When Arnav saw her, he froze for a second—then ran straight into her arms. His smile was brighter than I’d seen in years. Watching them, my chest tightened. I realized how much he had missed her, even in ways he’d never said aloud.
She stayed through the afternoon and into the evening. My parents asked polite questions, and Arnav refused to leave her side. I wanted to ask her to go, but the words wouldn’t come. Eventually, my mother invited her to stay for dinner—and for the night. She agreed instantly, as if she’d been waiting for permission.
Late that night, I got up for water. The lights in the living room were still on. As I reached to turn them off, I heard voices—my mother and Meera. I stopped without meaning to and listened.“It’s been three years,” my mother said softly. “Why haven’t you moved on?”
Meera’s reply was quiet, but steady.
“I can’t, Māta ji. There’s only him in my heart.”
I held my breath.
