25. Jiya
JIYA
Caleb poured two glasses of wine in the kitchen while I went upstairs to put the children to sleep. Geeta had taken the dogs out for a walk, and the house had slipped into the soft quiet that usually followed bedtime.
When I walked back into the kitchen, I found Caleb standing near the counter, staring off into the distance as though he were somewhere far away in his own head.
The tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased, and I wondered what had crossed his mind while he had been alone.
Then his gaze shifted to me, and he blinked slightly, pulling himself back into the present.
I reached the kitchen island, and he handed me a glass before suddenly stopping mid-motion. His hand froze, and he shook his head faintly, as though catching himself.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I forgot… your heart.”
His eyes flickered briefly toward my chest, then back to my face, and I realized he had remembered my surgery from years ago.
“It’s fine,” I said, taking the glass from his hand. “I’m fine now and healthy.”
We walked to the couch in the family room and sat down across from each other.
His gaze wandered around the room before finding mine again.
“You know there’s a painting of you, right... very close to your restaurant?”
“It used to be Cole’s gallery,” I said, sipping my wine. “He was the one who painted it.”
His jaw flexed.
“How did you meet your husband?”
I shifted in my seat beneath the weight of his gaze.
“Cole was my neighbour,” I said calmly. “He lived two doors down from me.”
I could feel him waiting for more, and when I said nothing else, he lowered his eyes for a moment before looking back at me.
“You loved him, didn’t you?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, I did,” I replied, taking another sip of wine. “I still do. He was a good man… an amazing father.”
Silence settled between us.
When I lowered my gaze to my glass, I felt his eyes remain on me. By the time I looked up again, the tightness along his jaw had eased, and his grip around the stem of his glass had loosened slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
His apology felt genuine, and the atmosphere between us grew calmer.
“How’s the family?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere safer.
“They’re good.”
“How are your nieces and nephews? They must have grown so much.”
The change in him was immediate. His shoulders stiffened, and the softness that had been in his expression vanished.
“Funny that you’d ask about them.”
My chest constricted.
“You were the one who put them in danger, remember?”
“I remember,” I said quietly.
I lowered my glass onto the table before my trembling fingers could betray me completely. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I never wanted any of that to happen.”
His expression remained cold.
“I thought I could handle it,” I continued, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I thought I could protect everyone before things got worse—”
“I got shot because of it.”
The sharp crack of his wine glass hitting the table made me flinch.
He stood so abruptly that the couch shifted behind him. His breathing grew heavier, and anger radiated from every part of him.
“The girls had to go to therapy for six months because of what happened.”
My pulse stuttered violently in my throat.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, standing up.
My fingers curled tightly against my palms.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. If I could undo any of it, I would. If I could take it all back, I would.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
For a long moment, he said nothing. His eyes searched my face carefully, as though he were waiting for dishonesty. His brows were pulled together, as though my reaction had surprised him, but the anger slowly began to fade.
His shoulders eased first.
Then the tension along his jaw loosened.
Finally, he dragged a hand across his face and sat back down on the couch.
“It’s all right,” he said quietly after a moment. “The girls are okay now, and I know you never meant for any of it to happen.”
“I didn’t,” I whispered, sitting down. “I swear on my children, Caleb. I would never intentionally hurt anyone’s child.”
The words hung heavily in the air between us.
Then he nodded slowly and rose to his feet.
“It’s late,” he said. “I should go.”
I walked him to the door.
“How’s Malaika?” I asked softly. “How’s her health now?”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“She’s good. She’s quite a girl.”
Relief loosened something tight inside my chest.
“Again, I’m truly sorry.”
He let out a tired breath and held my gaze.
“You’re sorry, and I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “We both made mistakes, and maybe it’s time we stop punishing each other for them.”
“I’d like that,” I admitted honestly.
“Good night, Jiya.”
I stood at the doorway and watched him walk toward his car, rubbing his forehead before climbing inside.
Only after his headlights disappeared down the road did I finally close the door behind me, the weight of the evening settling heavily inside my chest.
Therapy?
The word followed me upstairs.
