Page 58 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

It should have been an ordinary day, but it was not. Today, Vikram was going to meet his mother. And no amount of time could soften the sharp edges of what this reunion meant.

He sat in his home office, papers spread out in front of him, though he hadn’t read a single word. His thoughts had hijacked his focus long ago. Just then, the doorbell rang. He heard someone opening the door, and something in his chest tightened.

He stood up, adjusting his Henley, his movements stiff as he stepped out of the room. Mahika came down the stairs and stood beside him, slipping her hand into his. She looked into his eyes, and he looked back at her, holding her gaze, savouring the quiet moment between them.

“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this now,” she said softly.

Vikram met her eyes. “I’m not ready,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I need to do it anyway.”

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Then I’m right here.”

Together, they entered the living room where his mother, Devika Khurana, sat waiting.

She looked up and rose to her feet as Vikram and Mahika approached.

Seeing her now, something hard lodged in his gut.

She looked just like the woman he remembered, all poised and graceful, but older now.

Her eyes flicked to the photograph of his father on the wall, and Vikram saw the crack in her composure.

He looked away. He didn’t want to read too much into those emotions. She had left. And now she was here, expecting what? Forgiveness was not a gift that could just be handed out. It was a blessing. And trust had to be earned.

To break the tension, he swept his gaze around the room and avoided his mother’s eyes. He felt Mahika’s hand tighten around his arm. He hadn’t even noticed she was holding on to him again.

Damn. He needed something to cut through this silence. The nerves were starting to creep in.

His eyes landed on Suraj, sitting beside their mother, and then on Mohit, who sat near the window with Mahika’s mother, Varsha Jaykar.

As if sensing his glance, Varsha looked up.

She frowned for a brief moment, and then her face softened.

Before anyone could speak, she got up and walked over to him and Mahika with a warm smile.

“How are you, my sweet children?” she asked gently, cupping Mahika’s face in her hands.

“We’re good,” Vikram replied.

He noticed the shift in Mahika. First, she went still, then her fingers trembled slightly as she reached up and held her mother’s wrist. Her expression held a mix of disbelief and hope, like she could not quite trust that this moment was real.

Like she could not believe her mother truly cared to know how she was.

“Mom... I’m good. Are you okay?” Mahika asked, her voice tight with emotion.

“I am more than okay,” Varsha replied, her smile calm and unguarded. “Thanks to this amazing son-in-law of mine.”

Mahika looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Vikram told me I needed to work on myself,” Varsha admitted. “He helped me find a therapist in Mussoorie, and I’ve been going regularly. I feel lighter now. I think I should have done this a long time ago, when you were just a little girl.”

Mahika’s eyes widened. “Really, Mom? That’s... that’s wonderful.”

“Yes, darling,” Varsha nodded. “If it weren’t for Vikram, I am not sure I would’ve had the courage.

He reminded me that I still have so much to live for.

For you. For Mohit. And most importantly, for myself.

I have been attending these sessions for two months now.

” She paused, and her voice turned soft.

“For the first time in years, I can breathe again.”

Mahika slowly turned to Vikram, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her expression was unguarded and vulnerable.

“You did this for her?” she whispered.

Vikram gave a small nod. “She is not just your mother anymore. She is like a mother to me too. I couldn’t stand by and watch her wither away. Not when I knew she still had so much left to live for.”

Mahika blinked back her tears, and Vikram saw the way her shoulders relaxed and her guard began to lower.

Varsha reached out and gently stroked her thumb over Mahika’s cheek.

“I know I wasn’t always there for you,” she said, her voice filled with regret.

“And I know I hurt you with my silence. Your father… he was a man who needed to be heard above everyone else. He wasn’t cruel, but he left no space for my voice in our marriage.

Over time, I let myself grow quiet… and that changed me.

I slipped into depression and started taking sleeping pills.

In trying to escape my own darkness, I became numb to everything around me.

And in the process, I know I lost you. I can’t undo those years, Mahi, but I am here now.

I want to try now. I want to be your mom again. Will you let me?”

Mahika swallowed hard. “Yes, of course. But... are you really okay?”

“I am,” Varsha whispered. “I am not perfect. I am far from fixed, but I am here.”

Mahika’s eyes welled up again. “That’s enough, Mom. Thank you. I am always there for you. You’re not alone.”

Her mom hesitated, her hands wringing nervously together.

“I know, darling. But there’s something I need to tell you.

I haven’t really been alone. You know Ratan…

well, he’s been by my side for a long time.

At first, it was just friendship. His quiet presence and strong support helped me, and I don’t know how, but somewhere along the way… it became more.”

Mahika blinked in surprise. “You mean, you and Ratan Uncle...?”

Varsha nodded slowly, searching her daughter’s face.

“Yes. Over time, our friendship grew into something deeper. We became companions. Mohit knows, and he’s okay with it.

But I was scared of telling you. But I don’t want to hide it anymore.

Ratan makes me feel seen, Mahi… and cared for in a way I never thought I’d feel again.

That doesn’t mean I don’t love your father.

He was, and will always be, the most important part of my life.

But he’s gone, and for months I lived with that loss.

Loss of the person who had this power over me.

Even now, a part of me feels guilty for moving on.

But another part knows I can’t spend the rest of my life grieving.

After a year, I realised I needed to let myself breathe again, and Ratan gave me that chance. ”

Mahika’s lips wobbled before she smiled softly. “Mom, I’m not upset. Honestly, I’m glad. You deserve someone who stands beside you, and if it’s Ratan Uncle, then I’m happy it’s him. He’s a wonderful man.”

