Page 103 of Mrs. Pandey
She snapped her mouth shut the moment the words escaped, as if she was regretting saying them. She turned away, busying herself with a folding saree, but I had caught the pain in her voice.
I knew the truth. I knew my father had cheated on her countless times. I had overheard whispered arguments, seen the way her eyes used to be red from crying. Yet she had stayed for us.
I often wondered if she had divorced him, would life have been any different? Would she have been happier? Or would it have torn our family apart in ways I couldn't imagine?
"Do you still love him?" I asked softly.
She paused then, without the slightest hesitation, she said, "No."
Her voice was firm, and steady. "The love ended the day I discovered his betrayal. After that it was never the same. I stayed only because I thought it was the right thing for you and Ivaan and for the family." She shook her head as if brushing away old memories. "Let's not talk about it."
I stared at her, my heart twisting. My mother, who I had always thought of as gentle, passive had carried such a heavy burden in silence. She quickly replaced her serious expression with a radiant smile, as if determined not to let me see the cracks.
But I saw them and for the first time, I truly understood the depth of her sacrifices.
Without saying a word, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her. She smelled faintly of jasmine, the scent of home.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I've been such a bad daughter... I never realized what you went through."
She pulled me tighter, her hand stroking my hair with the same tenderness she had given me as a child. "You're not a bad daughter, Ira," she said softly. "You've always been good to me. You've been the light in my life. You gave me the courage to go on when I thought I couldn't. You're braver than you think."
Tears stung my eyes. "I wonder... what kind of mother I'll be," I murmured.
She chuckled, wiping away my tears with her thumb. "You'll be the best mother. Trust me, I know it in my gut."
We laughed together, a soft, laughter that lifted the heaviness in the room.
That evening, we set about preparing the house for the baby, dusting furniture, arranging space for the cradle, and setting aside drawers for the tiny clothes she had brought. After a long time, I felt lighter and happier. Later, we ate dinner together,and I fell asleep beside my mother, feeling safe and comforted in a way I hadn't felt since childhood.
But even as I drifted off, thoughts of Prashant lingered in my mind. I couldn't help it. Despite everything, I still worried about him. I replayed our old videos, scrolled through our pictures, and remembered the times he had made me laugh until my stomach hurt. Tomorrow, I decided, I would print some of his photographs and hang them in my room. Not for me but for the baby.
Prashant had never been a good husband, and I wasn't blind to his flaws. But he had been a good man in many ways-the kindest, funniest, most charming person I had ever known. I couldn't let go of the good memories, no matter how much the bad ones haunted me.
I wanted my child to know that side of him. To inherit his laughter, his warmth, his way of looking at the world.
And so, even in his absence, I promised myself I would keep his memories alive. For the baby and for the life that was about to begin.
_______
Mom had just gone back to Udaipur for some important work, but she promised me she would return soon. It was my day off, so I decided to go for brunch with my friends who also lived in Jaipur.
They chattered non-stop about their boyfriends and husbands. None of them had children, so the moment the conversation turned to me, their eyes lit up with excitement.
“I still can’t believe Ira is going to be a mom,” Meera said, her voice bubbling with delight.
“You can already see her cute baby bump,” another friend added with a grin.
“We’re going to be maasis!” Meera squealed, clapping her hands together.
Their excitement was contagious. I couldn’t stop smiling, watching them gush over me. Yet, even amidst their laughter, his shadow lingered. Prashant. My friends didn’t know much about him beyond what I had chosen to share, but they were glad I had divorced him. They even called him a cheater, and although I never defended him, I hated hearing that word. Something inside me still twisted at the thought. My heart still beat for him in ways I couldn’t understand, I still worried about him, still felt protective of him, even when I knew I shouldn’t. I hadn’t heard from him since that day, and I was determined I never would. One day, I told myself, I would finally let him go. The day I threw him out of my heart completely would be the best day of my life.
After brunch, my friends went off to their respective work, and I strolled out of the restaurant alone. That’s when my eyes caught a familiar figure sitting on a bench nearby, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
I froze as my heart skipped a beat.
As I walked closer, I recognized her instantly. Kavya Singh. She was dressed in a red bridal lehenga, but without jewelry. Her hair was messy, her face pale and streaked with tears. For a moment, I could hardly believe it was her as she looked like a stranger.
“Kavya…” I whispered, my voice almost trembling in disbelief.
