Chapter 27 Manav #2
He studied me for a moment, then gave a small nod of approval. “Bro…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave. “If I see even a hint of tears in her eyes, you’re as good as dead.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” My lips curved into a small smile. “She’s worth it.”
Roy raised his glass in a silent toast before taking a sip.
“Damn right she is. Now, go handle your business.” He downed the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the bar.
Then, in an uncharacteristically warm gesture, he pulled me into a tight hug.
“Just don’t mess this up,” he said quietly, clapping me on the back.
Tonight. Tonight, I’d finally tell her.
____________
“Dadi… It’s very late. I think you should rest now,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time, my voice gentle but insistent.
She had practically kidnapped me from the party hall earlier, insisting we go for a walk.
We strolled through the garden, where she had enthusiastically lectured me on all the possible fruits I could grow if I ever decided to become a full-time farmer.
And now, here we were, in her room, where she had made her way through a bottle of wine with no sign of stopping.
“Nope!” she declared with the determination of a queen. “The birthday girl needs to celebrate. But before you tell me when you two are getting married, you’re not leaving.”
I sighed, glancing at my phone. Twenty-three missed calls from Kiara. We were supposed to leave together for my place, but I’d been stuck here. Still, how could I say no to Dadi?
“Dadi… we can talk tomorrow,” I tried again, this time gently reaching for the glass in her hand.
“Don’t you dare,” she swatted my hand away with surprising agility. Then, with a sly smile, she added, “Your grandpa used to sing this on every birthday.” She turned up the radio, and the room filled with the soft melody of a retro tune.
Her eyes closed, and she leaned back on the couch, her face serene as if she were lost in a world of memories. I watched her quietly, my lips curving into a soft smile despite myself. She always called me “farmer” with such affection—it felt oddly comforting, natural.
For a while, I just sat there, letting the music wash over us. Then, I noticed the faint shimmer of tears escaping from her closed eyes, trailing silently down her cheeks. My chest tightened, and I leaned forward, touching her hands.
She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze soft but filled with an overwhelming tenderness. “Now I know Kiara has you,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. “I can die in peace.”
My heart ached, caught between the truth and the lie we had spun. I can’t break hearts and trust.
“Dadi…” I began, my voice faltering. But she wasn’t finished.
She reached into a drawer beside her and pulled out a small packet of handwritten letters.
Placing them in my hands, she whispered, “When Kiara was little, she used to ask me, ‘Where is my mom, Dadi?’ I didn’t know what to tell her, so I’d say, ‘Whenever you miss her, write her a letter, and she’ll come as an angel.
”’ Her voice broke, and she exhaled shakily. “She wrote every single day.”
My eyes fell on the letters, each one a tangible piece of Kiara’s heart and soul. I couldn’t breathe. Dadi continued, her voice soft and laden with love. “You are that angel.”
My voice was barely audible, my hands trembling as I held the letters. “I…”
Her hand covered mine, gentle yet firm. “Don’t let her get hurt. She’s fragile, even if she pretends not to be.”
My chest tightened, and I wanted to scream the truth, but my words caught in my throat. I couldn’t hurt her—not tonight. Not on her birthday.
Her eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, met mine. There was a softness in them, a kind of calm acceptance that made my chest tighten. “Manav, I’ve lived a full life,” she began., “I’ve loved, lost, laughed, cried… but my only wish now is to see Kiara truly happy.”
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “She is happy, Dadi.”
Her lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes held mine with a quiet intensity. “Not yet. Not fully. But she will be with you.”
“I…” The words caught in my throat. How could I tell her this wasn’t real?
“She’s my heart, Manav,” Dadi continued, her voice trembling slightly.
“My whole heart. I’ve watched her grow up, fight battles she didn’t deserve, and carry weights she should never have had to bear.
She’s stronger than she knows, but she’s also fragile in ways she’ll never admit.
Promise me…” Her grip on my hand tightened. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”
My heart pounded in my chest, my head spinning.
“Promise me,” she repeated, her voice breaking ever so slightly.
I nodded, unable to lie to her. “I promise.”
Her face softened, and she leaned back against the couch, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. “Your grandpa always said Kiara would find her prince one day. And he was right. She found you.”
I sat there in silence, Was I that person for Kiara? Could I be? The thought terrified me as much as it thrilled me.
Dadi reached for the drawer beside her and pulled out a small velvet pouch.
