Speeding along the narrow, winding mountain road, a young couple, oblivious to the world, soared through the Nilgiris, their love as boundless as the sky above. The road—a ribbon of adventure—twisted and turned through emerald hills, whispering secrets in the rustling leaves. Their laughter mingled with the crisp, eucalyptus-scented air, creating a symphony of joy that resonated with the land’s ancient spirit.
Each glance, each touch, was electric, sparking a fire that warmed them even in the cool mountain breeze. As newlyweds, every moment was filled with the thrill of discovery: of each other’s quirks, of the unspoken bond growing stronger, and of the intoxicating realization that they were now bound together in life’s grand adventure.
The car, their chariot of dreams, seemed to float, carried by their shared exhilaration. They were explorers in a land of wonder, discovering not only the beauty around them but also the depths of each other’s souls. Ajit would steal glances at Suvarna, mesmerized by the way the sunlight played on her hair, and Suvarna would shyly return his gaze, her heart fluttering with the newness of their love.
As they rounded a bend, a breathtaking panorama unfolded before them—a sea of tea plantations undulating in the golden sunlight, kissed by mist that danced like fairies at dawn. They stopped at a secluded overlook, a secret haven where the world faded away. Here, in this enchanted corner of the aquamarine blue Nilgiris, time itself seemed to pause, granting them a moment of eternity.
As they rounded a bend, a breathtaking panorama unfolded before them—a sea of tea plantations undulating in the golden sunlight, kissed by mist that danced like fairies at dawn. They stopped at a secluded overlook, a secret haven where the world faded away. Here, in this enchanted corner of the aquamarine blue Nilgiris, time itself seemed to pause, granting them a moment of eternity.
Finding a vantage point that seemed made just for them, they stopped at a secluded spot. Below, the tea plantations spread out like a lush green quilt, and the distant peaks rose majestically against the sky. They sat close, their hands entwined, sharing dreams and hopes as the gentle breeze played with their hair.
In those moments, time seemed to stand still. The worries of the world were miles away, and all that mattered was the here and now. The Nilgiris, with its tranquil beauty and serene charm, became a witness to their love—a love as boundless as the horizons they gazed upon, as deep as the valleys below, and as enduring as the mountains standing guard around them.
They sat together on a moss-covered rock, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped protectively around her. Their conversation became a melody of dreams and whispers, each word a note in their private love song. They spoke of their future, of adventures yet to come, and of the unspoken bond tying their hearts together.
As they shared tender kisses and soft laughter, Suvarna marvelled at how easily they fit together, as if they had been made for each other. Ajit, too, found himself lost in the joy of these quiet moments—the simplicity of being with her, the thrill of knowing her in ways no one else ever would. They were still learning each other’s secrets, still delighting in the surprises of their new life together.
The landscape mirrored their emotions—majestic peaks symbolizing their aspirations, and deep valleys echoing their unspoken desires. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, a celestial canvas reflecting the passion in their hearts. The gentle rustle of leaves was the only applause needed for their silent vows, promises sealed with tender kisses and shared smiles.
In the Nilgiris, their love found a canvas as vast and vibrant as their feelings. It was a love as eternal as the mountains, as mysterious as the mist, and as radiant as the sunrise over the hills. They were not just a couple in love; they were a single soul, intertwined and uplifted by the magic of the mountains, forever changed by the beauty of the world and each other.
As time passed, Suvarna and Ajit settled into family life, their love deepening with the arrival of their two sons, Vishisht and Vipul. The serene days in the Nilgiris now echoed with the joyous laughter of children, and their home became a sanctuary of warmth and happiness. The mountains stood as silent witnesses to their evolving journey—from lovers to parents—as they navigated the complexities of life together.
However, with the growth of their family came the shadows of misunderstandings. Small disagreements began to surface, often sparked by the stresses of daily life and the responsibilities that came with raising two energetic boys. Into this evolving dynamic entered a new figure: Ajit’s mother—a woman whose crafty nature would soon test the resilience of their bond.
