Page 93 of The Circle of Exile
Leaving it full.
But, my love.
You didn’t realise.
That now you are the shape of my heart too.
A piercing cry jolted her awake. Iram squinted, blinking in the dark. Where was she? The cry intensified and she startled up.
“Arth…” she called out softly, hoping to reach him through his loud howl. It wasn’t a cry but a call for a change of nappy. Iram began to turn to Atharva when she remembered that she had to do this. She immediately sat up and realised Atharva wasn’t even here beside her.
“Atharva?” She called out towards the bathroom. The door was open. She would worry about her husband later. Right now, she needed to get to her baby. But first, she needed water in her eyes. She didn’t trust herself to lift him in the light of day. This was night, dark, and her eyes were still half-slits.
Iram rushed to the bathroom and threw water into her eyes, scrubbing frantic hands down her face before running to the cot. Yathaarth was bawling out with his own eyes narrowed to slits, trying to lift his back up.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh… It’s too soggy, isn’t it?” She crooned quietly, reaching her hands down and easily slipping them under him. His body instantly arched higher and she used that momentum to scoop him up.
“Yay!” She whisper-shouted to herself, giddy with the victory even as he went on protesting. “Shhh, shhh,” she immediately sat down on the bed first, getting her grip steadyunder him. Once she was sure of her hold, she slowly pushed to her feet and padded to the changing table.
Iram smiled at the setup. Atharva had already arranged the mat, a spare pair of nappies and another onesie, in case he soiled this one. There was warm water in a flask that she should have thought of before going to sleep.
She knew the drill. Had done it in the daytime. This time, he was still making howling noises but she went on, pushing her way through his heart-rending cries as she changed him. She snapped the closure on one nappy and wasted it but the next one sat snug on his hips. She threw some powder on his tummy playfully and his cry turned into giggles. His eyes blinked open. Iram stared, mesmerised. He smiled serenely at the ceiling, then promptly went back to sleep. Silent.
One moment there, the next — gone. Like his father. She stood and absorbed that moment. Her son, changed by her, sleeping soundly again, his cries silenced. Iram reached down, puckered her lips and pressed a soft, featherlight kiss to his navel. She nuzzled her nose there, working to forget all the bad as it came rushing down the maze of her mind.
She saved you. She gave you to me and went.
Tears dampened her eyes and she immediately straightened, closing his onesie, picking him up and gently depositing him in his cot. The muscles of her forearms throbbed but it was the best kind of pain.
“Thank you for staying, baby,” she ran a finger down his cheek. He went on breathing slow, deep, sweet breaths. Iram tore her eyes away from him and stepped back. She left the bedroom door open and strode to seek Atharva on the terrace. He wasn’t there.
Iram was more torn now. Yathaarth was asleep inside. Should she go down and leave him alone? She quickly tiptoed to the top of the stairs and peeked down the bannister. The downstairs light was on. Atharva was down. She glanced back and waited. No sound was coming.
Iram rushed down the stairs and ran to Atharva’s office. She threw the door open without knocking. And there he was, sitting on his chair behind his desk, turned towards the windows. His house of cards was lying on his table, glued together. He had the remaining stack of cards but hadn’t started a new one.
“Is everything ok?” She asked. “Atharva?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Turn and look at me. I need to run up.”
“Why?” He turned immediately. “What happened to him?”
“Nothing happened. He is alone up there,” she bounced on the balls of her feet. Atharva’s face burst into a reluctant chuckle and he held up a baby monitor — “I’ll know if he cries again.”
“Oh,” she began to relax when her eyes widened. “Wait! You must have heard him cry earlier!”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t come,” she stepped inside, even giddier than she was while lifting Yathaarth. “You knew I would take care of him.”
“I did.”
She stopped in the centre of his office, those two words repeated, and repeated so solemnly.
“You really did?” She wanted confirmation. He nodded, grey eyes not moving from hers. “How many nappies did you break?”
“Only one,” she smiled shyly. “But I was still in sleep…”
