The chariot’s wheels rolled smoothly over the dirt path, but Subhadra’s heart was anything but steady. She sat beside Pradyumna, her hands clutching the fabric of her dupatta, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

The rhythmic clatter of hooves filled the air as Arjun, Kritavarma, and Satyaki rode beside them on horseback. Yet, despite their presence, despite the warm sunlight filtering through the trees, an unsettling tightness coiled in her chest.

Her fingers twisted in her lap.

Could she ever meet Dau’s eyes again?

She had always been his little sister, his pride, his responsibility. And now… she had left without his blessing, had forced his hand into acceptance. Would he ever forgive her?

"Pradyumn," her voice was barely above a whisper.

He turned, his features softening at the unease in her eyes.

"He will be fine, Bua," he said, as if he already knew her thoughts. "Tatashree loves you too much to hold onto his anger. He may be fierce, but his heart is yours."

Subhadra exhaled shakily. "But I—"

"You chose your own path," he finished gently. "And deep down, he will understand. He is your protector, but he has always wanted your happiness more than anything."

She swallowed, nodding, though her heart still ached with doubt.

But it wasn’t just Balram who haunted her thoughts.

"Pitashree…" she murmured. "And Mata Rohini, Mata Devaki…"

Would they see her as a foolish child who had ruined her own honor? Would they be disappointed?

Pradyumn reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze. "They are waiting for you, Bua. And they love you. That will not change."

She let out a trembling breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

"And the people of Dwarka?" Her voice was almost too quiet to hear. "Will they still see me as their rajkumari? Or just a girl who—"

"They will love you as they always have." Pradyumn’s voice was steady, unwavering. "They have known you since the day you were born. They have watched you grow, seen your kindness, your spirit. This will not change their love for you."

*****

The golden hues of the late afternoon sun painted the horizon as the chariot approached the gates of Dwarka. The warm breeze carried the scent of the ocean, mingling with the fragrance of fresh flowers.

Subhadra had barely rested. Doubt and worry had weighed on her throughout the journey, each mile toward home only deepening the ache in her heart. She had braced herself for anger, for whispers, for disappointment.

But what awaited her was nothing of the sort.

The moment the chariot passed through the gates, a great cheer erupted from the streets.

Flowers rained down like a divine blessing, marigolds and jasmine filling the air with their sweet scent. The people of Dwarka lined both sides of the road, their faces alight with joy.

"Jai Rajkumari Subhadra!" someone cried.

"Blessed is this day!"

"Jai Rajkumar Arjun, the warrior who has won Dwarka’s jewel!"

Subhadra’s breath caught in her throat.

She looked at Pradyumn in disbelief, but he only smiled knowingly, as if he had expected this all along.

To the people of Dwarka, her elopement was not a scandal. It was not disgrace.

It was destiny.

Her love story was being woven into the very fabric of their legends—spoken of in the same breath as Krishna and Rukmini’s divine union. After all everyone see that subhadra is the one that hold the rein of the chariots that day.

She saw mothers lifting their children to get a glimpse of her, young girls watching with admiration, elders nodding in approval.

She wasn’t returning as someone who had defied her family’s wishes.

She was returning as a rajkumari whose heart had chosen its own path—just as her brother Krishna’s and her bhabhi Rukmini had done before her.

A lump formed in her throat.

This was not what she had expected.

She had feared rejection, but instead, Dwarka embraced her.

The chariot rolled to a stop at the palace gates, but Subhadra’s hands remained clenched in her lap. Her breath was unsteady.

Balram stood at the entrance, his massive frame unmoving, his face carved from stone. The golden morning light framed him, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—were unreadable.

Behind him, their father, Vasudev, stood tall, flanked by Devaki and Rohini, their eyes filled with emotions she could not yet name.

And beyond them, a sea of familiar faces—her bhabhis, the great queens of Dwarka. Revati stood along Rukmini, graceful and gentle, Jambavati whose fierce yet loving gaze rested on Subhadra. Satyabhama’s sharp, discerning eyes were moist, her lips pressed together as if she were holding back a storm of feelings. Mitravinda and Kalindi clutched each other’s hands, while Bhadra, Nagnajiti, and Lakshmana stood with expressions of quiet concern.

And Krishna.

