A Familiar Love- A Radhakrishn Retelling

19. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖡𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋

Krishn lay on his bed, the room still and quiet after the doctor had reassured everyone that his fainting spell was due to mere weakness and nothing more. Though the doctor's words were meant to be comforting, they did little to ease Radha's anxiety. As the morning's exhausting events took their toll, everyone had retired to the living room, leaving only Radha and Yashoda in Krishn's room.

Radha noticed the deep lines of worry etched into Yashoda's tired face. "Kaki, please, you should get some rest," Radha pleaded gently.

Yashoda smiled weakly, her exhaustion evident. "I'm fine, beta," she insisted, but the weariness in her voice betrayed her words. Suddenly, she stood up with a determined expression. "I should go make some fresh butter for Kanha. He would love it when he wakes up."

As she took a step, Yashoda wavered, losing her balance. Radha rushed to her side, steadying her. "Kaki! Please, you must rest. You're weak right now. Krishn will be okay; I'll stay here with him." Her eyes pleaded.

"Nahi, Radha. What if he asks for butter when he wakes up? I have to make it for him," Yashoda insisted, her voice filled with a mother's worry.

Radha understood her need to distract herself from the morning's terrible events. "Okay, Kaki, but please let me help you. You just tell me what needs to be done, and I'll make it. You can sit and rest."

Yashoda patted Radha's head with a fond smile and nodded. As they left the room, they failed to notice Krishn's excited smile.

In the kitchen, Radha followed Yashoda's instructions as best she could. Expecting to use a blender like her mother did, she was pleasantly surprised to find an earthen pot with a wooden stirrer. Despite the muscle power it required, Radha enjoyed learning and laughed with delight when she saw the malai turn into makhan.

"Hayee, what have you done to my daughter, Yashoda? She has never helped me in the kitchen, no matter how many times I asked her," Sangeeta teased, leaning against the door.

Radha gasped, "Ma, that's simply not true, and you know it."

Both mothers laughed as they watched Radha work with dedication. Once the butter was made, Radha quickly ushered Yashoda to rest, assuring her she would stay with Krishn until he woke up. Despite her calm exterior, Radha remained slightly worried—fainting spells shouldn't last this long.

Returning to Krishn's room with the pot of butter, she sat down on the chair near his bed and, for the first time, took in her surroundings. The walls were painted a soothing cyan with hints of yellow, much like the rest of the house, but this room felt special. It was imbued with a sense of serenity and filled with little tokens of his personality. The wooden shelf overflowed with books, some spilling onto his table. Peacock feathers adorned the mirror, and his wooden flute rested on a small holder hung on the wall, seemingly radiating a subtle, divine aura which left Radha captivated for a moment.

Her gaze wandered to the various items scattered around the room, finally landing on a familiar book on his nightstand. "Anne of Green Gables," the cover read. It was the book he had taken from her, the one that had sparked a prolonged argument just a few days ago. In retrospect, the argument and Radha's anger over it felt so irrelevant now. Shuddering as she recalled her nightmare from that morning, the fear she had felt still lingered within her. She let out a heavy breath and glanced over at Krishn. His long curls sprawled across the pillow as he lay motionless, his long eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. Radha stilled, taking in his serene appearance. Amid the recent tumult filled with contrasting feelings and arguments, she realised she hadn't truly looked at him in a while. The sight of the bandage wrapped around his head pained her, and an involuntary tear slipped down her face. Quickly wiping it away, Radha stood up and walked towards his flute, feeling as if it were calling out to her, repeating her name over and over.