If Only

Mommy loves us

---

"Goodbye," I spoke, turning my back on the love of my life, Ian. Seven years of memories, laughter, and tears flashed before my eyes. His pleading gaze, once full of promise, now seemed empty.

I recalled the day I saw him in the cyber café, wasting time playing games instead of attending job interviews. Rage boiled within me. "You're fighting for your future, but what about mine?" I demanded.

Ian's apologetic eyes and desperate pleas couldn't undo the damage. I ended our relationship, shattered by his broken promises.

The arranged marriage with a stranger loomed. "Listen, I won't have any physical relationship with you, and I won't get pregnant. I won't stop working," I declared.

To my surprise, he agreed, believing he could win me over.

Our wedding day arrived, but Ian appeared, tears streaming down his face. "Please, don't do this," he begged.

My heart wrenched, but I stood firm.

---

After the marriage, my husband, Rohan, listened from outside the room as I cleaned my face, hiding tears.

"Listen, you already know about this," I said to Rohan, writing in my notebook, "should I tell them directly or will you?" My tone was cold.

Rohan stood, his face glum. "I'll handle it."

Later, I heard my mother-in-law sobbing. Rushing outside, I saw Rohan standing like a statue.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"My son won't ever become a father," she wept.

Tears pricked at my eyes. "What did you say?" I demanded.

Rohan's calm response cut deep. "I accepted you, knowing this would happen. How can I blame you?"

My heart felt stabbed.

Months passed. We decided to adopt a daughter, but I wasn't involved in the decision.

As a mother, I struggled to connect. Business trips consumed me.

My in-laws grew suspicious, but Rohan supported me unconditionally.

"Dad, why doesn't Mom love me?" our daughter asked.

Rohan's gentle reply broke my heart. "She loves you, but thinks I hate her."

"Why does she think that?"

"Because I'm not good at expressing myself."

One day, my daughter suggested, "I'll draw for her!"

Rohan smiled. "That's a great idea."

Before my next business trip, I assured my mother-in-law, "This is my last trip."

Rohan seemed uneasy, but I hugged him tightly, kissing our daughter goodbye.

"Open this box on your birthday," I said, handing Rohan a package.

He promised, his eyes locking onto mine, filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. I handed him the intricately wrapped box, adorned with a delicate ribbon.

"For your birthday," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rohan's fingers brushed against mine as he took the box, sending shivers down my spine. Our touch was fleeting, but the connection lingered.

"Open it on your birthday," I reiterated, my gaze holding his.

He nodded, his expression softening. "I'll treasure it."

I forced a smile, knowing this would be our last moment together.

---

Days passed, and my business trip loomed. Rohan accompanied me to the airport, our daughter, Aria, clinging to his hand.

"Mommy, come back soon," Aria pleaded, her big brown eyes welling up.

I knelt, embracing her tightly. "I'll be back before you know it, baby."

Rohan's hand enveloped mine, his touch warm and reassuring. "We'll count the days."

As I boarded the plane, I glanced back at my family. Rohan's eyes met mine, filled with an unspoken understanding.

My heart swelled, knowing I'd never see them again.

---

Rohan's Birthday

Rohan unwrapped the box, his fingers trembling. Inside, he found:

1. A notebook chronicling my school days, filled with laughter and dreams.
2. A diary detailing my heartbreaking relationship with Ian, tears staining the pages.
3. A sketchbook of our life together, moments we shared, and those I longed for.
4. A contract ensuring his financial stability, my legacy.
5. An album filled with happy moments, our family's smiles.

Tears streamed down Rohan's face as he read, each word piercing his heart.

Aria sat beside him, confusion etched on her face. "Dad, why are you crying?"

Rohan's voice cracked. "Mommy wrote these for me."

As he read on, Aria snuggled closer, sensing her father's pain.

The diary revealed my deepest secrets:

"How I loved Rohan but never showed.
How guilty I felt for leaving.
How sorry I was for not being honest."

Rohan's sobs echoed through the room.

Aria wrapped her arms around him. "Dad, don't cry. Mommy loves us."

Rohan's eyes met Aria's, filled with gratitude. "You're right, baby. Mommy loves us."

In that moment, Rohan understood.

I had known my fate, and I chose to spare them the pain.

He wept, mourning the loss of our unspoken love.

The box, once a mystery, now held the key to our story.

Rohan's heart shattered, but Aria's words healed him.

"Mommy loves us."