It was cold. The air, the airport, the plane—everything about the journey felt like it was wrapped in a thin sheet of ice. The car ride from the airport to their houses didn't help either. Lathika could almost hear her heart thumping in her chest, drowning out everything else around her. She glanced over at Prashanth, sitting calmly beside her, staring out of the window as if everything in the world was perfectly fine. How could he be so composed? How could he sit there, so unbothered, when her mind was racing, her stomach in knots?

Before they left the airport, he had assured her that they would be fine. "The worst that could happen is they chase us out before they even hear us out," he had said with that charming, disarming smile of his. "And even then, I'll help your business grow, even without the inheritance promised."

His words were too kind, too warm for her and he made it sound so plausible. She wanted to believe him, but the weight of what they were about to face made her stomach twist.

Okay, I've got this, she repeated to herself like a mantra, hoping it would ease the cold dread settling deep inside her.

Their plan was simple enough—get into the house, settle in, and talk out what was needed. Then, after dinner, when things seemed calmer, they would break the news to their families. Slowly. One step at a time.

But nothing felt simple anymore. It felt like she was carrying the weight of an entire mountain on her back—guilt, fear, anxiety, and sadness all pulling her down with every passing second.

"We've got this," Prashanth leaned in, his voice soft, his words more for his own comfort than for hers. "Good luck."

Lathika nodded weakly, her breath escaping in a shudder. She glanced out the window as the cab pulled to a stop in front of her house.

This was it.

She barely managed a smile, nodding as she realized the car had already stopped in front of her house. Her pulse quickened, and she couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a storm, unable to find shelter.

"You too," she replied softly, stepping out of the car, clutching her small bag in her hand.

Just go in, Lathika. It won't be that bad. Just go in.

She pushed open the gate with shaky hands, walking across the porch as if she were treading on fragile ground. Each step felt like a mile, each breath harder to take than the last. She reached the door, her heart pounding, her palms slick with sweat. She knocked—loud. Too loud, maybe. But there was no going back now.

A while later the door swung open, and there was Tejashree, her mother. Her face was a study of shock, then relief, and finally, that warm, tear-filled smile that Lathika had missed so much. Before she could even take another step, her mother had pulled her into a tight embrace.

Lathika sank into her mother's arms, closing her eyes as a wave of guilt and longing washed over her. She had missed this. Missed the way her mother's warmth could make everything feel right again, even when everything felt so wrong.

"How have you been, Lathika?" Tejashree's voice was soft, the kind of softness that only a mother could have. She cupped Lathika's face in her hands, her eyes searching hers as if trying to find the daughter she had last seen five months ago.

"I've been fine. In good shape," Lathika managed to say, though her voice cracked slightly. She forced a smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "And you?"

Tejashree chuckled softly, brushing away a stray tear. "As always, good. A little worried about you every now and then," she added, her smile faltering for just a moment. "Come inside," she said, pulling Lathika by the hand. "Appa and Achi are at the factory. They'll be back soon. Have you eaten?"

Lathika shook her head, the thought of food suddenly making her stomach growl. They had skipped breakfast that morning, too uneasy to eat, knowing the weight of what they were about to face.

Her mother led her to the table, where a spread of food was laid out before her—aromas so comforting, so familiar. Lathika's stomach rumbled loudly, and for a moment, all the anxiety seemed to fade into the background. She was hungry. Hungry for something, anything, that could fill the emptiness she felt inside.

"How's Appa?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

Tejashree's expression softened. "He's fine. He was upset when you left, but it made him happy that you at least sent messages every now and then," she replied, her eyes sad but understanding.

Lathika felt a pang in her chest. I should have been there for them... "And you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Were you mad at me?"

Tejashree shook her head instantly. "What are you saying, Lathika? No. I wasn't mad at you. And I never will be. I understand. The way Achi put it out to you, it was... harsh. If I were you, I would have reacted the same way."

Lathika's eyes blurred with unshed tears. She wrapped her arms around her mother, holding her tight as if she could somehow make up for the months of distance between them.

"Thanks, Ma," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"Anything for you, Lathika," her mother replied, her tone steady and full of love.

Lathika pulled back, wiping her eyes, trying to compose herself. "And Achi? Did she talk about it after I left?"

Tejashree sighed, her eyes darkening for a brief moment. "No. No one spoke about it. Everyone just... held their tongue."

Lathika swallowed hard. "Is she mad at me?"

Her mother paused, her eyes thoughtful. "At first, she was. She thought you'd come back after a month or two. But when you didn't... she started thinking over her actions. Lately, she's been quieter than ever."

Lathika felt a lump rise in her throat. Achi... quiet? The thought was so foreign, so unlike the woman who had always been a force of nature in her life.

After the conversation with her mother, Lathika retired to her room, her mind swirling with a thousand thoughts. She glanced at the clock. It wouldn't be long before her father and grandmother returned from the factory, and with them, the weight of the next chapter would begin.

As the afternoon wore on, Lathika grew increasingly restless. Then, around an hour past noon, she heard the familiar clatter of voices and footsteps downstairs. They're back.

She waited for them to settle in, the noises of chairs scraping and utensils clinking making her feel even more out of place. It was only when she caught her mother's eye from the stairs that she felt the first stirrings of courage.

Tejashree gestured for Lathika to wait and, with a glance, summoned her father and grandmother to the living room.

"There's someone here who you might want to meet, Attai," Tejashree announced, her voice a little too casual, as if trying to mask the tension in the air.

Lathika hesitated on the stairs for a moment before stepping down. Her heart was pounding as she reached the bottom, meeting her father's gaze first. Haresh's face broke into a joyous smile, and before she knew it, he was striding toward her, pulling her into a bear hug.

