Redemption of Royals (Royal #1: Book 3) | ✔

64

-• we'll wait forever •-

Rudra

I don't know what a family is.

Opening the tap, I collect cold water in the cup of my palms and splash it on my face. The heat in my blood is eager, like boiling lava, springing above the confines, rushing to spill past the edges. Is it anger or is it anxiety pumping my heart so fast? Maybe both. Because I wish to thrash everything around me with my bare hands and at the same time, I want to find a damn corner to hide in until the sun rises and I can get the hell out of here.

I don't care what these people think of me. And I certainly couldn't give a dime if they want me around as a part of their family. I've never found a place among people, and I'm not about to try and fit in just because a bunch of people are ready to offer me a space between their tight knit relationships.

The thought of trusting people unnerves. Because it's dependent. Trust, in itself, is so wrecked and weakened, that it breaks over and over again, and still falls in the wrong hands. I can't be one of those emotional fools. I hate associating my decisions with someone else's actions. I hate it when people say, I trust you because you've given me a reason to. No. If they've given you a reason to trust them, they'll also give you a reason to break that trust. Humans are fickle creatures. You cannot ever trust them.

It took me seven years, a thousand lies, and two heartbreaks to put my trust in Taranya, and the irony being? It was all my fault. If I can ruin my happiness with my own hands, how can I put that responsibility in someone else's hands and turn a blind eye to it, hoping they don't misuse it?

Because they will.

I got lucky with my wife. She has to put up with me, not the other way around. I know that I'm too much work. I have many issues, and I'm not emotionally stable, I'm barely even reliable. I'm a mess. A mess she has so lovingly scooped up in her fragile hands, and has been gently sorting it out ever since we got married. She is my person. She knows me. She understands me. And that's a miracle within itself. You don't look at every broken thing and think it must have been perfect once, so let me try to put it back together. Because that's a responsibility you'll never want to take up. Broken things have sharp corners, and uneven edges, sometimes they cut deep enough to leave scars, and sometimes they don't fit because before reaching you, they've gone through times that had grated off their remaining softness, leaving them abandoned and decrepit for the rest of their lives.

These people, as hard as they try, cannot become my family. I'm tired as it is of my own past, I cannot listen to theirs as well, and find comfort in our shared miseries. These people are loud, they are demanding, and they want me to accept them as easily as they're willing to accept me, but I can't. That's not how I've made myself.

I've only one family. And it's Taranya. With her I'll grow as a man, as a husband, and as a father. It's her I trust with offering me changes, and new relationships, for I know she'll be standing with me through it all.

"Rudra, are you okay?" Taranya asks softly from the outside, her tone apprehensive. I'm mad at her. She clearly knew I'm not comfortable staying here. But she persisted, assuming this is best for me. It's not. I'd know my good better than anyone else considering I've had only bad thrown at me all my life. This is not what I want, and I've never wished for it.

"Okay, I'm sorry," she mumbles. "Look, these people are actually nice, Rudra. They really care about you. They want to get to know you."