CHAPTER 16
AARAV
I don’t know what to do. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, my hands restless on my lap, heart thudding against my ribs.
When Anika’s mother gained consciousness, Maa called us, and we hurried here, hearts in our throats.
Only one person is allowed in at a time—doctor's orders, so it doesn’t overwhelm her.
And I fully intend to let Anika be that one.
Because, honestly, what would I even talk about with Aunty?
We’ve grown apart... so much distance now, so many silent years stretching between us.
In childhood, her mother was like a second mother to me.
I wasn't much of a talker back then; I’m still not, except with my family.
It was usually Anika who did all the blabbering, eating my ears off with her endless stories and questions.
And God, I liked it. I still do. Not that she talks to me much now.
But if she did, I know—anger and all aside—I’d still listen, still find comfort in it.
I remember telling Aunty things I could never say to Maa.
.. not because Maa ever scolded me—no, she was always patient, always explaining rather than shouting—but some things.
.. you just can’t tell your parents. No matter how kind they are.
And Rekha aunty... she always knew. She knew I had a stupid little crush on Anika.
Maa and Aunty, whenever they were together, would leave no chance to tease me mercilessly.
I used to pretend to hate it. But secretly, it gave me hope.
If our mothers already approved... maybe I could dream a little bigger. Maybe I just had to win Anika over. But that’s all in the past now. She left me. She never looked back.
The door creaks open. Anika stands there, a strange bewilderment in her eyes.
I shoot up from my seat, my heart immediately pounding. “What’s wrong, Anika?” I ask, the alarm clear in my voice.
“She wants to talk to you,” she says, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion, her head tilting slightly like she can’t quite understand it herself.
“I don’t know why she wants to talk to you.
.. but she won’t tell me.” Her voice trails off, her gaze darting away.
Her eyes... there's doubt swirling in them.
She is doubting me. Anika doesn't trust me.
And that hurts more than I am willing to admit.
“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” I whisper, needing her to know it’s her call.
She’s right—what could Aunty possibly want from me? Knowing her... it’s probably to thank me. And like always, I won’t have any words for it.
“It’s okay. You can go,” she says, her voice flat. She turns and sits on the hospital bench, her face turned away, like I’m not even there. I hesitate, staring at her—willing her to look at me just once. But she doesn’t.
With a sigh, I gather myself and push open the door to the room.
Inside, Aunty is sitting upright, her frail form facing the window. The soft beeping of the monitors fills the otherwise quiet room.
She must’ve heard the door, because she slowly turns her head. Her eyes land on me—and then, she smiles. That same gentle smile I remember.
“You look handsome as always, Aarav,” she compliments with a small smile, her voice weak but full of affection. I nod awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Compliments make me uncomfortable at the best of times—more so now.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she pats the empty space beside her on the bed. I hesitate. There’s no way I’ll fit in that tiny space. I choose the chair instead, dragging it closer to her.
“We never got to talk,” Her smile fades a bit. “How are you, beta?” she asks softly.
“Fine,” my words come out short and stiff. I don’t know what to say. Then, to cut the thick tension and pending silence, I ask her, “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she says, her smile growing a little.
“Thank—” she starts.
I lift my hand, cutting her off. “No, please don’t say that.” I shake my head.
She chuckles lightly, a glint of mischief still alive in her tired eyes.
“Not for this, Aarav. Thank you for marrying my daughter,” she completes her words.
“Even when you didn’t have to. You could’ve walked away.
But you didn’t.” I nod, my throat tightening.
I don’t regret marrying Anika. Not even for a second.
Even when it feels like she doesn’t want me.
I thought—stupidly—that when I saw her again, all the love I used to feel would turn into hate. It didn’t. I can’t. I can’t hate her.
“Seems like you still like her, don’t you?” Aunty teases, nudging my hand playfully. I pull it back instinctively, my face darkening. She notices but doesn’t comment, her smile sad and understanding.
“Anika is the bravest, most beautiful person I know,” Aunty says, her voice trembling. “And I am so grateful she’s my daughter.”
I believe her. Every word. Unfortunately, I believe it with all my heart.
A single tear slips down her cheek. “When she was here... she had you. But when we shifted... she was so lonely.” Her voice breaks a little, her eyes glistening.
“She didn’t know how to survive without you.
” A pang stabs deep in my chest. If she missed me so much, why didn’t she call?