Nupur, the mother-in-law, was a woman of sharp wit and keen insight. Her presence was like a shadow—subtle yet pervasive, her intentions often cloaked in well-meaning advice and innocent suggestions. She arrived at Suvarna and Ajit’s home with the air of a matriarch, claiming to help with the children and ease the couple’s burdens. But beneath her seemingly benign exterior, Nupur harbored a desire to exert control over the household.
At first, her influence appeared in small, mischievous ways. She would make casual remarks about how the children were being raised, often implying that her son deserved a more structured home. “In our day, we did things differently,” she would say, casting a critical glance at Suvarna. “Children need discipline; you mustn’t be so lenient.” Suvarna would listen politely, caught between deference and frustration, unsure of Nupur’s true intentions.
Beyond these comments, Nupur’s meddling grew more deliberate. She would sneak into the kitchen after Suvarna had finished cooking, adding extra salt to the food. Then, at dinner, she would remark innocently, “Oh dear, this is a bit too salty, isn’t it?” Her eyes would sparkle with feigned surprise as she looked at Suvarna. “Perhaps you should be more careful next time, dear.”
Her antics extended beyond the kitchen. Nupur had a habit of “borrowing” Suvarna’s belongings—items she felt should rightfully belong to her son and, by extension, her own daughter, Snigdha. Jewellery, scarves, even favourite books would mysteriously disappear, only to later reappear with Snigdha. “Oh, I thought you didn’t need this,” Nupur would say with a smile, feigning innocence. “It looked like something Snigdha would appreciate.”
To Suvarna’s face, Nupur was sweet and accommodating, quick with a kind word or a helping hand. “You’re doing such a great job with the boys, Suvarna,” she would say, her voice dripping with honey. “It’s not easy, I know. You’re really holding everything together.” But behind Suvarna’s back, her tone changed. She would take Ajit aside and voice her complaints, her tone filled with concern. “Suvarna just doesn’t understand how to run a household properly,” she would say. “She’s too lenient with the boys, and her cooking—well, you know how it is. I worry about how things will turn out if this continues.”
These crafty acts of mischief and manipulation created an undercurrent of tension in the household. Suvarna, feeling undermined and constantly on edge, began to question her own abilities as a mother and a wife. Arguments that once resolved with a kiss and a smile now lingered, their edges sharper and more painful, as subtle cracks began to form in their once harmonious relationship.
Nupur’s presence soon extended to Suvarna and Ajit’s marital bond. She would often take Ajit aside, speaking in hushed tones about the importance of his authority in the household. “You mustn’t let her take over,” she would advise, her voice firm. “A man needs to be the head of his family, to set the rules.” Her words planted seeds of doubt in Ajit’s mind, which slowly began to influence his view of Suvarna’s decisions and actions.
Caught between his love for his wife and ingrained respect for his mother, Ajit found himself swayed by Nupur’s manipulations. He began to question Suvarna’s choices more often, unwittingly echoing his mother’s sentiments, and adding to the growing rift. Suvarna sensed the shift in her husband’s attitude—once warm and encouraging, now shaded with doubt and criticism. Everyday matters, from decisions about the children to household routines, became sources of friction, heightening the strain between them.
Amidst this turmoil, Rajiv, the indulgent father-in-law, provided a stark contrast to his wife’s crafty ways. With his easy-going charm, he adored his grandchildren and often acted as a calming presence. He would take Vishisht and Vipul on long walks through the tea plantations, sharing stories from his youth and teaching them about the natural world. His presence was a balm to the household, a reminder of the love and laughter that had once filled their home.
Rajiv would occasionally chide Nupur gently for her interference, hoping to dissuade her from her subtle machinations. “Let them find their own way, Nupur,” he’d say calmly. “They need to make their own mistakes and learn from them, just as we did.” But his words, though well-intentioned, rarely held sway over her determined will.
Despite Rajiv’s efforts to maintain harmony, the couple’s idyllic home in the Nilgiris—once a fortress of love and unity—now seemed fragile. The mountains, silent witnesses to their joy and now their strife, loomed tall and unyielding, a stark contrast to the turbulence within their hearts.
