Amma’s pov-

But how long…? The thought gnawed at me like a vulture pecking at a wound. How many days can we keep saving her? What if there comes a time when we are no longer here to protect her? Who will stand between her and Pratap’s wrath then?

I tightened my hold on my granddaughter’s frail hand and shook my head, the weight of my own helplessness crushing me. “No… no, I can’t let my baby suffer like this anymore, Shanta,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “She is precious to us… too precious. The Lord Devi herself gave her to us. She is a blessing, not a curse.”

I lifted my tear-filled eyes and looked at Shanta with a firmness that surprised even me. “We… we must find someone who will take care of her better than we can. Someone who can give her the love and safety Pratap never will.”

Shanta’s eyes widened, her arms tightening protectively around Saanjh, who still lay weak and trembling against her chest. She slid closer to me on the earthen floor, her voice cracking as she asked, “What do you mean, Amma?”

I looked forward blankly, my heart thudding as the words formed on my tongue, words that felt both like salvation and sin. “We will marry her off, Shanta,” I said at last, my voice heavy with the weight of fate. “Yes… we will marry her to a good family. To someone who will cherish her. At least then, Pratap’s hatred will never reach her again… and she will finally be safe.”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint whimper of the child between us. Yet the truth hung in the air like a verdict—Saanjh’s childhood was already slipping away, sacrificed at the altar of survival.

Shanta’s voice dropped to a trembling whisper, as though even the walls might betray them if they listened too closely. She glanced at the frail child in her arms, then leaned toward me, her words breaking under the weight of sorrow.

“But Amma… look at Saanjh,” she murmured, her throat tightening. “She is too innocent for such things. She’s only six years old… how can she—? Amma, if we do this, she will lose her childhood.”

Her words pierced me, but I forced myself not to flinch. My gaze remained steady on her, though my heart was breaking inside. “Shanta…” I said slowly, the weight of every syllable pressing down on me. “If we marry her into a good, educated family, then perhaps she can live her childhood. At least there, she may laugh, play, and breathe freely… something she can never do under Pratap’s shadow.”

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes wandering to the small flicker of the oil lamp on the mud wall. Its flame trembled, just like the fragile life of the girl in Shanta’s arms. “It is not about taking her childhood away, Beti (Daughter)… it is about saving it, before your husband destroys it completely.”

I drew in a deep, shaky breath, my voice trembling but firm as I continued, “And besides, Shanta… look at me. I’m getting old. I don’t know how many more days the Lord has written for me in this world. One day, I will have to leave… and after me, who will stand between her and Pratap? You?”

I shook my head slowly, my eyes heavy with sorrow. “No, Shanta… you cannot. You know it as well as I do. The only reason he stops at me is because I am his mother. He shoves you, he raises his hand at you, he breaks you without hesitation… and if I were not here, he would never think twice before doing the same when it comes to Saanjh.”

My gaze shifted to the child sleeping weakly against her mother’s chest, her face streaked with dried tears. My heart clenched, the truth tearing me apart even as I forced the words out.

“That’s why, Shanta… before I close my eyes forever, I must make sure my Saanjh is safe. Even if it means…” my voice faltered, “…marrying her off before her time.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than stone, pressing down on both of us. Outside, the night wind howled as though the heavens themselves mourned the fate of the little girl cradled in her mother’s arms.

Shanta’s lips trembled as she bent closer, her voice barely more than a nervous whisper. “But Amma… do you really think he will agree?”

I lifted my weary eyes to her, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “He? Pratap?” I let out a hollow laugh, heavy with scorn. “Of course he will agree. Has he ever seen her as anything other than a burden? To him, Saanjh is nothing but a weight he never wanted to carry. He will not shed a single tear when she is gone from his sight. In fact, he will be relieved—relieved that there will be no responsibility left on his shoulders, no expenses to waste on a daughter he never loved.”

