Chapter 51
PRASHANT
Iraaj
My son’s name was Iraaj.
The moment I held him in my arms for the first time, I felt as though he carried a part of her inside him, his stubborn little fists clenching and unclenching like hers, his short temper whenever he was hungry, his piercing, high-pitched cries demanding attention.
But most of the time, he was calm, quiet, and almost thoughtful.
And when he smiled, it was as though the world around me softened for a moment.
It had been six months since Iraaj had recovered fully from those fragile first days, and in that time he grew faster than I ever imagined.
I, too, had changed. My responsibilities as a father merged with my duties as an officer.
A recent promotion to Major had temporarily transferred me to Jaipur, and on paper, life was moving smoothly.
Except for her.
She remained in bed unconscious, still as a frozen memory. Every day, I went to her. Every day, I sat beside her, spoke to her, confessed things I had never dared to when her eyes were open. And every day, she remained quiet, listening at least I hoped she was.
I told her how much I loved her. How much I needed her. How I had failed her. And how I would give anything to hear her voice again. But she stayed deep in that unyielding sleep.
Still, I never lost hope. I couldn’t. I believed she would return for me, for her parents, but most of all, for our son. Whether she would forgive me when she woke, I didn’t know. But forgiveness wasn’t what I begged for. Understanding was enough.
One evening, after a long day in uniform, I found myself back at her bedside. The hospital smelled of antiseptic and something hollow, something lifeless. I sat on the stool beside her, my fingers brushing her frail hand, so light, so fragile, as though it might crumble if I held too tightly.
“Are you even thinking about him, Ira?” My voice came out harsher than I intended, anger restrained but still sharp.
“He’s so beautiful just like you. So full of energy.
” My throat tightened. “I think he’s missing you, Ira.
I know he is. Please…” I bowed my head, letting out a long, broken sigh. “Please come back.”
I smiled faintly, though it trembled. “I need you. Do you even know what I’ve become without you?
It’s like I’ve lost myself like I exist only to perform my duties, both as a soldier and as a father, but not as a man.
I can’t...” My chest burned, words breaking apart. “I can’t live without you. Please…”
Tears blurred my sight as I squeezed her hand gently, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “Please,” I whispered again, but the silence around her answered me as always.
I stood at last, looking down at her pale face.
She looked as though time had stopped for her.
Her lips were dry, her dark hair threaded with streaks of white that hadn’t been there before.
She should have been laughing at me for fussing, teasing me about my clumsy hands or my tired eyes. Instead, she was motionless.
Leaning down, I kissed her lips softly, my tears falling unnoticed until they stained her cheek. My heart begged her to feel them. To feel me.
But before I shattered again, I forced myself to turn away, striding out of the room with my shoulders heavy. Outside, a military jeep had just pulled up. I slipped on my sunglasses, hiding the evidence of my breaking, and climbed in. The driver saluted and drove me to my quarters.
The moment I stepped into the house, I heard it, my son’s cry, sharp and high-pitched, echoing from his nursery. My heart lurched, panic surging through me. I rushed inside to find Priya and Pari desperately trying to calm him down, but he writhed in their arms, inconsolable.
“What happened to him?” I demanded, striding forward.
Priya looked helpless, exhausted. “He won’t stop crying, Bhai. We don’t know...”
I scooped him into my arms, but he struggled, pushing against my chest with his tiny fists, his cries tearing through me. And then I felt it, his skin, burning hot.
“He’s burning up!” I exclaimed, panic seizing my throat. Without wasting a second, I held him close and rushed out the door, carrying him to the nearest hospital.
Those moments felt like war, the helplessness, the racing heart, the inability to control anything except the prayer in my chest. After tests and medication, his fever finally eased. His cries faded into silence, and he fell asleep, breathing softly in my arms.
Back home, I sat beside his crib, watching him sleep. His face was serene, peaceful. He had my hazel eyes, but when closed, they reminded me of her. His nose, his lips undeniably hers. He was the perfect combination of us, a living reminder of both my mistakes and my blessings.
I brushed my fingers over his soft cheek, guilt stabbing deeper with every breath.
She hadn’t told me. She hadn’t told me about the baby.
Not until it was too late, not until the complications had already made her body fragile.
If I had known earlier, if I had been less blind, I would have never allowed her to risk herself.
“I hurt her,” I whispered, the words burning in my chest. “She didn’t trust me enough to tell me. And still she gave me you. She kept you safe.”
I winced, swallowing the ache that rose in my throat. His eyes fluttered open suddenly, hazel meeting mine, calm this time. No tears, no cries. Just watching me.
“You heard my thoughts, huh?” I whispered with a broken smile.
He stared, his small lips curling into the faintest pout, as if he were scolding me silently.
“I was an asshole to your mother, Iraaj,” I admitted, my voice thick. “I didn’t deserve her. I don’t deserve either of you.”
His eyes softened, or maybe it was just my imagination. For a moment, I swore he understood.
“But I’m still loving her,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead. “So much. Don’t worry, little one. She’ll join us soon.”
At that, Iraaj’s lips curved into the ghost of a grin, and warmth filled me despite the ache. He gurgled, making soft sounds as though trying to speak, to answer me.
I chuckled weakly, brushing away the drool at his mouth. “Wanna have a little chit-chat, little guy?” I asked softly, rocking him gently in my arms.
And though he could only babble back, it felt as though we truly were talking father and son, two halves of a broken family waiting for its missing piece.
