A Brothers sacrifices

memories

After returning from the riverbank, the house felt emptier than ever before. Rajiv stood in the doorway, hesitating for a moment, as if crossing the threshold meant acknowledging the reality that Seema was truly gone. The familiar scent of sandalwood and jasmine, which Seema used to fill the home, still lingered in the air, haunting him.

The house was silent, except for the faint sounds of Aayushi's footsteps and the soft hum of the ceiling fan. As Rajiv slowly made his way through the living room, every corner seemed to whisper Seema's presence. His eyes fell on the sofa by the window, where Seema would sit each evening, sipping tea and chatting with him about her day. He could almost see her there, her warm smile lighting up her face, her soft laughter echoing through the room. Now, that space was cold, the emptiness unbearable.

Rajiv's gaze drifted to the small wooden table beside the sofa, where Seema's favorite book still lay open, as if she had just left it moments ago. She loved reading poetry, and he remembered how she would recite her favorite verses to him, her voice filled with emotion. He picked up the book, his fingers tracing the worn edges, and for a moment, it was as if he could hear her voice again, filling the room with life.

As he walked further into the house, he passed by the dining table where they used to have their meals together. Rajiv could almost hear the clinking of dishes, Seema bustling in the kitchen, calling him and Aayushi to eat. She would always set the table with care, making sure everything was perfect. Now, the table was bare, untouched since the day she fell ill.

Rajiv finally reached the bedroom, and his heart clenched painfully. The room, their shared sanctuary, was filled with memories of Seema. Her side of the bed was neatly made, just as she had left it. On her bedside table stood a small photo of their wedding day—Seema smiling brightly, her eyes full of love and joy. Rajiv's eyes blurred with tears as he touched the frame, remembering the day they promised to spend their lives together.

Her favorite silk scarf was draped over the chair in the corner, as if she had just left it there. He remembered how she would wrap it around herself during the colder evenings, her slender fingers playing with the fabric while they talked for hours about everything and nothing.

The closet door was slightly ajar, revealing her neatly arranged saris, each one a reminder of the woman she had been—vibrant, loving, full of life. Rajiv felt a deep ache in his chest as he stepped closer, running his fingers over the soft fabric. The colors and textures brought back memories of festivals, family gatherings, and quiet nights spent together.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, Rajiv closed his eyes and allowed the memories of Seema to wash over him. The way she used to fuss over Aayushi's school uniform, the sound of her laughter when they danced in the living room, her gentle touch when she placed her hand on his arm during a conversation—all of it seemed so close, yet so far away.

The house, once filled with Seema's warmth and energy, now felt like a shell, a hollow space where the echoes of her life lingered. Rajiv knew that the house would never be the same without her. The love they had built together remained in every part of the home, but without Seema, it was just a painful reminder of all that had been lost.