The Teacher Who Knelt to maid Son

[Batni123]

The Circle Closes

The night Radha first made love to Nikhil out of pure love (not surrender, not duty, but love) was the night his seed finally took root.

Two days after that first night of pure love (the night Radha finally made love to Nikhil as his wife, not his conquest), Arvind landed in Mumbai.

Arvind arrived that evening (exhausted, smiling, arms full of gifts from the ship).
The neighbours saw the “reunited couple” embracing on the balcony.
Radha touched his feet, eyes demure.
Nikhil stood behind her like the dutiful “maid’s son helping in the house”.
No one ever questioned the timing.
A “miracle after so many years” — that was the story everyone happily swallowed.
Nine months later, on 18 March 2021, Arjun was born.
Radha smiled sweetly, touched Arvind’s feet in public, let him hold the baby first for photographs.
No one ever knew the truth except the four people in that mattered.

Nikhil held him latter in private, kissing his tiny forehead while Radha watched with tears of quiet triumph.
Nikhil, still officially “the maid’s son living with them for studies,” was the one who sang lullabies at 3 a.m., changed diapers, and later taught the boy to walk.
He drank milk straight from Radha’s breast whenever he wanted (quietly, in the locked bedroom, while Arjun slept in the crib).{he kept his fantasy alive}

Nikhil took drop year and
Nikhil cracked IIT on his second attempt — Computer Science at IIT rookie.
The day the result came, he cried in Radha’s arms like a child.
She kissed every tear and said, “You won everything now.”

During semester breaks he came home.
The bedroom door stayed locked longer.

2025
Nikhil — now 24, placed in a top tech firm with a package that made jaws drop — came to home
The flat was strangely quiet.
On the dining table lay a single envelope in Radha’s handwriting.
He opened it with shaking fingers.
Inside were:

Property papers of the flat — fully transferred to his name.
A small gold chain — the spare mangalsutra she used to wear.
And a letter.

My Dearest Nikhil,
By the time you read this, I will be gone.
Don’t look for me.
You were a frightened boy once.
I gave you my fear, my body, my shame, my womb, my name, my everything.
You gave me Arjun, you gave me love, you gave me back my pride.
We are even.
Your mother is old now.
I have taken care of her as a daughter-in-law for four years.
Now it is your turn to be the son she deserves.
Marry a good girl.
Love her the way you loved me — fiercely, completely.
Let her wear the mangalsutra openly.
Let your children call Lakshmi “Dadi” without secrets.
I was never meant to stay forever.
I was the bridge you crossed to become the man you are today.
Bridges are meant to be walked over, not lived upon.
Be happy.
Be proud.
Be kind.
And when you miss me,
close your eyes and remember the taste of my milk,
the weight of my body on yours,
the sound of me calling you “Sir” while you called me “wife”.
That is enough.
Yours forever,
even when I am nowhere,
Radha
Nikhil sat down hard on the floor, letter pressed to his chest, tears falling silently.
Lakshmi found him there an hour later.
She read the letter without a word, folded it gently, and placed her hand on her son’s head.
“She did her duty, beta.
Now you do yours.”
Nikhil nodded, eyes red.
That night he slept in the master bedroom alone for the first time in 5 years.
The sheets still smelled faintly of jasmine.
Somewhere far away, Radha boarded a flight,
and a heart finally, perfectly at peace.
The queen had knelt.
The boy had risen.
The circle was complete.
The End.