Chapter 297. His Mother's Grave

His tongue was too heavy to utter anything. He was still in shock, a state of disbelief had still encompassed him. His grey eyes kept on looking and tracing the cracks on the hardened mud of the grave. And then at the wild flowers grown out of that mud. Among those flowers, was grass, and it appeared as if she had become part of the soil.

Dilemma was hitting him, clutching him in its painful paws and tightening its grip on his heart with every second.

To say the least, he was baffled.

Grave.

It was a grave.

Grave of his mother.

Mother.

Who had died decades ago.

But still, that day was fresh in his mind like yesterday.

Every intricate and minor detail was in the back of his head.

Often those details took shape of a nightmare in his dreams.

The soulless and dead eyes of the lady who hung from the ceiling.

Utter helplessness on her face.