"Khushi, I have an urgent meeting today. I won’t be able to stay with you. Can you stay home just for today?" Narendra’s voice was filled with concern as he prepared to leave.
Khushi, busy with her school bag and a last-minute check for the events she was going to participate in, paused at the doorway. “I’m sorry, Dad. Today is our school's Sports Day, and I’ve signed up for several events. It’s my final year… I just can’t skip it,” she replied, her voice apologetic yet firm, though a slight edge of guilt ran through her words.
Narendra rubbed his temple. “I understand. But I’ve been working from home all these days without complaint. Have I ever made you feel like a burden? And now maid Taaramma isn’t coming either—she’s unwell,” he tried to reason, hoping to convey his deep concern.
Khushi smiled, her voice softening. “I understand, Dad. But it’s just not possible today. Anyway, Mom's health has improved a lot. I’ll leave for school a little late. Just finish your meeting quickly and come back. It’s only a matter of two hours,” she reassured him with the kind of maturity that belied her age.
Narendra’s brow furrowed in concern, but he let out a sigh of resignation. “Something doesn’t feel right... But alright, go upstairs and ask Divya Aunty if she can come sit with Bhavana for a while. She can finish her work here if she wants.”
With a nod, Khushi kissed her sleeping mother’s forehead and left for Divya Aunty’s house.
Divya Aunty’s warm greeting caught Khushi slightly off-guard as she hurried inside, hoping she hadn’t disturbed the woman.
“Khushi! What a surprise at this hour,” Divya exclaimed as she opened the door, her voice filled with genuine affection.
Khushi smiled slightly, feeling comforted by the older woman's welcoming presence. "Aunty, I need a favor,” she said, keeping her tone light but anxious.
“Of course, tell me. You know I’m always here for you,” Divya replied, glancing over at her kitchen as though her mind was already multitasking.
“I have to be at school today—Dad has a very urgent meeting. And Taaramma isn’t coming in either…” Khushi started, voice trailing as she remembered her mother’s declining health and the burden it placed on her father.
Divya nodded understandingly. “I get it. You want me to stay with Bhavana for a bit. It’s Sports Day today, right? Do your best and have fun. All the best!”
“Thank you, Aunty!” Khushi exclaimed, her gratitude shining through.
It had only been two months since Bhavana’s beloved brother Bharath passed away. The grief was still raw, still echoing in every corner of the house. Narendra and Khushi had been cautious about leaving Bhavana alone, for the woman’s emotional state was fragile. But as life moved forward, they found it harder and harder to maintain this constant vigil. Life, it seemed, had plans of its own. Once both father and daughter were gone, the quiet house felt too still, too heavy with the ghosts of unspoken things. A knock on the door shattered the silence.
Bhavana, who had been sitting near the window, watching the rain fall softly outside, froze. She had felt a sudden, strange shift in the air. With trepidation in her heart, she went to answer.
"Who are you?" Bhavana asked, slightly alarmed, noticing the strange warmth in the stranger’s eyes—eyes that she felt were familiar, yet unsettling.
The young man didn’t immediately respond. After a long, tense pause, she asked again, her voice a little more insistent, "Who are you looking for?"
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost as though he were speaking to himself. What he said shocked Bhavana so deeply that she fainted. She collapsed forward, her knees buckling beneath her.
The young man rushed to her side, panic flashing across his face. Without thinking, he gathered her into his arms and rushed her to the hospital, his eyes dark with worry and guilt.
At the hospital, Narendra and Khushi arrived just in time to see the young man standing by Bhavana’s bedside. He was still, his face filled with confusion and regret, not understanding the impact of his presence.
“Sir, who is she to you?” a nurse asked him gently, noticing the distress in his eyes but not knowing the cause of it.
Unable to form an answer, the young man turned away, his hand trembling at his side.
Narendra, alerted by the neighbors who had seen Bhavana’s collapse, arrived at the hospital with Khushi. The moment he saw the young man, he too was shaken—but quickly regained his composure, his protective instincts taking over.
“I’m her husband. How is she?” Narendra asked, his voice calm but eyes still locked on the stranger, suspicious yet curious.
The young man’s eyes flickered with something close to pain, as though he wished to speak but couldn’t. Narendra’s sharp gaze never wavered.
“Let’s talk at home,” Narendra said curtly, and then turned toward Bhavana, walking in with an air of quiet authority.
Khushi stood there, her heart in her throat, watching the young man with a mixture of curiosity and unease. There was something about him—something familiar in his eyes—but she couldn’t place it. She decided, perhaps unwise, to wait until her mother regained consciousness.
Inside the room, the young man stood frozen at the doorway, uncertain whether to step in or to wait. Narendra noticed him hesitating.
“It’s alright. Come in,” Narendra said after a long pause. “I don’t know what you said to Bhavana, but whatever happened, happened. Come home with us. We’ll talk there.”
