Hidden Scars (On Hold)

Part 2

Thank you everyone for such a tremendous response on the previous chapter, so let's continue this journey.

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Raizada Mansion, with its imposing facade, stood as a testament to opulence in the heart of Delhi. Outsiders, their gazes drawn upward, marveled at the sheer grandeur of the mansion. It whispered secrets of nobility, hinting that within its walls resided a family of regal lineage.

In the cavernous living room, bathed in muted lamplight, a man sat on an ornate sofa. His eyes, once vibrant, now held shadows of sorrow. The television droned on, a comedy show playing, but the man's attention was elsewhere—lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. His expression wavered between anguish and resignation. This was Arvind Singh Raizada.

Subadra, elegant and silver-haired, approached her son. Her touch was gentle as she ran her fingers through his hair, a silent reassurance. Concern etched lines on her face; maternal worry danced in her eyes. She leaned in, her voice soft but urgent, "Arvind, what are you doing here?"

Arvind blinked, pulling himself from the depths of his melancholy. He managed a faint smile, shielding his pain from her. "Nothing, Maa," he replied, his voice a fragile thread. "Why haven't you slept yet?" The concern was mutual, a silent pact between mother and son—a shared burden in the echoing halls of Raizada Mansion.

But who was he fooling? Nothing escaped the keen eyes of his mother. Subadra's soft chuckle punctuated the air, her maternal intuition cutting through Arvind's feeble diversion. She leaned in, her voice gentle yet insistent, "How can I sleep when I know my son is grappling with the worst life has dealt him? Don't try to divert the topic, Arvind. Today is Ratna's wedding day, and I understand the ache it brings you. But, it's time to consider moving forward, Arvind."

Arvind's sigh held the weight of countless conversations. His mother's persistence was unwavering, a mirror of his own stubbornness. He clasped her hand, the warmth of her touch grounding him. “Maa,” he began, "you know my stance. I won't—can't—replace her. To give her place to another would be a betrayal of my own heart. This isn't a game where she made a move, and I must counter. I'm content as I am. I don't need a partner now."

Subadra shook her head, and this time she changed her question: “Okay. You don't need a partner. What about Chottey? Doesn't he need a mother?”

Arvind rolled his eyes at his mother's various approaches to marriage proposals. He retorted, “Chottey? Seriously, Maa, don't you know him? He's just like me in this matter. He won't replace his mother's place with anyone, even after Ratna got married. That's who he is—stubborn, fiercely loyal to his emotions. So forget about it.” Arvind shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

Subadra placed her hand on his shoulder, concern was etching her features. She pressed further, “He needs his mother's love, Arvind. Why can't you understand that? Until now, he used to meet Ratna every week. But starting tomorrow, she'll be moving to Australia. What then?” Her question hung in the air, urging him to consider the impact on their family bonds. 

Arvind had a well-rehearsed response for every question his mother posed. He leaned back on the sofa, his expression resolute. “He'll talk to her via video call. I know it's not the same as meeting in person, but I can't do more than that. Perhaps I'll take him to Australia once a year.”

Subadra surrendered, exhaling a sigh. “You're going overboard now.”

Arvind's eyes narrowed. “Don't push me, Maa. Even if it's for Arnav, he won't forgive me. He's not pleased about his mother remarrying. My little boy endured so much—he never complained about our divorce, even though it hurt him. And now you want me to shatter his trust? I won't. My son is my world, and he has his Dad for life.” His tone brooked no argument.