The subtle seeds of discord that Nupur had planted began to take root, shifting the atmosphere of the household. Suvarna saw the ways Ajit had changed, and the weight of Nupur’s influence felt undeniable. The home they had once built together, filled with laughter and dreams, now felt brittle, shadowed by the strain of expectations and unspoken tensions
As the days turned into weeks, Suvarna’s unease grew. She could feel the shadows of Nupur’s influence creeping into every corner of their lives. The boys, once carefree and vibrant, began mirroring their father’s uncertainty, echoing Ajit’s doubts in their innocent voices. Small, innocent questions turned into moments of confusion and anxiety. “Why do you do it this way, Mummy?” Vishisht would ask, his brow furrowed in thought, and Suvarna would feel the weight of Nupur’s critiques wrapping around her like a heavy cloak.
At the dinner table, the atmosphere shifted from warmth to tension. What was once a time of laughter and storytelling had transformed into a battlefield of silent judgments and strained smiles. Nupur’s comments, cloaked in the guise of concern, reverberated through the air, “Ajit, don’t you think the boys need more discipline? They should be taught to respect their elders.” Suvarna felt the sting of each word, realizing that Nupur’s presence was now an uninvited guest at their family meals.
Despite Rajiv’s attempts to mediate, his gentle words seemed to vanish into the air, leaving Suvarna to navigate the storm alone. “Nupur, they’re just children, let them be,” he would say, but his words held little weight against his wife’s relentless need to exert control. In this constant tug-of-war, Suvarna found herself isolated, trapped in a web woven by Nupur’s cunning.
One evening, after another long day filled with unspoken frustrations, Suvarna decided to confront Ajit about the growing distance between them. She chose a quiet moment, hoping to bridge the chasm that seemed to widen with each passing day. “Ajit, I feel like we’re drifting apart. I miss the way we used to talk and share everything.”
Ajit looked up, his expression a mixture of guilt and confusion. “I know, Suvarna. But sometimes… I just don’t know how to handle things. It’s hard with my mother’s constant presence. She means well, but…” His voice trailed off, leaving unspoken thoughts hanging heavy between them.
Suvarna’s heart sank as she realized that the cracks in their relationship were no longer just the result of daily stressors; they were deeply influenced by Nupur’s machinations. “We need to be a united front, Ajit. If we allow her to dictate how we run our family, we might lose everything we’ve built together,” she implored, her voice tinged with desperation.
Yet, as much as Suvarna sought understanding, Ajit’s gaze turned away, a sign that he was still caught in the crossfire of his loyalties. “I just want to keep the peace, Suvarna,” he replied, the weight of his mother’s expectations hanging heavily in the air.
Frustration surged within Suvarna, and she realized that this was not just a battle against Nupur, but a fight for her marriage, her identity, and the family they had envisioned together. The mountains outside loomed like sentinels, witnessing the slow erosion of their bond, and she wondered if they could weather this storm or if they were destined to crumble under the pressure.
In the following days, Suvarna decided to take charge of her own narrative. She began to assert her role as a mother, creating a loving environment for Vishisht and Vipul that was free from Nupur’s subtle manipulations. “We’re going to have fun today!” she announced one sunny morning, taking the boys on an adventure through the tea plantations, a place that had once been a sanctuary for their family.
As they walked among the fragrant tea bushes, Suvarna felt a flicker of hope reignite. The boys’ laughter echoed through the hills, filling her heart with warmth and reminding her of the joys of their early days together. She knew that nurturing her relationship with her sons would create a foundation of love that could withstand any external pressures.
However, Nupur’s shadow loomed large, and Suvarna braced herself for the inevitable confrontations that lay ahead. She could no longer sit back quietly as her home transformed into a battlefield of wills. The time had come to reclaim her family, to stand firm against Nupur’s crafty influence, and to fight for the love that had once flourished so beautifully in the Nilgiris.
