‘I’d often heard stories about how dedicated Kartik Kashyap was to his business and relationships, but the man I met didn’t seem family-oriented at all. You deserved better. I’m truly sorry, Siya. If you ever wish to talk, please feel free to reach out.’
Siya bid her goodbye and the line went dead with a soft click.
She had raised Kashvi as a child. She had tied her shoelaces, memorised bedtime stories and sat through school meetings with a practiced smile. She had dedicated her life, her time and her youth to her younger sister, but she would never be able todo it for her own child. Somewhere, someone, was weaving a web of cruel irony through her life.
The thought that she might never get to cradle a baby of her own pulled her apart, thread by thread, grieving a future she didn’t know she’d lost a long time ago.
Her mind went unbidden to Abhay.
He’d listened to her, given her space, and she was grateful for it. She needed the time to lick her wounds alone. But he’d always lingered in the back of her mind like a haunting phantom.
How was he? Did he miss her? Or had he already spoken to their family lawyer, trying to figure out a way out of their messy arrangement? She dreaded the thought of receiving a neat, manilla envelope that would tell her, in official language, that he had chosen to let her go.
If Abhay wanted a life with kids, and she couldn’t give him that, then he deserved to find it somewhere else. If he wanted a clean break, she would give it to him, even if it meant breaking her heart in the process.
She quickly wiped off her tears and a picture caught her attention when she bent to pick up the box. She quickly pulled it out.
It was a candid shot, its colours softened by age. The polaroid was faded at the edges, but the handwriting was unmistakably her mother’s.My best mates.
Siya studied it closely and gasped in surprise when she realised the woman next to her mother was a young Neena. She stood in the middle, her features highlighted with minimal makeup and long curly hair, but her face was the same.
Looking effortlessly familiar even two decades younger, Mihit stood to her one side, his arms casually flung over her shoulders. Arohi stood on her other side, her smile carefree in a way Siya had never seen. They all wore a college logo on their t-shirts, showing up their trophy.
For a moment, Siya just stared. Neena had never said a word about her mother. What was she missing?
Her phone rang suddenly, making her jump. She reached around for it and saw the caller ID.
Raghav
She hesitated before answering. ‘Hello?’
‘Siya, where are you?’ his voice came through.
‘At Kashvi’s place, why?’ She realised she had called this her sister’s place because she’d already left the one place that felt like home.
‘What are you still doing there? It’s better to leave now to beat traffic,’ static warbled his words.
She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s Meera’s birthday today.’
The guilt hit her instantly, sharp and deep. ‘Damn it,’ Siya whispered. ‘I completely forgot.’
‘No worries,’ he said quickly. ‘We’ve arranged for a private event for the celebration. I’ve sent the location in our group chat.’
‘I don’t know if I can come,’ Siya said. ‘I just… I’m not sure I’d be in good company tonight.’
Raghav went silent for a moment before softly saying, ‘I get it. If you really can’t make it, I won’t push you. But I want you to know that you’re not alone. We’re all with you, through thick and thin.’
Gratitude choked in her throat, and suddenly, she craved the comfort and warmth of her found family. Her gaze flickered to the picture of Arohi and Neena and the words scribbled there left a quiet, haunting ache in her chest. ‘Okay, I’ll be there,’ she said, after a beat.
‘I’m glad. Any special day would feel a little hollow without one of us. I’m already here, making sure everything is ready, and you’re only five minutes away from here so come over. I can use some help.’
Siya nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. ‘Thanks, Raghav.’
She wanted to ask him if Abhay would be there, but before she could, she quickly disconnected the call. They deserved a face-to-face private conversation.
Siya threw on the first pair of top and jeans she found. She quickly wrote a note for Kashvi to call her back, and propped it against the framed photo of their mother on the living room console. When she’d come home the night of the dinner and told her what happened, Kashvi hadn’t reacted much. She hadn’t thought much about it, until Kashvi started acting a little distant. It bothered her.
