Chapter 13: Alone with Memory

I lowered my head and looked at my mother.

Her eyes were open, unblinking, fixed on my sister’s face. She seemed peaceful, almost relieved—her suffering finally at an end.

She hadn’t closed her eyes, still watching my sister.

Even in death, she kept vigil. Her love was relentless, refusing to surrender, even to the grave.

I thought, Mom is so cunning.

A strange smile touched my lips. She had escaped this world, found her way back to my sister, leaving me alone but free to choose my own path.

She went to find my sister first, but she wants me to live well.

Her final command echoed in my mind. I was the last thread holding our family to this earth, and I owed it to them to survive.

I heard the guests whispering:

“How wonderful—promotion, wealth, wife dead, all good things at once.”

Their words were cruel, spoken with the careless malice of those untouched by tragedy. To them, my family’s destruction was just another story, another lesson in ambition and ruthlessness.

“He’s really ruthless, even willing to let his own daughter die.”

The judgement in their voices was sharp, but it didn’t sting. They saw only the surface, never the scars beneath.

I suddenly found it all absurd.

A hollow laugh bubbled up inside me. The rituals, the condolences, the whispered gossip—it was all a farce. My father had played his part, and now the world moved on.

My father killed his own daughter as an offering.

The truth hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. No one would say it aloud, but everyone knew.

In the end, his boss looked down on him, and his peers despised him.

There was no redemption, no reward, only the bitter taste of ashes and regret.

Actually, Sneha was right.

She had seen through the lies from the beginning. We were never anything more than servants, pawns in someone else’s game.

He really was just the servant for the Sharma family.

It was a truth my father could never accept, but it shaped every moment of my life from that day forward.