27. WHISPERS OF FATE

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Hridhaan (8)
(Twenty years ago)

-Mom, a title just above, Queen

The car ride was silent, just me and my mother, as we were on the way home from my football practice.

But today, she was strangely quiet.

It frightened me every time she gave us the silent treatment, and it's always after a fight with father.

I loved him as a dad. He was the best dad in the world.

But when he made my mom cry, I hated him.

"Mom," I called, breaking the silence. She turned to look at me, a smile gracing her face. She always had that small smile, no matter the situation.

It was that smile that could make you forget any worries.

"Mom, are you sad?" I asked, my voice small and concerned.

"No, Hridhay. Why?" she replied, but she didn't look okay.

"Mom," I said, scooting closer to her, taking her hands in mine, "did dad do something again? Should I talk to him?"

"Hridhay!" She almost laughed at my naïve threat. "Hridhaan, that's your dad."

"So?" I huffed. "If he makes you cry, I won't forgive him either. He's supposed to protect you."

"No, Hridhay," she said, gently pushing my hair back. "Your father is the best husband. He tries his best to protect all of us."

"It's just sometimes the situation isn't in our favor, that even your father is helpless," she muttered softly, but I heard her.

Lately, both Dad and Mom were tense about something.

"Mom, you can tell me what's wrong. I'll protect you," I said proudly.

I didn't know much, but I could kick people now.

They taught me to kick balls in the club, but it was the same thing, right?

"My sweet little boy, you are too young, but I appreciate your thoughts, Hridhay," Mom said, making my smile falter. I pouted.

"Accha, don't wallow," she said, raising an eyebrow. "You have someone to protect too."

"Who?" I asked innocently.

"Your siblings, Vrit and Arhaan. Hridhaan, promise me you'll always have their back."

"I promise," I said immediately, happy that I got to protect someone too.

I promised.

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We were on our way home when the car suddenly stopped.

"Diwan ji, kya hua?" Mom asked the driver, a frown etching on her face.
(Diwan ji, What's wrong?)

"Ji memsaab, woh kuch machine mai problem hai, abhi dekhta hu," he said as he got out of the car.
(Yes, ma'am, there's some kind of problem with the machine, I'll check it right now)

As time passed, Mom was getting restless, fidgeting with her fingers every now and then.

"What's taking him so long?" she muttered.

Five minutes passed, and she got out of the car, herself.

I followed her.

The driver was nowhere to be seen.

Mom looked pale as we stood on a deserted road. The scene around us was unsettling.

Tall, dense trees flanked both sides of the road, their branches casting eerie shadows in the dimming light.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, but it did little to warm the chilling atmosphere.

The road itself stretched out endlessly, with no sign of houses or people, just an empty, desolate stretch of asphalt disappearing into the horizon.

"Mom," I muttered, feeling a gut-wrenching sense that something was wrong.

But she was already fumbling with her phone, dialing Dad's number.

The phone rang as we waited in silence.

Meanwhile, I searched the car and found that the keys were still inside. Stretching myself over the seat, I took them and clutched them in my hands.

"Mom..." I called, turning around, but all I saw was a sharp rod striking Mom's head. A man covered in black stood there with the weapon.

"Hridhay!" Mom screamed, her voice filled with desperation and pain, before falling unconscious to the ground.

"Mom!" I shouted, trying to get near her, but another hand clamped over my face with a cloth. The smell made me dizzy—chloroform, I thought.

And I lost consciousness, the world turned blank.

The only thought occupying my mind was, Mom, God, please keep her safe, please.

Mom.

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Glimpse of past, before the reunion.

So, what do you think of Hridhaan? There's sure a story there!

Instagram ID: Cinnamonrollwritess 💌
(Link in my profile bio)
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