Page 110 of Mrs. Pandey
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. Sheshould 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.