With each determined step she took, Suvarna felt a renewed sense of purpose and strength, aware that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but also filled with the possibility of reclaiming the joy and unity that had defined their lives before Nupur’s arrival. The mountains would bear witness to her journey, and perhaps, just perhaps, they would guide her towards a resolution that restored harmony to her family.
However , Ajit, influenced by his mother’s whispered concerns, started to question Suvarna more often. “Why don’t you try handling things differently, Suvarna?” he would say, his tone laced with an uncharacteristic sharpness. “Maybe Amma has a point about the boys needing more discipline. And I’ve noticed the food hasn’t been quite right lately…”
These comments, though seemingly minor, cut deep. Suvarna, who had always taken pride in her ability to manage the household and raise their children, now found herself second-guessing her every move. Her confidence began to wane, and with it, the easy camaraderie she and Ajit once shared.
On the other hand, Ajit was caught in a web of conflicting emotions. He loved Suvarna deeply, but his mother’s constant presence and opinions were hard to ignore. Unbeknownst to him, his attempts to address what he saw as minor issues were slowly driving a wedge between them. His frustration grew, not just with Suvarna but with himself, for not being able to find a balance between his wife and his mother.
The misunderstandings escalated, growing more frequent and intense. A forgotten errand or a minor disagreement would spiral into arguments that left both feeling unheard and misunderstood. Ajit would retreat into silence, while Suvarna, feeling increasingly isolated, would lash out in frustration, her words tinged with the pain of being doubted by the one person she had always trusted.
Their once vibrant conversations, once filled with dreams and laughter, had given way to strained silences and tense exchanges. The cozy home that had once been their haven now felt cold and distant, each room echoing with memories of happier times, now tinged with sorrow.
The children, too, began to pick up on the growing tension .Vishisht and Vipul, once carefree and joyous, started to ask why their parents seemed so upset all the time. Their innocent questions only added to the strain, making Suvarna feel like she was failing not just as a wife, but as a mother too.
Rajiv, ever the observant one, watched with a heavy heart as his son’s marriage began to unravel. He saw the toll Nupur’s manipulations were taking on Suvarna and Ajit, but his gentle interventions were no match for the subtle yet powerful influence of his wife. He could only hope that the love that had once been so strong between them would find a way to heal the growing rift.
But for now, the mountains stood tall and silent, bearing witness to the storm brewing within the walls of their home. The once unshakable bond between Suvarna and Ajit had grown fragile, strained by the weight of misunderstandings and unspoken grievances The very foundation of their relationship seemed to tremble, as they struggled to navigate the choppy waters of doubt and mistrust that had crept into their lives.
As tensions within the household grew, Suvarna found herself increasingly overwhelmed by the misunderstandings and discord that had crept into her marriage. What had once been a beautiful union of love and discovery was now clouded by doubts and misgivings. The stress of managing the household, raising two young sons, and navigating the complicated relationship with her mother-in-law, Nupur, began to take its toll on her.
One particularly difficult day, after an argument with Ajit over yet another misunderstanding sown by Nupur’s crafty manipulations, Suvarna felt the walls closing in around her. The once cozy and comforting home in the Nilgiris now felt like a cage, trapping her in a life that seemed increasingly out of her control.
Seeking solace, Suvarna decided to take a walk alone in the mountains. She had always found peace in the serene beauty of the Nilgiris—the lush green tea plantations, the crisp mountain air, and the tranquil blue hues of the distant peaks. But today, the landscape felt different, as though it was mirroring the turmoil inside her.
As she walked along the familiar path, the vibrant blue of the Nilgiris, which had always filled her with a sense of calm, appeared dull and muddy, as if the mountains themselves were reflecting her inner despair. The mist, usually a comforting veil of mystery, seemed heavier, more oppressive, wrapping her in a shroud of melancholy.
Suvarna reached a secluded overlook, a spot she had often visited with Ajit during their early days of marriage. It was a place filled with memories of whispered promises and shared dreams. But today, the beauty of the scene was lost on her. The tea plantations below looked faded; the distant peaks blurred by the haze that seemed more like a barrier than a gentle mist.
