Chapter 20-The Child Who Lived
Vikram visited the nursery the next morning.
Then avoided it for three days.
He told himself he was busy.
No one believed him.
Least of all himself.
Ganga lived.
That should have been enough.
Instead, every breath she took reminded him of the child who had taken none.
Every time Vinaya held her, he remembered Priya holding their dead son.
Every time the palace celebrated, he remembered funeral bells.
He began waking from dreams covered in sweat.
Priya screaming.
The baby silent.
Vinaya's face replacing hers.
Ganga crying.
Everything blurred.
One evening, he found Vinaya in the nursery.
She was rocking Ganga.
Softly singing.
Vikram stood in the doorway.
Vinaya noticed him but did not stop.
He watched.
Mother.
Daughter.
Alive.
The image was beautiful.
That made him hate it.
Not them.
The unfairness.
Why did this room contain everything another room had lost?
Vinaya looked up.
"Do you want to hold her?"
"No."
Her expression closed.
"You never do."
"I said no."
Ganga began fussing.
Vinaya immediately soothed her.
Vikram's chest tightened.
"She looks like you," Vinaya murmured.
"Stop."
She looked at him.
"What?"
"Stop saying that."
"Why?"
"Because I don't need you to tell me what she looks like."
Vinaya stared.
His grief was beginning to turn sharp again.
Dangerous.
"What is wrong with you?"
The question was quiet.
Vikram laughed bitterly.
"You really want to know?"
"Yes."
He looked at Ganga.
Then at Vinaya.
And for the first time, grief stopped being sorrow.
It became anger.