The past few days have been peaceful—or at least as peaceful as things can be in this house. Amina is trying, I can see that. She bends over backward to make Ma happy, but it’s never enough. Ma always finds something to criticize, some sharp word to throw at her. It’s like a battle of wills, but only one of them is trying to make peace.
---
The smell of parathas fills the kitchen as I walk in, Priyanka giggling at the counter while Amina flips the bread on the stove. My father sits at the table, scrolling through his phone, his tie already loosened even though it’s only 9 a.m.
“Good morning,” I say, ruffling Priyanka’s hair as I grab a cup of coffee.
“Uncle Ayush, aunt Amina burnt the first paratha!” Priyanka announces with a grin.
“It’s called testing the heat,” Amina says, giving Priyanka a mock glare.
“Burning the bread is more like it,” comes Ma’s voice from the doorway. She steps in, her gaze scanning the room until it lands on Amina. “You can’t even make a simple breakfast properly? And you expect to run this household?”
Amina stiffens, but she keeps her focus on the pan. “It was just one paratha, Ma. The rest are fine.”
“Excuses,” Ma snaps, pulling a chair out. “You’ve been here for years, and you still don’t know how to handle basic responsibilities. Maybe if you spent less time trying to charm my son and more time learning how to be a proper wife—”
“Ma, enough.” My voice is firm, cutting through her rant.
She looks at me, surprised, but I don’t back down. “Amina does more for this family than anyone gives her credit for. She’s doing her best, and it’s time you start acknowledging that.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Ayush,” Ma says, her tone icy. “I’m your mother. I raised you, gave you everything, and this is how you repay me? By taking her side?”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This isn’t about sides. It’s about respect.”
Amina sets the pan aside, her shoulders tense. “I’ll get the rest of the food ready,” she murmurs, avoiding my gaze.
---
Priya’s graduation is in a few days, and the house feels like a whirlwind. Preeta is buzzing with excitement, chattering non-stop about her outfit while Ramesh throws in his usual jokes to lighten the mood.
“Ramesh, stop making fun of my heels,” Preeta says, holding up a sparkling pair of stilettos.
“I’m just saying,” Ramesh grins. “If you trip on stage, don’t blame me.”
Preeta huffs, turning to me. “Ayush, tell your Uncle to stop picking on me.”
I smirk. “He’s got a point, Preeta. Those heels look like a death trap.”
Amina chuckles from the couch, where she’s helping Priya with her saree. “Maybe Ramesh should try walking in them. See how easy it is.”
“Challenge accepted,” Ramesh says, grabbing the heels.
The room erupts into laughter as he tries—and fails—to balance in them, stumbling into the couch.
---
Later that night, I find Ma in the living room, folding clothes. I sit down beside her, the tension between us heavy but familiar.
“Ma,” I say quietly, “why do you treat Amina the way you do?”
She doesn’t look at me. “You wouldn’t understand, Ayush. She’s not right for you. She never was.”
“She’s my wife,” I say firmly. “She’s part of this family, whether you like it or not.”
“She’s taking you away from me,” Ma snaps, her voice trembling. “Everything I built, everything I sacrificed for this family—you’re throwing it away for her.”
I swallow hard, trying to keep my frustration in check. “You’re pushing me away, Ma. Not Amina. Your words, your actions—they’re driving a wedge between us. Is that what you want?”
She finally looks at me, her eyes hard but glistening with unshed tears. “I just want my son back.”
“I’ve never left,” I whisper. “But if you keep this up, you’re going to lose me for real.”
---
The house is buzzing with excitement. Priya looks stunning in her maroon gown, her face glowing with pride.
“Do I look okay?” she asks, spinning around in front of the mirror.
“You look perfect,” Amina says, adjusting her tassel.
“Like a superstar,” Ramesh adds, winking.
“More like a drama queen,” Preeta teases, earning a playful shove from Priya.
As we gather for pictures, Priyanka tugs on Amina’s hand. “Mama, can I wear your necklace?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Amina says, kneeling to clasp it around Priyanka’s neck.
Watching them, my chest tightens with gratitude. Despite everything, Amina has become the glue holding this family together—even when some of us refuse to acknowledge it.
---
That night, after the celebration, I find myself standing in front of Grandma’s picture.
“Dadi,” I murmur, “I don’t know what to do anymore. Ma’s pushing Amina away, and I don’t know how to stop it. How did you handle her? How did you make her listen?”
The silence is deafening, but in it, I find a strange comfort. Grandma always had a way of making things seem less complicated, even when they were a mess.
Amina appears in the doorway, her face soft with concern. “Talking to Grandma again?”
“Yeah,” I say, turning to her.
“She’d be proud of you,” Amina says, stepping closer. “Of the way you’re handling everything.”
I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly. “I just want us to be happy, Amina. That’s all I want.”
“We will be,” she whispers. “No matter what.”
The next morning is chaotic as expected. Preeta and Priya are running around the house, trying to finalize every little detail for the graduation party. Priyanka is in the living room, arguing with Amina about whether she can wear glittery shoes to the event. Ramesh is lounging on the couch, throwing out unhelpful but hilarious suggestions as usual.
“A glitter dress and glitter shoes? Priyanka, you’re going to blind everyone at the party,” Ramesh teases, earning a dramatic gasp from Priyanka.
“No, I won’t!” Priyanka huffs, crossing her arms. “Mama, tell him I’ll look like a star, not a disco ball!”
Amina chuckles, kneeling to adjust Priyanka’s shoes. “You’ll look beautiful, sweetheart. But maybe let’s tone it down with the glitter. We don’t want you outshining Priya on her big day.”
Priyanka grins, satisfied. “Okay, Mama.”
I watch the scene unfold, sipping my coffee. This is what I’ve always wanted—a family that feels alive, even in the chaos.
