Instead, the silence is strangely comfortable.
Aditya rests one elbow on the table, studying me over the edge of his cone.
“So,” he says casually, “tell me something about you that isn’t in Neel’s investigative report.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You mean the one where he described me as ‘sometimes scary but mostly okay’?”
Aditya grins. “That one.”
I shake my head. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything.”
I take another small bite of ice cream, thinking. For a moment the only sound between us is the slow whirring of the fan overhead.
“I do not like changes,” I say eventually, "despite it being the only constant in our lives." I chuckle. "When papa died, I had just finished my undergrad." The words come out easily, but the weight behind them still sits quietly inside my chest.
Aditya’s expression changes instantly. Not pity. Just attention. I continue before the moment becomes too heavy.
“He had cancer,” I say simply. "So he was constantly ill, but he was still there." The memory flickers briefly in my mind—the hospital smell, the long nights, the way Neel used to fall asleep on my shoulder in waiting rooms. “Neel was only four,” I add softly.
Aditya’s fingers tighten slightly around his cone. “So everything after that…” he begins.
“I handled everything,” I finish with a small shrug. The shrug is automatic. Like it’s always been.
Life just became a list of things that needed doing. Aditya watches me quietly. For a long moment he doesn’t say anything. Then he nods slowly.
"Neel's mother died at his birth," I whisper, "some complications," I blink, "So he never really knew either of his parents," I smile sadly, suddenly feeling restless.
“I hate how he never felt the parental love, because my father was the best father ever.” I smile proudly, "he was stupidly kind and put people before himself, but he loved me like I was a princess." I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "So I feel sad Neel didn't get to experience that."
"But he does Divya," he says softly, "you might not see it, but I do," Something about the way he says it—calm, almost casual—makes my chest ache a little. "You are his parent, you love him like one, Divya." He beams, "and he's so lucky to have you and he knows that, it's visible."
I bite my lips and sniffle slightly, chuckling. I have always felt so lost with Neel because I was not prepared for all of it, for wondering if I am doing it right and having no one to confirm but hearing him say it somehow lightens the weight I always carry in my chest.
Aditya leans back slightly in his chair, studying me again. “You know something?” he says slowly.
“What?”
“You missed a lot.” The words land gently. Not accusing. Just observant.
I blink. “What do you mean?”
“Teenage years,” he says. “Careless things. Silly things.” He gestures vaguely with his cone. “Late night ice cream with friends. Getting into trouble. Bad decisions you laugh about later.”
I smile faintly. “That sounds very irresponsible.”
“It sounds like being young.” The statement lingers between us.
And for the first time I realize something uncomfortable. He’s right. I did miss those years.
Aditya suddenly stands. “Come on.”
“What?”
“Field research.”
