The Haunted Fortress of Bhangarh: Book 1

46. Not a family

The cook had gone out for a bit to fetch fresh vegetables for dinner, and when he returned from the local market, he discovered that the daughter of the family had fainted again—something that did happen often. More so ever since the son of the house returned from a four-day trip to some city in Rajasthan. Although he couldn't exactly find the correlation between the said trip and the frequent bouts of illnesses afflicting Nidhi, he was certain that the family would stand by each other regardless of the situation. They were too close-knit to scatter.

And true to his intuitions, when he went upstairs to place a bowl of cold water and a piece of cloth in Nidhi's room as demanded by Shweta, the first thing the mother asked was about her son.

"Where is Rudra? He hasn't come up ever since I... I..." She fumbled, struggling with words. "Where is he?"

"I don't know where he is, madam," the cook said. "Haven't seen him ever since I returned."

"Must be in his room," Avinash muttered, taking the fabric off the tray placed on the nightstand and dampening it with the water before wringing the extra liquid off. "We spoke too harshly with him."

Shweta nodded at the cook, and he left instantly. "What should I have done?" she snapped at her husband once the servant was out of earshot. "That utterly foolish boy didn't tell us anything. He is in such immense danger, and he just assumed that the lady in red is not here to kill. Should I feed him gulab jamuns for the wonderful work he did?"

A grin cracked on Avinash's face. "I have never seen you this angry with him."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "That stupid, silly boy! Always trying to protect us when it should be us. We are his parents. Not the other way around."

He positioned the moist cloth over Nidhi's forehead. "But you shouldn't have stopped him from draping the blanket over Nidhi. He loves her as much as we do. Perhaps even more."

She groaned. "I know. I just... I was so angry. Not because he didn't tell us. But because—"

"You think he has stopped considering us his family," he whispered.

Tears pooled in her eyes, and her voice cracked. "Yes. He is keeping to himself and is not talking to any of us ever since Siya died. Whenever he feels anything—either good or bad—he rushes up to me, his mother, to narrate it all. But ever since he met his birth mother, I feel like... like..."

"I know," he mumbled, placing his palm over his wife's. "Subtly, he has distanced himself from us. He doesn't banter with me the way he did. Neither does he spend as much time with us. But I think it stems more from the fact that he is grieving, and he just needs some space. Perhaps his friends and his girlfriend are the only people who can help him overcome the loss of Siya."

"He has a girlfriend now," she rolled her eyes, "and that makes me happy as a mother, but I need some of my son's time too."

He heaved a deep sigh. "We are probably assuming things. I was furious with him because his delay put both my children in danger. My Nidhi and... and my Rudra."

A sob came out of her throat. "Our Rudra."

"Right." He chortled. "I forgot how possessive you are about him."

Shaking her head, she reflected on her rude tone, her stern words from earlier in the evening, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the amount of culpability she experienced. Realizing that Rudra had probably wanted to keep his parents away from all sorts of negativity, pride surged in her heart too. Her little boy had grown up. As the guilt tugged at her heart furthermore, she slid down from the bed. "I need to see him and apologize. I scolded him so much. Such a bad mother I can be at times."