Anaya-His heartbeat

CHAPTER-31

Anaya' s pov
As we entered Shivarth’s village for the first time after our wedding, I could feel a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within me. The air was thick with the fragrance of flowers, and the sounds of laughter and chatter enveloped us like a warm embrace. It felt surreal to finally be in this place that had been spoken of so often.

The moment we stepped inside, Shivarth's grandmother rushed forward, her eyes sparkling with joy. She wrapped her arms around me in a hug that felt like home, holding me tightly as if she had been waiting for this moment forever. “Welcome, my dear Anaya!” she exclaimed, showering me with marigold petals in a traditional welcome. The vibrant colors danced around us, and I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. It was as if she had welcomed me into her heart as much as her home.

Shivarth, Ayaan, and Samaira stood nearby, amused but also slightly sidelined by the affectionate welcome I received. “Looks like she forgot all of us after her bahu came!” Shivarth teased with a playful grin, which made everyone chuckle, breaking the tension in the air. But his grandmother wasn’t fazed; she embraced them all in turn, showering them with the same warmth she had given me.

After the initial chaos of greetings and laughter, Shivarth’s grandmother took my hand and led me into a cozy room filled with soft light and fragrant flowers. My heart raced with anticipation as I settled onto a cushioned chair, ready to hear what she had to share.

“Anaya,” she began, her voice gentle yet firm. “I need to talk to you about my golden boy, Shivarth.” Her eyes softened as she spoke of him, a mixture of pride and concern etched on her features. “He has a tangled past that I worry about. When he was just eight years old, his mother cheated on us and left, shattering his world. Ayaan was only five, and Samaira had just been born. It was a hard time for all of us, but especially for Shivarth.”

As she shared this, my heart ached for him. I could hardly imagine the pain he must have felt, losing his mother in such a devastating way. “I didn’t know,” I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. “That must have been so difficult for him.”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “He has carried that pain with him all these years. It made him strong but also guarded. I want you to take care of him, Anaya. Help him heal. He needs someone who can understand him and be there for him.”
As I sat in Shivarth’s grandmother’s warm embrace, her words painted a vivid picture of the boy he once was and how his mother’s departure had drastically altered his life. She continued, “After his mother left, Shivarth changed in ways I never expected. He was once a cheerful child, full of dreams and laughter. But the day she walked away, a shadow fell over him. He became distant, shutting himself off from everyone around him. It was as if he had built an impenetrable wall to protect his heart from any further hurt.”

I listened intently, my heart aching for the little boy who had been left to grapple with such profound loss. “He took on responsibilities that were far too heavy for his young shoulders. At just eight years old, he became the man of the house, caring for Ayaan and the newborn Samaira. He learned to cook, clean, and take charge, trying to fill the void left by his mother. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never replace the love he lost.”

His grandmother’s voice trembled slightly, and I could see the pain etched on her face as she recounted the past. “He rarely smiled after that. He would bury himself in his studies, excelling in school, but he wouldn’t let anyone in. He pushed away friends, and even though he was surrounded by family, he often felt alone. The warmth of our love couldn’t reach him through the walls he had built.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I thought of Shivarth, the man I was married to, who bore the weight of such heartache. I could see the remnants of that guarded boy in his eyes, a lingering sadness that often clouded his expressions. “It must have been so hard for him,” I murmured, feeling the ache of empathy deep within my soul. “He must have felt so abandoned.”