CHAPTER XXXVI
A Home Beyond Blood
Some places aren't just locations—they're emotions tucked away in bricks and air, in laughter echoing through corridors, in the scent of old books and warm food, in memories that cling to the curtains and wooden floors like ghosts that refuse to leave.
I hadn't been here in years. And yet, as I guided Sita through the familiar, winding streets, my heart started beating with the rhythm of my childhood. I was taking her to a place that wasn't on any map—a home that had held me when nothing else could, a sanctuary I had run to during the storms of my youth. Whenever I had fought with Mom, when emotions spilled over and I didn't know what to do with them, I would come here. And without questions, without judgment, I'd be welcomed.
This wasn't just my sister's house. It was something far more sacred than that. It was the place where I met the woman I've always called my second mother—a widow, strong and graceful, who had raised her children with resilience and taught them to treat love with kindness. She had taken me in like one of her own when my own heart didn't feel like it belonged anywhere.
And today, after years of distance and change, I was returning. But not alone.
Sita looked at me, slightly puzzled, but she didn't complain. Her fingers curled around the edge of the car seat, eyes searching the unfamiliar surroundings. "Ved… where are we going?" she asked with a mixture of curiosity and calm trust.
I smiled softly and glanced at her. "Trust me. You'll understand once we get there. It's… a special place."
She didn't question further. She didn't need to.
A few minutes later, we pulled up to a familiar old house with peeling blue paint on the gate, the bougainvillea still blooming wild along the wall like it had always done. The house hadn't changed much—still modest, still warm, still glowing with an invisible kind of love that no wealth could ever buy. I felt something in my chest ease, like the moment you breathe after holding your breath for too long.
I reached out and rang the bell, the same way I had hundreds of times before.
Footsteps came running. Then the door flung open—
"Mishka!" I breathed.
Standing there was a girl no longer little. My niece had grown up, but her eyes… her eyes still sparkled the way they used to when I'd gift her candy or tell her bedtime stories. She looked at me, stunned for a second, and then her face broke into a beam so bright it could've outshone the sun.
"Vedu Buddy! You're really here!" she cried, throwing herself into my arms. "I thought… I thought you weren't coming back to India ever again."
I held her close, smiling into her hair. "How could I not come back? I had a promise to keep, remember?"
She leaned back, her arms still around me, grinning. "You always said you'd return. I waited."
Then her gaze landed on Sita, who stood beside me with a gentle, polite smile on her face.
Mishka's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Buddy… who is this stunning lady?"
I chuckled, stepping back and sliding an arm around Sita's waist. "Take a wild guess."
She narrowed her eyes, dramatically folding her arms like a detective. And then— "Wait. No way. Is she your wife?"
I grinned. "Guilty as charged."
"Oh my God!" Mishka practically squealed, rushing over to Sita. She took her hand with childlike excitement. "You must be Sita, right?"
Sita blinked in surprise. "Yes… but how do you know that?"
Mishka looked at me with a knowing, mock-stern expression. I raised my hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I told her. Who else would have the honor?"
Sita laughed gently. "Honestly, I thought Mia might have mentioned me. So, you must be…?"
"I'm Mishka," she announced proudly, "Vedu Buddy's niece. And I guess that makes me your niece too!"
Sita's eyes softened instantly. She cupped Mishka's cheek in her palm and said warmly, "Then it's lovely to meet you, sweetheart."
Then she added with a teasing grin, "But one request—don't call me aunty, okay? I'm just twenty-five. Let's not age me before my time."
I chuckled and leaned in, whispering to Mishka, "Don't worry about the wrinkles on her face. She may look ancient, but she's not technically an aunty yet."
Sita gasped and smacked me playfully on my back, making sure Mishka couldn't see it. "Ved, stop embarrassing me!" she whispered fiercely.
Mishka burst into laughter. "It's okay, Sita Buddy. I'll call you Buddy too, just like him. That way, you stay forever young."
