The afternoon sun filtered softly through the college corridors as Anika packed her notes carefully into her bag. The final class for the day had just ended, and her mind was already halfway at the babycare center, waiting for her little son. It had been a long day for both of them.
Her steps quickened as she walked out of the campus building, the familiar path to the babycare feeling both comforting and heavy today. She reached the door just as the nurse was preparing to call her.
"Anika, you're here early today," the nurse smiled, relieved. "Little pudding has been down for the whole day. I was just about to call you. I think he missed you."
Anika's heart tightened. "Did he drink his milk?" she asked, forcing calm into her voice.
The nurse shook her head gently. "No, not even a sip."
The words hit her like a cold wave. Her son, barely turning three, needed milk more than anything for his growth and health. She had tried everything over the last year—preparing bottles with fresh milk, adding flavors, even changing brands—but he stubbornly refused all bottles. Her milk was the only thing he wanted, the only thing that comforted him. And now, even that seemed out of reach.
Anika glanced down at her son who clung tightly to her, his tiny hands twisting the folds of her shawl against her chest. His lips trembled slightly, but no giggle came. His big, dark eyes looked up at her silently, filled with the kind of helplessness only a child could show.
"What did he eat today?" Anika asked softly.
"Nothing," the nurse replied, her face shadowed with concern.
Anika forced a gentle smile and pinched her son's tiny nose playfully. "You little troublemaker. You want Amma's milk, don't you?"
He whimpered softly, his arms tightening around her neck. Anika's chest ached with a mixture of love and helplessness. "I'll try my best to come during your lunch hours from tomorrow, okay? If anything changes, call me right away." The nurse nodded reassuringly.
When they finally reached home, the afternoon sunlight had softened into the golden hue of evening. Anika prepared the bottle she hoped he might accept today. She coaxed him gently, "Little pudding, drink some, won't you? Amma will be sad if you don't."
But he pushed the bottle away mercilessly, refusing even to glance at it. His tiny face scrunched in silent protest.
Tears welled up in Anika's eyes as she knelt before him. Without any other choice, she took him into her arms and nursed him directly, feeling the familiar warmth of his mouth against her skin, the steady rhythm of his breathing settling down into sleepiness. Relief washed over her, but so did the exhaustion and the deep worry.
After he drifted off to sleep, she carefully laid him down in his crib, before she took a deep breath and prepared to give tuition lessons to neighborhood children, her mind heavy with worry.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Anika sat at the study table in her modest home, pen in hand, scribbling notes for an upcoming exam. Across from her, Vennila, her classmate and one of the few friends she had made, watched her curiously.
"Anu," Vennila finally spoke, breaking the quiet, "is white your favorite color?"
Anika looked up, surprised by the question.
Vennila pointed at her clothes. "You wear white every day. Even now, in college. I don't think I've ever seen you wear any other color."
Anika smiled lightly but didn't answer immediately. There was more to the question than casual curiosity.
Vennila leaned closer, lowering her voice. "And... you even wear white on those days... your period days. I can't imagine that. I'd get stained."
Anika sighed softly, how could she tell that she was a widow?
White wasn't a fashion choice for her. It wasn't just a color. It was a symbol of the life she now lived—of love, loss, and respect.
After Rajan's death, the elders in her village had told her that widows wore white as a sign of their undying respect and love for their departed husbands. Many in her community saw it as a somber tradition, a way to mourn and isolate. But for Anika, white was something different. Rules and customs that once felt suffocating now comforted her.
When she wore white, it was as if Rajan was right beside her, walking silently with her through the days. White made her feel safe, comforted, and connected to a past that still lingered in her heart.
The memory of Rajan—the gentle warmth of his smile, the strength of his embrace—came to her like a soft breeze. She had clung to those memories through sleepless nights and long days of struggle, especially now as a single mother.
Lost in thought, she barely noticed Vennila nudging her gently.
Anika shook her head lightly and murmured, "Maybe... I do like white a little."
Vennila smiled warmly. "It suits you. You look peaceful."
Anika's smile deepened, bittersweet. Peaceful—sometimes, that was all she wanted to be.
Vennila smiled brightly, unaware of the silent pain behind Anika's words. "By the way, Anu, you're coming on the field trip, right?"
Anika blinked, confused. "Field trip?"
Vennila raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across her face. "Have you not checked your mail yet? The announcement went out days ago."
Anika's fingers trembled slightly as she pulled out her phone from her bag and tapped the screen. The mail app opened, and she scrolled through the inbox. There it was—a message titled Field Trip: Mandatory Attendance.
The trip was scheduled for Saturday and Sunday, just two days away. Both days, full attendance was compulsory for all students. Anika's heart sank. Two whole days away from her child? She felt a sudden tightness in her chest. The little one was still so young, still so dependent on her. How could she possibly leave him alone for so long?
"I don't think I can go," Anika said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Vennila's brows knitted with concern. "Anu, it's compulsory. If you miss it, it'll affect your grades."
Anika pursed her lips, swallowing the knot forming in her throat. "It's... inconvenient for me. I'll talk to the dean."
Vennila sighed, glancing at her phone. "I don't think he'll agree. The dean is very strict about attendance, especially for the field trip."
She checked the clock; there were still thirty minutes before their class started. "Why don't you go see him now? It's better to try than just give up."
Anika nodded silently, steeling herself. She pushed through the noisy crowd of students and headed toward the dean's office.