Varsha’s shoulders relaxed, her voice firmer now. “Thank you, Mahi. That means the world to me.”

She stepped into her mother’s arms, and Varsha held her close before turning to Vikram. She pulled him into a hug too. She spoke low enough so only he could hear.

“You are doing good, Vikram. Thank you for understanding me. Now… please try and understand your mother too.”

She pulled back with a smile that carried grace and quiet hope.

Vikram nodded, and from the side, Mohit joined them, wrapping his arms around them in a warm group hug. “I am so fucking happy,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Language, Mohit,” Varsha chided softly, and they all laughed through their tears.

Vikram watched Mahika glow with happiness, and he felt a myriad of emotions: a mix of pride, ache, and quiet awe. This was what family looked like. Messy, emotional, fractured, but still whole. And his wife was the heartbeat of it all.

In that moment, he made a silent vow. He would protect this version of Mahika.

The woman who still needed someone to lean on.

The woman who had the courage to forgive and asked him to do the same.

The woman who was brave enough to choose softness when it would have been easier to shut the world out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vikram saw his own mother begin to walk towards Mahika. Her eyes shimmered with emotion, and he knew what was about to unfold.

“Mahika,” Devika said gently, her voice soft. “I am Devika… Vikram’s mother.”

“Hi, Aunty,” Mahika replied with a polite smile.

“Not Aunty. Call me Ma, beta.”

There was a pause. Then Mahika nodded slowly and whispered, “Ma.”

Devika’s eyes glistened as she stepped forward and pulled her into a warm hug. “I heard you married my son. I am so happy he has you now. It eases something in me, knowing he is not alone anymore.”

Mahika pulled back slightly and smiled at her. “Ma, I think now you should meet that son of yours.” Mahika turned to look at Vikram. His intense gaze was already on her, and she gave him an encouraging smile, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine.

Slowly, Vikram’s gaze shifted to his mother.

“Hi, Viku.” Devika’s voice caught on the old nickname.

The word hit him hard, but he kept his face composed. Without speaking, he walked over and stood beside Mahika.

“Hi, Ma,” he said. His tone was flat, but those two words were loaded with emotion.

Devika’s lips trembled as she moved closer. She stared at him as if trying to memorise the face of the boy she once knew, now grown into a man she’d lost for too long. Her hand came to rest on his cheek.

“You look so much like your father,” she whispered.

Vikram’s body tensed.

“I... I am sorry, dear.” Devika’s lips quivered on the words. “I never meant to leave you. I just... I couldn’t stay with your father.”

“I don’t need to hear any explanation,” Vikram said through gritted teeth.

“No. But I need to tell you,” she said, her voice breaking. “What happened between me and Sanjyot… it was about us, not you. You were never unloved, my sweet boy.”

“Then why did you take Suraj with you?” His voice cracked, years of buried hurt coming to the fore. “Why him? Why not me? Why not both of us?”

She looked shaken by the question.

“I thought you understood more than he did. You were fourteen, Vikram. You seemed stronger, more grown up. Suraj was only seven. He needed me in a different way. I couldn’t stay in that marriage anymore.

I loved your father once, but he stopped trying.

” Devika’s face was etched with past hurt.

“And then I found love again… with my best friend from college. I didn’t know how to stay after that.

I left you with your father because I thought he could provide you with best of everything you needed.

I told myself it would be enough. But leaving you. .. it broke me too, Viku.”

She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him in a hug that was filled with guilt and desperation. It was a mother’s hug that came too late, but carried years of silence and longing.

Vikram stood frozen at first. His body resisted even as something inside him splintered. Slowly, his arms lifted, and he held her. Not tightly, but just enough to let her know she was not being rejected.

“I can’t say it’s okay,” he whispered. “But I am trying to forgive. It will take time.”

Her tears soaked his clothes as she clung to him. “Thank you. For letting me be here. For seeing me.”

The mother-son duo stood like that, holding on to each other as though a long-lost part of Vikram’s childhood had finally been acknowledged, as though it had finally begun to heal.

Then, a soft knock broke the moment.

Sandhya Ma stood at the arch between the dining and living room, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Lunch is ready,” she said softly.

Devika turned, her face lighting up. “Sandhya,” she breathed and enveloped her in a hug. “How are you?”

“I am fine, Devika didi. It is good to see you again,” Sandhya replied, hugging her back.

“Thank you,” Devika whispered. “You took care of my sons when I couldn’t. I can never repay you for that.”

Sandhya waved the words away. “Didi, you don’t have to repay anything. They are mine too.”

Devika’s voice quivered. “Then let me say this… I will always be grateful. You gave them the warmth I couldn’t. That kind of love... It’s not forgotten.”

Sandhya gave Devika’s hand a fond pat and smiled. “Come now, everyone. The food’s getting cold.”

As they walked towards the dining area, Devika paused in front of the wall lined with family photographs. Her fingers brushed a frame from Vikram’s graduation. He stood beside Suraj and their father, all three in matching suits. Their father’s hand rested on both their shoulders.

“He was so proud of you that day,” she whispered. “He sent me this picture afterwards. He could not stop bragging about you in his email.”

“You were still in touch with Dad? Why didn’t you say anything?” Suraj asked, a little surprised.

“I was,” Devika said gently. “There was nothing to say. We mostly spoke about you kids. Separation changes many things, but never the love we had for the children we raised together.”

She placed the frame gently beside the brass diya and the fresh lilies, then turned to Vikram. “I just hope someday I will have earned your love and trust again.”

Vikram gave a small nod. It wasn’t a promise, but something softened in the space between them.

Sometimes, healing begins with nothing more than a quiet willingness to try.