The vivid reds in wedding symbols of celebration , Happiness and Joy . But what will happen if the same red colour change into the colour of blood betrayal and the symphony of despair.
Meera sweet little innocent girl end up being the pawn in the d...
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Regaining consciousness felt like surfacing from a deep, dark ocean. My eyes fluttered open to find my husband wrapping my feet with a bandage and murmuring something, forgetting that I could hear him. I was about to ask him something when my eyes fell on the little girl's face hovering over mine, eyes wide with concern.
"Mumma, aap theek ho?" she asked softly. (Mumma, are you okay?)
I blinked, still disoriented, as the girl shifted to him — who now stood holding her protectively in his arms. His eyes met mine briefly before he looked away, his face an unreadable mask.
"Yeh sab kya ho raha hai?" I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. (What is happening?)
He didn’t respond, just gave a curt nod. "Ira, princess, sit here," he said softly, gently making Ira sit down beside me.
'Ira' — so her name is Ira. Such a wonderful name.
And okay, this man can be gentle. That’s new. ‘Meera, he was gentle doing your bandage also,’ my inner voice reminded me.
Shut up, that’s not the point. The point is — the hell, I don’t know anything about this man. There was so much about him that I didn’t know, so many unanswered questions. Is she his daughter? If yes, what happened to Ira’s mother? What happened between him and Raghav?
Ahh! This is frustrating.
I looked up at my husband, hoping for some explanation, some warmth, but his face remained impassive.
"Yeh Khadoos Kumar hamesha itna serious kyun rehta hai?" I thought to myself. (Why does this grumpy Kumar always stay so serious?) It seemed like he never smiled or showed any emotion beyond irritation.
"Do you ever say more than two words?" I muttered under my breath, not really expecting an answer.
"What did you say?" His voice cut through my thoughts, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Nothing," I replied quickly, looking away.
He watched me with a guarded expression, arms crossed over his chest.
Ira’s small voice brought me back to the present. "Mumma, you need to rest. Dadda said you fainted because you haven't been eating."
"Aapko rest karna chahiye," he said, his tone flat and authoritative. (You should rest.)
"Mumma, you should take rest," her sweet voice echoed through the room.
There was something in her calling me 'Mumma' that just… healed me. I felt rejuvenated. Every time she flashed her bright smile, it was as if a ray of sunshine pierced through the darkness within me.
"Princess, go and call Dadi." (Grandma)
"Okay, Dadda," she chirped before skipping away.
"Mujhe kuch samajh nahi aa raha," I mumbled, trying to sit up. (I don’t understand anything.)
