HOUSE OF LIES

16

"Maa sa, I'm hungry," whispered five-year-old Abhimanyu, his voice barely louder than the rumbling in his tiny stomach.

Asha's gaze shifted to her son, her eyes darkening. Without warning, she slapped him. "Leave me alone, you little bast#rd! It's all because of you!"

Abhimanyu recoiled, his face stinging, eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry, Maa sa...please don't hit me...please—Aaah! Maa sa, it hurts!" he cried, shielding his bruised arms.

But Asha didn't stop. With a frustrated shove, she sent him sprawling to the ground. Abhimanyu scrambled to his feet and darted for the cupboard, his sanctuary. Inside the dark, cramped space, he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the ache in his heart would vanish.

 His mother's anger was a storm he'd long learned to weather by hiding, blending into the shadows, hoping to be forgotten.

Asha turned away from the cupboard without a second glance. Her mind raced with thoughts of the miserable life she led, clinging to fleeting memories of her youth before Abhimanyu had come into the world. 

Once, she had worked in a brothel where her beauty had drawn men like moths to a flame. But after Abhimanyu was born, she'd lost her place there, cast aside to fend for herself. 

Now, she worked in a small grocery shop, her fingers raw and blistered. Barely scraping by, she resented every coin she had to spend to feed herself—and her child.

Abhimanyu, too young to understand, took on work of his own. At five years old, he worked as a newspaper boy, wandering the streets, where his reward was a free lunch. He didn't mind. He was just grateful for the food, grateful for any moment that took him away from home.---Late one night...Thud. Thud.A pounding at the door jolted Asha awake. Groggy, she rubbed her eyes and went to the door, muttering under her breath, "Who's pounding at this hour?" She threw open the door, her irritation giving way to shock as she saw the man standing there.

"Kuw—Kuwar sa?" she stammered, her voice cracking.

A tall, imposing figure stood before her, his eyes cold and calculating. He nodded toward the guards behind him. "Take the boy," Naitik commanded.

The guards began to move forward, but Asha's arms shot out, blocking the door. Her desperation flared as she stepped protectively in front of her son's room.

"He is my son! Our son, Kuwar sa," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Naitik's expression was unfazed. "I know. That's why I'm here to take him," he replied coolly.Asha's heart raced. She could feel the life she'd imagined slipping away. "And what about me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do not waste my time, Asha," Naitik sneered. "You think I'd take you with me? You—a prostitute? Why would I do that?"

Asha felt the sting of his words like a slap, but she forced herself to stand firm. "You promised me. You swore you would make me your wife. That was the only reason I agreed to bear your child!"

Naitik's lips curled into a smirk. "And you did well. You gave birth to him, didn't you?" He signaled to his guards again. "Good. Now take the child."

But Asha's hands held firm against the doorframe. Her gaze flickered with defiance as a wicked smile crossed her lips. "One night when you came to visit, I took something from you," she said slowly, watching Naitik's expression. "Do you know what I found in your wallet?"

Naitik's sneer faltered for a moment. He rolled his eyes. "Move aside, I don't even remember your name, let alone a promise. I'm not interested in your nonsense."

"Oh, I found more than nonsense in your wallet," Asha said with a laugh that bordered on hysterical. "I found a piece of paper. A report. Do you know what it was, Kuwar sa?" She leaned in, her voice a chilling whisper. "It was an autopsy report...of the late king. And the cause of death wasn't what the people were told, was it?"

For the first time, Naitik looked taken aback, his face paling in the dim light. He swallowed, his jaw clenched.

"You think you can blackmail me?" he hissed, stepping closer, his hands grabbing her neck and pushing her against the wall. "Know your place, Asha. Never threaten me." He threw her to the floor, his voice thick with disgust.

Asha coughed, her fingers brushing the sore spot on her neck. Her eyes met his, burning with a new resolve. "Make me your wife, as you promised. Or you know very well what I am capable of," she said, her voice deadly calm.

Naitik stared at her, a twisted smile creeping across his face. "I have a better place for you, Asha. A position where I can kill two birds with one stone." He motioned for his men to leave, then lowered himself to her level. "Do as I say. Prepare the boy. I'll send my men soon."

With that, he turned and strode out the door. The guards followed him, leaving Asha sprawled on the floor, trembling with rage and frustration. She looked up and saw a small figure watching from the shadows.

"Maa sa?" whispered Abhimanyu, his voice soft, uncertain.

Without thinking, Asha rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his tiny frame. Abhimanyu's eyes widened, feeling his mother's embrace for the first time. His little heart fluttered with hope. 

He didn't know that to Asha, he was nothing more than her ticket into the royal family. He didn't know that his mother never truly saw him as a son. He was just a means to an end, a promise she'd clung to since the age of 18, when Naitik had first planted the seed of a future that would never be hers.

Author's POVDoes Abhimanyu deserve a life like this?