Her Only Saviour

52. The echo of heels

𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖕𝖞𝖆𝖆𝖗 𝖐𝖆 𝖍𝖆𝖖𝖉𝖆𝖆𝖗
𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖕𝖞𝖆𝖆𝖗

𝕿𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖕𝖞𝖆𝖆𝖗 𝖐𝖆 𝖆𝖘𝖆𝖗
𝕿𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖍𝖆𝖗 𝖎𝖐 𝖎𝖐𝖗𝖆𝖆𝖗

𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖏𝖔 𝖇𝖊𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖆
𝕿𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖜𝖔𝖍 𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖔𝖔𝖓

𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖉𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖗𝖆 𝖘𝖆
𝕿𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖎 𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖏𝖚𝖓𝖔𝖔𝖓

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been eight days since the cremation.

The house still felt quiet—but not suffocating anymore. The air wasn’t as heavy, the silences not as sharp. There were prayers in the morning, flowers at the mandir, and the faint sound of the havan still clung to the walls.

Kaamini had started sitting with the family again.

She still wore white.
Still walked slowly.
But she spoke now.
Ate with them.
Watched them.
And sometimes, even smiled faintly when someone said something silly.

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣, the family gathered in the garden—sunlight streaming lazily across the lawn.

Kalyaani fussed over the placement of the cushions, while Rudra flopped onto one and groaned, “Kya dadi, you’ve turned this picnic into an interior design contest.”

Kaamini let out a soft chuckle—barely there, but it happened.

Rudra noticed.
He widened his eyes dramatically. “Did she just laugh? Someone record this! Bua laughed!”

“Oh God,” Saisha groaned, tossing a cushion at him.
“You’re such a drama queen.”

Anirudh was sitting on the steps, sipping his tea. Nandini joined him with hers, brushing her shoulder against his.

“Nice,” he murmured.
“You’re wearing my hoodie again.”

She smirked.
“It suits me more.”

“Not denying that,” he said, his voice low.
“But it doesn’t smell like me anymore.”

Nandini bit her lip.
“Maybe I’ll borrow the cologne too next time.”

He turned to look at her—his smile lazy, soft, and deeply in love.

Kaamini was watching them from the swing.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel grief when she saw love.

She felt… comforted.

Her daughter-in-law, Aashi , had joined that day too.
She’d been staying with her parents for a few weeks, but rushed back when she heard of Raghunath’s death.
Now, she sat beside Kaamini, feeding her fruits and cracking inside jokes only they understood.

“You’re allowed to laugh, Maa,” Aashi said quietly, handing her a slice of mango. “Grief doesn’t mean silence forever.”

Kaamini closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, she touched Aashi’s cheek.
“Thank you for coming.”

---

Dinner was simple—khichdi, salad, light soups.

Kaamini helped in the kitchen for the first time. Nandini watched her from across the door and smiled.