Page 116 of Mrs. Pandey
“Ta…da…ta…da…” he babbled, throwing his little arms toward my face. His laughter rang out like bells, pure and unfiltered, and my heart swelled.
“You look breathtaking,” I heard Prashant murmur from behind me. His voice was low, almost reverent.
My heart skipped a beat. Even now, his words were so simple, so careless still had the power to make me tremble. I hated that about myself. I kept my gaze on Iraaj, forcing my lips into a steady smile, pretending I hadn’t heard him. But his presence pressed against me, his warm breath fanning across my neck, stirring old memories I had buried deep.
I risked a glance at him. He looked striking in a dark, perfectly tailored suit, his hair sleeked back, his jaw freshly shaven. He carried himself with the same confidence that had once drawn me to him like a moth to flame. I could see, even without trying, why Riddhima or any woman would fall for him. He was magnetic. But that was the problem. How could he let another woman get that close while still holding me, still pretending to be my husband? God, I wanted to scream at him, to tear open the facade we both lived under. But I bit it back. He no longer had a place in my life, no matter how much my heart betrayed me in his presence.
“Let me hold him,” Prashant said softly, carefully slipping Iraaj from my arms. His hands lingered against mine for a moment too long. “He’s heavier than before.”
“He’s growing up so fast,” I mumbled, reaching out to wipe the drool from Iraaj’s chin. My heart clenched as I studied his little face. He was so much like his father, the same eyes, the same dimples, even the same smile that had once undone me. At least, I thought bitterly, I could keep a piece of Prashant in Iraaj, even when his father was no longer part of our lives.
“I wish we could have a baby girl too,” Prashant said suddenly, his lips curling into a smile.
My head snapped up, my eyes narrowing in shock. For a second, I waited for him to laugh, to admit it was a careless joke. But he didn’t. The way he looked at me, the longing in his eyes, made my chest tighten. He wasn’t joking.
“I can’t have another child,” I whispered, my smile trembling with sadness.
“I know…” he said softly, his gaze dropping to Iraaj.
“You can have one with another woman,” I replied playfully, though there was bitterness in my tone I couldn’t hide. “Maybe Dr. Riddhima?”
His head jerked toward me sharply. “Ira...”
“It’s cake-cutting time,” I interrupted quickly, my voice sharper than I intended. I took Iraaj and without giving him a chance to respond, I stepped away, holding my son close to my chest like a shield. A sting spread through my chest, and I pressed my hand there, willing myself not to break down in the middle of the hall.
I hadn’t told him I was leaving the country for good. He already looked broken when he found out I was retiring from the army. What would happen when he learned I was taking Iraaj away, starting over an ocean apart? I didn’t know if Prashant’s newfound gentleness was genuine or fleeting, but I couldn’t deny the one truth I saw, he loved Iraaj. He loved him deeply. And Iraaj adored him back.
The thought twisted my insides. My son’s face lit up whenever his father entered the room, and his cries echoed painfully whenever Prashant left for duty. I often caught him glancing toward the door, waiting, hoping. How would he survive without his father? How could I tear them apart?
The questions clawed at me until I forced myself to look away. I turned to Avni and Kavya, gratefully joining their lighthearted chatter. To my relief, they didn’t ask about Prashant and me. They let me breathe.
Toward the end of the party, Rhea arrived like a gust of fresh air. She swept Iraaj into her arms. “Happy birthday to the little prince!” she exclaimed, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.
I smiled, grateful for her timing. She pulled everyone’s attention, distracting me from the storm raging inside my chest.
The cake-cutting ceremony was beautiful. The hall filled with voices singing in unison as Iraaj clapped his tiny hands, his face glowing with delight. His laughter bubbled over as I guided his little fingers into the cake, smearing cream across his cheeks. He squealed with happiness, and everyone laughed with him. For that one moment, everything else faded away. The world stood still, wrapped in his joy. If I could have frozen time, I would have.
But then I saw Prashant watching us. Every time his eyes lingered on Iraaj, they softened with pure, unguarded love. And when, for just a flicker, his gaze shifted to me, I caught something there I had long stopped believing in, a warmth that once belonged only to us. It scared me more than his betrayal ever had.
As the night wound down and the guests began to leave, I stood at the far end of the hall, holding my son close. My father busied himself thanking the guests, Avni carefully packed the gifts, and Kavya chased balloons across the floor. The hall grew quieter, the glittering decorations dimming into the background.
Prashant approached me slowly, his steps measured, his face unreadable. He stopped in front of me, his eyes fixed on the little boy in my arms.
“You’ve done an incredible job raising him,” I said softly, brushing my finger over Iraaj’s tiny hand. My voice cracked with emotion I hadn’t meant to show. “He’s… everything I ever wanted in life.”
“He’s my everything too,” Prashant replied, his lips curving into a sad smile.
For a second, the air between us thickened, heavy with words we weren’t ready to say. I opened my mouth, but my father called me over from across the hall.
I pressed a kiss to Iraaj’s forehead and forced a smile at Prashant. “Goodnight,” I whispered.
I walked away without turning back, but I could feel it, his gaze burning into me, filled with regret, and unspoken truths.
And I knew, deep down, that leaving him behind would not be as simple as boarding a plane.
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Chapter 55
