𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒚𝒎𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 34

The crisp Canadian air nipped at Ishani's cheeks as she wrapped her woolen scarf tighter around her neck. Clasping the tiny hand of her son, Aryamaan, in her own, she strode towards the school's entrance. The little boy, a spitting image of his father with his dark hair and intelligent eyes, tugged at his mother's hand.

"Ma, I don't like this scarf," Aryamaan complained, his voice muffled beneath the wool. "It's itchy."

"You need it, beta," Ishani replied, smiling down at him.

Ishani and Aryamaan made their way to the classroom where Ishani's class was scheduled to begin. The lively chatter of the children echoed through the hallway, filling Ishani's heart with a sense of warmth.

"You're my favorite student, you know that?" Ishani ruffled Aryamaan's hair, flashing him a grin. "Just don't tell anyone."

Aryamaan giggled and nodded

With a sigh, Ishani turned towards her own classroom, her thoughts inevitably straying to the past. Five years had passed since she had left India, and the memories of her marriage to Armaan were still a raw, open wound in her heart.

But she had moved on. She had built a life for herself and her son, far away from the pain of the past. As she took her seat at the front of the classroom, her students filed in, their eyes alight with curiosity.

"Good morning, class!" Ishani greeted them.

Aryamaan snuggled up on the couch, a plate of freshly baked cookies between them. Aryamaan was deep in concentration as he attempted to solve a tricky math problem, his brow furrowed in intense focus.

Ishani looked on with a fond smile, a rush of maternal pride filling her heart.

"Do you need a hint, beta?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with encouragement.

Aryamaan shook his head, determination written all over his face. "I can do it, Ma!

As Aryamaan tackled the problem with a persistence that would have made Armaan proud, Ishani couldn't help but notice how much he was like his father. From the way he held his pencil to the spark of intelligence in his eyes, Aryamaan was the embodiment of Armaan.

With each passing day, Ishani found herself reliving memories of her past life. The laughter they had shared, the tender moments they had cherished. Yet, her heart was still heavy with the pain of the betrayal that had forced her to leave.

"Now, what about your English homework?" Ishani asked, taking a sip of her tea.

Aryamaan's face fell, a look of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "We have to write an essay about our dads, Ma," he replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

Ishani's heart ached at the mention of Armaan, her throat tightening with emotion.

"Ma," Aryamaan asked, his face serious and concerned, "why doesn't Papa live with us? Where is he?"

Ishani's heart skipped a beat, and she knew that she couldn't tell her son the truth. Not yet. "Oh, beta," she said, her voice calm and soothing, "Papa loves you very much, but he is very busy with his work. He comes to visit you every night while you're asleep and leaves before you wake up in the morning.

"But why can't I see him?" Aryamaan asked, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Why does he have to come when I'm sleeping?"

Ishani's hand reached out to stroke her son's hair, her heart breaking for him. "Because, beta, Papa is very important and he has to take care of a lot of people. He wants to make sure that you have everything you need, and sometimes that means he can't be here all the time. But he loves you so much, and he is always thinking about you, even when he is far away."

As the night settled over the quiet Canadian town, Ishani tucked Aryamaan into his bed, kissing his forehead gently. He drifted off to sleep quickly, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. But Ishani could not find peace so easily.

As she lay in bed, the darkness pressed against her like a heavy weight. The memories of Armaan were still fresh in her mind, like wounds that refused to heal. The way he had looked at her with love in his eyes, the way his voice had wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

Ishani rolled onto her side, burying her face in her pillow as if to hide from the pain. But the images refused to fade. Armaan's touch, gentle yet firm, his hands caressing her skin with an unspoken promise of love. The stolen moments they had shared, when the world had fallen away and it had been just the two of them.

She knew that she could never forget him, even if the memories were tinged with bitterness and betrayal.

As the hours ticked by, Ishani found herself drifting in and out of sleep, plagued by dreams that were both beautiful and heartbreaking.

The sun crept over the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and gold. Ishani stirred, her eyes opening to the new day, a heaviness weighing on her soul. She rose from the bed, padding softly to the window, the chill of the winter morning seeping through her clothes.

As she looked out over the snow-covered landscape, she wondered if Armaan was looking at the same sky, if he ever thought of her the way she thought of him.

Ishani shook her head, banishing the thought.

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