Page 120 of Mrs. Pandey
I looked at my little boy, who was rolling on the floor with his fluffy toy. His laughter echoed through the room as I pulled out dresses from my wardrobe, trying to choose the perfect one. After half an hour of indecision, I finally picked a lavender kurti with jeans. I dusted on minimal makeup, left my hair loose over my shoulders, and looked at myself in the mirror with a faint smile.
Iraaj, of course, had to match. I slid him into a lavender t-shirt and black pants, and when he looked up at me with those twinkling eyes, I couldn’t help but melt. He looked absolutely adorable.
“Ma…ma…” he squealed, stretching his chubby arms toward me.
I lifted him, though my back groaned in protest. Lately, the weight of him had been harder to manage with my persistent pain. Still, his warmth in my arms erased the discomfort.
“Are you ready to meet your father now?” I asked, gently nudging his button nose.
He gave me a wide grin, two dimples carving into his cheeks. “Hmm…”
I laughed, trying to pry my hair from his tiny fists. Tugging at my hair had somehow become his favorite pastime. “Not again, Iraaj,” I scolded softly, freeing myself at last.
The doorbell rang suddenly, making my heart skip. I pressed a quick kiss on Iraaj’s cheek before whispering, “That must be your father.”
When I opened the door, there he was. Prashant stood in a crisp black shirt and grey slacks, looking effortlessly handsome. In his hands was a bouquet of fresh roses.
“This is for you,” he said with that same boyish grin I remembered from years ago, the one that had once made my heart race.
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice softening. I took the flowers and lifted them to my face. Their fragrance filled my senses. “Roses, huh?”
“Your favorite,” he said, his voice warm, before holding out his arms for Iraaj. “Come here, champ.”
I passed our son into his arms. Watching the way Prashant held him so securely, as if he was the most precious thing in the world, stirred something deep inside me. I placed the roses in a vase, and when I turned back, Prashant already had Iraaj giggling against his shoulder.
He booked an Uber, and soon we were on our way. I didn’t offer him my car, though I could have. Something in me didn’t want to bruise his pride, so I let him take charge of the evening.
Fifteen minutes later, we sat together at our table in the restaurant. The aroma of spices and butter filled the air. Soft music played in the background, blending with the quiet hum of conversations around us. Iraaj sat between us, happily nibbling on tiny pieces of food. His small teeth made the effort slow but endearing, and I found myself watching more than eating. Watching the two of them together.
Prashant’s patience with him, the way he coaxed him gently, wiping his chin when food slipped that made my heart swell.
“I like seeing you two together,” I whispered, my eyes fixed on them. My fork lay untouched on my plate. “I like your bond with him. I’m glad he loves you so much.”
Prashant looked up, his eyes steady on mine. For a moment, I thought I saw relief there, maybe gratitude too. He smiledfaintly. “Your mother told me everything about you during your pregnancy,” he said, his voice softer now. “She told me how you kept my photographs on your wall, because you wanted our baby to be like me. Is that true?” His face carried a proud flash, though his tone trembled with something deeper.
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “Maybe,” I murmured, my lips curving despite myself.
He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine before wrapping around them firmly. His touch was warm. “Then tell me… why didn’t you tell me?” His gaze locked with mine, intense and searching. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant, all that time? I had the right to know.”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and unyielding. I swallowed hard, staring down at our joined hands, and wondered if tonight was meant for confessions or for new beginnings.
“I didn’t even know I was pregnant until after I broke our relationship,” I whispered, my eyes lowering to our joined hands. My fingers trembled as I spoke. “And when I found out… I was terrified. Terrified that if I told you about my complicated pregnancy, you wouldn’t let me keep this child. I couldn’t bear that thought.”
Prashant’s eyes darkened. “But you also thought I cheated on you…” His voice was quiet, but there was a sharp edge beneath it, like glass ready to crack.
I nodded slowly. “Yes. I did. But even then, I… I felt like you still cared about me. You weren’t there for me in person, but you were everywhere else. You were in my dreams, in my thoughts,in every conversation I had with myself when I was alone. I might have broken us apart, but in truth, I never accepted it. Not once. Not even for a second.”
My hand tightened around his, my throat tightening until the words came out raw. “I spoke to Dr. Ridhima yesterday. She told me everything…” My voice broke, and I could feel tears filling my eyes, blurring my vision until all I could see was the outline of his face.
Yesterday was still so vivid. The fury I felt when I saw Dr. Ridhima at my doorstep. The rage when she forced those letters into my chest. Letters written in blood. Letters filled with Prashant’s agony and love while he was held captive. I had read them once, then again, and again, each word seared into my skin like acid. The pain of his words was unbearable, but the greater pain was the guilt.
How could I have doubted him?
I had thought he was ignoring me, pushing me away, abandoning me. But all along, he had been drowning in his own fear. Fear of becoming his captor. Fear of hurting me. Fear that the haunted shadows of his past would never release him. Fear that he would lose me forever.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, holding back a sob. How could I doubt this man?
My gaze shifted back to him. My voice trembled when I asked, “What… what did you do to Kabir?”
