‘He didn’t tell me but started crying remembering his daughter…’Aishwarya shifted to her parents’ house with her daughter

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Aishwarya paced nervously across the living room of her parents’ house, cradling her daughter in her arms. The familiar scent of jasmine and sandalwood filled the air, the same scent that had always welcomed her when she returned home after long months away. Today, though, it felt different. The weight of uncertainty and sorrow lingered in every corner, every step she took.

It had been a week since she had made the decision to move back in with her parents. She never thought she would return here, but circumstances had a way of changing even the most well-laid plans. Her marriage to Rajan, a man she once loved deeply, had crumbled in ways she couldn’t have imagined. There had been signs, subtle at first—unspoken words, neglected gestures, the growing silence that replaced the laughter and conversations that once filled their home. But what had finally broken her was the incident that left her heart in tatters.

Aishwarya remembered it vividly, the day that everything shifted. Rajan had come home late, as he often did, with a strange look in his eyes. There was an air of disconnection between them, a palpable gap that she couldn’t bridge no matter how hard she tried. She asked him what was wrong, but he had waved it off with a dismissive shrug. But Aishwarya could feel it—the distance between them growing by the minute. It was a feeling she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she wanted to.

That night, when she woke up to find him absent from their bed, she found herself staring at the ceiling, a deep ache in her chest. She had to know. She had to understand what had gone wrong. It wasn’t the first time Rajan had withdrawn, but something about this felt different. She knew she couldn’t wait any longer.

Aishwarya decided to confront him the next morning. As she spoke to him, her voice barely a whisper, Rajan had looked at her with such coldness, a hardness in his eyes that shocked her. The words he spoke next cut deeper than any physical wound. “I can’t do this anymore, Aishwarya. I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a long time.”

Her heart dropped, the air thick with the silence that followed. She had hoped for some clarity, some indication of what had caused this sudden change, but Rajan remained tight-lipped, unable—or unwilling—to explain. Instead, he simply walked away.

That night, Aishwarya couldn’t sleep. She spent hours lying awake in bed, replaying every moment, every conversation they had shared in the past few months. Had she missed something? Was there something she should have done differently? But no answers came. Only an overwhelming sadness.

Days passed in a blur, the tension between them growing thicker. Rajan, for reasons she could not understand, started distancing himself further, becoming more cold, more distant. Aishwarya, desperate to make things right, began trying to reach out to him, but he was impervious to her attempts. And then there was the moment that shattered the last of her hope.

One evening, as Rajan sat in the living room, watching TV with a disinterested gaze, Aishwarya came in with their daughter, Diya, in tow. She sat beside him, her hands trembling slightly, trying to summon the courage to ask the question that had been haunting her.

“Rajan,” she began softly, “is there anyone else?”

For a long time, he didn’t answer. His eyes flickered toward her for a brief moment before they returned to the screen. It was then that she noticed the tears welling up in his eyes, the same tears he had never shed before. They seemed foreign on his face, and in that moment, Aishwarya understood. He wasn’t crying for what they had lost—he was crying for something else, something she couldn’t grasp.

“He didn’t tell me but started crying remembering his daughter…” Aishwarya recalled that moment with a shudder. Her heart ached for the man she once loved, but in that moment, it became clear: their relationship was no longer enough to keep them together. Rajan’s sorrow was for the daughter he had never fully embraced, the one they had lost long before Diya had come into the picture. The bond they had once shared had withered, and no amount of crying could change that.

Aishwarya’s decision to leave wasn’t immediate. It took time—time for her to accept the reality of their broken marriage, time to come to terms with the idea that they were better apart. But when the time came, she packed her bags, took her daughter’s hand, and left.

Her parents had been supportive, even when the pain of her departure lingered in their hearts. They welcomed her back with open arms, understanding that she needed a place of refuge to heal and rebuild. They knew better than anyone what Aishwarya had gone through. She had always been the strong one, the one who could hold everything together, but in that moment, she was nothing but a woman broken by love and loss.

Sitting in her parents’ living room now, with Diya nestled against her chest, Aishwarya felt the full weight of the change in her life. But there was also a glimmer of something else—a sense of peace. It wasn’t easy. Nothing about this transition had been easy. But for the first time in a long while, she felt like she had a future ahead of her, one that didn’t involve clinging to the ghost of a marriage that had long since died.

She kissed Diya’s forehead, her mind clear, her heart steady. Whatever came next, she would face it with the strength her daughter had given her.