Out on the balcony, Swapna sat alone on the wooden bench, her dupatta wrapped tightly around her shoulders, more out of habit than chill.  Suguna stepped out silently, carrying two cups of tea. She placed one beside her sister, then sat down without a word. For a few minutes, neither spoke just the sound of the wind brushing against the plants and the distant barking of a stray dog.

Finally, Suguna broke the silence. “She just wants you with her. That’s not stubbornness, Swapna. That’s love. Why are you saying no? And please—don’t say it’s because ‘this is tradition’. We’ve lived enough years to know when tradition stops making sense.”

Swapna sighed; her voice weary. “It’s not that, Didi. I know what people will say. But I’m not scared of society anymore. Being a single parent… it teaches you everything. You learn how cheap words can be. How spineless tongues wag without reason. They talked when I chose to work. They talked when I worked late. Even our own brother he said things I’ll never forget.”

“I’ve borne all that, Didi. But what I cannot survive… is if someone points a finger at Maithili. If anyone ever questions her judgement, her choices, or her sanskaar—just because her mother lives with her in her in-laws’ house then I wouldn’t forgive myself.

Her voice trembled now “Everything is fine today Abhiram is a gem, his parents are kind. But things change. People change. One wrong word from one relative, one casual taunt—‘your mother lives with you?’ and suddenly it becomes her burden. Her shame. And she’ll never say it. She’ll bear it, just like I did. But I don’t want that for her. I’m her mother. I should be her strength, not a reason for whispers.”

Suguna gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Swapna… you think like this because of what you faced. I understand. We both faced it. In-laws, whispers, cold stares. But those were our times. Those people were different. You’ve seen how the world has changed.”

“Has it really, Didi?” Swapna whispered. “You’ve seen how things look better. But underneath… you know the cracks still exist.”

Suguna nodded, but added, “Yes. But times have changed, Swapna. This generation… they think differently. They act differently. You’ve also seen how children now stand by their parents. Sons or daughters there is no difference anymore. You have seen Abhiram his family. They want you there. Maithili needs you there. Isn’t that reason enough to at least try?”

Swapna’s eyes shimmered in the moonlight “Still… the fears don’t go away, Didi. Not for a mother who’s stood between her child and the world for years but I'm not saying no forever. Let her adjust to being the daughter-in-law, wife, and a mother to a child that isn't hers. Once she's settled, I'll visit, maybe stay. But not now. I can't."

Suguna took her hand and squeezed it. “Then tell her. Not through fights and silences. Tell her it’s not rejection.”

Swapna nodded slowly. “I will. Tomorrow.”

The sisters sat together a while longer,

Later, they went to bed.

The first blush of dawn crept quietly into Maithili’s room all night, she had laid curled beside Tina, her thoughts like waves crashing over her chest—endless, restless, heavy.

She rubbed at the crust of tears around her eyes and stepped out. In the kitchen, she found Swapna already at work, stirring something on the stove.

Maithili approached her mother slowly and wrapped her arms around her from behind. Swapna didn’t turn but smiled softly, resting one hand on her daughter’s arm as she continued cooking.

“Coffee?” Swapna asked, gently.

“Very strong,” Maithili murmured, her voice husky. “My head’s splitting.”

Swapna gave a small chuckle. “Of course. I knew it would be.”

They stood like that for a moment, the silence no longer cold, but aching.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Maithili said, voice barely above a whisper.

Swapna turned the flame low and gave a small smile. “Me neither. But I owe you an explanation. Not a fight. Not silence.”

Maithili blinked back tears.

“I understand your concern, Maithili,” Swapna continued gently. “If I were in your place, I’d want my mother with me too. But right now, I’m not thinking as a daughter—I’m thinking as your mother.”

Her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes held a quiet strength. “I’m afraid, Maithili,” she said softly. “I know Abhiram and his family are good, exceptional even. I’ve heard so much about them from Poornima. I’ve seen it for myself too and they have no problem with me staying with you after your marriage. But…”

She paused, took a deep breath, and continued, “Maithili, after your father passed away, the world I knew changed. The society I saw when he stood beside me was very different from the one, I faced alone. People change; their perceptions change. When a young woman becomes a single mother, the world can be… unkind.”

