Page 53 of The Ex Factor

Like a saving grace, my phone trilled in my satchel. Flustered from being caught between desire and guilt, I scrambled to pull the phone out. It was a video call from Mom.

“Hi, Beta, have you moved in?” she asked, pride and excitement illuminating her voice.

“Yes, Ma, just did. Do you want to see the place?”

When I mouthed a quicksorryto Sujit, he signaledno problemwith a wave and pulled out his phone to settle on the couch.

It wasn’t just Mom on the call. My whole family was gathered around, eager to see my new place.

“Where’s Nitara?” I asked about my infant niece.

“She’s napping,” my weary sister-in-law informed me.

“And how are you doing, Jia?” I asked, taking note of the dark circles around her eyes. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

Her smile turned wider and brighter. “Yes, I’m doing alright.”

“I hope Aakash is taking good care of you,” I said and gave my brother a stern eye.

Jia rolled her eyes. “He is, a bit, but Ma has been amazing. She’s so kind and patient with me, even when I’m not,” she said, and tears started to gather in her eyes.

“Arey Beta,” Mom handed her phone off to Dad, and I heard her in the background. “I’m not doing anything special, and I have help. That’s what you do for your loved ones. You are my family. You and Aarti are both my daughters.”

Jia came from an emotionally toxic home with parents too absorbed in their own egos to pay attention to her. She often ended up a target of her mother’s ire, who blamed Jia for her marital discord and unhappiness. Her brother, the firstborn, the male heir, got every benefit of the doubt and lorded over Jia like she was a servant girl.

When the brash Aakash and a quiet Jia started an unlikely relationship in college, no one imagined it would last, let alone that they would end up married. During the initial years, Jia refused to be in the same space with my mother without either me or Aakash present. She kept looking for Mom’s ulterior motive in her every utterance, every move. Aakash and I had a huge fight about it. I rebuked him for being in a relationship with a woman who mistrusted Mom, disrespected and dishonored her, and it was then that Aakash told me about her past.

Pity and guilt filled me as I imagined Jia unable to trust the two people who should’ve had her back and made her feel safe. I didn’t know what that would feel like. I had asked Aakashif I could talk to her, but protective that he was, he wouldn’t let anything bring her discomfort, even if it meant straining relations with his family for a while.

My respect for the brother I considered spoilt and immature, shot up that day. Not only was he convinced of his love for Jia, but he was dedicated enough to give her time to work through her issues. One evening, Aakash and I both sat down with Jia and requested her to give Mom a chance. We assured her that if she thought my mother was as controlling as hers, we’d never insist again.

The transformation in their relationship didn’t occur overnight, but it did. “Every child needs to know love,” my sage mother had said, “because unless we raise kids with love, they will end up creating a world full of hatred and greed.”

Jia turned into a child again when she trusted Mom, and Mom gave her the love and respect she’d never found growing up.

Life is strange oftentimes. We never know where we’ll end up finding love.

My eyes shot up to Sujit at the thought. He was typing on his phone with both hands.

“Sorry,” I heard Jia, and I looked back at my screen. Her eyes were bloodshot, but there was a smile beneath them. “I think it’s the hormones,” she said.

“You don’t need to explain, Jia. Raising an infant is reason enough to bring tears to your eyes,” I tried to diffuse the emotional moment.

She laughed and sniffed back a few last tears. “I’ve never seenyoucry,” she argued.

“That’s because I’m not raising an infant,” I said, but I had cried.

I had wept in Sujit’s arms, and it had felt good. I wanted it again, to feel free, to cry without being judged, without beinglabeled as weak. I glanced over my shoulder as I walked into the bedroom with my back camera active. Sujit was on his phone, and if he’d heard any part of the conversation, he didn’t let on.

After giving them a thorough tour of the condo, I came back to the living room, ready to end the call. It was the first time Dad didn’t have any words of “constructive criticism,” as he always put it, and I suspected Mom was the reason. It was my first home, a cause of pride, a source of identity, and Dad had been restrained about what I could have done better. Having been reminded of Jia’s past, I was glad there were mothers like my Ma in this world. She wasn’t perfect, but she was kind.

“Alright, then, I’ll let you all get back to your day. I’ll call you tomorrow. Give my love to Nitara.”

“Wait, I need to talk to you,” Aakash said and grabbed the phone from Mom.

I waited while he made a swift trek across the family room, through the long corridors along the bedrooms, and into the study. I heard the big glass door close shut.

“What’s so urgent?” I asked, assuming he had some business-related issue to discuss. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

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