MORNING – BANGALORE AIRPORT —
The airport bustled with the usual crowd — people with coffee cups, rolling suitcases, hurried hugs, and quiet goodbyes.
Amidst it all walked Tripura, her hand gently clutching Siya’s as the little one skipped beside her with a half-asleep yawn.
Her amma walked on the other side, her pace steady and eyes watchful.
Behind them, Tripura’s team followed in a slow shuffle, while her guards walked in calculated sync, a protective circle without ever seeming obvious.
Tripura was dressed casually — a white shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans, hair tied in a loose braid, her eyes hidden behind classic black shades. Despite the simplicity, she exuded a quiet power, a calm that came from knowing she had done something meaningful.
She lifted Siya up as they entered their car. “Back to our world, kutty,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to her head. Siya mumbled something sleepily, eyes half-shut, and rested against her mother.
The cars drove through the morning haze toward home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in Delhi—
Ram stepped out of his vanity van, script in hand, ready to face another scene under the arc lights. The buzz of production surrounded him — crew shouting for setups, people adjusting lighting, assistants on walkies. But in the middle of it all, Ram moved with a calmness he'd fought hard for.
“Sir, we’re ready in five,” someone said.
Ram nodded. “On it.”
As he turned, his phone buzzed.
A message from Tripura: “Landed safe.
He smiled — not the kind that splits your face open, but the quiet kind, the I’m glad you’re okay kind.
“Take care,” he typed back.
“Break a leg, whatever you’re doing next. I’m rooting for you always.”
He slipped the phone away and walked into frame.
TIME PASSES…
Days turned into weeks. Weeks blurred into months.
Life moved on.
But some things stayed.
There were messages — not every day, but enough. A forwarded meme here. A missed call there. A “how’s your shoot going?” or a “Siya’s down with a cold, send good energy.”
There were no promises, no pressures.
Just presence. In the most invisible, yet strongest of ways.
________________________________
BANGALORE – PRESENT DAY
Siya had forgotten all about her "weird uncle" comment. Life had introduced her to school projects, story books, and a sudden obsession with baking cookies.
Tripura often watched her from across the room, wondering how a soul so small could heal parts of her she didn’t know were still bleeding.
And on the other side of the world, Bhoomi, with fire in her eyes and sketches in her hand, was preparing for her first fashion show.
“I want you as my showstopper,” she told Tripura over a coffee date.
Tripura blinked. “Me?”
“Yes, maa, you. You’re fierce, iconic and all that jazz.”
Tripura laughed and nodded. “I’ll do it. And I’ll own it. For you.”
YOU ARE READING
Layers of Us
FanfictionIn a world where tradition dictates the heart, Tripura Nagrajan finds herself trapped in an arranged marriage she never wanted. A compassionate soul with a passion for animals and a thriving career as a psychologist, actress, and business tycoon, T...
