53. Jiya
JIYA
The next morning, I walked downstairs with Caleb right behind me, his presence so close that warmth brushed against my skin even before I turned around.
The moment we stepped into the kitchen, the children’s faces lit up.
I had come back home with him.
Even now, the reality of it felt almost fragile and unreal.
The waiting, the pain, the longing, and the years apart had finally broken down the walls between our hearts. In the quiet darkness of the night, every touch felt both tender and desperate, as though we were trying to relearn each other all over again.
Caleb’s hands slipped beneath the thin barrier of fabric, tracing my skin slowly, reverently, as if he needed reassurance that I was truly there beside him. My lips brushed his neck and shoulders, lingering against warm skin while his breathing deepened beneath my touch.
We let go of pride, fear, and the distance that had kept us apart for far too long.
And when we finally came together, it was not driven by desire alone, but by forgiveness, healing, and the aching need to find our way back to each other again.
That night had been transcendent in a way words could barely capture.
It had been ours.
The memory glowed softly inside my chest as we sat at the breakfast table with the children, exchanging lingering glances and soft touches. Now and then, Caleb’s fingers brushed mine beneath the table as though he needed reassurance that I was still there.
And each time, I squeezed his hand back.
Then the doorbell rang.
The sound cut through the calm, and instinctively, I stood up.
“I’ll get it,” I said, wiping my hands on a dish towel before walking toward the door.
As I reached for the handle, a strange flutter stirred inside me, though I had no idea why.
I opened the door.
Standing on the other side were Caleb’s siblings, their spouses, and Randall.
For a brief second, none of us spoke.
Then Sophia stepped forward, tears already streaming down her cheeks.
“Jiya,” she said brokenly. “We’re sorry. We’re all truly sorry for what we thought about you and for how we treated you.”
“Please forgive us,” Simon added, lowering his gaze before lifting it again to meet mine. “We’re truly ashamed, especially after everything that you have done for us.”
“So… rr… y!” Catherine managed between sobs. “We’re so sorry.”
My chest tightened.
It had never been their fault.
I had known that from the very beginning.
They had trusted their mother.
How could they have ever doubted her? How could they have known the truth when the lies had been wrapped so carefully in love and authority?
For years, they had been given a version of me that never existed.
I looked from face to face.
Sophia was crying.
Catherine looked as though she might burst into tears at any second.
Randall couldn't even meet my eyes.
And suddenly I realized they weren't standing on my doorstep because Caleb had asked them to.
They were here because they genuinely regretted what had happened.
Before I could say anything, Caleb stepped up behind me.
"What are you guys doing here?" he asked. "What's going on?"
I looked back at him and then at the family gathered in front of us.
A smile tugged at my lips.
"They're here for breakfast."
The tension broke instantly.
Sophia laughed through her tears while Simon exhaled heavily, and suddenly everyone moved at once.
They all rushed forward, wrapping their arms around Caleb and me, squishing us into a tight embrace that left us laughing and slightly breathless.
The house, which had felt quiet just moments before, suddenly filled with noise—voices overlapping, footsteps echoing, children giggling.
Life had returned.
“Is that my granddaughter?” Randall asked, his voice trembling as he stepped toward Emma.
“Yes,” I replied softly. “Emma.”
“Lucas,” he said warmly. “Come here and hug grandpa.”
Lucas walked to him shyly, his small steps careful, and wrapped his arms around Randall’s waist.
Emma looked up at me, her brows knitting together.
“Mama, who’s this?”
I smiled, kneeling beside her and brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“This is Pappy.”
Her eyes widened.
“Like Pappy Jack?”
A smile tugged at my lips.
“Yes, sweetheart. Like Pappy Jack.”
Emma looked back at Randall cautiously before stepping closer.
The second he lifted her into his arms, she melted into them, and his face crumpled completely. He held her against his chest so carefully that my own eyes began to sting.
After settling the children back at the breakfast table, Randall leaned down and kissed each of them gently before turning to me.
