21. Caleb
CALEB
Iknocked on Jiya’s door.
I didn’t know if she was at home when I got into the car at the office, but I knew I needed to make amends. What I had said to her sat heavily on my conscience.
As the car turned slowly into the cul-de-sac, my gaze scanned the quiet street, and when I saw her car parked in the driveway, a tight breath escaped me.
The door opened.
“Mr. Caleb,” Geeta said.
“Is Jiya here?” I asked.
“She’s in the backyard with the children.”
“May I come in? I need to speak with her.”
“Of course.” Geeta stepped aside.
I walked into the house and moved toward the back, slowing as I reached the sliding glass door.
Then I stopped.
The sight had me spellbound.
I watched her laugh as Lucas and Emma climbed over her. The dogs ran in circles around them, barking happily, tails wagging. From the kitchen, the faint aroma of spices drifted through the air, wrapping the moment in a quiet, domestic warmth.
It felt like stepping into a life I had once imagined for myself.
A woman I loved. Children running toward me with open arms. A home filled with laughter, warmth, and the steady rhythm of family life. It was the kind of life my siblings had built—the kind I had longed for but had never quite managed to grasp.
Standing there at the door, watching her in that backyard, a hollow ache grew deep inside me.
This was the life I had wanted with her.
With Nyah… with Jiya.
Even now, after all this time, my mind stumbled over her new name, unable to accept the transformation. What does her name mean anyway? Nyah had been the woman I loved. Jiya was the woman standing before me now—a stranger wrapped in familiar skin.
Through the window, while looking at her, I couldn’t help noticing the stark contrast between the two women in my life.
Tatiana reflected my old world—a life of late nights, polished parties, expensive drinks, and empty conversations.
Jiya, on the other hand, represented something entirely different. She embodied maturity, responsibility, and commitment.
The difference shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.
A memory surfaced when Tatiana and I had been in the Bahamas.
“Children?” Tatiana had frowned. “Do we have to have them?”
“Don’t you want children?” I had asked, surprised that the topic had never come up before.
“I do… but not right now. I’m only thirty,” she had said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Probably in a couple of years. Is that okay?”
At the time, it had felt reasonable. Practical.
Acceptable.
Now, standing there and watching Jiya with Lucas and Emma, that same conversation carried a different weight.
Her sudden return into my life had complicated everything inside my head. Looking at her with her children stirred doubts about my future, about the woman I had chosen to marry, about the life I thought I wanted.
I had moved on.
I had buried the past and built something new with my fiancée.
And yet here I was, right back at square one, watching the woman I had once imagined as my wife and the mother of my children.
Just then, Jiya turned her head and caught me looking in her direction.
The children were sprawled across her lap, their small bodies pinning her down, making it impossible for her to stand. Without thinking, I pushed open the backyard door and stepped outside.
“Need some help?” I asked softly.
Her nostrils flared, and her eyes widened at the sight of me standing there in her backyard.
I could almost hear the words she wanted to shout at me, but the children were half-asleep against her, their heads resting on her shoulders.
She swallowed whatever reaction threatened to escape and gave a small nod instead.
I bent and lifted Lucas into my arms, feeling the weight of his body settle against my chest. He had been six the last time I held him like this.
Now he was ten, taller, heavier, growing up far too quickly without me there to witness it.
Jiya gathered Emma, cradling her, and together we walked back into the house, the dogs padding behind us.
She led the way upstairs silently, and I followed her down the hallway.
She gestured toward Lucas’s room, and I stepped inside.
I carefully removed his shoes, eased him further onto the mattress, and pulled the blanket up around him.
As I watched his peaceful face relax into sleep, memories rose inside me from another lifetime of nights when I had done this same routine in her apartment.
I had always loved this little boy. I loved him the way I loved my nieces and nephews with a fierce protectiveness that I couldn’t let go of.
Something softened painfully inside me, and I closed my eyes, drawing in a slow breath before exhaling.
Once, I had seen a future where this boy would have been my son.
I had wondered why Lucas had been so upset with me at the fair. Was it because he felt abandoned? Did he believe I had hurt his mother in some way?
