𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝟖

The silent rain falls like a gossamer veil, transforming the world outside into a misty dreamscape. Though it's not winter, that's why there's unexpected warmth in the air, as if nature itself is holding its breath in anticipation of something magical.

Inside, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casts a warm, golden hue across the room. I'm perched on the edge of the bed, cradling my precious Rudra in my lap. My fingers dance through his silky hair, each strand a testament to his fragility and strength. As I gently pat his back in a soothing rhythm, I can feel the steady rise and fall of his tiny chest against me.

Rudra, ever the mischievous one, reaches out with his delicate fingers to touch my bare belly. His touch is feather-light, innocently playful, and it sends a ripple of joy through me. A smile blooms on my face, unbidden and pure, as I marvel at his instinctive curiosity.

With gentle hands, I lift him by his arms, bringing him to stand before me. His legs wobble slightly, but there's determination in his eyes. I support him, feeling the warmth of his skin against my palms, the trust he places in me evident in every moment.

Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss to each of his plump cheeks. The scent of baby powder and something uniquely Rudra fills my senses. His giggle, a sound more precious than any symphony, bubbles up and fills the room.

"Being naughty, are we?" I coo, my voice filled with adoration. I nuzzle my cheek against his, reveling in the softness of his skin. His tiny hands find their way to my face, patting my
cheeks with uncoordinated enthusiasm, eliciting another peal of giggles from him.

"Mumma," he says, the word a balm to my soul. His hand moves to my shoulder, gripping it with surprising strength. Slowly, I remove my hands from his arms, allowing him to balance on his own. Pride swells within me as I watch him pat his legs against the bed, his face alight with joy and accomplishment.

As I observe his happiness, a bittersweet ache blooms in my chest. Rudra is one year old now, but his journey has been fraught with challenges. The doctors' words echo in my mind - his weakness at birth might delay his developmental milestones. Yet, seeing him now, so full of life and determination, I feel a fierce hope burning within me.

My world has revolved entirely around Rudra since his birth, every moment dedicated to his care and growth. But there's a shadow that lurks at the edges of my happiness, a guilt that gnaws at me relentlessly. I remember waking up in the hospital, my eyes focusing on Rudra and Maan asleep on the neighboring bed. The realization that I had missed the first month of my son's life hit me like a physical blow.

As Rudra settles himself on the bed before me, his eyes - so trusting and full of love - meet mine. The weight of my guilt threatens to overwhelm me. I hate myself for those lost moments, for not being there from the very beginning. The emotion is a tangible thing, pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.