Chapter 17
JIYA
The weekend continued much the same way. The restaurant closed at one in the morning, and customers kept arriving throughout the day. Some came from nearby towns, while others stopped by on their way to Vancouver or Banff. The pool tables quickly became a favourite spot for the university students.
By the end of the weekend, I was completely exhausted.
Being seven months pregnant while spending most of the day on my feet was not easy.
My back ached constantly. My legs felt heavy as if I were carrying the weight of the entire day with every step.
Despite the exhaustion, however, I felt proud.
I knew it would take at least two years before the restaurant would begin generating a real profit, but I remained optimistic about what we had accomplished.
Jack, Will, and I agreed to close the restaurant for the holidays—a mutual decision that felt right for everyone.
That Christmas felt different from the ones I had experienced before.
The holidays were quiet. Lonely.
Lucas and I still followed our traditions. We put up the tree and decorated it during the last week of November while carols played softly in the background. We attended church on Christmas Eve, where the service gave me time to reflect on the people who were still present in my life.
Elle. Jack. Lucas. Geeta. Patty.
I found myself wondering how Patty was doing. I prayed for her, hoping that one day I would be able to see her again and explain everything in person.
Memories of Christmas with Caleb and his family drifted into my thoughts, and for a fleeting moment, I considered driving into the city just to pass by his apartment and catch a glimpse of him from afar. I knew better than to act on it, but the thought alone exposed how deeply I still missed him.
Seeing him on a laptop screen was never the same as feeling his presence beside me, and it felt especially painful knowing that I was carrying half of him inside me.
Every week—sometimes every few days—I found myself searching for news about him online, a strange ritual I could not seem to break.
Part of me secretly hoped to find proof that he regretted losing me, yet most of the time, the photos simply showed him living his life.
Still, knowing he was healthy and safe brought me comfort.
Sometimes, during the holidays, I wondered what he was doing.
Without realizing it, I would reach for the ring hanging from the chain around my neck.
I never removed it, not even in the shower.
I knew I needed to move on from Caleb, but letting go felt far more complicated.
Keeping the ring close to my heart made me feel connected to him—and, perhaps in a way, to the baby as well.
My search for my biological parents continued. Weeks passed, but the new website had not produced any results. I tried other search platforms and held onto the fragile hope that maybe this year would be different.
Meanwhile, planning events and marketing promotions for the restaurant kept me busy. The months slipped by quickly.
By February, I had entered my ninth month of pregnancy.
I kept my birthday very mellow that year.
“Happy Birthday, Mama!” Lucas shouted as he burst into my bedroom early that morning.
I smiled and rubbed my eyes as I sat up in bed. “Thank you, baby.”
Lucas wrapped his arms around me in a warm hug before handing me a card.
“This is for you,” he said excitedly.
The card was bright pink and covered in glittery flowers. A drawing decorated the front—two women, a boy, and a baby.
Mama. Geeta. Lucas. And Emma.
Tears filled my eyes as I looked at it. “Thank you so much,” I said, pulling him into another hug. “This definitely goes on the fridge.”
We got out of bed and walked to the kitchen, where Geeta was already preparing breakfast. At some point, she had quietly become part of our family. Even though she had originally been a temporary guest, her arrival in our lives had come at exactly the right time.
“Good morning, Didi! Happy birthday!” she said cheerfully. “Pancakes and bacon ready for your birthday breakfast. Chai getting ready, too.”
Lucas pulled out a chair for me, and I sat down.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
All three of us turned toward it.
Geeta walked over and opened the door. “Bhaiya… so early!”
Cole? What was he doing here so early?
Geeta called him “Bhaiya,” which meant brother.
“I came to wish the birthday girl,” Cole said as he walked toward the kitchen.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Lucas told me a couple of days ago,” he replied with a smile as he handed me a gift.
At Lucas’s insistence, I opened it immediately.
Inside was a beautiful picture frame.
When I turned it around, I froze.
One photograph showed me looking down at my pregnant belly, my hands resting gently over it. The second photograph captured me looking directly at the camera.
Both pictures were stunning shots captured by Cole.
“This is beautiful, Cole. Thank you,” I said.
He had returned from the detox centre around mid-January, and the very next day, he stopped by my house to give me the photographs he had taken during the restaurant’s opening ceremony.
I remembered standing by the window that afternoon when I first noticed him outside.
Lucas had been playing with the other children in the yard, and Cole had somehow ended up in the middle of their game.
Watching him crouch down and laugh with them had surprised me.
The man who had once looked so broken and lost now seemed lighter somehow, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
A professional camera seemed to be permanently attached to him.
Wherever he went, the camera followed. I often saw him driving around the village in his red two-door Maserati, sometimes stopping near the restaurant, sometimes parking by the park, and sometimes wandering down the streets or along the waterfront.
Almost every time I spotted him, he had that camera in his hands, lifting it to his eye as he captured something that had caught his attention.
It fascinated me how completely photography had become part of his life.
On one occasion, when he stopped by the restaurant to speak with Jack, I found myself approaching them and joining their conversation.
I had not planned it. Something about the ease with which he had begun interacting with people again made me curious.
That brief exchange turned into a longer conversation, and that conversation birthed the beginning of a friendship between us.
One evening, a few weeks later, Cole joined Lucas, Geeta, and me for dinner at the house.
“My therapist is really good,” Cole said as he sat at the table with us. “She has a clinic at the hospital, and she comes twice a week.”
“That’s good,” I replied. “You seem to be doing really well. I’m so proud of you.” I paused before asking, “How are the photo sessions going?”
A small smile spread across his face.
“It’s going well,” he said. “I created a darkroom in the basement and managed to develop the pictures there.” He leaned back slightly in his chair. “I’m thinking about getting a separate space. Somewhere I can feature my work.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” I said sincerely.
Over the following weeks, Cole began coming by the house more often. Sometimes he stopped by to spend time with Lucas. Other times, he joined us for dinner. I often watched quietly from the kitchen or the living room while Lucas ran around the yard with him, their laughter echoing through the air.
Seeing my son that happy filled my heart with joy.
However, it also stirred something far more complicated inside me.
The joy on Lucas’s face when he played with Cole looked painfully familiar. I had seen that same joy before when Lucas had bonded with Harper. I had seen it again when he grew close to Caleb.
Each time, the same thing had happened.
Each time, it was me who had ended the relationship.
Each time, Lucas had been the one left confused and hurt.
I knew I had made those decisions to protect myself and my son, yet I could not ignore the guilt that followed those choices. I hated the idea that Lucas had to keep rebuilding emotional bonds only to watch them crumble.
I promised myself then that it would not happen again.
Lucas deserved stability in his life.
And if I was being honest with myself, so did I.
I had already decided that I would remain here in this village and build a life for myself and my children. The restaurant, my home, and Lucas were the centre of that life now.
I had fought too hard to create this stability to let anything disrupt it.
I would remain single.
I would focus on my children and the business.
Nothing and no one would change that.
I would not allow it.
Not even if they tried.