In this heartfelt tale, we follow the lives of Aravind and Chaaru, two teenage school sweethearts, as they navigate the complexities of love, responsibility, and growing up together. Unlike most teenage couples, they strive to build a relationship b...
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As we approached the house in the cab I'd booked, a wave of anticipation and pride washed over me. Bringing Chaaru and Aaradhya home felt like the start of something deeper, something more permanent. With Aaradhya nestled in my arms, I reached out to hold Chaaru's hand. But the moment I did, she winced softly, her grip loosening as a ripple of pain crossed her face. Concerned, I urged her to sit back, handing Aaradhya over to my mother. Without hesitation, I scooped Chaaru up in my arms bridal-style. She let out a shy, startled laugh, her cheeks flushing, and snuggled close, hiding her face against my neck.
When we reached the house, Mrs. Saranya stood at the door, her face softened with tears, waiting for us. The doorway was adorned with fresh jasmine and roses, their fragrant blooms mingling with the subtle newness that seemed to radiate from Chaaru. A small brass lamp flickered beside the entrance, casting a warm, sacred glow that welcomed us home.
As we reached the steps, Chaaru's mother quickly prepared a small aarthi, the flame circling us, her soft whispers of blessings washing over her daughter and granddaughter. Tears streaked her face as she finished, her hands trembling as she placed a gentle dab of vermillion on each of our foreheads, sealing the moment with silent reverence.
"Welcome home," she whispered, her voice thick with love, her eyes locked onto Chaaru with a tenderness so fierce it felt like it could mend any wound. I felt my chest tighten, watching the reunion unfold—Mrs. Saranya, who had once lost Chaaru, now standing before us with that same daughter, stronger, more whole, and with her granddaughter cradled close. It was as though the past had been healed in that moment.
As Chaaru's emotions settled, I leaned close and murmured, "I was thinking, maybe I'd stay in your old room for now. It might bring some comfort for you, Aaradhya, and your mom to be together." I let the words trail off, hoping she'd catch on.
Her reaction was immediate—a flicker of annoyance mixed with a small spark of surprise. She raised her eyebrow, that familiar look saying she knew I was up to something.
"Oh?" she replied, her voice edged with a playful defiance. "And what exactly do you think we'll need so much help with, Mr. Aravind?"
I fought to keep a straight face, avoiding her gaze, though my own lips betrayed a faint smile. "Well, you and Aaradhya may need a bit of pampering," I said, nodding toward Mrs. Saranya. "She's been looking forward to this moment for a long time."
Chaaru rolled her eyes at me, her irritation visible. I suddenly realized I may have misjudged her need for support, and a pang of guilt crept in. "Fine, I see what you're doing, Mr. Aravind. I'll play along." She smirked, casting a quick look at her mother. "Mom..." Her voice softened, her smile holding layers of unspoken affection, "Let's settle in. She's probably hungry by now."
Mrs. Saranya nodded, touching Chaaru's shoulder with a tenderness that seemed to overflow from her. "I'd be honored," she murmured, barely able to contain her joy.