She sat down on a moss-covered rock, her usual refuge from the world, but today it felt cold and unwelcoming. The gentle breeze that had once felt like a caress now seemed harsh, tugging at her hair and chilling her to the bone. As she gazed out at the landscape, Suvarna’s heart ached with a deep sense of loss.
The Nilgiris, which had once symbolized the boundless love and potential in her marriage, now felt like a mirror of her own discontent. The vivid colours and lively spirit of the mountains were muted, replaced by shades of grey that reflected the uncertainty and sadness that had taken root in her heart.
For the first time, Suvarna felt truly alone. The joy and connection she had once shared with Ajit seemed distant, buried beneath the weight of their daily struggles and the persistent undercurrent of tension that Nupur’s presence brought into their lives. She began to question her own worth, her ability to be a good wife and mother, and whether she could ever restore the happiness that had once filled their home.
As the day wore on, Suvarna’s thoughts grew darker, her spirit sinking further into despair. The beautiful blue of the Nilgiris, which had always been her sanctuary, now felt like a reflection of her own muddied emotions—lost, confused, and hopelessly tangled. The fresh and tingly aroma of pine cones , the eucalyptus, the sound of the tea laden hills -the finest symphony, not of this world, for nothing human could ever came up to it all seemed stale and muted to her.
When she finally rose to return home, Suvarna did so with a heavy heart, knowing that the journey ahead would not be easy. The road back to her home, once a path of joy and anticipation, now felt fraught with uncertainty. The mountains, which had once embraced her with their tranquil beauty, seemed distant and indifferent, as if they too were turning away from her in her time of need.
As Suvarna trudged back to the house, the weight of her thoughts bore down on her, matching the dreary hue of the Nilgiris that day. The once vibrant mountains, now shrouded in a murky haze, mirrored the cloud of despair hanging over her heart. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to face the household that had once been a haven of love but now felt like a battlefield.
When she entered the house, she paused in the hallway, her steps faltering as she heard voices from the living room. It was Nupur, her tone low but laced with venom, speaking to Ajit.
“This girl,” Nupur was saying, “hardly brought any dowry with her, and yet she can’t even manage a household properly. What good is she, Ajit? You deserve so much better. There are wealthy, beautiful, and educated girls out there—girls who would bring honour and prosperity to our family. You should consider your future and our family’s reputation. Divorce Suvarna and choose someone more suitable.”
Suvarna’s heart stopped, the air around her growing cold as Nupur’s words sank in. She felt a mix of disbelief and devastation. The woman who had once seemed like a supportive mother-in-law was now revealing her true colours, plotting to destroy her marriage. The idea of being replaced, of her love being so easily discarded, was a knife twisting in her chest.
Her mind raced, torn between bursting into the room to defend herself and fleeing from this painful reality. But she couldn’t move. All she could do was listen, her breath caught in her throat, as Nupur continued her poisonous tirade.
Ajit’s voice followed, strained and uncertain. “Mother, this isn’t right. Suvarna is my wife, the mother of my children. We’ve built a life together.”
“But look at the life you’re living now,” Nupur countered, her voice smooth and persuasive. “Your marriage is falling apart. Suvarna is not what you need; she’s not what our family needs. You can start over, make a better choice. Think of your future, Ajit.”
Tears welled up in Suvarna’s eyes as she listened to Ajit’s hesitation. The man who had once stood by her through thick and thin was now wavering under his mother’s influence. It felt like her world was crumbling, the foundations of her marriage eroding with every word Nupur spoke.
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Suvarna stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. “Ajit, is this really how you feel?”
Both Ajit and Nupur turned in surprise, the colour draining from Ajit’s face as he realized Suvarna had overheard everything. Nupur’s expression hardened, but she quickly masked it with a look of false concern.
“Suvarna, dear, you’ve misunderstood,” Nupur began, but Suvarna cut her off.
“No, I heard you perfectly,” Suvarna said, her voice gaining strength as her emotions surged. “You think I’m worthless because I didn’t bring enough money into this marriage? You think I’m unfit to be your son’s wife? And you, Ajit,” she turned to him, her eyes filled with hurt, “are you really considering replacing me with someone more ‘suitable’? Is that what our love has come to?”
