The days passed, but the emptiness remained.

Aarna kept herself busy, diving into work with a focus so intense that her colleagues noticed. She smiled when needed, spoke when necessary, but something in her had shifted. The liveliness she carried, the warmth that made her so Aarna, had dulled into something quieter. She had cried that night after leaving Rudran, but not again. There was no point in crying over something that had already been decided.

Rudran, on the other hand, did everything he could to convince himself that he had made the right choice. He buried himself in his books, spent more time at the coaching center, and avoided going home unless necessary. Seeing his mother brought a mix of emotions—love, pain, and a resentment he was too ashamed to admit. Every time he looked at her, he reminded himself why he was doing this. She is my mother. She has sacrificed everything for me.

But then, in the quiet hours of the night, he would think of Aarna. How she would text him at random hours just to ask if he had eaten. The way she used to complain about work while secretly loving it. How she made his home feel less lonely.

Now, the apartment felt cold again.

Roopa noticed everything.

She saw the way Rudran avoided looking at her for too long, how his smiles didn't quite reach his eyes anymore. She noticed how Aarna no longer dropped by with food or casual conversations. The house had lost its warmth, and she knew—she knew—it was because of her decision.

One evening, as she was preparing tea, Rudran walked in, tired as usual. Without looking at her, he sat at the dining table, flipping through his notes.

"Rudra," she called softly.

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?"

He froze for a second, his grip on the notebook tightening before he forced himself to relax. "Of course, Amma."

She sighed, placing a cup of tea in front of him. "You are my son. Do you think I can't see through you?"

Rudran said nothing.

Roopa sat across from him, her fingers wrapping around her own cup. "You agreed to this because of me, didn't you?"

His silence was answer enough.

She closed her eyes for a moment before speaking again, her voice heavy with guilt. "I wanted to make things right for my father, for my family... but in doing so, I have made things wrong for you."

Rudran finally looked up. His eyes were tired, dark circles beneath them. "Amma, don't—"

"I will talk to them." Her voice was steady now. "I will tell them I cannot force you into something your heart does not want."

Rudran blinked, stunned. "But... but what about Thatha? His wish—"

"Rudra," Roopa interrupted, her voice softer now. "I married for love once. How can I deny my own son the same right?"

Something in Rudran cracked at those words.

For the first time in days, he let himself feel the emotions he had been suppressing. His shoulders sagged, his throat tightened, and his vision blurred with unshed tears. He had accepted his fate because he thought he had no choice. But now—now, his mother was giving him the choice he never dared to hope for.

"Amma..." His voice broke, and before he could stop himself, he reached forward and hugged her.

Roopa closed her eyes, holding her son tightly, silently apologizing for the pain she had caused.

That night, for the first time in days, Rudran picked up his phone.

He hesitated for a long moment, staring at Aarna's contact. Then, with a deep breath, he typed:

"Can we talk?"

And pressed send.
---
Now, Roopa is not all that bad is she?
AUTHOR'S NOTE ❤️
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