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“Seriously?”

“Very seriously… Come on, let's bathe.”

Without another word, Jhankar grabbed the bottle of body wash and poured it generously over both of them. She rubbed her body against his, working the soap into a rich lather. Held in her arms, Vikrant seemed to let go of everything else. At that moment, he wasn’t thinking about anything but the warmth ofher presence and the comfort of being with her. He is busy exploring every bit of her, and she is enjoying his touch while bathing him.

After spending quite a while enjoying each other’s company in the shower, the two finally emerged from the washroom, but Jhankar continued to tease him playfully, refusing to let up. Vikrant looked at her with mock sternness and said with a mischievous glint in his eyes,

“This mischief of yours is going to cost you dearly. I'm warning you.”

“No problem… Listen, the truth is, you're always busy with work all day, and now, because of you, I’ve become incredibly busy too. I don't want even a single task to go wrong, so I’m learning everything—every small and big thing. So, the whole day, I'm away from you too. We barely even got to talk today. That’s why, whenever we get a moment like this, I just want to bother you, trouble you, and talk endlessly. I want to spend time with our little family so that once we're back from work, we can relax and focus only on the good things.”

As Jhankar expressed her thoughts so openly and honestly, Vikrant pulled her into a tight embrace. He had been feeling so restless all day, but now, all that unease seemed to melt away. He felt an unexpected sense of peace. Still holding hands, the two walked together to where Sharda was sitting, and the three of them began talking, laughing, and sharing moments together. Sharda watched them lovingly, a soft smile on her face. Jhankar subtly gestured to her, and Sharda quickly understood.

“It’s been quite a while since dinner, and it’s been ages since we’ve enjoyed some ice cream. I had some made. Jhankar, why don’t you go and bring it?”

Without hesitation, Jhankar jumped up and hurried off excitedly. Vikrant chuckled softly at her enthusiasm. He turned to Sharda, who was still looking toward the door, smiling. He sat beside her, placed a arm around her shoulder, pulled her gently closer, and said softly,

“These days, I really do feel happy. About everything. Truly content.”

“I’m happy too,” Sharda replied warmly. “To be honest, ever since Jhankar came into our lives, everything has changed. Maybe you’ve noticed it, maybe not, but every time I see her, I see a reflection of Sonia in her. Sonia used to get excited over every little thing. She was always ready to do anything for you. I don’t know why, but nowadays, when I look at Jhankar, I see only Sonia in her.”

Vikrant fell silent, saying nothing. Sharda lovingly placed her hand on his head, gently stroking his hair, and continued,

“Son, it’s been so long. You’ve carried so much hatred in your heart. Even if you can’t give her your respect, at least don’t harbor such deep hatred. She’s gone now. She may not have deserved your love, but she certainly didn’t deserve this kind of resentment. That’s all I know.”

Vikrant looked toward the door. He could sense obviously that Jhankar had been standing there, listening to everything. It appeared that she had initiated this conversation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and remained lost in thought for a while before turning to Sharda and saying,

“What do you both want from me? Why do you keep bringing her up in front of me? Why do you want to change everything all of a sudden?”

“We don’t want to change anything, and we certainly don’t expect anything in return. But think about it—can a son’s hatred for his mother ever be justified?”

Just then, Jhankar walked into the room. Vikrant looked into her eyes as she came and sat close beside him. She gently took his hand and spoke softly.

“Vikrant, I’ve started to feel afraid. If someday our children grow up and start hating us, how would we feel? Because the hatred you’ve given to her—it’s bound to come back to us one day. That’s what frightens me. That’s the only reason I keep asking you to let it go. What will you gain from holding on to all this? You’ve given her all the hatred you had. But why continue? Why keep going?”

Vikrant stared at her in silence for a full two minutes, then quietly got up and walked away. Sharda looked worried and was about to follow him, but Jhankar gently grabbed her hand and stopped her. Smiling, she said softly,

“You have to understand, he's not a child anymore, and we can’t keep treating him like one. We’ve done what we could. Now, let him think. Vikrant’s behavior will change on its own once he lets go of the hatred he holds for his mother. If you really believe he won’t do that, then by all means, go after him. I won’t stop you. But honestly. I don’t believe she deserves that kind of hatred. However, what is most painful is the way he treats his mother—with such bitterness. I do not believe she deserves that kind of animosity. Therefore, even if he is unable to forgive her, I simply wish for him to cease expressing that hatred repeatedly. He should refrain from displaying it so overtly… He wasted decades in hate. Do you think he will ever live his life again?”

With that, Jhankar quietly walked away, and Sharda sat down in silence. He should stop showing it so clearly. She looked outof the window, knowing full well that Vikrant had likely gone to the garden. Vikrant stood there, gazing up at the stars, his face completely expressionless. Sharda smiled softly and returned to her bed. As she lay down, she whispered to herself,

“You have no idea how much Sonia longed for your love. Maybe he expressed it all wrong, maybe his anger turned into something worse, but I never found the courage to help him explain. But one day, when he truly understands… you won’t hate her. If only you hadn’t left us, Sonia… if only you had stayed… maybe today, your blessings would’ve changed his life completely.”

***

Vikrant looked around and took in the lush greenery surrounding him. The vast expanse of vibrant green filled his eyes with a soothing calm, as if this peaceful view was all that he needed—like nothing else in the world mattered anymore. Everywhere he looked, near or far, there was nothing but the embrace of nature, comforting him in a way words never could.

His gaze fell on something a little distance away—someone was moving near a cluster of rose bushes. As he focused, he realized it was a woman. She appeared to be tending to the roses. Without consciously thinking about it, his feet began to move toward her, as if pulled by some invisible force. As he got closer, the scene became clearer. Her hands were covered in blood. Despite this, she kept reaching for the roses, trying to pluck them one by one. The sharp thorns were digging into her flesh, piercing her skin again and again, but she didn’t stop. The sight jolted Vikrant, and he rushed forward, grabbing her hand to stop her.

“What are you doing? Your hands are bleeding so badly! Why are you hurting yourself just to pick these roses?”

The woman looked up slowly, her voice soft but filled with emotion.

“I want to fill my son's life with the same sweet fragrance these roses carry… That’s why I’m picking them.”

As soon as he heard the voice, Vikrant looked up in disbelief. It was Sonia—his mother. Her eyes were filled with tears. He stood there, frozen, staring at her. His eyes dropped to her bleeding hands, then rose again to meet her tearful gaze. Sonia, barely above a whisper, said to him,

“I love you, Vicky…”