Maithili stood silent, her eyes brimming with concern.

“You were just twelve,” her mother went on, her voice far away, remembering. “And I was still young. Yes, I had education, but your grandparents… they were strict. They never allowed me to step outside those walls. It was your father who encouraged me, stood by me. After he was gone, I had to step out—not for myself, but for you. For us.”

“They judged me, Maithili. People raised fingers, questioned my every step—how we lived, what I did, how I dressed, where I worked. But I stood strong. I didn’t waver. Because I had to be a shield. For you.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“But now… if I come with you, and they raise a finger at me, I can take it. I’ve taken it all these years. But if they say anything to you… if they taint your happiness, your marriage, because of me… I cannot bear that. I’ve always stood between you and this cruel world.”

Maithili stepped forward, her voice firm. “But Ma, they asked me. Even Abhiram—he wants you there. He said it himself.”

Swapna smiled, the sorrow in her eyes softening with pride. “I know, Maithili. As I said, they are good people. But no matter how much society grows, it still cannot accept a girl’s mother staying in her in-laws’ home. Maybe Abhiram and his parents don’t have any issues, but the people around them will talk. And they will question.”

Her voice cracked, but she steadied herself.

“Even if Abhiram’s family never minds, society might force them to answer for a choice that isn’t theirs to explain. Is it worth it, beta? Just because of me, should so many people be forced to defend their dignity?”

She reached out and touched Maithili’s cheek gently. “Please, Maithili… let me remain your strength from a distance. Let me protect you the only way I still can.”

Maithili was about to speak—her lips parted, words rushing to her throat—but Swapna gently raised her hand.

“Maithili,” she said, her voice calm but resolute, “just give me time.”

“I’m a person shaped by old times,” she continued. “And it takes time to unlearn those fears. Maybe one day, I’ll come. I promise you. But right now… I am an independent woman, Maithili. I can earn, I can work, I can live on my own. I cannot bring myself to depend on anyone just yet.”

She paused, her gaze softening.

“So give me time. I will come. Not today, not now… but one day. And when I do, you keep your arms open for me. That will be enough for me.”

Maithili stood frozen. Her heart ached with the weight of unspoken words. She realized then—it wasn’t her mother’s pride that was stopping her, nor fear of society’s judgment on herself. It was fear for her. Swapna was not afraid of the world questioning her; she was terrified the world would taint her daughter’s happiness.

And Maithili didn’t know how to convince her otherwise.

She just nodded.

There were no right words. Only silence—thick, painful, and deeply respectful.

Swapna smiled gently, brushing away the heaviness like she had always done when Maithili was a little girl.

“That’s my good girl,” she said, her voice warm again. “Okay now, go freshen up. Today I’m making your favourite—aloo paratha. Everyone must be up by now. And I’ll have your strong coffee ready, just the way you like it.”

Maithili nodded again, unable to form words, and turned away, her steps slow as she walked to her room.

She sat there in silence, letting her mother’s words echo within her.

“I’ll come… just not today.”

And somewhere in that promise, Maithili held on to hope.

The scent of fresh aloo parathas and strong filter coffee filled the house as everyone sat around the breakfast table, enjoying a hearty meal.

There was a noticeable ease in the air—one that hadn’t been there the night before.

Everyone could tell that Swapna had gently convinced Maithili not to take her along after the wedding.

As the breakfast chatter continued, Maithili excused herself, walking back toward her room with Tina trailing behind.

Once inside, Tina shut the door softly. She didn’t speak right away—just waited, watching Maithili remove her earrings with tired fingers.

“What did Maasi decide?” Tina finally asked.

Maithili paused, then sank onto the edge of the bed. Her voice was low. “She doesn’t want to come. She feels that if she stays with me at my in-laws’ place, people will raise fingers… at me. And she can’t bear that. So, she’s choosing to stay alone.”

Tina walked over and gently placed a hand on Maithili’s shoulder. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She knew Maithili—her strength, her silence, and most of all, her pain. No matter how bravely Maithili masked it, Tina could feel it—how much it hurt to see her mother choosing solitude over her daughter’s warmth.

