accused, pointing a finger toward the celestial body as if it were personally responsible for her suffering.

The moon, of course, remained silent.

Subhadra was not deterred.

"You see everything, don’t you?” she demanded. “Now, tell me why does that man keep appearing in my dreams?"

The night wind whispered through the trees.

“And more importantly,” she continued, voice rising with indignation, “why did he ignore me tonight?!”

The moon, unsurprisingly, did not answer. But its glow seemed to shimmer, as if quietly amused by her outburst.

Subhadra huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Oh, so you think this is funny, do you? Hah! I should’ve known you wouldn’t take my side. I tell you my secrets, I admire you, I pray to you, and this is how you repay me?"

She squinted up at the moon, as if reconsidering her lifelong devotion.

"Fine," she declared dramatically. "If that’s how it is, then I won’t talk to you anymore! No more secrets, no more prayers, no more admiration! I’ll tell everything to Suryadev instead!"

At this, the moon’s glow seemed to pulse slightly.

Subhadra smirked. "Oh? Now you care?" She crossed her arms, tilting her head in mock thoughtfulness. "Perhaps I should start praying to the sun instead. At least he won’t let some dream man make a fool out of me."

The moonlight grew softer, wrapping her in a quiet embrace. Almost as if trying to soothe her.

Subhadra blinked, suddenly feeling drowsy. "Hah… don’t think this means I forgive you…" she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

The night air felt heavier, warmer, urging her toward sleep.

She yawned and start walking back to her bed. "Fine. But no dreams tonight, alright? I just want to sleep."

Her eyelids drooped. "And if you don’t listen… I’ll—" she yawned again, voice trailing off. "I’ll … I’ll…"

Sleep stole her words before she could finish.

The moon simply glowed, watching over her as she drifted into slumber.

*****

Subhadra, still half-lost in sleep, heard a soft knock on her chamber doors.

"Rajkumari," came Sanjana’s gentle voice. "May we enter?"

Subhadra barely cracked her eyes open. The warm comfort of her bed still held her captive, and the remnants of her strange dream lingered in the edges of her mind. With a sleepy sigh, she mumbled, "Mhm…"

That was all the permission they needed.

The doors creaked open, and the familiar presence of Tanvi and Sanjana filled the room. They had come, as they did every morning, to help her prepare for the day. Normally, their presence was playfully comforting, their chatter pleasant…

But this morning? This morning, disaster struck.

Because the very first thing Tanvi did—before even reaching for the water jug or setting out Subhadra’s clothes—was spot the painting.

A sharp gasp. A rustle of fabric. Then—

"Rajkumari!" Tanvi’s voice rang with sheer delight.

Subhadra groaned, burrowing deeper into her blankets. "What?"

But it was already too late.

By the time she turned her head, Sanjana was already holding up the canvas for inspection, her sharp eyes scanning every stroke of paint. Tanvi leaned over her shoulder, equally eager, both of them grinning like mischievous children who had just uncovered their elder sibling’s diary.

"Rajkumari… who is this man?" Sanjana’s voice was far too intrigued.

Subhadra froze.

Her grogginess evaporated in an instant, horror taking its place.

"Wha—" she croaked, suddenly wide awake. "How—"

Tanvi and Sanjana turned the painting toward her, displaying her own work like a prized artifact.

"It is the first time we have seen you paint a man who is not your loving father or your honored brothers," Tanvi teased, wiggling her eyebrows. "And here I thought our Rajkumari had no interest in such things."

Subhadra’s face burned. "It is not like that!"

"Oh?" Sanjana hummed. "Then what is it like, Rajkumari?"

Sanjana eyes gleamed as she took in the details—the fire, the snake, the sword. "And what do these symbols mean?"

"Are they a secret code? A hidden message?" Tanvi gasped dramatically.

"A love confession?" Sanjana chimed in.

Subhadra let out a muffled groan, grabbing her pillow and pressing it over her face. "It is just a dream," she mumbled. "Nothing more."

Sanjana let out a thoughtful hum. "Ohhh, a dream, you say?"

"And yet," Tanvi added slyly, "you painted it with such care—"

"Such emotion—"

"Such longing!"*

That was enough.

Subhadra threw her pillow at them.

The two maids dodged—giggling like delighted sparrows.

"Rajkumari," Tanvi sing-songed, "just tell us the truth. Who is he?"

"I do not know!" Subhadra groaned, flopping back onto her cushions with a sigh of pure despair.

Tanvi and Sanjana exchanged glances before clutching their chests in simultaneous dramatic fashion.

"Oh no!" Sanjana gasped. "A mystery lover!"

"A man who haunts your dreams… appearing only in the depths of the night…"

"His face unknown, his presence unforgettable…"

"A love story in the making!"

"Enough!" Subhadra grabbed another pillow. "Out! Out, both of you!"

The two maids squeaked, half-laughing, half-fleeing as Subhadra hurled her last pillow in their direction.

At the doorway, Sanjana turned, eyes twinkling. "If you dream of him again tonight, Rajkumari, do let us know! Perhaps we shall find a way to summon him in real life—"

"Sanjana!"

With a last peal of laughter, the two maids disappeared down the hallway, their giggles still echoing in the morning air.

Subhadra collapsed onto her bed, groaning into the sheets.

She should have hidden the painting.

She was never going to hear the end of this.

To be continued