A Father’s Confession
“Ba…ba…ba…”
Iraaj stretched his tiny arms toward me, his eyes shining with that unmistakable demand only babies knew how to make. It was as if he was saying, Pick me up right now or else.
I chuckled softly, heart melting. “Alright, little boss.” I quickly scooped him into my arms, and the moment his body rested against mine, he broke into the most innocent, heart-healing laugh.
“Ee…ee…” he squealed, delighted.
“So you do want to talk, huh?” I grinned, pressing kisses all over his soft, chubby cheeks. His laughter bubbled louder, like little bells ringing. God, he was so adorable.
I had never been particularly fond of children. They always seemed messy, loud, and unpredictable. But with Iraaj… it was different. He was mine. A piece of me and her. Every sound he made, every gesture, every stubborn little pout, it was impossible not to love him.
Iraaj flung his tiny hands toward my face, his small fingers brushing over my jaw as though inspecting me. Then, without warning, he pulled himself up with surprising determination and sank his mouth against my chin. I felt one sharp, new tooth scrape against my skin.
“Ouch...hey!” I burst out laughing as he gnawed at me like a hungry little vampire. Gently, I pulled him away before he left a mark. “What are you doing, little guy? Planning to turn your old man into dinner?”
He blinked at me with wide, innocent eyes, drool glistening at the corner of his lips.
“Ah, so that’s it. You’re hungry.” I wiped his chin, but he was already working himself into a pout. His lower lip trembled, his eyes grew glossy and I knew the storm was coming.
“Please don’t cry,” I murmured quickly, reaching for his bottle. The moment the nipple brushed his lips, he lunged forward greedily, sucking as if the world might run out of milk tomorrow. Relief loosened my chest, and I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him.
“You’re just like her, you know,” I whispered, running a hand gently over his silky hair. “Your mother never liked the word ‘no’ either. Whenever I denied her something, her tantrums could have shaken the heavens. You’ve inherited that like mother, like son.”
As Iraaj continued drinking, I studied him, my mind wandering back.
“You know, your mother is stubborn. Fierce. Feisty. Impressively smart too.” I smiled faintly, her face appearing in my mind with such clarity it hurt.
“But when I met her again later… she had changed. That fire had dimmed. She let people walk over her, let them hurt her. Including me. And I couldn’t bear it.
She wasn’t the woman I fell in love with.
She had become someone she hated, the kind of person who smiles while bleeding inside. ”
Iraaj paused just long enough to glare up at me, his hazel eyes narrowing while his lips still clung to the bottle.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I chuckled bitterly. “I know. She wasn’t a fool. I was. And maybe I was a coward too, because instead of fighting for her, I left. I thought I was saving her, but in truth, I broke her further.”
My thumb stroked his warm cheek as guilt tightened my chest. “Do you want to know a secret, little guy?”
As though he understood, Iraaj stilled. His eyes brightened with curiosity, and then...“Da…du…” he cooed in his sweet, sing-song tone.
A laugh escaped me, though it felt heavy. “Yeah, that’s right. Listen carefully.”
I drew in a breath, lowering my voice as if confessing to him and only him.
“It started with a phone call from Kabir Rajput. Your mother’s abuser.
” The name alone made my jaw clench, my pulse spike.
“He thought he was clever. He thought by kidnapping my sister, he could break me. But the fool had no idea who he was dealing with.”
The memory burned vividly, my knuckles tightening, my veins alive with adrenaline. “He sent me a video. A threat. He didn’t realize the technology he used would give him away. Within hours, I had tracked his location. I found him. Freed my sister. But it wasn’t enough.”
Iraaj blinked at me, his bottle half-finished, but his eyes locked on mine as though absorbing every word.
“You should’ve seen his face,” I whispered, a dark smile tugging at my lips.
“That terrified look when he realized who had come for him. I let him go, and pretended to show mercy. But the moment he returned to his apartment, death was already waiting inside. And trust me, I didn’t just kill him, Iraaj.
I made him pay. He loved food so I made him choke on it, bite after bite until his breath ran out.
That was the last meal of his pathetic life. ”
The room fell silent, save for the soft sucking sounds of my son feeding. My voice grew lower. “But before he died, he spilled the name, Amish Patel.”
Iraaj whimpered softly, shifting, but I stroked his back gently. “It’s alright, little one. I’m here. You’re safe.”
My gaze darkened. “Amish tried to destroy your mother. He laid hands on her. He tried to take from her what was never his. I wanted to kill him, Iraaj. God knows I wanted to end him right there. But instead I gave him something worse.”
I leaned back, eyes closing briefly. The memory was sharp, metallic in taste.
“I rigged his car. One accident. One crash. Now he will spend the rest of his miserable life in a wheelchair, broken, suffering. He deserved worse, but at least this way, your mother will know he is powerless. That he can never hurt her again.”
When I opened my eyes, Iraaj had stopped drinking. The bottle slipped from his mouth as sleep stole over him, his tiny chest rising and falling steadily.
For a long moment, I just watched him. His lips parted slightly, his fists unclenched against my chest. So fragile. So innocent. Yet he carried the weight of all the choices, all the darkness I had invited into our lives.
Quietly, I lifted him, holding him against me a little longer before laying him down gently in his cradle. He let out a soft hum, turning his head as though seeking comfort even in dreams.
I knelt beside him, brushing my hand across his forehead. “Sleep well, my little warrior,” I whispered. “You don’t need to carry your father’s sins. That’s my burden, not yours.”
I lingered there in the quiet, my heart torn between the peace of watching him sleep and the storm of waiting for her to wake, to return, to make us whole again.
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