Chapter 4: The Reluctant Traveler
Nearly 20 years ago, he walked away without looking back. Four years ago, he did the same thing again. Here I am now packing my bags to leave for Charmi's graduation. I am the proudest mother alive, and yet I fear facing the past. Do I trust myself living under the same roof as Vijay? I don't know. I am a different Neeta now, and my daughter comes first.
Sukhi walked into the room as I was packing.
"All set? The cab will be here in an hour." Sukhi stood in the doorway of our tiny bedroom, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn-out jeans.
I didn't look up from zipping my suitcase. "Almost. Just have to pick up a few tings from the bathroom. Sukhi, there's still time. Why don't you also come? Think how happy Charmi will be to see you there." I said, my voice steady, but my hands trembled as I folded a sweater. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating.
Sukhi exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping. "You know I can't, Neeta. The boss wants me here... then there's the cost... I can't make Vijay pay for both of us." Sukhi's voice was strained, his fingers tapping nervously against his thigh.
I turned to face him, my hands on my hips. "It's not charity, Sukhi. He's offering to help for whatever debt he thinks he owes you. You have heard Charmi talk about how involved he has been. Clearly, he cares for her. Besides, don't you think Charmi deserves to have both of us there?" I pressed, watching his jaw tighten.
Sukhi ran a hand through his thinning hair, his frustration palpable. "Neeta, I can't just up and leave. The boss needs me here. I can't say no to her. You know they are downsizing and I could lose my job if I just up and leave—"
"What's your priority Sukhi? Her or your daughter and our family?" I asked, my voice trembling with something between anger and despair. The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Sukhi's face darkened, his jaw clenching.
"Don't make this about her," he muttered, turning away. "You know I can't afford to lose this job. Not now."
"Fine. You made your choice clear." I said, my voice cold as I turned back to my suitcase. The silence between us stretched like a taut wire, ready to snap. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back, but I refused to turn around. I didn't want to see the guilt in his eyes, the excuses forming on his lips. Instead, I focused on the task at hand, my fingers moving mechanically as I packed the last of my things.
The sound of the zipper closing was deafening in the quiet room. I stood there for a moment, my hands resting on the suitcase, my breath coming in short, controlled bursts. I could feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back.
The notification that the cab will arrive in 15 minutes shattered the silence hanging between us.