As Radha reached out to touch Krishna’s hand, her fingers passed through him like mist. She realized then that he wasn't leaving her—he was expanding within her. The episode of their lives wasn't closing; it was evolving into a state where every heartbeat of Radha’s would be a syllable of Krishna’s name.
Krishna appeared behind her, not with his flute, but with a simple earthen lamp.
"To the world, you are Radha, the daughter of Vrishbhanu," Krishna said, his voice resonating like a thousand flutes. "But to me, you are the breath that allows me to play this music. Today, the world will see a miracle not of power, but of surrender."
The silence of Vrindavan broke into a celestial melody. Radha smiled, finally understanding:
"Radha, why do you look at the river when the stars are reflecting in your own eyes?" he asked softly.
