• Bound by blood, Healed by Love : Shekhawat brother series' book 1

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The sky over Har ki pauri was still cloaked in darkness, with only the faintest blush of dawn hinting at the horizon. The sacred waters of the Ganges flowed silently, their gentle currents reflecting the flicker of nearby oil lamps. At this early hour, the ghats were sparsely populated, only a few devotees and priests were present, their chants of ancient mantras reverberating softly in the crisp morning air.

Heshan stood at the river's edge, his hands trembling as he opened the urn. A cold breeze whispered past him, making his fingers stiffen. Tears welled in his eyes, clouding his vision, but he paid no mind to the chill that cut through his thin cotton kurta. With a trembling breath, he tilted the urn, releasing his mother's ashes into the holy waters. A sob escaped him, sharp and raw, as he watched the ashes dissolve into the current, carried away into eternity.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, the face of his mother appearing in the darkness behind his eyelids. Her smile, warm and radiant, was seared into his memory, a bittersweet image that brought both comfort and pain. 'Please, let her find peace' he prayed silently, his lips moving with the words that his heart could barely contain. The priests continued their low, melodic chanting, their voices rising and falling like waves around him, but Heshan could only hear the echo of his own grief.

A few steps behind, Hridhay stood with his mother, watching the scene with a mix of impatience and reluctant resignation. His mother's face was pale, her breath shallow, and Hridhay cursed their fate for being here. He had begged her to rest, especially after her sudden bout of illness the day before, but she had been adamant. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving the boy alone during such a difficult time, and so, Hridhay had no choice but to accompany her to Haridwar.

Hridhay's jaw tightened as he glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. It was barely past 4 AM, but to him, the ritual seemed to drag on endlessly. Every second felt like an eternity, and all he could think about was returning to the comfort of his home in Delhi. His phone buzzed with notifications - work emails, meetings awaiting his return and he wanted nothing more than to leave this place behind.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze shifted to the boy standing by the river, shoulders hunched and body trembling with suppressed sobs. Something flickered in Hridhay's chest, a pang of empathy that felt alien to him. But just as quickly as it had come, it vanished. Memories from his past, bitter and uninvited, surged to the surface. He clenched his jaw and looked away, a cold resolve hardening his heart once more.

As the priests signaled the conclusion of the ceremony, Hridhay heaved a sigh of relief. The air was still heavy with the scent of incense and the murmured prayers, but all he could focus on was the prospect of leaving. He shot a glance toward the driver and bodyguards who had been waiting quietly at a respectful distance. Without a word, Hridhay nodded, signaling it was time to go.