“You called the children yours.”
His smile died.
“You had called your election victory ours, long before we were even married. You called the children yours. And I knew they were words said in anger…”
“They were!”
“I know. A part of me knew. But I told you last night, it’s like two parts of me operate — the logical thinking part and the emotional, fragile part,” she huffed, her chest going up in a long breath.
“Iram.”
“Hmm?”
“These children are ours. Yours and mine. More yours than mine because you carried them, nurtured them for nine months, in that state.”
“You took care of Arth for four months singlehandedly.”
“Still can’t compare.”
She looked at him like that then. Like she used to look at him before all this started. Like he was invincible. Like he would be here, and everything would be ok for her. He wanted that. He wanted to be that again.
“I did not leave you, Atharva.”
He sighed.
“You will not believe me, maybe a part of you will never believe me. And I don’t blame you. You have scars as deep as mine. Maybe different, but they are the same. And I went and trampled over them unknowingly…”
“I’m sorry…”
“No. Say it. Spew it out. Whatever it is. You do not have to hold back just because you think I need to deal with life here. Atharva, this is me dealing with life here. You want honesty? This morning while feeding Yathaarth, I disconnected. It was perfect, he latched nicely, he was even gurgling and enjoying it. Begumjaan and Ada were with me. One of your old songs was playing in the background. The sun was bright. It should have been perfect. And yet I switched off. I did everything, even talked to them like a normal person, but I was away.”
“Is it painful?” He asked, trying to understand her. “The space you go into?”
“It’s… confusing. And scary.”
“What happens?”
“I feel bad, and scared, and the thoughts are…god! The thoughts are so bad. Irrational, but I cannot shake them off.”
“What thoughts?”
“Like…” she stalled.
“Tell me. You can tell me, can’t you?” His voice softened, honing in on her eyes. She lowered her lids and he let her.
“Like nothing will be ok anymore,” her small voice finally sounded. “It will only become worse. Something bad will happen again. We were so happy… everything was so good and look what happened. Again and again it kept happening.” She shook her head. “I became so used to the happy,” her lids rose and brown, vulnerable eyes met his. “I know life is not all smooth sailing but it was unjust. And it keeps happening. Always it keeps happening. I am scared this is not real too. If it is, then it will go away, that Arth will never bond with me like he would have if I had been here, I am scared you won’t be with me and more bad will happen.” She gasped, taking the breath that she had stalled to speak those words.
“Will my saying something help?”
She did not respond. He took his hand to her cheek. Cupped it. It was thinner than before, squishing so easily under his thumb. He caressed it. And felt her skin erupt in goosebumps. “Nothing bad will happen. I am here. I will not let it.”
Her eyelashes fell, then rose again, her brows drawn together. Atharva cupped her other cheek and ran his thumb over the frown. It instantly melted.
“Everything will fall into place.”
She nodded. They both knew he did not have the power to make everything ok or prevent the next bad thing from happening. But they both knew that his saying that to her was half the battle won for her.
“Is it happening to you right now?”
