Chapter 19
Karan
The kitchen feels impossibly crowded this morning. Rachel stands at the far counter, carefully angled away from where I'm getting coffee. When I reach past her for the sugar, she shifts subtly to maintain the careful bubble of space around herself.
My mother notices. Of course she does. I catch her exchanging worried looks with Dad as she serves up another round of pancakes.
But she says nothing. Instead, she adds extra blueberries to Rachel’s plate the way she always has when she thinks one of us needs cheering up.
Only the boys seem oblivious to the tension.
All their attention is on my cousins as they happily chat away about the ice fishing we’ll be doing today.
Ajay, the eldest of the two, demonstrates proper fishing technique with his fork while both Cayce and Corey hang on every word, eyes wide with anticipation for their first real ice fishing experience.
“And then you have to be really quiet,” Ajay explains seriously, “or you’ll scare all the fish away.”
“Like this?” Corey whispers, making himself so small in his chair that we all can’t help but laugh.
The sound of Rachel’s laughter mingles with mine for a moment before she catches herself. The joy disappears from her face, turning to ash.
She busies herself with clearing plates and turns away before I can catch her eye.
“Everyone bundle up properly,” Mom calls as we start to disperse. “It’s freezing out there.”
Rachel helps the boys with their snow gear while I pull on my own winter clothes. When Corey struggles with his zipper, I step forward to help, but she’s already there, fingers deftly fixing the problem.
The message is clear. She doesn’t need me.
Instead, I get a head start on helping Dad carry the fishing rods out to the hut on the ice.
Outside, the morning air burns my lungs in the best way. Fresh snow blankets everything, transforming the seaside mountain landscape into something magical. The frozen bay stretches out before us, enveloped by the cozy wall of trees and mountains.
My cousin Aisha, Auntie Anjali, and Aunt Jocelyne are already outside, visible as colorful dots against the snow as they set up equipment near the fishing huts.
Before Dad and I have time to reach them, the door of the cabin opens behind us, and my kids woosh past me at a speed I would have thought impossible if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes.
“Careful!” Rachel and I call out simultaneously.
I look back, and our eyes meet for a second before she looks away.
She adjusts her scarf higher around her face.
The walk to the fishing spots gives me time to think, each crunching step on the packed snow giving me an opportunity to stay grounded. Last night’s kiss plays on repeat in my mind. The moment of connection. The crushing rejection that followed.
The way she fled rather than stay and fight.
Setting up the ice fishing huts has always been a family affair, but today the usual camaraderie feels forced. I work with Dad and Ajay to drill holes and secure lines, trying to lose myself in the physical labor.
Across the ice, Rachel struggles with a piece of equipment, but catches herself before asking for help.
We used to be a team at this. The first time I brought her ice fishing, she’d pressed close against me as I showed her how to set up the gear. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her laugh echoing across the ice as she deliberately missed steps just to keep my arms around her longer.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Ajay’s voice breaks through my memories as he hands me another anchor, dark eyes studying my face. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to talk about.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
“Right.” He looks pointedly between Rachel and me.
With the gusts of wind and the distance between us, it’s unlikely that she can overhear.
“That’s why you two are acting like… well, whatever this is.”
“Ajay—”
“No, listen.” He secures his end of the line before continuing. “I remember the first time you brought Rachel to a family event as vividly as I remember last night’s Kozhukattai.”
We both wince. His father, my uncle Suresh, who’s originally from South India, tried his hand at the dumpling recipe his own mother used to make him.
Calling him ‘not a great cook’ would be a compliment.
“Was the dough even cooked?” I chuckle.
“I don’t think so. I—hey, wait, that’s not the point.” Ajay points at me with a wooden rod. “What I’m saying is, the sight is seared in the back of my brain.”
“Damn. You were, what, five years old?”
“Yeah, but it marked me.” He shakes his head. “I always thought my parents loved each other, but you two? You were something else.”
I sigh.
Ajay remains quiet for a long moment while he assembles another fishing rod. “And this year, it’s like, I don’t know… you guys don’t even seem like you’re married.”
The truth of it strikes like a physical blow. The fact that other people are taking notice is alarming.
I watch Rachel across the ice, the familiar way she tucks escaped strands of hair under her hat. Even now, with this distance between us, my heart responds to her smallest movements.
Seven years of marriage, fourteen years of loving her, and somehow I let it come to this.
Across the vast white expanse of the frozen bay, Aunt Jocelyne shows Corey how to spoon slush out of the holes to prevent the ice from forming back, while Cayce hovers nearby, pretending he already knows everything there is to know about ice fishing.
Despite not wanting kids of her own, she’s always been great with them. She catches my eye and gives me a meaningful look, tilting her head toward Rachel.
The morning light catches on Rachel’s hair where it escapes her wool hat.
She’s working with Aisha now, the two of them setting up some camping chairs around the fishing hut.
Even from here, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the careful way she holds herself apart from the family’s usual easy affection.
It’s like she’s already starting to detach herself from them.
From me.
Mom and Dad are sharing worried glances again. They’ve known Rachel since she was seventeen—watched her grow from the shy, reserved girl into the accomplished woman and mother she is today.
They were at every CEGEP and university graduation with us. They celebrated her first official pharmacist job with as much excitement as we did.
To them, she’s not just daughter-in-law; she’s the daughter they never had.
Aunt Jocelyne approaches Rachel with a thermos of what’s probably her famous hot chocolate.
I observe as she coaxes a small smile from my wife.
The two of them have always shared a special bond, Rachel once telling me she admired how Jocelyne never apologized for choosing a life that made her happy, even when it didn’t fit others’ expectations.
The irony of that conversation isn’t lost on me now.
“You know,” Ajay says, “staring at her isn’t going to fix anything.”
“I'm not—”
“Save it.” He cuts me off with blunt honesty. “Look, you might still see me as a kid, and you might have more life experience than me, but even I can see you’re screwing this up. Rachel’s not the type to wait around forever while you figure out your priorities.”
His words hit harder coming from him. Ajay, who used to follow me around when we were kids—or rather, when he was a kid and I was a teenager—who looked up to me as the cousin who had life all figured out.
Now he’s looking at me with something like disappointment.
“I know my priorities,” I say, but the words ring hollow even to me.
The issue isn’t that I don’t know. It’s that I may have figured it out too late.
And the last thing I want is to hash it out and ruin Christmas for the entire family.
Ajay raises an eyebrow. “If you say so…”
But I can tell he doesn’t believe me, and truthfully, I don’t know that I truly believe myself.