The son’s happy day turns into tragedy when the father suddenly collapses at the wedding, and a secret is revealed that leaves everyone speechless
The March sun stretches across the small village road on the outskirts of Jaipur, weaving through the old mango trees. The sound of drums, trumpets, and singing echoes from the alley, signaling the arrival of an important day. Today is the wedding day of Arjun, the only son of Mr. Rajan – the man who has spent his whole life working hard to raise his son.

Mr. Rajan is wearing a pure white kurta, his dupatta is neatly draped over his shoulder. He sits quietly in the corner of the yard, his eyes looking far away towards the gate where the wedding procession is about to enter. An indescribable feeling rises in his heart – both joy and worry.

Arjun is Mr. Rajan’s whole life. His mother died early when Arjun was only four years old. Since then, father and son have relied on each other. Mr. Rajan worked as a bricklayer, exposed to the sun and rain all year round, his hands were calloused by cement and bricks. He did not mind the hardship, just hoping to have enough money to send his son to school, so that one day Arjun could live a better life than his father.

Arjun did not disappoint his father. He studied hard, became the pride of the whole village when he graduated from university in Delhi and had a stable job. Then Arjun met Meera, a gentle and polite girl. When Arjun brought Meera home to meet his parents, Mr. Rajan was in tears. Finally, his son had found someone to build a home with.

For many months, Mr. Rajan devoted all his efforts to preparing for the wedding. He personally repainted the walls and re-roofed the old house. He spent all his savings over the years on this happy day. Although his health was getting weaker, just thinking about his son’s happy smile gave him more strength.

That morning, when the sky was still misty, Mr. Rajan made a pot of strong masala tea and sat on the porch looking up at the sky. The persistent coughs made his chest ache. He knew his lung disease was getting worse, but he hid it all. Today was his son’s wedding day — he didn’t want anything to tarnish that joy.

The wedding drums beat loudly, the wedding car drove by. Arjun stepped down, dressed in a luxurious cream-colored sherwani, his face radiant with happiness. Meera wore a bright red wedding dress, as beautiful as a bride at a spring festival. Arjun hugged his father:

“Dad, I’m home!”

Mr. Rajan smiled and patted his son’s shoulder:

“Yes, seeing you smile is enough for me.”

The wedding took place with lively music, amid the blessings of relatives and neighbors. When it came to the ceremony of offering wine to his parents, Arjun raised his thandai glass towards his father:

“Father, I thank you for raising me. I just hope you will always be healthy so that you can be with me for a long, long time.”

Mr. Rajan received the glass of wine, his hand trembling. He was about to say a few words, but a violent cough suddenly struck. His face turned pale, the glass of wine fell to the ground and broke. He staggered, then collapsed in Arjun’s arms.

“Father! Father!” – Arjun shouted, panicking.

Everyone rushed over. The music suddenly stopped, the cheers stopped. The joy turned into tragedy in an instant. Mr. Rajan was rushed to the hospital, and Arjun followed, tears streaming down his face.

After many hours of emergency treatment, the doctor came out, his voice sad:

“We apologize. He has terminal lung cancer, the disease has metastasized. He knows clearly but hides it from everyone.”

Arjun was speechless. He trembled as he received the envelope the doctor gave him — inside were test results, prescriptions, all in his father’s name, clearly marked “disease discovered eight months ago”.

He remembered the times his father coughed violently, the nights he sat on the porch coughing until his face turned red, and he thought it was because of the weather. He was so careless.

By the hospital bed, Arjun held his father’s skinny hand. That hand had carried him through the difficult years, had protected him from many storms.

“Dad… why didn’t you tell me?”

Mr. Rajan remained silent forever, but the smile remained on his lips — the satisfied smile of a father who had fulfilled his greatest wish in life: to see his son in a wedding dress.

The funeral took place amid the choked sobs of the village. The small house was now silent. A few days later, Arjun found an old notebook in the cupboard. It was his father’s checkbook — each line written in crooked handwriting clearly stated:

“Arjun’s school fees: 500 rupees.”

“Books: 200 rupees.”

“Savings for son’s marriage: 100 rupees per week.”

The last page read:

“Wish to see Arjun dressed as a groom, to see him happy.”

The trembling, tear-stained lines seemed to stab Arjun’s heart. Mr. Rajan had lived, and died, with just such a simple dream.

As time passed, Arjun learned to live on. He and Meera decided to stay in that small house, where his father had lived and loved until his last breath. Every morning, Arjun made a pot of tea like his father had, and placed a cup in front of his portrait. He would often whisper:

“Dad, I’m still alive, don’t worry.”

A year later, Arjun and Meera welcomed a handsome baby boy. Arjun named his son Rajan, in memory of his grandfather. As he held him, Arjun could clearly feel his father — his warmth, his sweat, and his undying love.

Fatherly love, which seemed to end in a day of joy and tragedy, turned into a guiding light for Arjun for the rest of his life. Because sometimes, people leave, but their love stays with us forever — in every breath, every beat of our heart.