Ajit opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. He looked at Suvarna, then at his mother, caught between the two most important women in his life. The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with unspoken truths and shattered trust. He tried to placate her, his voice calm but lacking conviction. “Suvarna, you’re overreacting. Mother didn’t mean it that way. She just wants what’s best for us.”
Suvarna’s eyes flashed with frustration and hurt. “Overreacting? Ajit, she’s suggesting you divorce me and find someone better! Is that what you think too? Are you that easily swayed by her words?”
Ajit shifted uncomfortably, his gaze avoiding hers. “You don’t understand… It’s not as simple as that. She’s my mother, and she’s only concerned about our future.”
“Then be a man, Ajit! Stand up for us, for our marriage! Don’t let her tear us apart!” Suvarna’s voice trembled, her emotions boiling over.
Ajit’s patience snapped. “Enough, Suvarna! I’m doing the best I can!” He raised his hand and, in a moment of anger, slapped her across the face. The sound echoed through the room, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. Suvarna staggered back, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and pain.
Ajit’s face immediately softened with regret, but the damage was done. He turned away, unable to face her. “I’m going out,” he muttered, his voice thick with guilt. Without another word, he walked out of the house, leaving Suvarna standing there, trembling with a mix of anger, sorrow, and disbelief.
Later that evening, Ajit called Suvarna, his tone distant. “I’m going on a business trip. Don’t wait up for me.”
“A business trip?” Suvarna repeated, her voice hollow. “For how long?”
“A week, maybe more. I’ll call you when I can.”
Before she could respond, the line went dead. For the next several days, Suvarna waited anxiously for his return, but all she received were brief, unbelievable excuses over the phone. Each call left her feeling more abandoned and confused.
Finally, when Ajit still hadn’t come home after a week, Suvarna confided in Rajiv, her father-in-law. “I don’t know where he is, Papa. Something’s not right. He’s not himself.”
Rajiv, who had noticed the growing tension in the household, nodded gravely. “We’ll find him, beta. Don’t worry. I’ll come with you.”
As they prepared to leave, Nupur cornered Suvarna, her voice dripping with malice. “Maybe Ajit found someone better. Someone who can give him what you couldn’t.”
Suvarna’s heart clenched, but she refused to let Nupur’s words break her resolve. She left with Rajiv, determined to find her husband and bring him back.
After searching various places where Ajit might have gone, they finally found him in a dimly lit bar, sitting with an unknown woman. The sight of him laughing and chatting with her, his arm draped casually over her shoulder, made Suvarna’s blood run cold.
“Ajit!” Rajiv’s voice was stern, cutting through the murmur of the bar.
Suvarna stood frozen, her eyes locked on the scene before her—Ajit, laughing and carefree, with his arm draped around another woman—the world around her seemed to blur. The vibrant greens of the Nilgiris, once her sanctuary, felt dull and lifeless. The mountains, usually so majestic and reassuring, loomed over her like silent witnesses to her heartbreak.
Her heart shattered in that moment, and the once serene blue hues of the Nilgiris turned muddy in her mind’s eye, reflecting the turmoil and despair within her. Without a word, she turned and walked out of the bar, her heart pounding in her chest. Rajiv called after her, his voice tinged with concern, but Suvarna didn’t stop. The betrayal was too deep, too painful, and the mountains, which had once held her dreams, now seemed to mock her with their indifferent beauty.
Back at home, Suvarna moved with a quiet resolve, each step heavy with the weight of her decision. She packed her belongings swiftly, her hands trembling slightly as she gathered her sons’ things. Vishisht and Vipul, sensing the tension, remained quiet, their wide eyes filled with the unspoken questions they were too afraid to ask.
As Suvarna packed, she couldn’t help but glance out the window at the rolling hills that had been her refuge. The Nilgiris had witnessed the birth of her love, the joys and hopes she had once harboured, and now they stood as a silent testament to her broken dreams. She had thought these mountains would be her fortress, a place where she and Ajit could build a life together. But now, they were just a reminder of what she had lost.
