A Familiar Love- A Radhakrishn Retelling

22. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

The next few days passed in a blur, with rehearsals growing more intense as the performance day loomed closer. The pressure of learning and perfectly executing two completely different dances began to weigh heavily on Radha, but she gave it her all. Despite the anxiety that caused her heart to race whenever she was near Harshali, or the emotional tug-of-war she fought within herself around Krishn, she pushed through.

She felt confident leading the senior dance alongside Aanya, but the RadhaKrishn dance was another story. She worked tirelessly to perfect her expressions and match the timing with Krishn but each session left her drained—not just physically, but with the kind of exhaustion that comes when your heart is in turmoil. She avoided interacting with Krishn unless it was absolutely necessary. On stage, she felt like an imposter—mirroring his love-filled expressions with perfect precision, all while her heart remained tangled in confusion and frustration. It was supposed to feel natural, embodying Radha, but instead, it took everything in her. Despite the internal struggle, the audience would never know the difference.

Meanwhile, Krishn grew increasingly worried about her. He sat on the swing in his balcony, gazing at the serene night sky, but his thoughts were consumed by the girl two houses over.

"Kanha? Yahan kya kar rahe ho?" Balram's voice broke through the quiet.

"Nothing, Dau. Just... thinking."

Balram settled beside him, noticing the sadness in his younger brother's usually cheerful face. "You? Thinking? That's never good for me—you always get me into trouble when you think," he laughed, trying to coax one from Krishn as well.

But Krishn stayed quiet, only a small, fleeting smile appearing on his lips.

"What's wrong, Kanha? Is it Radha?"

The glassy look in Krishn's eyes gave him away, and Balram knew he had his answer.

"She's drowning, Dau, and I don't know how to save her," Krishn said quietly, his voice laced with worry.

Balram's brow furrowed as he listened, sensing the depth of his brother's concern.

"The final test of her fear is coming," Krishn continued, staring out into the night. "Either it will break her—and us—or she'll rise from this sea of self-doubt and realise her worth."

Balram placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've always believed in her, Kanha. Maybe that's what she needs to find her way."

"You're right," Krishn nodded, his voice soft but resolute. "She'll have to find her own way out. She has to—that's the only way. The other option... that's something I won't ever accept."

He missed her constantly chatty presence, missed the way she'd roll her eyes in annoyance, the confused look she wore when emotions stirred within her that she couldn't quite explain. Most of all, he missed their arguments—those playful, heated exchanges that left him feeling closer to her, even though she couldn't remember him. Now, it was all gone. All he received were tired looks and fake smiles, mere shadows of the Radha he knew. She had to overcome this hurdle, take the first step toward recognizing her true self.

His gaze remained fixed on the distant stars, but his heart grew heavier, bracing for the storm that was yet to come.

***

A day before the grand performance, Radha and Aanya walked into the practice room. The once spacious hall had transformed into a vibrant sea of colours, filled with flowing costumes and tailors perfecting last-minute fittings. Makeup stations lined the mirrored wall, their bright lights nearly blinding but illuminating the room with an energy that reflected in everyone's excited eyes. Teachers and student volunteers bustled around, ensuring everything was in place, while the dance crew practised their forms and tried on costumes.