“I know it’s usually the boy’s parents who bring the proposal,” Aditya continues, “but I wanted to come here first—to you. Because despite the traditions, it’s important that the people who love us hear it from us before anyone else does.”
Mom remains silent, and I feel the tension rising in my chest. Then, she finally exhales and shifts slightly in her seat.
“What about your parents?” she asks, her voice measured and controlled. “Do you think they’ll agree to this?”
Aditya doesn’t hesitate. “It will take some work,” he admits, “but they will.”
I watch as my mom studies him, her eyes sharp yet thoughtful.
“And if they don’t?” she challenges.
“They will,” he repeats, softer this time. “Aunty, I won’t stand here and tell you that my parents will agree right away. Yes, they have their reservations, their expectations. But I will do whatever it takes to make them accept us.”
“I won’t lie to you, Aditya,” Mom says, her voice low but honest. “I’ve always liked you. I’ve always thought you were good for my daughter. But liking you and entrusting my daughter’s future to a family that doesn’t approve of her are two very different things.”
I flinch slightly at her words.
“I understand,” Aditya replies, his tone steady. “But have faith, Aunty. It’s simply a matter of making them understand. I know them. They can be dramatic—tough to crack sometimes. But they love me, and when it comes down to it, they’ve always wanted what’s best for me. Maybe they can’t see it now, but they will. Eventually, they’ll know Sana is exactly who I’m meant to be with.”
I swallow hard, my throat tightening at his words.
My mom sighs, rubbing her temples. “I have faith in you, son, and I don’t doubt your feelings for her. But I do need to think about my daughter’s future. I have to consider the possibility: what if I agree to this, and your parents never fully accept her? Do you know what that rejection would do to her?”
“I do,” he says softly. “That’s why I won’t let it happen.”
She shakes her head, giving him a pointed look. “You say that now. But family pressure… they change people.”
Aditya leans forward slightly, his eyes burning with determination. “Not me. I won’t let them change what Sana and I have. I promise you, Aunty, Sana will never be disrespected in my house.”
I finally find my voice. “Mom,” I whisper, “I know you’re worried. But I love him. And I trust him.”
Her gaze softens when she looks at me. “I know you do, beta,” she murmurs. “And I trust your choice. But love isn’t the only thing that makes a marriage work.”
“I know that,” I say, my voice stronger now. “And that’s why I need your support—to help guide me through this and win his parents’ hearts.”
My mom looks between the two of us, her lips pressing into a thin line. I hold my breath. She’s quiet for a long moment before she speaks again.
“If I say yes,” she says slowly, “I’m trusting you with my daughter’s happiness, Aditya. And I don’t give that trust lightly.”
Aditya meets her gaze with unwavering honesty. “And I won’t take it lightly, Aunty. I’ll spend my whole life making sure the smile never fades from Sana’s face.”
“If this is what you both truly want,” she says quietly, her eyes glistening with unshed emotion, “then… you have my blessing.”
A sharp breath escapes me. My hands fly to my mouth as tears instantly well up in my eyes. I had braced myself for more resistance, for more questions, but here she is—choosing to trust me.
Aditya immediately rises to his feet and moves to Mom, bending down to touch her feet. This time, when she places her hand on his head, it lingers. As he straightens, she looks at him, her voice warm yet firm. “Take care of my daughter. She’s strong, but she still deserves to be cherished.”
He nods. “I will, Aunty. Always.”
And when my mom looks at me, I don’t wait. Without another word, I rise to my feet and fall into her embrace, wrapping my arms around her as she hugs me back. Tears spill freely as I cling to her, burying my face in her shoulder. In that single embrace, the weight of all my fears and doubts seems to melt away.
“You’re my daughter,” she whispers, stroking my hair. “Your happiness is all that matters.”
I nod against her, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. When Mom finally pulls back, she cups my face, smiling through her own unshed tears.
“If your dad was here,” she says, then looks at Aditya, “he’d look you straight in the eye and say, ‘If you ever bring tears to my daughter’s eyes, I’ll bury you.’ But then, he would soften and add, ‘If you keep that smile on her face… I’ll welcome you as my own.”
A nervous laugh escapes me as Aditya sits on the other side of Mom, taking her hands in his.