I wished I could go back and undo every decision that had led us here. Sometimes I even wished I had never met Randall Evans at all. If our paths had never crossed, I never would have worked for him, never would have met Caleb, and none of this would have happened.
The girls would never have been hurt.
But another truth pressed painfully against my chest almost immediately afterward.
I would never have had Emma.
I would never have met Cole.
My grip firmed around the banister, my body trembling as I walked slowly up the stairs, leaving me feeling torn between regret and gratitude, guilt and love.
I entered Lucas’s room first.
He was already asleep.
I leaned down and kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment as I brushed my fingers through his hair before quietly stepping back.
Then I walked into Emma’s room and tucked the blanket more securely around her tiny body before pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She shifted in her sleep, curling her fingers instinctively against her pillow.
As I stepped away from the bed, Geeta appeared in the doorway after returning from walking the dogs.
“Didi, you okay?” she asked softly.
I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out, so I simply nodded.
Milo ambled quietly toward me, his nails clicking softly against the floor before he pressed himself against my leg. I crouched automatically, burying my fingers in his fur.
“I’m okay, boy,” I whispered, scratching behind his ears. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
Later, he curled himself beside me while I lay awake staring at the ceiling, exhaustion burning behind my eyes as the darkness slowly swallowed the room around me.
A couple of days later, Lucas asked, “When’s Caleb coming for dinner again?”
I turned around and looked at him. “Not anytime soon, honey. Why do you ask?”
“It’s been nice having him over,” he said. “It reminded me of the times we spent together before.”
This was exactly what I had been afraid of—him getting close to Caleb again, building hope in his young heart, only to be hurt when Caleb would not come around as often after the project was completed. Or maybe even sooner, once he was married.
“Baby, I don’t want you to have this hope that he’ll keep coming around,” I said gently.
“Why, Mama?” he asked innocently.
“Because he is getting married in a month and a half, remember?” I explained. “He will have his own family to look after.”
He nodded slowly.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I continued softly. “I don’t want you to expect too much.”
“I understand,” he replied quietly.
I reached out and cupped his cheek gently. “But I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
My son smiled at me, and that simple expression of trust made my heart swell.
“Mama?” Lucas asked. “Does Caleb still not know about Emma?”
Coldness hit my core.
I slowly knelt in front of him.
I did not want to lie to him, not about something this important.
“No, he doesn’t know.”
“Are you planning on telling him?” he asked.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I’m not sure, especially now since he’s getting married.”
“Okay,” Lucas said thoughtfully. “But you should know something.”
I waited, watching his serious expression.
“Cole is always going to be Emma’s Dada first,” he said firmly, then smiled.
“I couldn’t agree with you more, baby,” I said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.
“I love you, Mama,” he said.
Just then, Emma came running toward us, repeating his words as she wrapped her small arms around my leg. “I wuv you, Mama.”
I laughed softly and crouched down to her level. “Oh, really? How much?”
Emma stretched her arms out as wide as they could go. “Dis much!”
Lucas groaned. “That’s cheating, Emma.”
She giggled before climbing into my lap. “Mama my best friend.”
My heart melted.
“I love you both,” I said, pulling them into a tight embrace and kissing each of them.
As I held them close, an ache settled inside me. They were not going to have a permanent father figure in their lives again.
I had closed and sealed my heart after Caleb had cheated on me. Cole had opened it again with his keys of kindness, strength, and unwavering love. After his death, I had sealed it shut once more, locking away the pieces of myself that had once believed in forever.
I told myself no one would ever open it again.
I brushed Emma’s hair back gently and looked over at Lucas, trying to focus on something practical instead of the emotions pressing against my chest. Summer holidays were starting soon, and planning his eleventh birthday party that weekend had already consumed most of my attention.
Caleb knew about the party only because Liam had mentioned it during one of our meetings about Cole’s project. I still did not know whether he would come, and I had not been brave enough to ask him myself.
He would be turning thirty-five the following week.
I let out a quiet sigh, memories drifting back to his thirty-first birthday, back when life had been simpler, and love had seemed unbreakable.