The morning unfolded in a whirlwind of movement and sound. The kitchen, bathed in soft golden light, buzzed with life as Mahi moved swiftly between the stove and the dining table. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sizzle of eggs and the crisp crackle of bacon in the pan. Toast popped up golden from the toaster, and the hum of domestic routine filled the quiet serenity of dawn.

“Adu, sweetheart, it’s almost time to wake up!” Mahi called, her voice laced with urgency, eyes darting to the wall clock.

She poured juice into a glass, set down a bowl of cut fruit, and checked on the pancakes browning in the skillet, all while mentally calculating how many minutes she had left before the school bus arrived.

She muttered under her breath with a half-laugh, half-groan, “Why does everything have to happen at once?”

Casting one last glance at the clock, she untied her apron and headed briskly toward her son’s room. Advait lay nestled beneath his blanket, a picture of peaceful slumber. Mahi knelt beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead with maternal tenderness.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispered with a gentle smile, “time to rise and shine. School’s waiting for you.”

Advait stirred, his small face scrunching adorably as he burrowed deeper into the blanket.

“Five more minutes, Mumma,” he mumbled, his voice drowsy.

Mahi chuckled softly, her tone patient but firm. “We don’t have five minutes, sweetheart. Breakfast is ready, and the clock is ticking.”

She gently coaxed him out of bed, guiding him toward the bathroom, then retrieved his neatly pressed school uniform from the wardrobe.

“Come on, let’s get you washed up and handsome.”

As she buttoned his shirt and smoothed his hair, she added, “Dad had an early meeting, so he’s already at work.”

“Is he picking me up after school?” Advait asked, hope lighting his sleepy eyes.

“Not today, baby,” she replied with a fond smile. “But he’s always with you—in your heart. Now, let’s not miss the bus.”

Minutes later, the dining table was a vibrant spread—pancakes stacked high with syrup on the side, bowls of sliced fruit glistening under the morning sun, and fresh juice waiting in tall glasses.

Advait climbed into his chair, eyes lighting up. “Wow! Pancakes!”

Mahi settled beside him, the earlier tension softening in her shoulders.

“There you go. All set for a great day at school.”

“You’re the best, Mumma. These are awesome!” he said, his mouth already full.

She grinned. “Well, eat up quick if you want to be as awesome as Dad.”

They giggled together, the chaos of the morning forgotten in the warmth of shared laughter. Mahi glanced at the clock again and sighed.

“Okay champ, five minutes. Then we’re out the door.”

They chatted as they ate—Advait sharing stories about spelling tests and playground adventures. When they finally stepped outside, backpack slung over his shoulders and polished shoes clicking against the steps, Mahi paused for a moment, watching him with pride.

“Ready to conquer the day?” she asked, handing him his lunchbox.

“Absolutely, Mom!” he beamed.

Later that morning, Mahi stepped onto the college campus with a determined calm in her stride. The soft hues of her embroidered kurti shimmered in the sunlight, the bright patterns catching the eyes of students passing by. A small, perfectly placed bindi adorned her forehead—her only outward adornment of tradition.

But beneath the folds of her kurti, hidden discreetly, lay her mangalsutra. Her sindoor, too, was carefully concealed beneath the parting of her thick hair. She wasn't ashamed—only cautious. This world was new, and she knew it didn’t always welcome stories like hers.

The campus pulsed with energy. Groups of students laughed, hurried to classes, or lounged on the steps of academic buildings, their conversations filling the air with youthful chatter. Though Mahi walked with quiet confidence, she felt the glances. She wasn’t like them—her maturity, her silence, her modest grace stood apart in the crowd of bright-eyed teenagers.

“Stay calm, Mahi. You’ve got this,” she whispered under her breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.

Suddenly, a boy—head down, eyes glued to his phone—bumped into her.

“Watch where you’re going, behenji,” he muttered without even sparing her a glance.

Mahi teetered for a moment, the insult stinging sharper than it should have. But she straightened her back and walked on, her pride intact. She had not come this far to be derailed by ignorance.

As she continued through the courtyard, stray comments drifted to her ears.

“Who’s the aunty in the kurti?”

“Maybe someone’s mom who decided to join college for fun.”

Their laughter followed her like shadows.

But Mahi did not falter.

“You belong here,” she told herself quietly. “Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”

At the classroom door, an older professor greeted her with a warm smile.

“Good morning! You must be Mahi. Welcome.”

His kindness caught her off guard.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, her voice steadying as she stepped inside.

By lunchtime, Mahi stood at the edge of the bustling cafeteria, her books clutched tightly in her arms. Every table was filled—laughter bouncing off the walls, students exchanging banter and selfies and the kind of ease that comes with familiarity.

Her eyes landed on a lone figure at a corner table—a girl with a poised expression and a gentle air. She was reading quietly, a plate of rice untouched before her.

Taking a breath, Mahi walked over.

“Hi… is this seat taken?”

The girl looked up and smiled. “No, please. Sit! I’m Riya.”

“I’m Mahi,” she said as she sat, grateful for the smile. “I joined mid-semester.”

“Oh, that must be tough.” Riya tilted her head with understanding. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Mahi hesitated, then answered with soft honesty. “Family issues. Had to drop out of my previous college.”

Riya’s smile never wavered. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I’m really glad you’re here now. New beginnings can be beautiful.”

Mahi felt her shoulders ease. The nervousness she’d carried all morning loosened with Riya’s kindness.

“Thank you,” she said with a small, genuine smile. “I needed to hear that.”

Sneak peek- Chapter 6

Advait giggled, a bit bashful. “I know… but now I want to be like Papa. And you too, Mumma. You both do cool stuff.”

Mahi reached across the table and took his hand. “You can be anything you want, Advait. A chef, a pilot, an astronaut… or all three if you’d like. Whatever you choose, we’ll always be proud of you.”

“Really?” he whispered.