The young man nodded silently, a flicker of emotion passing over his face, but he said nothing.
About an hour later, Bhavana opened her eyes. The dim light of the room seemed to swim in front of her, her thoughts fuzzy and disjointed. As she slowly became aware of her surroundings, she saw only Narendra and Khushi standing by her bedside.
“Bhavana, how are you feeling? Do you want some water?” Narendra asked, his voice low, though there was a hint of concern that he couldn’t fully mask.
Bhavana’s eyes flickered with something like recognition, but there was no smile, no sense of relief. “A young man came to the house today. What he said... it shocked me. If he says anything about me in front of you, please don’t believe him,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she gripped the bedpost.
Narendra paused for a long moment, his gaze steady as he considered her words. “Bhavana, don’t stress yourself. He’s the one who brought you to the hospital and called me.”
Startled, Bhavana turned toward the young man, who was standing a few paces away, his eyes wide with apprehension.
“It’s him! Please, tell him to leave!” Bhavana cried, her body shaking uncontrollably, though she was too weak to stand.
Narendra turned to her gently, the years of marriage reflected in his steady, comforting tone. “Bhavana, not now. Let’s talk at home. Try to sit up slowly. I’ll go pay the bill. Khushi, pack her medicines.”
Khushi nodded and set to work quietly, organizing the things her mother would need for the journey home. Meanwhile, the young man stood still, almost like a shadow, his presence too intense, too unresolved for anyone to ignore.
Back at home, Narendra’s mind was a storm of thoughts. He wanted to tell Bhavana everything, but how could he? Would she understand? Would she even believe him?
Once home, he turned to Khushi. “Take your scooter and get lunch from the hotel for everyone,” he instructed. The words were simple, yet they carried a weight that only a father would understand.
He then led Bhavana inside, his hand gently but firmly holding hers. The young man followed, carrying her medicine, walking behind them like a silent observer, unable to voice the questions that were surely burning within him.
“Bhavana,” Narendra said gently, once they were settled, “I know you have questions. I’ll answer everything after lunch. For now, let him settle in. This is your room,” he told the young man, gesturing to the guest room. “Keep your things here. If you need anything, just ask.”
The young man looked at him, his gaze soft, almost apologetic. “I don’t need anything,” he replied. “But let me make one thing clear—I never came to disrupt your peaceful home.”
Narendra nodded, his expression solemn. “I know,” he replied, before excusing himself to take care of the other matters at hand.
Khushi returned from the hotel with food for everyone. Narendra served the meal himself, his movements efficient but mechanical. They ate in a heavy silence, none of them truly savoring the meal. Afterward, Khushi and Narendra cleaned the table and joined Bhavana and the young man in the living room.
“I can’t wait any longer,” Bhavana broke the silence. “Tell me who he is. I’ve trusted you blindly, but I deserve to know.”
Narendra’s heart ached as he prepared to reveal the truth he had carried for so long. He sighed deeply, steeling himself for what was to come.
“Bhavana, this is Akash… the son of your brother Bharath and my sister, Susheela.”
Bhavana recoiled as if struck by a physical blow. “What?! My brother never married anyone! He took vows of celibacy—how dare you say such a thing about him?” Her voice was sharp, full of disbelief and fury.
It was the first time in their marriage that Bhavana had shouted at Narendra. Even he, who had always been so calm, was taken aback by the ferocity of her reaction.
“I understand your anger, Bhavana. But I have proof. Everything is in the bank locker. I know how deeply you respect Bharath—and so do I.
Narendra paused, his eyes clouded with a painful memory. The room was heavy with anticipation, and Bhavana’s trembling hands gripped the arm of the chair, waiting for him to continue. After what felt like an eternity, he began to speak again.
“It all started in the winter of 2000, when I had finished my engineering degree. I had gotten a job and our families were finally convinced about our love for one another years after we broke the news to them. Susheela, as you know, was… special. Mentally challenged, pure of heart, and innocent beyond measure. She was always a child at heart, regardless of her age, and the world saw her as fragile. We protected her like a flower, as fragile as glass. She trusted everyone with that innocence, never knowing the world could hurt her.
Your brother, Bharath, was the picture of discipline. He had already established himself as a man of great intellect, a man who took vows of celibacy and renunciation. He came home often to visit, sharing stories of his teachings, his lectures, and his spiritual path. He was a man of principle, of purity. And Susheela adored him.
At first, it was just admiration, a brotherly connection. She would laugh when he made jokes, sit quietly when he taught, and always look up to him as a mentor. He was the kind of man our parents had always wished for—pious, dignified, a man who would lead by example.
But something changed. I didn’t see it right away. Bharath came home one evening, looking agitated. He spoke about his spiritual journey, but there was something different in his eyes. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but looking back, I realize now it was the moment everything shifted.”
Narendra paused, his voice trembling slightly. Bhavana leaned forward, her expression tense, but she remained silent.
