Her aunt was waiting for her. Someone must have called ahead, which was a relief for she was unsure of how her unexpected return would be treated.

The moment the car stopped, she got out and rushed into her aunt's arms, grateful for the tight hug. It was familiar and comforting, a reminder of her aunt's promise that they would always be for her. But also a reminder that her aunt must have known about her parents and had kept quiet.

She needed answers if she wanted to understand the reasons.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

"They lied to me, atta, my parents lied to me. And I hated the other woman, a woman I had never seen because I thought she had destroyed my mother's chance to be accepted. And today I find out my mother had stolen that woman's place, a position she had no right to want."

Gāyathri tears fell hot and thick, burning her skin and setting her heart on fire. Her aunt's attempt to shush her only inflamed her.

"I am not sure what to think any longer. Why did they do this to me? Am I a lie or a mistake?"

"No, Gaayu, you were never a mistake and you will never think that way again. I agree that you were never told the whole truth, that you were allowed to draw conclusions which put your parents in a favourable light, but they did not lie to you."

"Amma never told me the truth, either. There is no legitimacy to my birth, I am a bastard."

"Gāyathri, that will be enough. You are entitled to be angry with your parents for not telling you the whole truth but you have to right to either demean them or yourself.

Do you think they wanted to hide this from you? Your father wanted to tell you, your mother knew you had to be told, but I know your mother was scared of how you would react. I would laugh at her, trying to convince her that she should have faith in you, but now I think she was right. Ten hours ago you were still grieving for them and now you are ashamed of them. Why? They never failed you as parents, they did flout a few societal conventions and they paid a price for that. It was a misguided effort on their part to shield you from the truth. Partly because your mother was frightened of this very thing, that you would be ashamed of them."

As Gāyathri sobs subsided, her aunt softened her voice.

"Your mother was young, a little older than you when they met. She was nineteen or almost twenty, but still young. She had great ideas and a burning ambition. Brilliant and stubborn, she was impossible, your tatha's words. He had always been at a loss how to deal with a motherless child, your uncle was older and easier to set an example to. But with your mother, he was clueless.

And she was different. I was her best friend and I had no grand ideas, all I wanted was to finish college and get married. As did most of the girls in our class. But Lakshmi wanted to have a career, in creating gardens. It was unheard of in those days. Your maama would try to dissuade her and your tatha laughed at her, but she never gave up. It allchanged the day she met your father.

Your father came to our nursery, because of a mistake in the address. It was a chance meeting and neither of them liked each other. Lakshmi found him to be indifferent and your father thought Lakshmi was naïve.

But fate had other plans. Your grandfather and uncle were busy with another customer and your father had no choice but to discuss his requirements with your mother. And you know how your mother is when she talks business."

Gāyathri could only nod her head. Her father had often remarked how attractive her mother was when she expounded her ideas.

"They continued to meet to discuss the garden plans, though more often than not, they were arguments as your mother disagreed with most of your father's suggestions. She was tart and curt with him, it appeared to everyone that she was hostile but when we were alone she admitted the truth. She admired your father because he listened to her, treated her as a person whose ideas could be heard and implemented. It was something that neither your uncle nor your grandfather had ever done.

And slowly the inevitable happened. Your father was unhappy, that was evident and having the unwavering attention of a young woman was flattering. Lakshmi was enamoured. Her initial appreciation at being sought out soon turned to adoration.

I warned her but then she was already in love and unwilling to listen. We knew nothing about your father..."

"You could have found out if you wanted to. Just because nanna did not speak of his past..."

"Things were very different then. Today all of us have mobiles and the internet is everywhere and it is easier to find out. Twenty years ago, we did not even have a television set in our houses and mobile phones did not exist. All the houses did not have a landline either. Your father was an affluent businessman who had come to buy plants for the house he was building. Your mother saw it as a chance to plan a landscape instead of simply selling the saplings. None of us could have predicted them falling in love!"

"And so they simply got married? Amma knew about nanna and still went ahead?"

The silence was the first clue that not everything was that smooth. And when her aunt let out a heavy sigh, she feared what she would hear. But then the desire to know the truth was far greater than the fear of learning another terrible fact.

The strain in her atta's face echoed in her voice, "It was not that straightforward, they got married because your tatha was wild with fury and threatened to beat the life out of your father. You see, you mother got pregnant and..."

"She got pregnant with me, and that is why they got married?"

Gāyathri's whisper was laced with horror and a nagging suspicion, was her Vani atta right in insinuating that her mother had seduced a much older man only for his wealth? She had sometimes believed that her atta was upset with her mother for the same reason and it had angered her. But hearing the events seemed to put that suspicion in a different light.

Her aunt was kinder as she replied, "She was pregnant but not with you. Learning about her pregnancy had been a shock to everyone but not as much as when we learnt why your father hesitated to marry her."

"He was already married."

It was a flat declaration, she could not summon any feelings. She had not expected it of him, that her father would remember that he was a married man only when confronted with the news that he had made a young woman, a woman half his age, pregnant.

And she had worshipped that man.

But there had to be more to the story, for they had gotten married, she had an album with their wedding photos.

"Then what happened?"

"There was shock and anger, disbelief and bitterness. As I said, your tatha and maama were angry and your mother was hysterical. But then it could not be denied that we had to do something" —

"Yes, force them to get married."

Her aunt shrugged, "It is easy for you to dismiss that solution, but twenty years ago, society was far more unforgiving. I do not know what exactly your father explained to your mother, but she finally agreed to the marriage."

That explained the subdued expressions on her parents' faces, it was usual for her father, but she had often wondered why her mother did not have the smile glow of a bride. But something was missing and as she pondered, it clicked.

"Wait a minute, I am not yet eighteen, so how is it possible that they got married twenty years ago when amma was pregnant? Or was that a lie?"

"No, your amma was indeed pregnant. Only she suffered a miscarriage and lost the baby."

There was a moment of silence as Gāyathri allowed that news to sink in. How little she knew about her parents. And how much more would she learn?

"She could have left nanna then, why continue with the sham of a marriage? Why live together and give birth to me?

"They fell in love, it was easy, you cannot give reasons why you love someone or not. They got married because they had to, despite the love they had for each other, it was not a reason. And when she miscarried, your mother might have had a chance to walk away but then she could not. The pregnancy, the shock of learning about your father and then the agony of loosing her unborn child left her weak, both physically and mentally.

Your father never left her side, he was her strength and in the end, her weakness too. She could not give him up and chose to continue the marriage.

You see, Gaayu, love is easy, life is simple. But then choices are difficult and the consequences complicated."

"So I had to grow up believing lies."

"No, you grew up in a family full of love and laugher, with a strong mother who wanted to shield you from the horrifying truth. With a man who spent the rest of his life never letting you pay for the mistake he made.

We will never know all the answers but do not trouble yourself with unnecessary questions. Accept what you know and make peace with it. And always remember, you were and will always be loved."