His Childish Bride

Ch.82//💕Dreams Come True

Ch.83 & 84(paid) are available in Stck

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Two days have passed since everyone returned from Banaras but Varenya’s mood hasn't improved. She doesn't speak much while tears keep slipping down her cheeks in silence. Her eyes are swollen from crying, she even refuses to eat anything. Thankfully, Kavyansh manages to make her eat a little- just enough to keep her going.

She spends most of her time alone in her room, reading letter after letter left by her parents. Each word feels like a thread connecting her to them, helping her cope with the heavy ache in her heart.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the warm smell of fried spices fills the air. Geetanjali is busy making Phuchka, the classic Bengali street food recipe she learned from Kanonbala Chowdhury. She has never liked seeing the children of the house sad and today, she has made up her mind to distract Varenya with something she can’t resist.

“Bua Dadi, mujhe bhi milega na?”

(Bua Dadi, I will get too right?)

Kiyansh stands beside her, wide-eyed and hopeful as he watches the spicy mixture of mashed potatoes being prepared.

“Ji bilkul milega. Par usse pehle yeh bataiye ki aapne apna woh kaam kar lia jo humne bola tha?” Geetanjali asks, her tone playful as she glances down at her cheeky grandson.

(Yes, you will get it. But before that tell me whether you have done the work that I told you to do?)

“Ha, maine sab acche se kiya. Aur maine spelling mistakes bhi nahi ki!” Kiyansh grins with pride, puffing his chest like a tiny soldier who has completed a grand mission.

(Yes, I did everything well. And I didn't even make any spelling mistakes.)

“That’s like my intelligent baby.” Geetanjali says, pinching his cheek lovingly.

“Okay now go and get your gift quickly. You need to go first and then I will come. Okay?” Geetanjali remarks looking at the oil which is now ready for the Phuchka to be fried.

“Yes! I am going to Maa and you come fast.” Kiyansh exclaims before running out of the kitchen, his little feet echoing down the corridor. Geetanjali chuckles to herself, shaking her head as she starts frying the golden Phuchka shells.

In the quiet room, Varenya sits on a rug near the window. Her eyes are lost in the distance, staring at nothing, yet everything hurts. Tears continue to fall, one after another as the weight of loss presses heavily on her chest.

Performing the last rites of her parents, of her Darshit Papa had given her some peace, a sense of closure. But the emptiness that follows, it gnaws at her. The finality of it all is unbearable. She won’t ever see them again, hear them call her name or feel their arms around her.

Just then, the door bursts open.

“Maa!”

Varenya quickly wipes her face with the back of her hand, hiding her tears like she always try to do. Kiyansh runs in, beaming with excitement.

“Maa, look at the drawing. Is it looking good or should I draw it again?” Saying this, he places the sheet in her trembling hands and sits in front of her.

It’s a simple drawing of two men and one woman. Below the figures, he has written:

'Darshit Dadu'
'Gautam Dadu'
'Bondita Didon'

Varenya stares at the page. Her hands shake as she holds it. The tears she tried so hard to hide start to flow again, this time harder than before.
And then very gently, Kiyansh reaches out and wipes her cheeks with his little fingers.