𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-12

Taai = (Aunt)Father's elder brother's wife

Chacha = (Uncle)Father's younger brother

-*-*-

Rudraksh sat motionless on the hospital bed, his gaze fixed blankly on the white wall. Morning light streamed through the window, soft and golden, catching the bruises and bandages that mapped his skin like a battlefield left in silence.

He wore a loose white half-sleeve T-shirt paired with black trousers. His right hand, swathed in fresh bandages, rested limply at his side. Both legs were wrapped the same way, stretched out and still. Dark stitches marked his forehead, and strips of brown plaster clung to his clean-shaven skin.

The door creaked open, and Dr. Choudhary stepped in, Aanand following close behind.

The doctor's face brightened instantly, while Aanand's remained tight. "How are you doing, young man?" His voice brimmed with cheer meant to cut through the silence.

Rudraksh's lips remained closed; only a slight nod came as a response.

The doctor's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly, scribbling a note on the chart. "Good, good."

Aanand folded his hands behind his back, eyes clinging to every bruise, every stitch, every bandage on his son - alive, yet unreachable.

After reviewing the reports, Dr. Choudhary turned to his friend, smiling warmly. "Maurya, you can take him home now. With a month of rest, he should be back to normal."

Aanand nodded curtly, but his jaw tightened, as if holding back words he could not say.

The doctor walked closer to Rudraksh, brushing a hand over his hair. "Beta, no skipping meals. No gym, no exertion. Just rest, understood? I'll visit in two weeks to remove the stitches." His affectionate words only met silence.

Aanand's throat tightened as he watched, wishing for even a word, a glance - any proof that his son was still present beneath the silence.

"Let's get him home, Maurya," the doctor said gently. "Fresh air, familiar walls - they may help more than medicines."

Aanand nodded and stepped closer. His hands hovered uncertainly before he steadied them on the wheelchair. "Come, beta," he whispered, as though coaxing a child back from the edge of sleep.

Rudraksh's eyes flickered toward the chair, then away.

With the nurse's help, Aanand guided him into it.

As they wheeled out, Rudraksh's gaze shifted to the window. The yellow glow of the sun spilled over the earth, touching trees and rooftops with calm. Outside, the world moved forward with effortless rhythm. Inside him, everything remained suspended - time, thought, feeling.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

The drive home was swallowed in silence. Rudraksh leaned against the backseat, eyes closed, his good hand draped across his face as if shielding himself from more than just the light. His chest rose and fell in a slow, mechanical rhythm.

Aanand sat in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the window, knuckles pressed to his temple. His gaze stayed fixed on the road, but every few minutes it wandered toward Rudraksh's reflection in the mirror.

Balwant drove in silence, his focus locked on the road. The hum of the engine filled the car, monotonous and sharp against the unspoken weight pressing down on its passengers.