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Author's POV:-

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the window, casting a warm hue over the room. An elderly woman sat on the edge of the bed, carefully tying her daughter’s hair into neat pleats. The rhythmic motion of her fingers was second nature, but her task was made difficult by the mischievous girl in front of her.

Priti giggled as she teasingly ran the back of her hands over her mother’s belly, making her flinch.

"Kal se mere paas mat aana teri baal baandhne ke liye... bohot pareshan karti hai tu, Priti!" her mother, Anjali  huffed in mock irritation, trying to suppress a smile.

Priti burst into laughter, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Arrey, has kyun rahi hai tu? Main serious hoon!" Her mother frowned at her cutely, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to look stern.

"Aww, aap kitni cute ho, Mummy!" Priti cooed, unable to resist. She reached out and pinched her mother’s soft cheeks before resting her head on her lap like a little child.

Her mother sighed, shaking her head with a fond smile. Running her fingers through Priti’s hair, she caressed her forehead gently, her touch full of unspoken love.

"Badi ho gayi hai, par harkatein ab bhi bachpan wali hain teri" she murmured affectionately.

'Mumma??' she asked lifting her head to look at her.

Her mother’s fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their gentle strokes through her hair. She looked down at her daughter, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

"Hmm?" she hummed softly, acknowledging her question.

Priti lifted her head slightly, her eyes searching her mother’s face.

"Kal main jau, Papa aur Bhai se milne?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

She always sought her mother’s permission, a habit ingrained since childhood, even when she knew there would never be a refusal.

'Meine kabhi tujhe mana kiya hain kabhi ?' she asked softly.

She shook her head.

'Par jaldi aajana ..tere bina yeh ghar suna suna lagti hain' she said with a sad smile.

Her looks at her and then cupping her cheeks and lightly caressing her cheeks ,she asked

'Aap bhi chaliye na mumma mere sath kal'

Her mother’s hand, which had been gently running through her hair, suddenly froze.

A flicker of emotion passed through her eyes—nostalgia, longing, and something deeper. She couldn't lie to herself—she missed him. Her Amit. Not a single day had passed without thoughts of her husband creeping into her mind, without wondering how he was, what he is doing right now,without aching to hear his voice just once. But she had buried those feelings deep, convincing herself that moving forward was the only choice she had.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered her gaze. How could she face him now? The weight of the past pressed heavily on her chest. It wasn't just about missing him; it was about the guilt that had settled in her heart like an old wound that never truly healed.

She had left. Without trying, without fighting hard enough. And that truth haunted her.

Priti watched her mother carefully, noticing the way her fingers slightly trembled before she withdrew them.

"Mumma?" she called softly, cupping her mother’s cheeks, her thumb caressing the soft lines of her face.

"Aap bhi chaliye na, Mumma… mere saath," she urged gently.

"Bhai ko bohot khushi hogi… aur Papa ko bhi toh aapne kitne dinon se nahi dekha."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Her mother looked away, blinking rapidly as if trying to push away the emotions threatening to surface. She forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She denied shaking her head.

'Tu jaa bachaa unlog ko dekh k aa..meri ghar mein bohut kaam hain..mein fir kabhi jaungi.Ho sake toh Piyush ko ghar leke ana mere liye..' she said

'Kya ghar mein kaam mummy ?? Sab toh kaam wali aunty kar deti hain??' she asked dumbfounded.

'Usse chor k bhi bohut kaam hoti hain ghar mein..tu nahi samjhegi..chal ab sone aaja..mujhe bohut neend aa rahi hain' she said laying down without giving her opportunity to argue further.

Preeti sighed as she switched off the light leaving the room.

Anjali closed her eyes, pretending to sleep as she heard Priti leave the room, but the silence only made her loneliness louder. A lone tear escaped, tracing a familiar path down her cheek.

She was dying to meet him. To see him. To hold him just once. To feel his arms wrap around her, the way they used to—warm, safe, and full of love.