I turned my gaze toward the small child lying between us, her lashes damp with tears, her little body curled in exhaustion. My chest tightened as I added softly, “For us, she is a blessing… but for him, she is nothing. That is why he will agree. He will let her go… easily.”

I reached out, placing a trembling hand on Shanta’s shoulder, forcing strength into my fading voice. “I know, Shanta… I know your heart is breaking. You’re tense for Saanjh, and as a mother you should be. But believe me, I will never give her into the wrong hands.”

My gaze shifted to the little one, her small fingers still clutching the edge of her mother’s saree even in her half-conscious sleep. A tear slipped down my cheek, but my voice grew firmer. “No, I will not let her life be destroyed here. I will choose the best for my girl. A family that will protect her, respect her, give her the chance to live as she deserves. She will not remain caged in the shadows of this house forever… I promise you that.”

The words burned in my throat like fire, because even as I spoke them with conviction, I knew that promises made in Devipur were fragile things—often broken by fate before they could ever be kept.

Shanta’s eyes welled with tears as she looked at me, her voice trembling with doubt. “Amma… where will you find such a family? Where will you find such a groom who will truly take care of her?”

I fell silent, my mind sinking deep into thought. The weight of her question pressed heavily against my chest. For a long moment, I stared at the flickering lamp, the shadows dancing across the mud walls, and then I slowly nodded.

“It is a crucial matter,” I said at last, my voice steady though my heart was restless. “We cannot hand her to just anyone. Tomorrow, when I go to the land, I will speak to the Thakur about it. He is a man of power, of influence… surely he will know of someone—someone good, someone educated—who could be right for our Saanjh.”

I forced a faint smile, though my insides twisted with fear. “Yes… the Thakur will guide us. He must have someone in his eyes. We will not let our girl fall into the wrong hands.”

The night air grew heavier, pressing down on the room. Shanta glanced at me with hope and dread tangled together, while the child in her arms shifted weakly in sleep, unaware that her fate was already being whispered and decided under the shadow of fear.

The next day, before the first rays of the sun had fully touched Devipur, I rose from my charpoy. My bones ached with age, but determination pushed me forward. Wrapping my faded shawl around my shoulders, I stepped out into the chill of dawn. The village was still half-asleep, the air thick with mist, and only the distant cries of crows broke the silence.

I walked slowly toward the fields, the familiar earthy scent of damp soil filling my lungs. The crops stood tall, swaying gently in the early morning breeze. But my eyes were not on the harvest today—my mind was fixed on a far heavier burden.

And then I saw him.

At the edge of the land, Thakur stood with two of his men, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. They were speaking in low tones, their words carried away by the wind, but the sharp movements of their hands and the respectful nods of the men told me it was something serious.

I clutched my shawl tighter around me and took a deep breath. My heart thudded against my chest as I forced my steps forward, each one heavier than the last. For in that moment, I knew—whatever words I would exchange with the Thakur today had the power to change the fate of my little Saanjh forever.

The Thakur—Rajsatya Singh Solanki—noticed me approaching. His stern features softened into a polite smile as he greeted me warmly.

“How are you, Ammaji?” he asked, his voice carrying both respect and gentleness. He always addressed me so, not because of formality, but because I was older than him. In his eyes, every elder deserved honor, and every younger deserved affection.

Rajsatya was the kind of man one rarely saw in this age. He was the right person for this village—the right Thakur to rule Devipur. Despite owning everything a man could desire—cars, vast lands, houses, sprawling mansions, even companies—he remained humble. His feet were planted firmly in justice, his heart aligned with the welfare of his people.

His brothers had left for the city many years ago, chasing comfort and wealth, and had long settled there. But Rajsatya had chosen differently. He had refused the glittering temptations of the outside world. He had not abandoned his people. Instead, he remained rooted in Devipur, determined to uplift the village that had given him life.

