chapter 38
Mr. Rajput’s eyes widened for a second. A lifetime of power was dangling in front of himbut at the cost of his family. The woman smirked, knowing exactly what she was offering.
And in that moment, greed started to drown out every other voice in his head including his wife’s.
The mansion slept under a heavy hush, the moonlight pouring through tall windows. Rudra lay curled beside his little princess, her breath warm against his shoulder safe, for the moment.
Then a sound cut the nightmuffled, urgent voices from his parents’ room. Rudra’s eyes flew open. He slipped from the bed, tiny feet padding across the marble, and crept toward the door.
He pressed his small frame against the jamb and peered inside. The sight stopped his breath.
His mother stood with her hands trembling, tears streaking her face. “Please… don’t do this. Don’t… we have kids… we love each other.” Her voice broke on the last word.
His father’s face was stone, the room cold as iron around him.
In one swift movement he pulled out a stack of papers and flung them onto the dresser.
The pages fanned like a wound.
“Love?” he snapped, contempt like acid in his voice.
“No, darling. Power is more than love. This is for our good.” He pushed forward, every syllable measured, cruel.
“Even after marryingmy secretaryyou can remain here. But you will sign these. Divorce. Public. Clean.”
Rudra watched, small and invisible, as his mother staggered back. She clutched at the papers as if they burned. “You can’t you won’t take our home, our children…” she whispered.
His father’s hand hovered above her, not touchingthe threat was in the intent. “Sign it before I force you,” he said quietly, the kind of voice that meant he knew every way to make a person obey. “Because if you don’t… you know what I can do.” The unspoken promise was heavier than any blow.
A terrible silence filled the room. Rudra felt it press on his chest like someone squeezing the air out of him. He wanted to run in, to snatch the papers away, to beg his father to stop. Instead, his legs moved without thought. He stepped into the doorway, small shoulders bare in his nightshirt.
“Mom…” he breathed.
His father’s eyes snapped to the boy. For a second something like contempt and annoyance flickered across his face. He reached out and shoved Rudra aside with a single, rough palm. The child stumbled, hit the floor, and the world tilted.
“Don’t be a fool,” his father hissed. “This is between adults.”
His mother dropped to her knees beside Rudra, scooping him up as if to shield him from the cold. She forced a brave, broken smile at him and pressed her face against his hair. “I’m fine, beta. Go back to sleep.” Her hands shook so badly the papers in the room fluttered like wounded birds.
But the choice had already been made in that chill. The next moments blurred the way his mother’s fingers trembled as she took the pen, the way she looked up at his father as if asking for a mercy she would never be given, the way her signature smeared with tears.
When the pen finally scratched the last letter, it sounded to Rudra like the slam of a door closing on everything he had known.
His father folded the papers into his pocket, smoothed his coat, and walked out into the night as if nothing had happened.
The woman who had perched on his lap earlierthe new promise of powerwaited at the car, smiling like a thing that eats homes.
The sun had barely risen when the Rajput mansion, usually echoing with calm discipline, was shaken by a storm of voices.
“Beta, how can you do this?” Rudra’s grandmother’s voice rang through the marble hall, her tone sharp with disbelief and grief. “She was your wife, the mother of your children! Why did you marry someone else overnight?”
Mr. Rajput didn’t flinch. His face, cold and arrogant, seemed carved out of stone.
“Maa, this is my matter. It would be better if you stay out of it,” he said flatly, as if she were an outsider in her own home.
With that, he clasped Swetha’s hand and walked past, his new bride smirking as though she had already won a war.
From that day forward, the house began to change.
The warmth that once lingered in every corner turned into something sharp, something dangerous.
Swetha slithered her way into every room, every decision, every whisper.
She created small sparks of trouble, always aimed at Rudra and his mother.
A misplaced book here, a broken vase thereand somehow, the blame always crept toward the boy.
But one night, the storm became unbearable.
A piercing cry echoed down the corridors. The maids ran, his mother rushedand Rudra’s father stormed into the hall with Swetha clutching her hand dramatically, crimson drops of blood running down her wrist.
“Honey,” she whimpered, leaning into him as though she were fragile glass herself, “I’m telling youthis boy looks innocent, but he isn’t.” Her eyes flicked sharply toward Rudra.
“See?” She raised her bleeding hand for everyone to look. “I was going to bathe when suddenly I felt a stabbing pain… I checked the bucket, and it was full of glass shards. Who else could it be? It was all done by him!”
Her voice cracked with fake hurt, but her eyes glistened with poisonous victory.
“No!” Rudra’s mother’s voice broke the air, fierce, trembling. She rushed forward, pulling Rudra into her arms. “My Rudra would never do that!”
The boy clung to her, his tiny frame shaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Nhi… Ma…” His voice came out in sobs. “I didn’t do it… I swear… I didn’t…” He buried his face against her chest, broken, terrified.
But Mr. Rajput’s jaw clenched, his gaze like a knife on his son. For the first time, the boy who was supposed to be heir looked not like family, but like a liability.
