Chapter 54
IRA
Iraaj was about to turn one year old, and on the very same day, I was preparing to announce my retirement from the army.
A bittersweet knot twisted inside me. The uniform had been my second skin, my honor, and my purpose for so long.
No doubt, I would miss the discipline, the duty, and the sense of belonging that came with serving the nation.
But life had started calling me in another direction.
I longed for the chance to breathe freely, to hold my son without worrying about the next posting, or the next mission.
I wanted to live my life with Iraaj, to show him the world beyond boundaries, to laugh with him under different skies, and to build something entirely our own.
The USA was where that new chapter would begin.
My father had a clothing showroom there, and he had decided to hand it over to me.
It was his way of making amends, but also, in many ways, it was destiny.
I had always loved clothes, textures, colors, the art of making something ordinary into something exquisite.
Starting my own fashion brand felt like breathing life into an old dream.
I had already designed my website, a digital canvas where I would showcase my creations.
My savings were enough to not only sustain us but also to travel across continents.
The thought of exploring the world with Iraaj at my side thrilled me. He was my anchor and my compass.
He was such an obedient, calm little boy so unlike me in my stubborn youth.
He would fall asleep in my arms, his small breath warm against my skin, as though my heartbeat was his lullaby.
At that moment, he was still living with Prashant.
I had not demanded to take him away yet; a part of me wanted him to spend a few months with his father before I uprooted him.
Perhaps I owed Prashant that much. Or perhaps, in some corner of my heart, I was afraid of what it would mean to truly sever ties with him.
Prashant. I still didn’t understand why he had come back into my life.
He seemed gentler, calmer, more affectionate than I remembered.
At times, it almost felt as if he was trying to make amends, as if he regretted how carelessly he had treated me before.
But I couldn’t ignore the reality: there was another woman in his life.
He played the part of a loving husband and father with me, while his heart strayed elsewhere.
I never let him see how deeply that betrayal had scarred me.
I wore a mask of composure, while inside I wrestled with grief, anger, and a faint, stubborn longing.
On Iraaj’s birthday, I dressed in a lavender saree.
It was soft, elegant, and comforting something I chose for myself, not for anyone else.
I applied light makeup but deliberately avoided sindoor and mangalsutra.
I no longer considered myself Prashant’s wife.
That bond had been broken the day he betrayed me.
Yes, I missed him more times than I dared admit, but my dignity had to come first.
My parents had gone all out for the celebration.
They booked a luxurious hotel to mark Iraaj’s first birthday.
When my father proudly told me he had arranged everything, I felt an old flicker of resentment.
I hated how easily he stepped into the role of doting grandfather, when I still carried the weight of his past neglect.
I hated even more when Prashant cancelled his own arrangements just to please my father.
It made the whole thing feel staged, as if I were caught in the middle of their competition for redemption.
When I entered the banquet hall, I couldn’t help but be awestruck.
The place was decorated beautifully, blue balloons floated above like tiny clouds, glittering lights draped across the ceiling, and enormous teddy bears stood in the corners, almost as tall as men.
Performers in fancy costumes, some dressed as bears, some as elephants moved gracefully among the guests, offering drinks and snacks.
Children squealed with delight as they ran between the tables, chasing each other in the warm glow of fairy lights.
For a moment, I allowed myself to smile.
My father’s arrangements were undeniably beautiful.
“I hope you like it, Sweety,” Dad’s voice came from behind me. He placed his hand gently on my shoulder.
I turned, forcing a smile. “I like it, Dad. It’s… perfect.”
He studied my face, as though searching for sincerity.
His own expression softened, but there was guilt in his eyes that no smile could hide.
“I know… whatever I do for you now will always feel less than enough. But I want to try, beta. I want to prove that I am still your father, the father who loved you unconditionally, even if I lost my way.” His voice cracked ever so slightly.
“I was blinded back then… consumed by Kabir Rajput’s power and passion, so much so that I couldn’t see who he truly was.
I thought you were… acting out, pulling another one of your stunts.
I should have listened. I should have protected you. ”
His words clawed at the walls I had built around myself. For years I had craved this acknowledgement, this admission. Yet now, when it was finally here, I wasn’t ready to let it in. Not yet. My heart still carried bruises too deep to heal in one conversation.
“Dad,” I interrupted softly, holding his gaze but firm in my tone. “Today is my son’s first birthday. I don’t want to spoil it. Please… can you just welcome the guests and make sure everything goes smoothly?”
For a moment, silence hung between us. He nodded slowly, his eyes heavy with regret. “Yeah… sure.” He gave a faint smile, then walked away to greet the arriving guests.
As I watched him go, my heart twisted with guilt. I hated myself for speaking so coldly, especially when I could see how desperately he was trying. But forgiveness is not a switch to be turned on; it is a bridge built brick by brick. And I was not ready to cross it just yet.
My mood shifted instantly when I saw Iraaj in Prashant’s arms as his family entered the hall. Avni, Aryan, and Kavya followed close behind, chatting and smiling. For a moment, the noise around me faded, it was only me, my son, and the man who had once been my entire world.
“My little pumpkin!” I exclaimed, my heart leaping as I rushed forward. I didn’t wait for permission; I took Iraaj into my arms, breathing in his baby scent, pressing kiss after kiss onto his chubby cheeks. He laughed when he recognized me, his tiny hands flailing in the air.
