"Maan take it "
Said 5 years old akshita, forwarding her hand which have a candy on it
"I don't want it ita"
7 years old abhi said in his as usual cold voice
"Please na take it I am giving it with so much love "
She said smiling with her doe eyes...
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After the harsh truth unfolded before me, silence became my companion for most of the time. It's been nearly a week since the incident, and the hospital has granted me discharge. Yesterday, as I found myself at home, any semblance of joy seemed distant. Instead, the prevailing emotions were dominated by the heavy presence of guilt and profound sadness. The recent loss casts a somber shadow over my days.
In front of the mirror, my hand unconsciously gravitates to my stomach, caressing it, an involuntary act that keenly echoes the sense of loss. The emptiness is palpable, leaving a void that lingers in the simple yet profound gesture.
Despite the family's efforts to bring joy, with everyone engaging in silly antics and Abhi consistently attempting to elicit a smile, I find it challenging to embrace happiness. Abhi, now dedicated to being with me and taking care of me, has put aside his work. I always respond with faint smiles, an attempt to shield them from my inner turmoil. Deep down, the pain persists, hidden behind the facade of a fragile smile. . . . .
Days pass, and the persistent sadness remains a haunting companion.
Abhi's unwavering support and the family's attempts to uplift me become a routine. Yet, the void left by the loss weighs heavily on my heart.
The routine medical check-ups only serve as a stark reminder of what could have been.
As I navigate through the motions of daily life, a lingering sorrow casts a shadow, making it challenging to find solace. The road to healing feels distant, and the echo of the recent tragedy continues to reverberate in the silent corners of my heart. . . . . .
Nearly a month has passed since the incident, and the recovery from the profound loss remains elusive.
Despite my efforts to conceal the pain, I sense that Abhi discerns the hidden anguish. His own burden of guilt is palpable, as he consistently blames himself.
The belief that if he hadn't left for the office that day, perhaps our child could have been saved haunts him. The shared grief binds us in a silent understanding, both grappling with the weight of what-ifs and the harsh reality that now defines our lives.
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