Write? Anything? But I bite back the bitter questions.
She’s already struggling to get the words out.
“She tried to be strong. God, she tried so hard.” Aunty’s gaze is far away now, trapped in memories that seem to pain her more than the illness. "I hated seeing her struggle." Her hand reaches out again. Hesitating, I take it. Her skin feels papery, fragile.
“Her father wasn’t a good man, Aarav,” she whispers.
I freeze. I knew Uncle didn’t like me. But he always seemed to adore Anika—or maybe I just wanted to believe that for her sake.
“He hated me for not giving him a son,” she continues, her voice almost inaudible.
My stomach churns as I register her words. How can anyone hold a woman responsible for something like that? How can anyone look at someone like Anika and still feel like they are missing something?
“He had another family,” she says quietly. The words slam into me like a truck. I stare at her, wide-eyed, trying to process. Another family?
“He told us we were shifting because of business... but it wasn’t just that. His other wife had died. He had two children from her. And he needed someone to raise them.” My grip tightens on her hand, fury bubbling in my veins.
“I worked there, Aarav,” Aunty says, her face crumbling with shame. “I worked in his house... like a maid.”
I clench my jaw so hard it aches. My whole body screams at the injustice of it.
“I didn’t want to. But he blackmailed me.
Threatened to hurt Anika if I didn’t obey.
He said he would treat her better if I stayed.
” Her voice breaks completely now, her body shaking.
"I was never strong," she chuckles, "and that's one reason why Anika feels like a blessing, like another, braver version of me. "
Weak? No. She wasn't weak. She was strong. She did what any parent would do—sacrifice everything for their child. “He’s a coward,” I grit out. “A sorry excuse for a man.”
Aunty smiles sadly, squeezing my hand. “She doesn’t know. Please, don’t tell her. Let her believe he loved her.”
I nod, throat thick with emotion and fury burning my vision. “I won’t tell her.”
“But why are you telling me all this?” I ask, confused.
“I’m not sure how long I have, beta,” she says. I start to protest, but she shakes her head firmly.
“I just want to clear your misunderstandings. I saw you two together... and I knew.” She chuckles weakly. “Mothers always know, don’t they?” She coughs, her body trembling. I rush to grab a glass of water, holding it to her lips.
She sips slowly, then sets the glass down with trembling hands. “She wrote to you, you know. Every month. For a year. Maybe more.”
The world tilts. Her words hit me like a punch straight to the gut. A lump forms in my throat. My breath catches, and my whole body goes rigid on her confession.
“She... she wrote?” I stammer, disbelief thick in my voice.
“She did. But you never answered... so eventually, she stopped trying.”
“No,” I whisper. “No, I never got any letters. I would’ve... I would’ve...”
“I know.” She closes her eyes briefly. “It’s my fault.”
I pull away from her hand, needing space to breathe. “Why?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Why is it your fault?” I can’t believe any of this; it’s too overwhelming. “How?”
“To protect her,” she whispers. “Her father found out about the letter. He threatened to cut off her education funds if I didn’t stop her.”
I stare at her, unable to move. All these years... I blamed her for everything. I blamed her for leaving me behind. For abandoning me without a word. But she had been fighting her own battles. Alone. And I never even knew.
“She could’ve called me,” I mutter brokenly. “She knew the landline.”
“We weren’t allowed to use the phone. And by the time she could... landlines were obsolete. Mobile numbers changed. Addresses changed. Maybe... maybe you didn’t have that number anymore.”
“I still do,” I whisper.
She looks at me, regret heavy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, beta. I truly am. I did what I thought was best.”
I close my eyes, trying to pull myself together. I don’t want her to cry. Not now. Not when she needs strength the most.
“You’re going to live for Anika,” I tell her firmly. “You have to. She needs you.”
She smiles through her tears and opens her arms. I hesitate for a second... then bend down, letting her embrace me. “She deserves a good life,” she whispers against my shoulder. “Please... take care of her.”
“I intend to,” I whisper back, the words a promise branded into my soul.
She lets me go, and I straighten up. “I kept those letters, Aarav,” she says, her voice soft. “They’re in a wooden box, tucked behind in my cupboard. They’re yours. Take them.”
I nod, my heart hammering. I can almost feel them in my hands already—her words, her voice, and the pieces of her heart she tried to send me.
And now... Now, I will read every single one. And maybe—just maybe—I can start winning her back.