An Inconvenient Flame (Completed)

Epilogue

6 years later

Ivaan's pov

The clock on the living room wall clicks softly, the hands pointing right at 9:15 PM.

I drop my heavy school backpack onto the polished entryway floor, my shoulders instantly loosens.

"Mumma!" I call out, my voice cracking slightly at the end... a frustrating reminder that I'm fourteen now and my vocal cords can't seem to make up their mind.

I step past Meera didi, Mummas house staff, who is smiling warmly as she opens the heavy teak front door. When I walk into the living area, there she is.

She's sitting on the plush cream couch, wearing deep green saree, a political science journal resting open on her lap. She looks up, and her eyes widen in surprise.

The gratitude that usually lives as a quiet, permanent baseline in my chest swells up, thick and heavy, nearly choking me. I look at her, and I don't just see my mother, I see the woman who completely rewrote my destiny.

I was barely a year old when the accident happened. My biological parents were gone in a single heartbeat, leaving behind a baby with no extended family, no safety net, and an incredibly uncertain future.

But Mumma was their best friend. She took me under her wing, and took my responsibility without a single complaint. And later, when her marriage with Dad was arranged, she made one thing non-negotiable: Ivaan is my son. We come as a package.

Then there's Dad. An absolute angel.

Honestly, that man is insane.

Because not only had he accepted me... he somehow became my father so naturally that I sometimes forgot we weren't connected by blood.

Parent-teacher meetings.
Football matches.
Homework fights.
Career lectures.
Random midnight food cravings.

Everything.

He adopted me legally, gave me his name, and wrapped his massive, protective arms around me so tightly that I never spent a single day of my life feeling like an outsider.

Because of Mumma's career in the Indian Administrative Service, she frequently gets posted to Tier-2 or Tier-3 districts across the state. The educational infrastructure in her postings wasn't advanced enough to support the academic path I wanted to take. I was ready to compromise, to stay with her anywhere, but both of them refused to let my future take a back seat.

So they both decided I'd stay mostly with dad for school, during the week and we commute on weekends to be with her, or she drives down to us.

At first I hated the arrangement. Then eventually I realized something.

Distance didn't matter in this family. They showed up anyway.

Every weekend.
Every call.
Every important day.

Every single time.

"Ivaan!" Mumma gasps, her journal sliding completely off her lap onto the rug as she stands up.

I don't care that I'm a teenager or that I'm supposed to be developing a cool, detached persona.

I cross the room, throwing my arms around her and pulling her into a tight, desperate hug.

I bury my face into her shoulder, breathing in her familiar scent, and press a warm kiss right against her cheek.

"I missed you so much, Mumma," I murmur, my voice dropping into that thick, emotional tone.