I laughed. "Okay, now that we've sorted out names and titles, are you going to let us in, or is this reunion happening on your doorstep?"
Mishka placed a hand on her hip sassily. "You can stay out here, Buddy. I'm taking your beautiful wife inside first."
Sita raised her eyebrow, glancing at me with mock concern.
I grabbed her hand immediately and said, "Sorry, no way. She's not going anywhere without me."
Mishka rolled her eyes. "Fine! If you insist, both of you may enter the kingdom."
She swung the door open like a grand gate, and together, Sita and I stepped inside.
And just like that, with the scent of home wrapping around me, with Mishka's laugh echoing through the hallway, and with Sita's fingers curled securely into mine—I realized I wasn't just bringing her to meet my family.
I was letting her into the part of my past that still healed me. Into the arms of a second mother who taught me how to love without conditions. Into a home that had seen me break and rebuild, cry and laugh, fall and grow.
And maybe—just maybe—this was the first time Sita would feel like she wasn't just part of my life… she was becoming part of my home.
And I couldn't wait to see what kind of memories we'd make here next.
The quiet murmur of prayers drifted from the inner sanctum of the house, and when I peeked around the corner, I saw my sister deep in worship. Her head was bowed in silent devotion, a gentle light bathing her form from the flickering diya.
I held Sita's hand gently and whispered, "Let's not disturb her. We'll wait in the hall."
Sita nodded silently, her eyes following my gaze, filled with both respect and curiosity. Together, we settled on the old, cream-colored sofa in the hall. The cushions were still the same—slightly sunken from years of use, but still comfortable, like they remembered every conversation they had ever cushioned. The walls held framed memories—photos of festivals, childhood laughter frozen in time, faces that still smiled even though some of them now only lived in memory.
Just as we sank into the silence, Mishka plopped down beside me, curiosity already gleaming in her eyes. "So Buddy… what brings you here out of the blue? No warning, no message?" she teased lightly.
I smiled faintly, but my voice turned serious. "Didn't they tell you?"
Mishka's brows furrowed. "Tell me what?"
I exhaled slowly, the weight of the past week pressing down on me again. "Grandpa… passed away."
Her eyes widened in shock. "What? When?"
"It's been a week now," I said gently. "The arrangements for his funeral are still underway."
Mishka was stunned. "But… he didn't call us. He didn't tell us anything. Not even a word."
A bitter edge crept into my voice, despite my effort to keep it calm. "I don't think anyone from our family wants to keep in touch with Sister anymore. She's… been cut off, silently but deliberately."
Sita turned to me, a frown on her lips. Her voice was soft, but concerned. "But… why? Why would they do that?"
I looked away, focusing on the cracks in the floor tiles as if the answers lay hidden there. "That's… a long story, Sita. And honestly, it's one that hurts to tell. It's full of complications… things that don't even make sense anymore. I promise I'll share it with you someday. Just… not today."
She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her tone understanding. "Okay. Whenever you're ready."
Just then, Mishka, in an effort to lift the mood, turned to Sita with a mischievous grin. "So, tell me Sita… how did you fall for this guy?" she teased, jerking a thumb at me.
Sita smiled wistfully, her gaze falling to the floor for a moment. Then, with a sigh that was equal parts fondness and pain, she replied, "Ah… now that is a story drenched in sorrow."
Mishka let out a little laugh, teasing again, "Well, judging by the look of you, it seems Buddy finally met his match. You definitely give him a run for his money!"
I raised an eyebrow at Mishka, pretending to act offended. "Excuse me! I'm standing right here, you know!"
The girls both burst into laughter, the tension in the room melting away like fog under the morning sun. Despite the heaviness that still loomed in the shadows, for a moment, we shared something light—something real. And it reminded me of what home used to feel like.
This wasn't just about grief or strained relationships. It was about finding new connections in the old ones, about healing in places that once hurt, and maybe… about introducing my present to the people who had shaped my past.
Little did I know, the story of Sita and I was just beginning to unfold within these very walls.
To be continue....