"Lathika! Finally, back home," he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. He ruffled her hair affectionately, his happiness so genuine it nearly made Lathika want to cry.

"Yes, Appa," she said, glancing nervously at Jaimathi.

Her grandmother stood stiffly, her face unreadable. But then, slowly, she moved towards Lathika, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Without a word, she pulled Lathika into a tight embrace.

"Oh, kanna. How have you been?" Jaimathi's voice broke, and Lathika could feel her grandmother's tears soaking through her shirt. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have put you on the spot. I shouldn't have forced you like that," she sobbed, pulling away to look Lathika in the eyes. "If anyone was wrong, it was me. I should have been kinder. I shouldn't have made you choose like that."

Lathika had braced herself for anger, for the scolding she'd imagined would come from her grandmother—for leaving without a word, for cutting herself off from the family. But when Jaimathi spoke, it was not with harshness, but with an unexpected wave of remorse.

For someone like Jaimathi, whose age and authority had always made her seem unyielding, apologies were a foreign concept. People like her never admitted fault. They expected the younger generation to bear the blame, to bend to their will. But Jaimathi, in that moment, shattered Lathika's perception. She had proven that even the eldest were capable of acknowledging their mistakes, that age didn't make you infallible.

The weight of it all overwhelmed Lathika. She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the surge of emotion rising in her chest. Her tears were dangerously close to spilling over, but she blinked them back, unable to speak as the sheer kindness of her grandmother's apology settled around her.

"Achi..." Lathika began, her voice faltering as the words caught in her throat.

"No, kanna," Jaimathi interrupted, her voice soft but steady. "If anyone is to blame, it's me. I was too rash. I should have listened more. I should have understood."

The sincerity in her grandmother's voice struck Lathika like a wave, knocking the breath out of her. She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak.

"Thank you, Achi... Thank you for understanding..." she whispered, her voice trembling, as the full weight of Jaimathi's words settled on her.

Jaimathi cupped Lathika's face in her hands, her expression a mixture of regret and love, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, kanna. I only wanted what was best for you, but I see now how I made you suffer. All these months, with everything I said..." Her voice cracked, and she pulled Lathika closer, her hands trembling.

Lathika could barely find her own voice, her heart swelling with emotions too big to contain. She nodded, her own tears brimming at the edges of her eyes. "That's alright, Achi," she whispered softly.

After all the anger, all the distance, to hear her grandmother speak like this—it was more than she had hoped for. It was the healing she never thought she'd find.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Jaimathi had taken the day off to spend time with Lathika, making her favourite snacks, laughing together like they had before. The ice between them had melted, and for the first time in months, Lathika felt like she was home.

Later that evening, as the sun began to set, Lathika sent a quick text to Prashanth. Everything's going smooth. No real tension yet. They're just happy I'm back. I'll break the news after dinner. How is it going there?

As they gathered for the evening meal, the moment of truth arrived. Lathika cleared her throat, her heart racing again.

"Appa, Amma, Achi, I've got something to tell you," she said, her voice shaky but determined.

"What is it, kanna?" Jaimathi asked, her tone more curious than anything.

Lathika swallowed hard. She had to say it now.

"It's about the proposal you brought up five months ago, Achi."

Jaimathi's eyes narrowed, and then she looked at Haresh and Tejashree, confusion flickering across her face. "You don't have to do it, ma. I don't want you to force yourself into anything you don't like. I've learned my lesson," she said, laughing self-consciously.

Lathika's mind raced. I don't have to marry Prashanth? Achi just gave me an out. She felt a small smile tug at her lips, but it quickly faded. But if I don't agree, Prashanth won't get the inheritance he was promised. I can't leave him hanging... His dream of starting a flying academy was still tied to this marriage...

"Actually, Achi..." Lathika began, her voice trembling slightly. "After I left Madurai... Prashanth and I met up a few times in Chennai... We kind of got to know each other..."

The room grew silent as everyone turned to her, waiting for what she was about to say.

"I was thinking... I might consider your proposal, Achi."

There was silence in the house, a while later her father's voice broke the silence thick with concern as he asked, "You guys met up in Chennai? How did that happen?"

Lathika felt a tightness in her chest, but she forced herself to sound casual. "We bumped into each other when I went for a trekking session in Coimbatore with my friends. We have been meeting since then." It was true they had met there, but she didn't feel the need to elaborate on how fleeting that encounter had been. They hadn't continued to meet after that.

Her father's eyes lingered on her for a moment, as if searching for something in her face. Then he gave a small nod, seemingly accepting her explanation, though a shadow of doubt lingered in his gaze. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, his tone softer now but still edged with concern. "You don't have to do this just because we want you to."

Lathika's heart beat faster, and her eyes dropped to her plate. Her fingers fiddled with the food in front of her, finding it hard to focus on anything else. She didn't feel ready to meet his gaze again. "Yes, I know, Appa," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched between them until Jaimathi cleared her throat, breaking the heavy moment. She looked at Lathika with a mix of surprise and concern. "Well, you've just come home, Lathika," she said, her voice a little strained. "We'll talk more about this tomorrow."

The words were simple enough, but they carried a weight that none of them were ready to dive deeper into.

❁ ❁ ❁

This had to be an emotional and intense chapter but I'm not sure how well I have done it. Though as of now, the chapter needs a better rewrite, Here's a so so version or you wouldn't get any update until I get this right 🤣🤣🤣

Hope it was a good read. 

Would love to read your comments on this.

Thank you :)