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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As soon as I stepped into the house, I heard the rapid patter of tiny feet rushing towards me. Before I could even take another step, Ira flung herself into my arms, her little body trembling with relief and fear.
"Mumma!" she cried, burying her face into my neck. "I'm sorry, Mumma. I won't ever let you go. Aur main aapse kisi bhi cheez ke liye zid nahin karungi. Aap mujhe kabhi bhi chhod kar mat jana." (And I won't ever throw tantrums for anything again. Please never leave me.)
Her innocent words, so full of emotion and regret, made my heart swell. I hugged her tightly, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words. "Shh, beta. It's okay. Mama yahin hai, tumhare paas. Main kahin nahi jaaungi." (Mama is right here, with you. I won't go anywhere.)
Ira's tiny hands clung to me as if she was afraid I would disappear again. "Mujhe aapka bohot darr lagta hai, Mumma. Aap ko kuch ho jata toh?" (I get really scared for you, Mumma. What if something happened to you?)
The thought of Ira worrying about me brought tears to my eyes. "Meri pyaari bachchi, Mumma tumhare bina kahin nahi jaaegi. Tum meri sabse badi khushi ho, Ira." (My sweet girl, Mumma will never go anywhere without you. You are my biggest happiness, Ira.)
As I held her, I could feel the weight of the day slowly lifting off my shoulders. Her warmth and love were enough to make me forget the fear and anxiety that had gripped me just moments ago.
I looked up to see my husband's family standing there, their expressions mirroring his concern. They had all been waiting for me, worried sick about my safety. This was new to me. The genuine concern and love from a family were something I had never experienced before.
Ma stepped forward, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Beta, tum theek ho? Humein bohot chinta ho rahi thi." (Dear, are you okay? We were really worried.)
I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The lump in my throat made it hard to form words. "Ji, Ma. Main theek hoon." (Yes, Ma. I'm fine.)
She reached out and took my hand, her touch warm and comforting. "Aage se aisa mat karna. Hum sab tumhare liye bohot pareshan ho gaye the." (Don't do this again. We were all so worried about you.)
Papa, usually so stern and reserved, came forward and patted my shoulder gently. "Tumne humein dara diya, beta. Agli baar kuch bhi zaroorat ho, humein batana. Tum ab is ghar ka hissa ho." (You scared us, dear. Next time you need anything, tell us. You are a part of this family now.)
I looked around at the faces of my new family, each one showing genuine concern and love. It was overwhelming. My own family had never shown me such care or affection. I had grown up in a house where love was scarce, and expectations were high. My stepmother never missed an opportunity to remind me that I was a burden, a responsibility she had reluctantly accepted. But here, in this new home, I felt something different. I felt loved.
