Page 115 of Mrs. Pandey
Her words slammed into the cracks in my heart, tearing them wider. How many nights had I stared at the ceiling, imagining her never waking up from coma? How many times had I told myself that one day the call would come, and it would all be over?
But hearing her surrender it… that was something I never prepared for.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice dropped, softer, rougher, betraying the storm inside. “Do you have any idea what it feels like standing outside that door, hearing it from someone else’s lips? Do you think I wouldn’t have stood by you?”
Her tears finally broke free, tracing fragile lines down her pale cheeks. She shook her head, whispering, “Because I knew you’d try to stop me. And Prashant…” Her lips trembled, her next words choking her voice. “I don’t have the strength to fight you too.”
The air left my lungs in a hollow rush. I sank onto the edge of her bed, burying my face in my hands. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of her quiet sobs. It wasn’t just silence but it was grief. Grief for the life she was letting go of, grief for the parts of us we’d already lost.
Finally, I reached for her hand. Her fingers were cold, fragile in my grasp, but I held on as though my life depended on it. “If this is what you want… if this is what you truly believe will give you peace, then I’ll stand with you.” My voice shook, but I forced the words out. “But promise me something, Ira.”
Her teary eyes lifted to mine, wide and searching.
“Don’t ever shut me out again,” I whispered. “We’ve lost enough time already. No more decisions without me. No more carrying the weight alone. If you’re laying down your uniform, then fine...I’ll carry it for both of us. But don’t you dare carry this pain without me.”
Her lips quivered. “I promise,” she said softly.
But even as the word left her mouth, I heard it, the hesitation hiding beneath. A pause that told me she wasn’t sure if she could keep that promise.
And yet, I chose to hold on to it. To her. Because if I didn’t, I would lose her completely.
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Chapter 54
IRA
Iraaj was about to turn one year old, and on the very same day, I was preparing to announce my retirement from the army. A bittersweet knot twisted inside me. The uniform had been my second skin, my honor, and my purpose for so long. No doubt, I would miss the discipline, the duty, and the sense of belonging that came with serving the nation. But life had started calling me in another direction. I longed for the chance to breathe freely, to hold my son without worrying about the next posting, or the next mission. I wanted to live my life with Iraaj, to show him the world beyond boundaries, to laugh with him under different skies, and to build something entirely our own.
The USA was where that new chapter would begin. My father had a clothing showroom there, and he had decided to hand it over to me. It was his way of making amends, but also, in many ways, it was destiny. I had always loved clothes, textures, colors, the art of making something ordinary into something exquisite. Starting my own fashion brand felt like breathing life into an old dream. I had already designed my website, a digital canvas where I would showcase my creations. My savings were enough to not only sustain us but also to travel across continents. The thought of exploring the world with Iraaj at my side thrilled me. He was my anchor and my compass.
He was such an obedient, calm little boy so unlike me in my stubborn youth. He would fall asleep in my arms, his small breath warm against my skin, as though my heartbeat was hislullaby. At that moment, he was still living with Prashant. I had not demanded to take him away yet; a part of me wanted him to spend a few months with his father before I uprooted him. Perhaps I owed Prashant that much. Or perhaps, in some corner of my heart, I was afraid of what it would mean to truly sever ties with him.
Prashant. I still didn’t understand why he had come back into my life. He seemed gentler, calmer, more affectionate than I remembered. At times, it almost felt as if he was trying to make amends, as if he regretted how carelessly he had treated me before. But I couldn’t ignore the reality: there was another woman in his life. He played the part of a loving husband and father with me, while his heart strayed elsewhere. I never let him see how deeply that betrayal had scarred me. I wore a mask of composure, while inside I wrestled with grief, anger, and a faint, stubborn longing.
On Iraaj’s birthday, I dressed in a lavender saree. It was soft, elegant, and comforting something I chose for myself, not for anyone else. I applied light makeup but deliberately avoided sindoor and mangalsutra. I no longer considered myself Prashant’s wife. That bond had been broken the day he betrayed me. Yes, I missed him more times than I dared admit, but my dignity had to come first.
My parents had gone all out for the celebration. They booked a luxurious hotel to mark Iraaj’s first birthday. When my father proudly told me he had arranged everything, I felt an old flicker of resentment. I hated how easily he stepped into the role of doting grandfather, when I still carried the weight of his past neglect. I hated even more when Prashant cancelled his own arrangements just to please my father. It made the whole thingfeel staged, as if I were caught in the middle of their competition for redemption.
When I entered the banquet hall, I couldn’t help but be awestruck. The place was decorated beautifully, blue balloons floated above like tiny clouds, glittering lights draped across the ceiling, and enormous teddy bears stood in the corners, almost as tall as men. Performers in fancy costumes, some dressed as bears, some as elephants moved gracefully among the guests, offering drinks and snacks. Children squealed with delight as they ran between the tables, chasing each other in the warm glow of fairy lights. For a moment, I allowed myself to smile. My father’s arrangements were undeniably beautiful.
“I hope you like it, Sweety,” Dad’s voice came from behind me. He placed his hand gently on my shoulder.
I turned, forcing a smile. “I like it, Dad. It’s… perfect.”
He studied my face, as though searching for sincerity. His own expression softened, but there was guilt in his eyes that no smile could hide. “I know… whatever I do for you now will always feel less than enough. But I want to try, beta. I want to prove that I am still your father, the father who loved you unconditionally, even if I lost my way.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “I was blinded back then… consumed by Kabir Rajput’s power and passion, so much so that I couldn’t see who he truly was. I thought you were… acting out, pulling another one of your stunts. I should have listened. I should have protected you.”
His words clawed at the walls I had built around myself. For years I had craved this acknowledgement, this admission. Yet now, when it was finally here, I wasn’t ready to let it in. Notyet. My heart still carried bruises too deep to heal in one conversation.
“Dad,” I interrupted softly, holding his gaze but firm in my tone. “Today is my son’s first birthday. I don’t want to spoil it. Please… can you just welcome the guests and make sure everything goes smoothly?”
For a moment, silence hung between us. He nodded slowly, his eyes heavy with regret. “Yeah… sure.” He gave a faint smile, then walked away to greet the arriving guests.
As I watched him go, my heart twisted with guilt. I hated myself for speaking so coldly, especially when I could see how desperately he was trying. But forgiveness is not a switch to be turned on; it is a bridge built brick by brick. And I was not ready to cross it just yet.
My mood shifted instantly when I saw Iraaj in Prashant’s arms as his family entered the hall. Avni, Aryan, and Kavya followed close behind, chatting and smiling. For a moment, the noise around me faded, it was only me, my son, and the man who had once been my entire world.
“My little pumpkin!” I exclaimed, my heart leaping as I rushed forward. I didn’t wait for permission; I took Iraaj into my arms, breathing in his baby scent, pressing kiss after kiss onto his chubby cheeks. He laughed when he recognized me, his tiny hands flailing in the air.