“Ta…da…ta…da…” he babbled, throwing his little arms toward my face. His laughter rang out like bells, pure and unfiltered, and my heart swelled.
“You look breathtaking,” I heard Prashant murmur from behind me. His voice was low, almost reverent.
My heart skipped a beat. Even now, his words were so simple, so careless still had the power to make me tremble.
I hated that about myself. I kept my gaze on Iraaj, forcing my lips into a steady smile, pretending I hadn’t heard him.
But his presence pressed against me, his warm breath fanning across my neck, stirring old memories I had buried deep.
I risked a glance at him. He looked striking in a dark, perfectly tailored suit, his hair sleeked back, his jaw freshly shaven.
He carried himself with the same confidence that had once drawn me to him like a moth to flame.
I could see, even without trying, why Riddhima or any woman would fall for him.
He was magnetic. But that was the problem.
How could he let another woman get that close while still holding me, still pretending to be my husband?
God, I wanted to scream at him, to tear open the facade we both lived under.
But I bit it back. He no longer had a place in my life, no matter how much my heart betrayed me in his presence.
“Let me hold him,” Prashant said softly, carefully slipping Iraaj from my arms. His hands lingered against mine for a moment too long. “He’s heavier than before.”
“He’s growing up so fast,” I mumbled, reaching out to wipe the drool from Iraaj’s chin.
My heart clenched as I studied his little face.
He was so much like his father, the same eyes, the same dimples, even the same smile that had once undone me.
At least, I thought bitterly, I could keep a piece of Prashant in Iraaj, even when his father was no longer part of our lives.
“I wish we could have a baby girl too,” Prashant said suddenly, his lips curling into a smile.
My head snapped up, my eyes narrowing in shock. For a second, I waited for him to laugh, to admit it was a careless joke. But he didn’t. The way he looked at me, the longing in his eyes, made my chest tighten. He wasn’t joking.
“I can’t have another child,” I whispered, my smile trembling with sadness.
“I know…” he said softly, his gaze dropping to Iraaj.
“You can have one with another woman,” I replied playfully, though there was bitterness in my tone I couldn’t hide. “Maybe Dr. Riddhima?”
His head jerked toward me sharply. “Ira...”
“It’s cake-cutting time,” I interrupted quickly, my voice sharper than I intended.
I took Iraaj and without giving him a chance to respond, I stepped away, holding my son close to my chest like a shield.
A sting spread through my chest, and I pressed my hand there, willing myself not to break down in the middle of the hall.
I hadn’t told him I was leaving the country for good.
He already looked broken when he found out I was retiring from the army.
What would happen when he learned I was taking Iraaj away, starting over an ocean apart?
I didn’t know if Prashant’s newfound gentleness was genuine or fleeting, but I couldn’t deny the one truth I saw, he loved Iraaj.
He loved him deeply. And Iraaj adored him back.
The thought twisted my insides. My son’s face lit up whenever his father entered the room, and his cries echoed painfully whenever Prashant left for duty. I often caught him glancing toward the door, waiting, hoping. How would he survive without his father? How could I tear them apart?
The questions clawed at me until I forced myself to look away. I turned to Avni and Kavya, gratefully joining their lighthearted chatter. To my relief, they didn’t ask about Prashant and me. They let me breathe.
Toward the end of the party, Rhea arrived like a gust of fresh air. She swept Iraaj into her arms. “Happy birthday to the little prince!” she exclaimed, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.
I smiled, grateful for her timing. She pulled everyone’s attention, distracting me from the storm raging inside my chest.
The cake-cutting ceremony was beautiful.
The hall filled with voices singing in unison as Iraaj clapped his tiny hands, his face glowing with delight.
His laughter bubbled over as I guided his little fingers into the cake, smearing cream across his cheeks.
He squealed with happiness, and everyone laughed with him.
For that one moment, everything else faded away.
The world stood still, wrapped in his joy.
If I could have frozen time, I would have.
But then I saw Prashant watching us. Every time his eyes lingered on Iraaj, they softened with pure, unguarded love.
And when, for just a flicker, his gaze shifted to me, I caught something there I had long stopped believing in, a warmth that once belonged only to us.
It scared me more than his betrayal ever had.
As the night wound down and the guests began to leave, I stood at the far end of the hall, holding my son close.
My father busied himself thanking the guests, Avni carefully packed the gifts, and Kavya chased balloons across the floor.
The hall grew quieter, the glittering decorations dimming into the background.
Prashant approached me slowly, his steps measured, his face unreadable. He stopped in front of me, his eyes fixed on the little boy in my arms.
“You’ve done an incredible job raising him,” I said softly, brushing my finger over Iraaj’s tiny hand. My voice cracked with emotion I hadn’t meant to show. “He’s… everything I ever wanted in life.”
“He’s my everything too,” Prashant replied, his lips curving into a sad smile.
For a second, the air between us thickened, heavy with words we weren’t ready to say. I opened my mouth, but my father called me over from across the hall.
I pressed a kiss to Iraaj’s forehead and forced a smile at Prashant. “Goodnight,” I whispered.
I walked away without turning back, but I could feel it, his gaze burning into me, filled with regret, and unspoken truths.
And I knew, deep down, that leaving him behind would not be as simple as boarding a plane.
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