He lived in his grand haveli, not as a king in seclusion, but as a guardian among his people. And though he had the power to move to the city and live a life of luxury and ease, he had vowed to die where he was born. That was his oath, his promise. And so, with his wife and only son, he continued to live here, carrying the burdens of his ancestors and the hopes of the villagers.

He looked at me with his usual warmth, his voice kind and steady.

“Tell me, Ammaji… what kind of service can I give you today?”

I returned his smile, though mine was faint, heavy with the weight of the thoughts I carried. I adjusted my shawl nervously, lowering my gaze before meeting his eyes again.

“Thakur sa’ab… I have something to discuss with you,” I said softly, my voice almost trembling with the seriousness of what lay ahead.

Even as the words left my lips, my heart pounded. For I knew—what I was about to ask of him was not a small matter. It was a decision that could change the entire course of my little Saanjh’s life.

The Thakur’s eyes flickered, sensing the heaviness behind my words. He glanced briefly at the men standing around him, then raised his hand.

“You all go,” he ordered firmly.

The men bowed their heads and dispersed without a question, leaving us standing in the quiet fields where the morning mist still clung to the crops. The chirping of birds filled the silence for a moment before he turned back to me.

“Now speak freely, Ammaji,” he said, his tone calm but curious. “What troubles your heart so much that you come to me at dawn?”

I clutched the end of my saree tightly in my fist, my throat dry. For a moment, I could not find the courage. But then, thinking of Saanjh’s tear-stained face, my resolve hardened.

“Thakur sa’ab…” I began slowly, my voice breaking, “it is about my granddaughter… about little Saanjh.”

His brows arched slightly, though he remained silent, giving me space to continue.

I swallowed, my heart twisting with guilt as I whispered, “She cannot live safely in her father’s house. Pratap… my own son… he has poison in his heart for her. If things go on like this, one day… he might destroy her. I cannot let that happen, Thakur sa’ab. I will not.”

I lifted my tear-filled eyes to him, my voice almost pleading.

“I came to you because I know only you can guide me… only you can find someone, some family, who will take her away from this cruelty. I want her to be married into a good, educated home, where she will be loved, where she will live like a child should… not as a burden.”

For the first time, Thakur Rajsatya’s expression shifted. His smile faded into something unreadable—neither anger nor pity, but something heavier. His silence stretched long, making the morning air feel colder around me.

Thakur’s deep voice broke the heavy silence.

“So, Ammaji… you want me to search for a good family for little Saanjh?”

I nodded slowly, clutching the edge of my saree tighter. My heart pounded as if it could hear my own guilt screaming.

Thakur did not reply at once. His gaze drifted forward, beyond me, toward the open jeep parked under a banyan tree. A young boy sat there casually, swinging his legs—his only son. The boy look more mature than his age,Eyes Hard,Lost in thoughts.

For a moment, Thakur’s expression was unreadable. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. Then, without looking at me, he said quietly, almost as if deciding something in his own mind,

“Alright… give me two days.”

I felt a strange shiver run down my spine at his words. Two days. Just two days—and my Saanjh’s fate could be sealed forever.

I folded my hands before him, my voice trembling as the weight of my plea spilled out.

“Alright, as you wish, Thakur sa’ab… but I beg of you—please, please find someone truly good for my Saanjh. She is too little, too innocent for this cruel world. She doesn’t deserve the hatred her father throws at her. She doesn’t deserve nights of tears and days of fear. She deserves love, she deserves kindness… she deserves all the happiness in this world.”

My throat tightened, tears gathering in my eyes as I whispered again, almost like a prayer, “Promise me, Thakur sa’ab… promise me you will find a home where she will be cherished, not cursed.”

For a moment, Thakur did not answer. He only watched me in silence, his gaze heavy, his expression unreadable—as though he carried a thought he would not speak aloud.

Finally I come home when Thakur shaab give his promise to me that he will do whatever it takes for Saanjh’s future.

****

Please do vote comment to get next chapter as soon as possible 😭🙏😌