Page 27 of Protect my Heart
I freeze. I knew Uncle didn’t like me. But he always seemed to adore Anika—or maybe I just wanted to believe that for her sake.
“He hated me for not giving him a son,” she continues, her voice almost inaudible.
My stomach churns as I register her words. How can anyone hold a woman responsible for something like that? How can anyone look at someone like Anika and still feel like they are missing something?
“He had another family,” she says quietly. The words slam into me like a truck. I stare at her, wide-eyed, trying to process. Another family?
“He told us we were shifting because of business... but it wasn’t just that. His other wife had died. He had two children from her. And he needed someone to raise them.” My grip tightens on her hand, fury bubbling in my veins.
“I worked there, Aarav,” Aunty says, her face crumbling with shame. “I worked in his house... like a maid.”
I clench my jaw so hard it aches. My whole body screams at the injustice of it.
“I didn’t want to. But he blackmailed me. Threatened to hurt Anika if I didn’t obey. He said he would treat her better if I stayed.” Her voice breaks completely now, her body shaking. "I was never strong," she chuckles, "and that's one reason why Anika feels like a blessing, like another, braver version of me."
Weak? No. She wasn't weak. She was strong. She did what any parent would do—sacrifice everything for their child. “He’s a coward,” I grit out. “A sorry excuse for a man.”
Aunty smiles sadly, squeezing my hand. “She doesn’t know. Please, don’t tell her. Let her believe he loved her.”
I nod, throat thick with emotion and fury burning my vision. “I won’t tell her.”
“But why are you telling me all this?” I ask, confused.
“I’m not sure how long I have, beta,” she says. I start to protest, but she shakes her head firmly.
“I just want to clear your misunderstandings. I saw you two together... and I knew.” She chuckles weakly. “Mothers always know, don’t they?” She coughs, her body trembling. I rush to grab a glass of water, holding it to her lips.
She sips slowly, then sets the glass down with trembling hands. “She wrote to you, you know. Every month. For a year. Maybe more.”
The world tilts. Her words hit me like a punch straight to the gut. A lump forms in my throat. My breath catches, and my whole body goes rigid on her confession.
“She... she wrote?” I stammer, disbelief thick in my voice.
“She did. But you never answered... so eventually, she stopped trying.”
“No,” I whisper. “No, I never got any letters. I would’ve... I would’ve...”
“I know.” She closes her eyes briefly. “It’s my fault.”
I pull away from her hand, needing space to breathe. “Why?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Why is it your fault?” I can’t believe any of this; it’s too overwhelming. “How?”
“To protect her,” she whispers. “Her father found out about the letter. He threatened to cut off her education funds if I didn’t stop her.”
I stare at her, unable to move. All these years... I blamed her for everything. I blamed her for leaving me behind. For abandoning me without a word. But she had been fighting her own battles. Alone. And I never even knew.
“She could’ve called me,” I mutter brokenly. “She knew the landline.”
“We weren’t allowed to use the phone. And by the time she could... landlines were obsolete. Mobile numbers changed. Addresses changed. Maybe... maybe you didn’t have that number anymore.”
“I still do,” I whisper.
She looks at me, regret heavy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, beta. I truly am. I did what I thought was best.”
I close my eyes, trying to pull myself together. I don’t want her to cry. Not now. Not when she needs strength the most.
“You’re going to live for Anika,” I tell her firmly. “You have to. She needs you.”
She smiles through her tears and opens her arms. I hesitate for a second... then bend down, letting her embrace me. “She deserves a good life,” she whispers against my shoulder. “Please... take care of her.”