He stood slightly apart, watching her with eyes that held galaxies within them. Eyes that saw through her, past her fears, past her worries—straight into her soul.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She had been prepared for anger, for disappointment. But now, standing before them, she was simply… a daughter returning home.

Pradyumn placed a reassuring hand on hers before stepping down from the chariot. Arjun dismounted his horse, glancing at her with silent support.

But she could not move.

Not until Balram took a step forward.

A heavy silence fell upon the courtyard.

“Bhadre.”

Her name left his lips, deep and rough with unspoken emotion.

Her vision blurred.

The dam broke.

Subhadra leaped from the chariot, her feet barely touching the ground before she threw herself into Balram’s arms.

“Dau!”

A sob tore from her throat as she clung to him.

His strong arms wrapped around her, crushing her against his chest.

A sharp, shuddering breath escaped him.

“Gudiya… my poorna my chitra… how could you?” His voice cracked, breaking under the weight of his emotions. “Do you know… do you know how much I—”

He could not finish.

Tears streamed down his face as he held her, his embrace both an accusation and a sanctuary.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick with unshed grief.

“No, no, never!” Subhadra sobbed, shaking her head against his chest. “I was afraid! I was so afraid you would hate me—”

“Stupid girl.” He pulled back just enough to cup her face in his large hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. His lips trembled. “How could I ever hate you?”

She broke into another round of sobs, burying herself in his warmth.

A deep, trembling sigh came from behind them.

“Rochana.”

Her heart clenched.

She turned—Balram’s arms still around her—to face her father.

Vasudev’s face was lined with the weight of wisdom and love, his eyes moist, his lips pressing together before parting with a shaky breath.

“My daughter,” he murmured.

Subhadra fell to her knees.

“Pitashree,” she wept, touching his feet with trembling hands. “I—I have dishonored you—”

“Enough.” His hands grasped her shoulders, pulling her up. “You are my child. No act of love could ever dishonor me.” His voice was steady, but the way his hands shook as he embraced her spoke volumes. “You have found your happiness. What more could this pitashree of yours ask for?.”

A sob broke from Devaki’s lips.

Before Subhadra could turn, her mother had already wrapped her in a fierce embrace.

“Oh, my child,” Devaki whispered, her tears soaking into Subhadra’s hair. “I have prayed for you everytime, not knowing if you were safe, if you were well… and now you are home.”

“Mata,” Subhadra choked.

Rohini’s arms joined them, a mother’s warmth encircling her from all sides. “You are too much like your brother,” she murmured, pressing kisses to Subhadra’s forehead. “Running away, causing storms wherever you go. But I should have known—my daughter is not a girl who can be caged.”

A hand touched Subhadra’s back, warm and gentle.

She turned, her eyes swollen with tears, to find Rukmini smiling at her.

“Welcome home, choti.”

A sob broke from Subhadra’s throat as she collapsed into Rukmini’s embrace.

Jambavati’s firm hands gripped her shoulders. “You’ve become stronger, haven’t you?” she whispered. “I see it in your eyes.”

Satyabhama exhaled sharply before pulling her into a tight hug. “You owe me a hundred explanations, but first—let me cry, you foolish girl.”

Laughter, thick with tears, broke through the air.

Mitravinda wiped her own tears, smiling. “You always did things your own way, didn’t you?”

Kalindi, Bhadra, Nagnajiti, and Lakshmana all embraced her in turn, their eyes filled with relief and joy.

Then, a gentle yet steady hand took hers. Subhadra looked up to see Revati, her sister-in-law, watching her with a quiet, knowing gaze.

“You’ve endured much,” Revati murmured, her voice soothing. “But you are home now.”

Subhadra let out another shaky breath as Revati pulled her into a warm embrace, the weight of her journey finally settling upon her shoulders.

And then—

Krishna.

She turned to him last, her heart hammering.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Krishna’s lips curved in that knowing, mischievous way of his.

“So?” he asked softly. “Did my dear sister find what she was looking for?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“I don’t know, but you know bhrata, you always know...” she whispered.

Krishna smiled.

Then he opened his arms.

And Subhadra fell into them, sobbing freely.

For a long time, there were no words.

Only warmth. Only love. Only home.

And as Dwarka rejoiced around them, Subhadra knew—

She was where she was meant to be.

To be continued

Note: how is it? Do you think this part should've been more emotional? I'm still conflicted but I think it's better for me to publish this now. Hope you also love it😉🥰