Jiya
Ireached for my phone as soon as I woke up, my pulse already hammering.
The screen lit up in my hand.
No messages.
My chest sank.
Caleb still hadn’t responded.
Not to my call or message.
Not to anything.
How was I supposed to reach him if he wouldn’t answer?
I stared at the phone, my thumb hovering over his name.
Should I call again? Should I go to his office? Should I show up at his penthouse and force a conversation he clearly didn’t want to have?
I rubbed my forehead.
His fiancée might be there. That alone would turn an already painful situation into something humiliating. The last thing I wanted was to stand in his living room like an intruder while another woman claimed the space that had once been mine.
Maybe he hadn’t seen the message.
I clung to that thought for a few seconds, holding on to it the way a drowning person clutches a piece of driftwood.
But I knew better.
The blue ticks on WhatsApp glared back at me like silent witnesses.
He had seen it but chosen not to respond.
I drew in a slow breath and sat up in bed.
I would wait another day or two. If he still refused to answer, I would go to his penthouse on Wednesday and face him head-on.
The truth deserved to be heard, even if it shattered everything.
Later that morning, I called my mother.
“Hi,” I said when she answered. “I’m in Vancouver.”
“That’s great. Where are you guys staying? I can come to see you today.”
A small smile touched my lips. “Sounds like a plan.”
I texted her the hotel address and arranged to meet her for lunch.
When she arrived that afternoon, the children spotted her before I did.
“Nan-Nan!” they squealed in unison, racing across the lobby and launching themselves into her arms.
My mother laughed, wrapping them in a tight embrace.
“Ready for the pool?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
Both children nodded, bouncing on their toes, and we all headed downstairs.
The afternoon sun streamed through the glass ceiling of the indoor pool, casting ripples of light across the water like scattered diamonds. The air carried the scent of chlorine and sunscreen, mixed with the cheerful squeals of children playing nearby.
While Lucas and Emma splashed around with Geeta, my mother and I leaned back in lounge chairs near the edge of the pool.
A server placed two tall glasses of mojitos in front of us, beads of condensation sliding down the sides.
“How come you’re in Vancouver?” she asked, lifting her drink.
I wrapped my fingers around the glass and took a small sip before answering.
Then I told her everything.
Every misunderstanding.
Every accusation.
Every moment that had led me back to this city.
“Now Caleb’s getting married,” I finished, my voice catching despite my effort to remain composed, “and he won’t pick up my calls or text me back.”
My mother listened, and by the time I reached the end of the story, tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Jiya… I…” She covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through in your life. You’ve had to deal with so much, plus me.”
I reached for her and pulled her into an embrace, holding her firmly.
“It’s okay, Mom,” I whispered, holding her a little tighter. “It’s all right. We are building a relationship now. That’s what matters. The past doesn’t get to define us anymore.”
The moment the word left my mouth, she froze.
Slowly, she pulled back and stared at me, fresh tears gathering in her eyes.
“You called me Mom,” she whispered shakily, pressing her fingers against her lips.
My throat tightened instantly.
I had not even realized I said it.
A watery laugh escaped her before she shook her head and wiped at her cheeks again.
“I’ve waited so long to hear that,” she admitted softly.
Emotion swelled painfully in my chest.
For so many years, the word had felt foreign, impossible even. Yet now, sitting beside her, watching the love and regret in her eyes, it felt natural.
“You earned it,” I said quietly. “You’ve been trying, and I see that.”
Karena let out a shaky breath and squeezed my hands tightly between hers.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
And I meant every word I had said.
I was grateful for this second chance with my mother, even though it had come wrapped in complicated circumstances. Our bond had grown steadily over the past months—through phone calls, shared visits, and careful conversations.
I had never shared any part of my past with her before. Our talks usually stayed anchored in the present, as if we were both learning how to move forward together. I had never wanted to burden her with guilt. I only wanted her guidance, her wisdom, and her support.
Karena inhaled slowly and dabbed at her eyes once more before giving me a small nod.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It’s best to let go of what’s behind us and start building something better.”
“I think so too.”
“I agree with Jack,” she continued. “Caleb needs to know the truth about everything, even if his mother is the baddie here. You cannot allow someone else to paint you as dishonest, as a thief, or as a kidnapper. That is not fair.”