Slowly, with shaky hands, she reached for her phone. The screen lit up in the dark room, casting a faint glow on her face as she scrolled through her gallery. And then, she found it.

Amit’s smiling face stared back at her.

Her breath hitched, her fingers hovering over the screen before she hesitantly traced the outline of his face, as if that small touch could bridge the years of separation.

"I miss you, Amit…" she whispered brokenly, biting her lip to stifle the sob threatening to escape. "Aap bhi kya mere jaise miss karte ho mujhe?"

She knew she wouldn’t get an answer, but her heart ached for one.

For years, she had convinced herself that she had done the right thing by leaving, that it had been necessary. But in moments like these, when the night was quiet and her thoughts were too loud, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

On the other hand, in a dimly lit study, Amit was engrossed in reading a file when a familiar voice snapped him out of his concentration.

"Papa!!"

Startled, he looked up to see Piyush standing before him, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on him. Amit blinked innocently, already sensing what was coming.

"Aapne firse bhool gaye apni medicine lena?" Piyush asked, his voice laced with mild frustration.

Amit instinctively bit his lip, like a child caught red-handed. "Main bas lene hi ja raha tha..." he mumbled, hurriedly getting up from his chair.

"Kab? Kal bhi aap bhool gaye the... aur aaj bhi?" Piyush asked, his hands now resting on his hips, his expression completely done with his father’s excuses.

Amit sighed, pouting slightly as he grabbed the medicine bottle. "Haan thik hai na, le raha hoon… daant kyun raha hai tu?" he muttered, glaring at his son with a faux grumpy expression before finally gulping down the pills with water.

Piyush watched him like a hawk, only relaxing when his father actually took the medicine. He chuckled before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Amit in a warm hug. "Aapke ache ke liye hi daant-ta hoon," he murmured, his voice softening with love.

Amit smiled, his heart swelling with warmth. He patted his son's back.

"Papa, main kal Preeti se milne ja raha hoon college ke baad… agar aapko ho sake toh aap bhi chaliye na usse milne. Usse bohot accha lagega," Piyush suggested, breaking the silence.

Amit hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Par beta, main kaise jaa sakta hoon… kal ek important meeting hai," he reasoned.

"Thik hai na, meeting ke baad main aapko pick karne aa jaunga, phir ek saath chalenge, okay?" Piyush offered with a hopeful smile.

Amit smiled at his son’s enthusiasm, his heart warming at the thought of seeing Preeti again. He hadn’t realized just how many days had passed since he last saw his little princess.

That night, as Amit was putting away his son’s laptop in the wardrobe, his hand brushed against something soft. His fingers stilled as his eyes landed on the fabric—her saree.

The breath hitched in his throat.

He had kept it secretly before she left. His fingers curled around the fabric, pulling it out carefully as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. Bringing it close, he inhaled deeply.

The same scent.

Her scent.

His vision blurred as a tear welled up, memories crashing over him like an unstoppable tide. Her face—radiant and full of warmth. Her laughter—like the sweetest melody that once filled their home.

He could still picture the way she would come running toward him the moment he stepped inside after a long, exhausting day at work. Without hesitation, without caring about anything else, she would jump into his arms, wrapping herself around him as if she had been waiting for that moment all day.

"Aap aa gaye!" she would whisper against his neck, her voice tinged with joy and relief.

And just like that, all his tiredness would melt away. The stress of work, the burden of responsibilities—everything faded into insignificance when she was in his arms.

He clutched the saree tighter against his chest, his fingers trembling as he traced the soft fabric. How long had it been since he felt that warmth? Since he held her close? Since he heard her voice not just in his dreams but in reality?

A shaky breath escaped his lips, his heart clenching with an ache that time had never been able to heal.

"Anjali..." he whispered into the quiet night, his voice breaking under the weight of longing.

Did she miss him too? Or had she moved on, leaving behind the love that still clung to him like an unshakable shadow?

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