“Jiya,” he said, his voice thick. Then he paused, looking down at the floor as if searching for the right words. “There are no words to express how I feel. What I thought of you and what—”
I reached out and took his hand before he could finish.
He looked up at me.
“Have you had your medicines, Randall?” I asked softly.
A slow, tender smile spread across his face.
“I will now,” he said quietly.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“I will now, my child.”
Two weeks later, my cell phone rang.
I glanced at the screen.
An unfamiliar number flashed back at me.
I hesitated before answering.
“Hello?”
A pause followed.
“Hi, this is Eleanor.”
For a second, I didn’t recognize the voice. It was too gentle to belong to the woman who had once spoken to me with cold certainty and quiet judgment.
There was a tremor in her tone, the kind that comes from exhaustion and too many sleepless nights.
“I was wondering whether you would be able to come over so that I could talk to you,” she said quietly. “Or… I could drive down to you.”
A tight knot formed in my stomach immediately.
I did not want her in my home. That space belonged to my children now—to our peace, to our healing, our future. I did not trust her, and I certainly did not want her knowing where we lived.
“I’ll come over to you,” I replied.
After we agreed on the date and time, I ended the call and sat there for a long moment, staring at the silent phone in my hand.
My thoughts drifted back to the previous week when Caleb finally told me the truth.
The children had already gone to bed, and the house was wrapped in a heavy stillness when Caleb sat beside me in the living room.
“Jiya,” he said carefully. “There’s something you need to know about your father.”
The word father hit me like a sudden jolt.
I had never used that word for anyone. It had always felt distant—something that belonged to children who grew up knowing where they came from.
“What happened?” I asked quietly.
Caleb took my hand, holding it in his.
“There was an accident at one of our factories years ago,” he said. “A mechanical failure. Your father, Carlos Sanchez, was badly injured. He needed urgent medical treatment and financial assistance. My mother handled accident claims and liability matters for the company at the time.”
My chest tightened slowly.
“This happened long before you and I met,” Caleb continued. “My parents were still running the company then. None of us children were involved in the business.”
I nodded slowly, trying to keep my breathing steady.
“My mother saw the situation as a legal risk,” he said. “She was afraid that helping him would set a precedent and attract attention from the press and damage the company’s reputation. So she chose not to offer any assistance.”
The room felt unbearably quiet.
“My father trusted her judgment and didn’t know the details,” Caleb added gently. “None of us did.”
He squeezed my hand.
“Unfortunately, your father did not survive,” he paused. “I am deeply sorry, Jiya. What happened to him should never have happened.”
I stared down at our joined hands.
“He didn’t want me,” I whispered.
The ache behind those words had lived inside me for years.
“My mother told me he walked away the moment he found out she was pregnant. He chose absence long before I ever knew his name.”
Quietly, I told Caleb about my biological mother and how we had slowly begun rebuilding our relationship after years apart.
Caleb pulled me into his arms and held me against his chest, one hand sliding gently into my hair while the other rubbed slow circles along my back, as though he already understood that I was barely holding myself together.
Wrapped in his warmth, with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek, the weight of everything finally crashed over me.
That night, I cried in his arms for the father I never knew, for the years my mother and I had lost, and for the painful way everything between us had unfolded.
And through it all, Caleb never let me go.
Now, as I reached Caleb’s parents’ mansion in Point Grey, the house rose before me grand and imposing as always, but today it felt different—quieter, heavier, as though the walls themselves carried the weight of everything that had finally been revealed.
I stepped inside and made my way to the dining room.
Eleanor was already seated there.
For a moment, I barely recognized her.
The sharp confidence that had once defined her seemed completely gone. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and her hands remained tightly clasped together on the table as though she were trying to hold herself together through sheer force.
She looked smaller somehow.
Frailer.
Like guilt had slowly hollowed her out from the inside.
I sat across from her and remained silent.
Caleb had told me that no one in the family had spoken to her since the truth came out.
She was alone.
“I would like to start by saying I am sorry,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “For everything I did to you and Caleb.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
“I hurt both of you. I hurt our entire family.” She swallowed hard. “There is no excuse for what I did.”