Maithili exhaled slowly. "“You know, Tina… sometimes there are times like this when I find myself wishing that I had been born a son to my parents."

Tina turned, surprised.
Maithili looked out the window, her voice thick with emotion but steady as she spoke.

“If I was a son,” she said quietly, “I wouldn’t be judged for wanting to care for my parents.”

She turned back to Tina, her eyes burning with unspoken frustration.

“If a man takes care of his parents—even his wife’s parents—he’s called a good son. People look at him like he’s some kind of god. ‘Dekho use, such a nice man he is,’ they say. ‘He takes care of his wife’s parents just like his own. What a lucky woman she is to have a husband like that.”

She paused, her chest rising and falling slowly.

“But if a daughter wants to give equal importance to both her in-laws and her own parents… suddenly, she’s being too attached, too emotional, not adjusting enough, not obedient.”

The bitterness in her voice wasn’t angry—it was weary.

“They don’t say ‘what a good daughter’—they say ‘she doesn’t know her place.’ Just because I’m a woman, my love becomes something to question. My choices… something to monitor.”

“Don’t daughters love their parents just as much?” she asked, almost to herself. “If a couple doesn’t have a son, does that mean the parents should just… live alone after their daughter is married? What kind of rule is this? Who made this rule in our society, Tina?”

Tina sat beside her, not flinching, her eyes calm but quietly fierce.

“I don’t know when it’ll change,” she said softly, “but it will, Maithili. It already is—little by little. Maybe not fast enough for us, but it’s happening.”

She leaned in, her tone firmer now.

“Maybe when we’re in our fifties, our generation will be the one to finally say: stop differentiating. Maybe we’ll raise daughters who don’t feel guilty for loving their parents. Who don’t have to choose which home matters more.”

She looked at Maithili meaningfully.

“And maybe, just maybe, it’ll be okay for a daughter to say, ‘my parents come first too.’ And no one will bat an eye.”

Maithili stared at her, her throat tight “I wish the society truly changes.”

A pause lingered between them.

And then, the silence was broken by the soft vibration of her phone on the table.

Maithili looked down.

Abhiram.

Tina gave her a small, knowing smile. “Go on, pick up. Maybe he’s calling to say he’s missing you already.”

Maithili didn’t smile but her fingers moved, reaching for the phone.

The phone rang for just a few seconds before Maithili answered.

“Hello?”

But it wasn’t Abhiram’s voice on the other end.

“Hi Maithili, this is Amrutha—Abhiram’s mother.”

Maithili straightened instinctively, “Hello, Aunty. Good morning!”

“Good morning, beta. I hope I didn’t disturb you?”

“Not at all, Aunty. Please, tell me.”

There was a slight pause, followed by Amrutha’s gentle voice, “Nothing urgent… I was just wondering, if you're free, would you like to come out shopping with me?”

Maithili blinked, caught a little off guard. “Shopping?”

“Yes,” Amrutha chuckled softly. “I have a few things to buy, and I thought it’d be nicer if you chose for yourself. It’s better that way, isn’t it?”

A small smile crept onto Maithili’s face.

“Of course, Aunty. I’d love that. Just tell me where to come, I’ll be there.”

“Oh no, beta,” Amrutha said quickly. “Why should you come alone? Abhi will come pick you up. He’ll be there in about an hour, so just be ready.”

Maithili hesitated. “Aunty, it’s okay, I can drive. I don’t want to trouble him.”

Amrutha laughed softly, “Of course you can drive. You’re perfectly capable. But sometimes, it’s good to keep your man on his toes. Let him earn a few brownie points.”

Maithili couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, Aunty. I’ll be ready.”

“Good girl,” Amrutha said fondly, before ending the call.

Maithili stared at the screen for a moment after it went dark.

Tina, who had been watching her with curious eyes. “Change of plans,” Maithili said, getting up. “Shopping with Abhiram’s mom. Abhi’s coming to pick me up.”

Tina grinned. “Look at you… already winning hearts.”

Maithili smiled softly, brushing a hand through her hair.