Her hand closed firmly over mine.
“You need to fight for him,” she said. “He deserves to know the truth about everything—including his child.”
Tears gathered in her eyes again.
“I know what it feels like to miss out on your child’s life while they are growing up,” she added quietly. “It leaves a scar that never truly fades. I don’t want you to make the same mistake I made.”
She was right.
I couldn’t walk away again.
Not this time.
I squeezed her hand gently. “You’re right,” I whispered. “I know you are.”
Eleanor’s words drifted back into my mind.
It’s not just about who you are. It’s about where you come from.
“Mom?” I asked.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think there’s any chance you or my father ever crossed paths with Eleanor before?”
Her brows pulled together. “Eleanor Evans?”
I nodded.
“No,” she said slowly. “Why?”
I looked down at the rippling water in the pool before answering.
“At the cocktail party, she said something strange to me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said her problem wasn’t just me... it was where I came from.”
Karena stilled beside me.
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she murmured.
“It didn’t sound random. It felt like she meant something by it.”
Karena shook her head slowly.
“I don’t see how.” She exhaled softly and looked toward the children splashing in the pool. “Your father disappeared from my life after I told him I was pregnant. We never spoke again.”
A faint sadness crossed her face before she continued.
“Our family moved shortly after that. Dauphin... then Regina... then Vancouver. Years later, I heard he passed away.” She looked back at me and squeezed my hand gently. “I truly don’t think Eleanor would’ve known him.”
I nodded, but the uneasy feeling in my chest remained.
We sat there, watching the children play in the pool.
The sight filled me with renewed tenacity. I wasn’t just fighting for myself anymore. I was fighting for my daughter, for her future, and for the chance to give her the family she deserved.
After a while, our conversation drifted to lighter topics—Derek, her husband, and the children.
“I would like you all to meet the children next time,” she said thoughtfully. “Either when you come down to visit or when I come to see you. Would that be okay?”
“Have you told them about the children and me?” I asked, touching my throat.
She nodded.
“How did they take it?”
“Surprisingly well,” she replied with a small smile. “Derek already knew about you. The children weren’t upset or angry. I think part of it is because they watched me struggle and saw how therapy helped me become a better person. But mostly, it was because I sat them down and told them the truth.”
Honesty. It really was the only way forward.
I sat up, feeling a little bit taller and stronger, looking at her.
She had faced her mistakes, taken responsibility, and chosen growth over denial. That kind of courage wasn’t easy. It required humility, patience, and a willingness to change.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” I said, smiling. “I would love to meet them. I can’t wait.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening together.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights flickered on outside the hotel windows, I knew what I had to do next.
And this time, I wasn’t going to run.
On Tuesday, the children and I spent the day with Elle and her family again. I kept them busy with games, snacks, and endless chatter, anything to stop my mind from circling back to the same question.
Why hadn’t Caleb responded?
Time felt like sand slipping through my fingers.
I had messaged him again that morning, making it clear that what I needed to discuss was important and urgent.
Still, there was nothing.
No reply or acknowledgement.
Not even a single line to show that he cared enough to answer.
Did he hate me that much?
After Elle and her family left, Harper came over, and we spent the evening reminiscing. We drank too much, and he ended up sleeping on the couch.
He left early in the morning shortly after the children woke up, saying he needed to get to work.
By then, my frustration over not hearing from Caleb had already started wearing thin.
By the time I finished breakfast with Lucas and Emma, the hotel room had fallen quiet again when a knock suddenly sounded at the door.
Caleb.
My heart raced wildly.
I wiped my hands quickly on a napkin and hurried toward the door, pulling in slow breaths, bracing for the man I hoped to see on the other side.
This was it.
He had finally come.
I opened the door.
Harper.
The hope inside me collapsed like a house of cards.
“I decided to take the day off,” he said as he stepped inside, placing a quick kiss on my cheek. “I thought I’d take the kids and you to the beach and then to the park for a picnic. What do you say, kids?”
His enthusiasm filled the room, but my thoughts stayed fixed on the door I had just opened—and the man who hadn’t been standing there.
“But Caleb is coming to spend the day with us,” Lucas announced as he walked toward us.
My head snapped toward him.