54. Jiya
JIYA
Three months later, the children and I moved back to Vancouver into a new home with Caleb on Point Grey Road.
Even now, the words still felt surreal in my mind.
Our home.
We chose the house together, moving from room to room discussing colours, furniture, and all the small details that slowly transformed it into something that belonged to us.
Lucas claimed his bedroom immediately, while Emma ran laughing through the hallways with Mia tucked beneath one arm and Geeta close behind her.
Watching them adjust to this new chapter of our lives filled me with a quiet sense of peace I had not felt in years.
I kept the house in Cowichan Bay.
I knew I would never sell it.
It meant too much to me—far more than bricks and walls could ever explain.
History lived inside it.
Emma had taken her first steps there. Lucas had grown up there. Every room still carried echoes of laughter, grief, healing, and survival.
But most importantly, Cole’s presence still lingered there in quiet, unspoken ways.
My first husband.
The children’s first father.
Too many memories were woven into that place to let it go.
With time, I embraced a more relaxed approach to my professional life after completing Cole’s dream.
I intentionally stepped back from the daily operations of Harris Developers, choosing instead to focus only on projects that truly sparked my interest and passion.
It felt freeing—like finally allowing myself to breathe after years of carrying responsibilities that had once defined me.
I handed over the reins of the restaurant to Jack. There was no one else I trusted more with something that had become such an important part of my life. He already treated it like his own anyway.
I still visited often, not out of obligation, but because those people had become family long ago.
Time spent with Cole’s family, Jack, and Maureen always felt like coming home in a different way.
We shared meals, stories, laughter, and the kind of warmth that only exists between people who have carried one another through life’s hardest moments.
No matter how much my life had changed, they would always remain part of it.
A couple of weeks after moving back to Vancouver, I met Harper for coffee.
The conversation had been long overdue.
I had rehearsed the conversation in my mind countless times, yet when the moment finally arrived, my voice still trembled. I told him the truth about Caleb and me, though deep down I suspected he had already known before I said the words aloud.
“I always knew your heart still belonged to him,” Harper admitted with a small smile.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered sincerely.
He shook his head gently.
“You don’t have to apologize for loving someone,” he said quietly.
Sadness flickered briefly in his eyes, but there was kindness, understanding, and acceptance there too.
Our conversation had been bittersweet, but it also brought peace.
Not every love story was meant to last forever.
Some people simply arrived in your life to help guide you toward where you were always meant to be.
One afternoon, while unboxing cartons in our new home, I came across a framed photograph of Cole with the children and me.
I held it quietly in my hands for a long moment, studying the familiar smiles frozen in time, my thumb brushing over the glass.
A quiet ache settled in my chest.
I was unsure whether to place it with the other family photos in the living room because I didn’t know how Caleb would feel about it.
Just as I was about to put it back into the box, I felt a gentle hand rest on my shoulder.
“There’s no need to put it back,” Caleb said softly.
I turned and looked up.
“I know the perfect place for it.”
He took my hand and led me toward the family room.
“It belongs here,” he continued. “It always will.”
Emotion tightened my throat, and I blinked back tears that threatened to spill over.
He stopped in front of me and cupped my face.
“Cole was an important part of your life,” he said gently. “And he will always be an important part of Lucas and Emma’s lives too. Nothing and no one can take that away from you or them.”
The honesty and respect in his voice touched something deep inside me.
“He was their father and your first husband.”
I sensed the faint trace of pain in his voice when he said the word husband, yet there was also genuine respect there.
“Even though I regret everything that happened between us,” he continued, “I’ll always be grateful to him for loving you and the children when I wasn’t there.”
His words settled into my heart like a blessing.
Unable to hold back my emotion, I leaned forward and kissed him softly.
“I love you so much,” I said.
A small smile spread across his face.
Together, we placed the photograph above the fireplace in the family room, positioning it carefully among the other pictures that told the story of our lives—past, present, and future.
“I wanted to show you something,” Caleb said after a moment, a hint of excitement flickering in his eyes. “Come with me.”
Curiosity stirred inside me as he took my hand and led me down the hallway toward his office.
“Open it,” he said.
I reached for the handle and pushed it open slowly.
My eyes swept across the room—and then stopped.
Cole’s paintings and the photographs filled the wall.
My breath caught.
The portraits he had taken of me years ago had all been carefully arranged throughout the room, illuminated softly beneath the warm afternoon light pouring through the windows.
“How did you get this here?” I asked, turning to look at Caleb.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“It took some convincing. A lot of convincing… and proof,” he admitted. “Mostly by Jack, who assured the gallery owner that it was being rehomed to our place.”
This quiet understanding of my past touched my heart more deeply than words ever could.
“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” I whispered.
Caleb looked back at the photographs, warmth softening his features.
“And you have no idea how much these pictures of you by Cole affected me,” he said with a small smile. “Baby, they made me fall in love with you all over again.”
Tears burned behind my eyes. He reached for my hand and gently pulled me closer.
“And they brought me back to you.”
Two weeks later, I went over to my mother’s house for the first time with Caleb and my children.
Even with the gift basket in my hands, my nerves twisted heavily in my stomach.
I didn’t know why.
My mother had reassured me repeatedly that her husband and children were perfectly fine with me coming over with Caleb and the children, yet a knot still tightened in my belly.
Things had not always worked out well for me in the past.
Experience had taught me that lesson again and again.
Cole had warned me the very first time I met my mother—Guard your heart. Don’t expect too much.
So I reminded myself of the plan I had made long ago.
No expectations. Just go with the flow.
Before I could knock, the front door swung open.
“Welcome,” Karena said warmly, her face lighting up as she stepped forward.
“Hi, Mom.”
She wrapped her arms around me in a gentle hug and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. “Come inside.”
“Nan-nan!” the children squeaked, rushing past me.
Karena laughed softly before bending down to hug them both.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said after taking the gift basket from my hands.
Caleb’s fingers slipped around mine gently, the steady pressure grounding me instantly.
As we walked toward the family room, my heart began to pound again.
That was when I saw them.
My half-brother and half-sister.
For the first time in my life.
A young woman with short brown hair and bright green eyes stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a warm embrace.
“Hi,” she said with an easy smile. “I’m Mirella. I’m twenty-one, and I am your sister.”
Emotion caught me off-guard.
“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she added softly.
Before I could even process the moment, the young man beside her stepped forward and hugged me.
“I’m Cody, and I’m eighteen,” he said politely. “Lovely to meet you.”
This was not how I had imagined this moment at all.
Slowly, the knot in my belly began to loosen.
Taking a steady breath, I turned slightly and gestured toward Caleb, Geeta and the children.
“This is Caleb, and these are our children, Lucas and Emma. And this is Geeta. She’s family to us too.”
Caleb gave them a polite nod, his hand still resting protectively at the small of my back. That simple gesture filled me with quiet reassurance.
Geeta folded her hands together in a small namaste and greeted them with a warm smile.
Eventually, we moved to the backyard, where lunch had been set up under the warm afternoon sun.
Plates were passed around, drinks were poured, and conversation flowed more easily with each passing minute while laughter drifted across the yard and the children played nearby.
I found myself looking around at the scene, at all of them—my mother, my siblings, Geeta, Caleb, the children—and a deep sense of gratitude filled my heart.
For my biological mother and this extension of family.
For Caleb, standing beside me.
For my children, safe and happy.
For Geeta, who helped me raise the children.
For this second chance at belonging.
In that moment, surrounded by the people I loved, I felt something I had not felt in years.
Home.