I straightened and stepped out of his room, moving quietly down the hall.
When I entered Emma’s room, I saw Jiya placing her gently into bed, smoothing the blanket over her small body.
We left the room together without speaking and made our way downstairs, my footsteps following closely behind hers.
The moment we entered the family room, she spun around to face me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. “How dare you come here—uninvited?” She stepped closer, her hands sliced through the air in wide, sweeping gestures. “Did it not occur to you to call first? Or do you just show up wherever you feel like, whenever it suits you?”
Her gaze hardened as she folded her arms.
“This is my home, Caleb. Not your office. Not your meeting room.”
Her voice dropped slightly, but it only made the words hit harder.
“You don’t get to walk in here like you still have that kind of access.”
I deserved that anger.
She had every right to feel it.
“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely.
She stopped mid-motion and stared at me, her body going completely still.
The familiar scent of her perfume drifted toward me, wrapping around my senses.
It suited her perfectly—far better than anything Tatiana wore.
Her hair had loosened slightly from her ponytail, soft strands framing her teardrop-shaped face, and her lips looked full and glossy under the warm light of the room.
All I could think about was how much she still affected me.
Even after everything that had happened between us.
My heartbeat turned uneven, drowning out the rational voice in my head that reminded me why I had come here. The longer I stood in front of her, the harder it became to focus on my purpose.
I needed to combat this.
The first step was simple: Apologize.
I took a few steps forward, shortening the distance between us.
“I’m really sorry I said those things to you. I—”
“Caleb?”
I turned abruptly at the sound of my name.
Lucas stood a few steps away from me, sleep still evident in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I glanced at Jiya and then back at him.
“I came here to apologize to your mom.”
“Why?” Lucas asked, his voice small but serious. “What did you do?”
“I said some mean things to her.” I walked toward him and knelt so I could look him in the eye. “I hurt her feelings, and I came here to say sorry.”
He studied my face with a thoughtful expression, as though he was weighing my sincerity.
“Did you get her lilies?” he asked.
I shook my head, fully aware they were her favourite.
“Did you get ice cream?”
I shook my head again, knowing it was her favourite comfort food—the one thing that could soften her mood even on her worst days.
He crossed his arms firmly across his chest. “Then there’s no way you have a chance,” he declared. “She would accept your apology if you at least had ice cream.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth despite the tension in the room.
“Ah,” I said, smacking my lips. “I’ll remember that. Thanks. What do I do now?”
Lucas glanced at his mother and then back at me.
“You staying for dinner?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard. I didn’t know if staying was a good idea or a terrible mistake. I didn’t know whether my apology had been accepted or if I had only made things worse. I had already crossed one line. I had no desire to cross another.
I debated within myself.
Lucas’s small gesture pulled me back to the past—dinners, movie nights, the easy rhythm of time spent with him, my nieces, and my nephews.
My stomach tensed, and I rubbed the back of my neck.
I didn’t trust Jiya yet.
I still didn’t know her side of the story, but discovering the truth about her marriage had shaken my assumptions, chipping away everything I thought I knew. Part of me realized I needed to investigate further before making any final judgments.
Maybe I would uncover something that confirmed my suspicions at dinner, or maybe I would find answers that challenged them. Either way, I needed clarity, and dinner didn’t seem like a bad idea.
“It’s Friday, so it’s curry night tonight courtesy of Geeta,” Lucas announced.
I turned and looked at Jiya.
Her expression had softened slightly, and she gave a small nod.
“Sounds good,” I said, “Thanks, buddy.”
I had no idea what to expect from the evening ahead. I didn’t know what consequences might follow now that I had agreed to stay.
Did I really want to invest my time and emotions into some sort of relationship—with her son, her daughter, and her now?
If what I had discovered about Jiya turned out to be true—if she really was a gold digger—did I want to start something as simple and innocent as dinner with her family?
Would I still be able to hurt her the way I once planned, knowing it would mean hurting Lucas or Emma too, even if only indirectly?
Sharing a meal seemed innocent, but would it reopen old wounds or create new ones?
And what if stepping back into their world would later make it hard or impossible to walk away?
What the hell have I got myself into?
Only time would tell.