AAROHI

NOT Just a Mother

As i am having holiday for 2 days so just clearing one of my draft.

Updates will be after my exams only.

Happy reading............

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Plot : why is loving myself a betrayal to my child ??

Aarohi stood in front of the mirror in the hospital washroom, her white coat draped over her arm like an unfamiliar memory.

Her name badge — Dr. Aarohi Goenka-Birla — had been untouched for four years.

Four years of early school pickups.
Tiffin packing.
Homework battles.
Pediatrician appointments.
And quiet sobs in the kitchen when Ruhi caught a cold and she still didn’t feel like enough.

Today was her first day back.

Not because she had to.
Because she wanted to.

But the guilt was louder than any stethoscope she’d ever worn.

Behind her reflection, she could almost hear the whispers:

How can a mother choose career over her child?
She’s becoming selfish — too much ambition.
She should be at home. What does she need a job for?

She tightened her coat buttons slowly.

Not to shut them up.

To remind herself — she was not wrong for wanting more than just survival.

But for ruhi ?!?!

That morning, Ruhi had crossed her arms while Aarohi tied her shoelaces.

You won’t come to school today?

I’ll be at the hospital, baby. But Dadi will pick you up and—

Why can’t you come like before?

Aarohi had no answer soft enough.So she smiled and kissed Ruhi’s forehead.

But Ruhi didn’t smile back.

She pulled away and said the line that stayed with Aarohi all morning like a burn:you’re choosing hospital over me.

At the hospital, the corridors still smelled the same. Bleach and urgency.
She walked past familiar nurses. Some smiled. Some didn’t.

In the cafeteria, she overheard one whisper — not even quietly:

Oh, she’s back. Guess Dadi’s raising the child now.

Another chuckled. She’s ambitious. Always was.

Aarohi kept walking.But her shoes suddenly felt heavier.

That evening, as she returned home — exhausted but fulfilled — she found Ruhi asleep, her tiny hands holding a crayon drawing of a house.

Inside the house, only Dadi, Dadu, and Ruhi were drawn.

Aarohi wasn’t there.

She sat beside her daughter, kissed her knuckles, and whispered:

I’m still yours, Ruhi. Even if I leave the house for a few hours... I’m still your Mumma.

But the paper didn’t respond.

The next week, during a family dinner, Bade Maa made a casual comment:
Back in our days, mothers didn’t need to run around in coats to prove they were good parents.

Aarohi looked up. Calm. Tired.

But back in your days, women also didn’t get to choose.

Bade Papa interrupted with a chuckle, Beta, we’re not judging. We’re just saying… childhood is short. Careers last forever. Don’t miss the little things.

She placed her spoon down.

And who says I’m missing them? Because I didn’t attend the PTM? Or didn’t cut fruit in animal shapes every afternoon?

Her voice didn’t rise — but the room fell silent.

Do you know how many little things I miss about myself? My voice. My ambition. My curiosity. I shelved all of it.

And now, I’m trying to get it back. For me. For Ruhi.

Bade Maa looked uncomfortable. But you’re her mother first.

Aarohi nodded - Yes. First. But not only.

That night, Ruhi refused to eat.

When Aarohi came to feed her, Ruhi asked, Why can’t you be like before? I liked old Mumma.

Aarohi sat on the floor beside the bed.

Old Mumma was tired all the time. She smiled even when she was sad. She gave you everything but forgot to give herself anything.

But I liked her.

She loved you the most, Ruhi. But she was starting to disappear.

Ruhi's eyes welled up Are you going to disappear now?

Aarohi pulled her close.

No, baby. I’m coming back now. Not disappearing. For the first time… I feel like myself again.

A month passed.

Ruhi still hesitated.

But one day, Aarohi arrived early for pickup. Stood quietly behind a group of mothers gossiping.

She’s back at work? Poor child. Must feel so neglected.

She’s just trying to prove she’s better than Akshara. Still stuck in competition.

Ruhi came running — and hugged Aarohi tightly.

The women paused.

One even said, Ruhi, beta, do you miss Mumma when she’s at work?

Ruhi looked up and replied: I do. But I love when she tells me what surgeries she did. And she smells like sanitizer and chocolate sometimes. That’s my Mumma smell.

Aarohi almost cried.

But she stood tall.

And the women — for the first time — didn’t comment.

She returned home late one day.

Ruhi had drawn a picture.

This time, it showed a hospital.

Inside the room: one doctor with a ponytail.

And a child holding her hand.

She had written: My Mumma helps people.
And still never forgets my bedtime story.
She’s a hero.
Not just a mother.

aarohi diary :

I am not selfish for wanting more than motherhood.
I am not broken for loving my work.
And I am not wrong for letting my child see me as a whole woman — not just someone who serves her plate.

I am not just a mother.
I am Aarohi. And I have finally stopped shrinking.

In the hospital locker room, a junior doctor nervously approached her.
Ma’am… I’m due in two months. Everyone says I should quit after. You didn’t. How did you manage?

Aarohi smiled : Don’t ask how I managed. Ask why I returned.

Why did you?

She looked at her hands. The same hands that saved lives, fed Ruhi, held Neil’s memories, and stitched herself back together -- because I matter too.

U all matter first . All can wait and all are secondary because if u fail with urself even if reach heights in other roles ur a failure . U can't answer urself.

So , it ok to choose urself first.

Thankyou 😊