Arnav froze when he saw his mother, then rushed to hug Meera tightly. He smiled, a radiant smile I hadn’t seen in a long time. I stood there, my heart aching at the same time. Perhaps the child had missed his mother more than I had imagined over the past three years.
She stayed all afternoon and into the evening. My parents asked her all sorts of questions, and Arnav clung to his mother, refusing to leave her side. I wanted to tell her to leave, but seeing that scene, the words got stuck in my throat. Finally, my mother asked her to stay for dinner and the night with the child. She agreed immediately, as if she had been waiting for that invitation for a long time.
That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, I got up to get a drink of water. The living room lights were still on. As I was about to turn them off, I suddenly heard very soft voices. It was my mother and Meera. I stopped, and for some reason, I didn’t move, but just stood there listening.
“It’s been three years, why haven’t you taken another step?” My mother’s voice was low and slow.
Meera replied, her voice very soft but clear:
“I can’t let go, Mātā ji. I realize that in my heart, there’s only him.”
I involuntarily held my breath. My mother sighed:
“If that’s the case, why did you two divorce back then?”