She placed it in my hands, her fingers trembling.
“This was her grandpa’s watch,” she said softly.
“He used to tell me, ‘Whenever you miss me, check the time. I’ll be there before it strikes five. Since then, it’s stuck on a quarter to five.
I’ve kept it all these years, and now it’s yours.
So, Mr. Farmer, now you have two important pieces of my heart. ”
My voice broke. “I can’t take this…”
“I don’t know how much time I have left,” Dadi said quietly. “But knowing you’re here for her, I can rest easy.”
My hands trembled. “Dadi… It's…”
Dadi tilted her head, her knowing eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t you love her, Mr. Farmer?” she asked, her smirk soft but pointed.
I froze for a moment, her question hitting me like a freight train. My hands dropped to my sides, and I nodded. “I do…” I admitted quietly, the words barely escaping my lips. “But I’m not sure if she knows.”
Her expression softened instantly, her smirk fading into something more maternal and tender. “I am sure she…”
Taking a deep breath, I interrupted her.
And I knew I had done something I shouldn’t have. But I had to. I had to tell her the truth.
____________
Dadi leaned back into her chair, her eyes closed, her expression unreadable. I sat frozen on the stool next to her, feeling every ounce of my guilt pressing down on my chest. My hands clenched tightly in my lap as the seconds ticked by, each one more suffocating than the last.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, Kiara walked in, her cheerful voice breaking the oppressive silence. “Dadi… you’re awake?”
Her tone was light and bright, but as soon as her gaze landed on me—head bowed, shoulders slumped—the cheer in it faltered. She glanced between me and Dadi, her smile fading into concern. “What’s wrong?”
Dadi’s eyes opened slowly, a soft, almost bittersweet smile gracing her lips. She patted the stool beside her, silently asking Kiara to sit.
Kiara hesitated, her worried eyes darting between us before settling down. “Is everything okay?”
Dadi took her hand, her frail fingers trembling slightly as they intertwined with Kiara’s. “Do you remember, as a little girl, how you used to ask about your mother?” Her voice was low, almost a whisper. “You’d ask me what she was like… how she smiled…”
Kiara’s face softened, her eyes glistening as she swallowed hard. “Yes…” she replied quietly.
Dadi’s expression was filled with a lifetime of love, pain, and unspoken words. I couldn’t look at either of them. I couldn’t move. I was rooted to my seat, bracing myself for what Dadi would say next, knowing it could shatter everything.
Dadi’s trembling hand placed the photo into Kiara’s grasp, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The sepia-tinted picture of a woman with an infectious smile—so eerily similar to Kiara’s—shone like a beacon of memory and loss.
“She looked exactly like you,” Dadi said softly, her voice trembling. “And her smile… was just as cheerful, just as full of life.”
Kiara’s hands trembled as she held the picture close to her chest, her voice breaking into pieces. “Dadi…” The single word was a plea, a cry, a wound laid bare.
Dadi’s eyes grew distant, as if she were reliving that heartbreaking moment.
“When she was being taken to the hospital, the doctors told us only one of you could survive. Your mother…” Dadi’s voice faltered, her hand clutching the armrest tightly.
“She chose you, Kiara. Her exact words were, ‘My daughter should live each day of her life.’”
Kiara’s tears spilled freely, unchecked and relentless, painting wet streaks down her cheeks. Her breaths came in hiccups as she wiped at her face, unable to stop the torrent of grief and love crashing over her.
Dadi’s voice cracked, but she pressed on. “She made me promise, Kiara. She held my hand and said, ‘Mom, you will never let her feel like she is without a mother.’ And since that day, I’ve tried, beta. I’ve tried my best to be her for you, to fulfill her last wish.”
Her words broke against Kiara’s sobs, and the weight in the room was suffocating. I wanted to be her strength. But all I’ve done is break every piece she had left.
Dadi leaned back in her chair. Her voice was now steeped in regret. “But I failed you, beta. I failed as a mother, as a grandmother… I failed her promise. Your grandpa would be so disappointed in me.” Her eyes closed briefly as if to block out the pain.
“No, Dadi!” Kiara’s voice wavered as she gripped Dadi’s hands tightly. “You were perfect. You are perfect. I…” Her voice broke again, tears pooling in her eyes as she struggled to reassure her.
But Dadi shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “No, Kiara. You had to lie to me just to escape a wedding. I couldn’t create the safe space you deserved.”