I studied her silently.
She had lost weight. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and the woman who once carried herself with effortless authority now looked exhausted.
Broken.
“You saved my life,” she whispered. “Even after everything I did to you… you still saved me.”
Her chin dropped to her chest.
“And you never told Caleb.”
I remained quiet.
“I spent years convincing myself I was protecting my family,” Eleanor said hoarsely. “Protecting the company. Protecting Caleb.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“You came into his life, and everything changed so quickly. You were different from anyone he had ever brought home before.”
She swallowed hard.
“Tatiana understood our world. Our expectations. Everything with her felt familiar and safe. But with you…” Her voice faltered. “I saw uncertainty. Scandal. Risk.”
Her eyes filled again.
“And instead of trying to know you, I judged you immediately.”
The words hurt.
Not because it surprised me.
Deep down, I think part of me had always known.
I had seen it in Eleanor’s eyes from the very beginning—the quiet disapproval, the careful politeness, the subtle distance.
I simply had not realized how deeply those judgments had shaped everything that followed.
“When I discovered through the DNA results that you were Carlos’s daughter, I panicked. I thought you might expose what happened. I thought you might use that connection against us.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I judged you because of him without ever taking the time to truly know you. I looked at your past, your background, your circumstances… and convinced myself I already understood the kind of person you were.”
A dull ache spread slowly through my chest.
“I didn’t even know him,” I said quietly.
Eleanor closed her eyes briefly as tears slipped down her face.
“I know,” she whispered brokenly. “And I will regret that for the rest of my life.”
She pressed a trembling hand against her chest.
“That accident happened years ago, when Caleb’s father and I were still running the company ourselves. None of the children were involved then.” Her voice shook. “The decision was mine, and I made the wrong one.”
Her words left a heavy silence behind.
“Some part of me knew I was crossing lines I should never have crossed,” she whispered. “But every time I tried to stop, fear took over again.”
Tears slid down her face.
“I don’t expect forgiveness for any of it. What I did was despicable and shameful, but I am sorry, truly sorry for everything I did to you… to Caleb… to your child.”
I watched her for a long moment, searching for anger inside myself.
Once, I had wanted revenge.
I had wanted justice.
I had wanted her to feel even a fraction of the pain she had caused.
But now, looking at the woman in front of me—stripped of pride, consumed by regret—I felt something entirely different rising quietly inside me.
Not hatred.
Not satisfaction.
Compassion.
I thought about my own mother—the woman who had left me years ago—and how forgiveness had freed me from the weight of resentment. Holding on to anger had never healed anything. It had only kept the wounds open.
Slowly, I pushed my chair back and stood.
Eleanor looked at me, blinking rapidly with tight shoulders.
I walked to her and gently placed my hands on her arms. Beneath the fabric of her clothes, I could feel how thin she had become. Her bones pressed sharply against my palms.
“What you did changed the course of my life,” I said quietly. “There were years of pain that can never be returned to us.”
Eleanor broke down harder.
“But carrying that pain forever would only continue the damage. Punishing you will not solve anything,” I said quietly. “Holding resentment toward you would only bind us together by an emotional chain of hatred.”
My voice softened.
“That is not something I want for myself or for my children.”
Tears streamed silently down her face.
“Forgiveness is the only way to break that chain and allow ourselves to move forward.”
I took a slow breath.
“I forgive you, Eleanor.”
The words felt heavy… but freeing.
Her lips trembled.
I squeezed her arms gently.
“But you need to forgive yourself too.”
For a second, she simply stared at me.
Then her composure shattered completely.
She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed uncontrollably.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry.”
Movement behind us drew my attention.
I turned slightly and saw Caleb standing in the doorway with the rest of his family gathered beside him.
Their expressions softened, filled with relief and quiet hope, as they watched us embrace.
And in that moment, surrounded by the family that had once been torn apart by secrets, grief, and resentment, I understood something simple but powerful.
Forgiveness does not erase the past.
But it allows the future to begin.