And Swetha stood there, lips curving into the faintest shadow of a smile, hidden behind her feigned pain.
That was the first time Rudra realized Swetha wasn’t just his father’s new wife. She was a shadow moving through his home, determined to turn it into a cage.
Rudra’s father, blinded by lust and the hunger for power, didn’t even pause to think. His hand cracked across Rudra’s small cheek, the sound echoing through the vast hall.
“How dare you!!!” Mr. Rajput roared, his voice trembling with fury.
Rudra stumbled, clutching his face, his tears pouring like rain. “Papa… I didn’t… I swear I didn’t…” His tiny voice broke under the weight of fear and betrayal.
His father’s glare cut through him. “Enough! Get out of my house!”
Her breath caught in her throat. “W-what…?” Her eyes widened, disbelief flooding her face. “No… please… we don’t know where to go in this night. Don’t do this…” She fell to her knees, clutching the edge of his kurta. “I’m asking sorry on behalf of him… please… he’s just a child…”
But it was too late. Swetha, standing smugly in the corner, let a small smirk curl her lips, her eyes glittering with silent triumph.
“Leave my house!!” Mr. Rajput thundered, pointing to the door.
The world around her shattered. With trembling hands, Rudra’s mother clutched her son to her chest, pulling his little sister into her other arm. Tears blurred her sight, but she still gathered the strength to protect them.
“Come… beta…” she whispered, her voice breaking. She wrapped her shawl around both children, shielding them from the night that awaited.
The heavy doors creaked open, the cold wind of the outside world rushing in. Step by step, she led them out, her bare feet hitting the ground as though each one tore her soul apart.
Behind them, the doors slammed shut.
The mansion that was once their home… had become their grave.
Rudra clung to her tightly, sobbing into her chest. His sister whimpered in confusion, too young to understand, but old enough to sense the terror.
His mother’s eyes lifted to the dark sky, tears streaking her cheeks. If the world had forsaken them, then she would fight it with her bare handsfor her children.
The day had started like any other, a rare moment of peace after so many years of struggle. Rudra and his mother had managed to carve out a little sanctuary away from the Rajput mansion, and for a fleeting while, they felt like a happy family again.
“Rudra beta,” his mother called softly from the kitchen.
“Haan, maa… kya hua?” Rudra asked, wiping his hands from the morning chores.
“Beta… your princess is asking for ice cream. I told her I’d get it tomorrow, but she’s too stubborn. Can you get it for her?”
Just then, his little sister ran up, her eyes sparkling. “Mera… bhaiya! Mujhe ice cream dega!” she squealed, hugging him tightly.
“Of course, meri princess,” Rudra said, scooping her up for a brief hug. “Tum ruko, mai abhi lata hu.”
He went out, the sun warm on his face, feeling a rare lightness in his chest. The little joys of life small, fleeting, but precious had been too rare to ignore.
But the moment he returned, the world seemed to explode.
His eyes went wide. The sight froze him in place. His house their sanctuary, their hard-earned home was engulfed in flames. Smoke twisted into the sky, black and thick, licking the walls that had once held laughter.
The ice cream in his hands slipped, tumbling to the ground, forgotten.
Rudra’s heart pounded as he ran forward, smashing through the door, trying desperately to pull the fire apart, to stop it with his bare hands.
Neighbors and strangers rushed to help, buckets of water and blankets flailing in chaos. But it was too late.
The house crumbled, consumed by flames. The walls fell, the roof collapsed, leaving only blackened wood and ashes.
“Mom!!!! Princess!!!!!” Rudra yelled, his voice cracking, echoing through the smoke.
He knelt among the ashes, pulling at the blackened remnants, coughing and choking. Amid the ruin, he spotted a shattered bangle, colors smeared across the ground the playful paints his little sister had used days before now twisted into a mocking mess of ruin.
“Princess!!!!!! Mom!!!!” he screamed again, his hands clawing at the cold, dead remains of their home, as if his fury and grief could rebuild it.
The night air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of ash still clinging to Rudra’s clothes.
His fists were clenched, nails digging into his palms, yet his body trembled from the grief that had chained him to the ruins of his home.
He had cried, screamed, and clawed through the remnants of what had been his safe world…
but neither his mother nor his little princess returned.
They were gone. In minutes, life had taken them, leaving him trapped in a grave of despair.
Eventually, he wiped his tears, squared his shoulders, and stood. The fire inside him was now sharper, fueled by rage and loss.
In mere minutes, he was at the gates of the Rajput mansion, the place that had begun his suffering so many years ago.
“MR. RAJPUT!” he yelled, his voice cutting through the cold night like thunder.
The doors swung open. His father appeared, composed, though a shadow of unease crossed his face. Beside him, Swetha’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. She didn’t move, as if she already understood why he was there.
“Rudra? Why are you yelling?” his father asked, feigning confusion, his tone carefully measured.
