Page 109 of Mrs. Pandey
Our son.
The boy she nearly died was brought into this world.
I had hated him for stealing her from me, but now I realized he was the only reason she had fought so hard. He was the proof of her love, her sacrifice, her faith in me even when I wasn’t there.
“Where… where is he?” My voice was hoarse, broken.
Kavya’s expression softened. She extended a hand. “Come.”
We walked down the corridor, the sterile air heavy with the smell of medicines. My chest was tight, my steps hesitant, my palms sweating.
When we entered the NICU, the world seemed to slow. Rows of incubators lined the room, tiny fragile lives fighting for existence inside them. Kavya stopped in front of one.
I stepped closer.
And there he was.
So small. So impossibly delicate. His tiny chest rose and fell weakly, his skin pale, his little fists curled tightly beside him. Tubes were taped to his fragile body, a mask covering his nose.
My throat constricted. My vision blurred with tears.
“My son…” The words slipped out.
For a moment I couldn’t breathe. He was so helpless, so innocent, and yet he carried the weight of everything Ira had endured. My knees buckled, and I pressed my hand against the glass, my tears falling freely.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry I hated you. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t ask to come into this world… but your mother fought for you. She nearly died for you.”
My hand trembled as I traced the glass. “And I… I will fight for you too. I promise.”
Kavya’s hand rested on my shoulder, her voice breaking. “This is what Ira wanted, Prashant. She wanted you to hold him, to lovehim, to see yourself in him. Don’t turn away now. Don’t make her sacrifice meaningless.”
I nodded slowly, my body shaking with sobs. “I won’t. I won’t let her down again. I swear.”
I stood there for hours, watching my son, memorizing every breath he took, every tiny twitch of his fingers. At that moment, I felt Ira with me, in his heartbeat, in his fragile existence. She was there, holding us together.
“Ira,” I whispered, clutching the glass. “Come back to me. Please. Your son needs you. I need you. We’re waiting.”
The machines beeped. The baby stirred faintly, as if responding.
And I vowed, with every fiber of my being, that I would never leave them again.
______
Chapter 51
PRASHANT
Iraaj
My son’s name was Iraaj.
The moment I held him in my arms for the first time, I felt as though he carried a part of her inside him, his stubborn little fists clenching and unclenching like hers, his short temper whenever he was hungry, his piercing, high-pitched cries demanding attention. But most of the time, he was calm, quiet, and almost thoughtful. And when he smiled, it was as though the world around me softened for a moment.
It had been six months since Iraaj had recovered fully from those fragile first days, and in that time he grew faster than I ever imagined. I, too, had changed. My responsibilities as a father merged with my duties as an officer. A recent promotion to Major had temporarily transferred me to Jaipur, and on paper, life was moving smoothly.
Except for her.
She remained in bed unconscious, still as a frozen memory. Every day, I went to her. Every day, I sat beside her, spoke to her, confessed things I had never dared to when her eyes were open. And every day, she remained quiet, listening at least I hoped she was.
