Page 246 of The Circle of Exile
“Do it again.” Atharva stood him up on the back bumper of his car and held him steady. Yathaarth’s tiny brows knitted and his mouth became an angry round. But he stayed, eyes slowly meeting his.
“Do it again,” Atharva let his hands go. He didn’t move them.
Atharva let the minute tick, breaking that attitude with his eyes. Yathaarth lowered his gaze, blinking rapidly at the flowing river.
“Look at me, Arth.”
Frown, blinks, squirming.
“I said, look at me.”
He reluctantly glanced up, then looked away. Then slowly brought his eyes back, the anger faded to guilt.Good.He realised it.
“You are not supposed to raise your hand at anybody,” Atharva seared into his eyes.
His lower lip jutted out, wobbling. Iram would melt at it, he wouldn’t.
“You are not supposed to raise your hand at a girl, do you understand?”
“Mehek push.”
“Mehek is your friend at school and if she pushes you, you go to the teacher. You do not push her back. Understood?”
“Baba…” he began to fling his arms around his neck but Atharva held them back — “You are not supposed to raise your hand at your mother.”
This time he burst into tears. Atharva let him cry.
“Arth, you will never hit your mother again.”
He hiccupped, crying, reaching for him. Atharva held him bodily back — “Yes or no.”
“Ye…ss.”
“You will go now, say sorry to Mama and kiss her where you hit her.”
He nodded, his eyebrows going down to those curves that got Iram every single time. Atharva did not pick him up into his arms. Instead, he swooped him up and set him on the sand.
“Walk.”
He had to understand the shame of hitting his mother, and crawl his way to apologise to her. His son walked. That was one trait he was proud of in his son. He did not have an inflated ego like so many kids his age. He had his moments, the tantrums were slightly louder nowadays, but he did not draw up walls when he knew he was in the wrong.
Atharva rounded the car behind him and saw him break into a run until his face was thrown into Iram’s knees. Loud sobs. He knew where they worked.
“Ok,” Iram picked him up, cradling his head into her shoulder as she rocked from side to side. Their old soothe-rock. Her eyes met his and their gazes held as he walked towards them.
“Arth.” Atharva cued.
“Sowie.”
“Properly.”
He’s hungry,Iram mouthed to him over their son’s shoulder. Atharva shook his head.Don’t.
“Sowwie, Mama,” Yathaarth’s face popped out, wet and drawn. He buried his face sideways into her neck again and pressed a kiss to her jaw. Iram melted. But Atharva kept his gaze hard on her to not let her break.
“It’s ok, baby,” she kissed his hair. “But we’ve spoken about this. Hitting is a bad thing. We don’t hit, ok? If you are angry, you say you are angry.”
“Mmmm…”