“I came home early from college one afternoon, earlier than usual. The house was eerily quiet. I walked past the living room, and I could hear noises coming from Susheela’s room. I remember the sharp sound of something falling, followed by Susheela’s sobs. My heart raced, and I opened the door without knocking.
What I saw… what I witnessed that day shattered my world.
Bharath was there. He was standing near Susheela, his shirt unbuttoned, and Susheela was on the floor, her dress torn, her body trembling with fear and confusion. The look in Bharath’s eyes was not one of control or malice, but of deep regret—regret that was far too late. He looked at me like a man caught in the worst kind of nightmare.
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I just stood there, frozen, in disbelief. When he realized I had seen everything, he tried to explain. But the words came out broken, stuttered, as though he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. He told me it was an impulse, that he had failed his vows, that it was a mistake—an uncontrollable mistake. He said he never meant to hurt her, that it had happened in a moment of weakness, and that he was sorry. So sorry. But the words didn’t matter. What had been done was done.”
Narendra paused again, wiping a tear from his eye. He took a breath, steadying himself before he continued.
“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t hit him. I didn’t scream. I just told him to leave. I told him to get out of my sight, to never come near Susheela again. He had broken everything—everything he had stood for. And it wasn’t just my sister he had hurt. It was his own image, his own vows. He had destroyed them with a single moment of weakness.
I promised Susheela that it was okay—that it hadn’t been her fault. But she didn’t understand. She was so young, so innocent, and she couldn’t comprehend the violence of what had been done to her. She cried for days, asking for Bharath. She kept asking why he had left her, why he wasn’t coming back. She didn’t know what had happened, not really. She couldn’t understand the darkness that had invaded her world.”
Narendra stopped again, his throat tight with emotion. Bhavana sat in stunned silence, her face pale, her breath shallow as she absorbed the horror of what her brother had done.
“We didn’t tell anyone. We couldn’t. I didn’t want to destroy the image everyone had of him, especially you, Bhavana. I couldn’t bring myself to tell our parents, and I certainly couldn’t bear the thought of you finding out. Susheela never fully understood what had happened. But when she found out she was pregnant, it nearly broke her. She couldn’t make sense of it. She cried even more. It was too much for her fragile mind to process.
I took her away. We told everyone that she was going abroad for treatment. We couldn’t keep her at home. She needed space—she needed time away from everything and everyone. She gave birth to Akash in secret, far from our family’s eyes. We told her the baby had gone to a better place, to a school where he would be happy. She eventually, eventually forgot about him, or chose to. But we couldn’t let her remember the pain of losing him.
Bharath came to see the baby once. He was broken, a shell of the man he had been. He cried. He begged me not to tell you, Bhavana. He said, ‘Let her believe in the brother she worships. Let her have that image. She doesn’t deserve to know the truth. Not yet.’
And so, I kept that promise to him. I buried the truth and carried it with me, like a weight on my chest, for all these years.”
Bhavana’s body shook as the enormity of the truth consumed her. She looked at Akash, her brother’s son, the child who had been born out of violence and betrayal, the child who had grown up without a family, without a home. Her heart broke for him.
“My brother… did this?” she whispered, her voice breaking with disbelief and sorrow. “To Susheela? To my own sister?” She turned to Narendra, her face twisted with pain. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep this from me? From all of us?”
Narendra took her hand, his voice soft but steady. “I kept it from you because I knew how much you respected Bharath. How much you looked up to him. I didn’t want to destroy that image in your heart. But I couldn’t keep the truth from you forever. Akash deserves to know who he is. He deserves to know where he comes from, even if it’s painful. And you, Bhavana—you deserve to know too. I can’t hide this from you anymore. It’s time.”
The words hung in the air, thick and heavy. Bhavana turned her gaze to Akash, who stood at the doorway, his face pale and full of sorrow. His eyes, so much like Bharath’s, mirrored a pain that was not of his making.
Akash’s voice broke through the silence, low and filled with emotion. “I just wanted to know the truth,” he said softly. “I don’t blame anyone. I never have. I just wanted to know who I am.”
Bhavana’s heart softened as she looked at him. He was a child of a broken past, a child who had been abandoned by the very family who should have loved him, protected him.
Slowly, as though testing the waters, Bhavana reached out. She touched Akash’s cheek gently, her fingers trembling. She whispered, “You didn’t choose how you came into this world. But you’re here. And you are innocent.”
In that moment, Bhavana understood. Akash was not the one to blame. He had been the victim of a tragedy he had no control over, the son of a man who had committed an unforgivable act.
With a soft sigh, Bhavana wrapped her arms around him. Akash, tentative at first, embraced her back. There were no words needed in that moment. The truth, as painful as it was, had created a bond between them that could not be broken.
As they stood there, holding each other, Narendra looked on, his heart heavy with both grief and relief. The truth had been revealed. And though it hurt, the healing could finally begin.
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