Rudra stepped forward, his chest heaving. “Tell me… are you happy? Are you satisfied after killing my mom and my sister?”
His father’s eyes widened slightly, but his voice remained calm. “What? What are you saying?”
“Don’t act!” Rudra spat, his words cutting like knives. “Why did you do this? We left your mansion. We left you. We wanted nothing from you… and yet you killed them! Why?”
“What nonsense are you speaking? I haven’t killed anyone,” his father replied, his tone almost casual but the glint in his eyes betrayed something darker.
Rudra’s hands shook, veins visible, as he stepped closer. “Don’t lie! I saw the fire… I saw everything! Don’t you dare deny it! Those were my only family… and you took them from me!”
Swetha’s smirk widened, subtle, cold, knowing. Rudra’s eyes flicked to her and in that instant, the puzzle clicked in his mind. She had always been there, always smiling, always whispering venom into his father’s ear.
Rudra’s fists flew until his small knuckles stung. “I’ll kill you, Mr. Rajput you’re not my father! You’re a cheater, a killer!” he screamed, launching himself at the man who had ruined his world.
Mr. Rajput shoved him back hard. Rudra staggered, about to fall, when a strong hand closed around his shoulder. Dadi had come forward in a burst of anger and protectiveness that no one expected from her fragile frame.
“What are you doing? He is your son!” she snapped, voice iron-laced. She planted herself between Rudra and his father as if she could stop the man with sheer will.
“Take him away!” Mr. Rajput barked, eyes cold.
“No,” Dadi said, too steady to be soft. “He will live with us from now on. He is the heir of the Rajput household. He is your blood and he has just lost everything. Don’t be cruel. Let him stay here.”
For a long, awful beat there was only silence. Mr. Rajput’s face was a mask of fury and something like grudging calculation. He opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it. Without another word he turned and left, his coat collar high, Swetha at his side with that unreadable smile.
When the doors finally shut, Dadi dropped down beside Rudra and pulled him into her lap. The child who had been shouting moments before dissolved into sobs; his shoulders shook, small body wracked with the grief of someone who had nothing left.
“Shh… beta,” Dadi murmured, pressing her cheek to his hair. She smelled of jasmine and old books and something steady home. “It’s okay. I’m here. I won’t let them throw you into the street.”
Rudra hiccuped, clutching her sari, rage melting into a raw, exhausted sorrow. “They burned our house,” he whispered. “They killed Ma and Princess.”
Dadi’s hands smoothed his hair. Her voice was soft, but each word landed like a promise. “We will find a way. For now you stay with me. You eat. You sleep. You learn what it means to be Rajput, but we will do it our way. You are not alone.”
Flashback end's
Rudra sat close to Ishni, his head still resting against her lap. His eyes were open now, staring ahead, but not really seeing. His voice broke the stillness, low and raw.
“From that day…” he began, his throat tightening, “I made myself strong. I told myself I don’t need anyone. Not love, not family, nothing. I thought if I closed my heart, no one could leave me again.”
His jaw clenched, but his eyes shimmered, betraying the storm inside. Slowly, his hand reached for Ishni’s, gripping it like an anchor.
“But… dadi was there all along,” he whispered, a tremor in his tone. “Even when I pushed her away… even when I acted like I didn’t care… she stayed. She was my only truth. My only home.”
His breath shuddered, his voice breaking completely now. “And now…”
He couldn’t finish. The words stuck like glass in his throat.
Ishni’s eyes welled as she cupped his cheek, tilting his face toward her. “Rudra…” she whispered, her voice soft, trembling with his pain.
For the first time in years, Rudra let the mask of the ruthless, unbreakable Rajput fall away. He buried his face against her, his arms locking around her waist like a man drowning who had finally found something to hold onto.
“Don’t leave me, Jaan,” he whispered hoarsely into her shoulder. “Not you… not you too.”
Ishni’s arms tightened around him instantly, her own tears falling silently into his hair. “Never,” she breathed. “I’m not going anywhere, Rudra. Not in this lifetime, not in any other.”
Rudra’s breath grew uneven as he pressed his face against Ishni’s stomach, clutching her as though she were the last piece of life holding him together. His body trembled at first, heavy with grief, but slowly her steady caress through his hair began to calm him.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Rudra let go of the weight he carried. His breathing slowed, his lashes damp from tears, and after a long battle with his own demons, he finally drifted into sleep in her arms vulnerable, like the boy he once had been.
Ishni looked down at him, her heart aching yet soft.
A faint smile touched her lips as she whispered into the quiet room, “I won’t leave you…
nor will I let anyone hurt you again.” Her hand lingered in his hair, her other arm wrapped around him protectively, as though shielding him not just from the world but from his past too.
Then her thoughts faltered. Her gaze dropped to her stomach unconsciously, and a fragile warmth filled her chest. Maybe this isn’t the right time to say… she thought, her eyes misting.
Leaning down, she placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “One day soon, you’ll know,” she whispered softly. “You’ll know you’re not just mine… you’ll be a father too.”