With a heavy heart, Suvarna made up her mind. The years of trying to hold her family together, of enduring the subtle manipulations and the growing distance, had taken their toll. She couldn’t stay in this house any longer—not after what she had seen, not after what the Nilgiris, her once-beloved mountains, had come to represent.
In the quiet of the night, Suvarna and her sons slipped out of the house, leaving behind the life they had known. She had a plan—one that had been forming in the back of her mind for months, ever since the tensions at home had begun to escalate. She had taken up a work-from-home assignment, a job that no one in the family knew about, preparing herself for the possibility that she might need to stand on her own.
Now, that possibility had become a reality. As they drove away, the familiar peaks of the Nilgiris faded into the distance, their once-comforting presence now a distant memory. The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, Suvarna felt a glimmer of hope. She was determined to build a new life for herself and her children, one where they could thrive without fear of manipulation or betrayal.
The divorce had been gruelling, a battle that left Suvarna drained but determined. Winning custody of her sons was a hard-fought victory, one that came with scars both visible and hidden. As she stepped into her new life, far from the Nilgiris and the memories that haunted her, Suvarna poured herself into her work, climbing the corporate ladder with a relentless drive. The pain of the past became the fuel for her success, and in time, she rose to the rank of CEO—a position that brought her power, respect, and the security she had longed for.
But with her success came a cost. The warmth that once defined Suvarna’s spirit had cooled, replaced by a calculated distance that kept everyone, including her sons, at arm’s length. She had become aloof, her heart walled off, unwilling to risk the vulnerability that had once led to such deep pain. Her focus was on providing for her children, ensuring they had everything they needed, but the closeness they once shared was now a faint memory.
Ajit, on the other hand, found himself trapped in the consequences of his actions. The reality of his choices weighed heavily on him, and though he had regained his senses after the divorce, it was too late to undo the damage. His mother, Nupur, had pushed for him to remarry, suggesting matches that were wealthy, beautiful, and educated—exactly the kind of woman she had always wanted for him. But Ajit refused. The idea of starting over with someone else felt hollow; he had no desire to replace Suvarna, no matter what his mother said.
He tried to reach out to Suvarna, desperate to explain, to tell her that the woman at the bar had been nothing more than a chance encounter, that he had never strayed. But Suvarna was unyielding, her heart still raw from the betrayal she had endured. The sons, caught between their parents, suggested subtly that their mother might listen, might consider the possibility that Ajit’s story was true. Yet, Suvarna could not bring herself to trust him again. The hurt ran too deep, and the memory of that day in the Nilgiris, of seeing Ajit with another woman, was a wound that had never fully healed.
As the years passed, Suvarna grew stronger and more confident, learning to prioritize her own needs and set boundaries with Nupur. She also developed a support network of friends and family members who helped her navigate the challenges of co-parenting and dealing with a difficult ex-mother-in-law .
Slowly but surely , Suvarna built a life of success and independence in her new city. Her achievements were lauded, and she became a figure of admiration, but those who knew her best saw the loneliness behind the accolades. Her sons, though they loved her, sensed the distance that had grown between them. They stayed in touch with their father, aware of his efforts to reconnect, but Suvarna kept her distance, unwilling to reopen a chapter of her life that she had fought so hard to close as she learned to manage , shutting off Ajit and his family from her world in totality as she focused on building a happy and fulfilling life for herself and her children with a sense of closure. The three as a rule never discussed Ajit or his parents.
In contrast, Ajit struggled to break free from Nupur’s influence, often finding himself caught between his love and loyalty for his mother and his desire to reconnect with Suvarna and his sons. He would occasionally try to reach out to Suvarna, hoping to rekindle their relationship, but his efforts were often thwarted by Nupur’s meddling and Suvarna’s refusal. As a result, Ajit’s relationships with his sons suffered, and he was left to grapple with the consequences of his own actions and the toxic influence of his mother , trapped in the cycle of guilt, regret, and longing, unable to fully escape the shadow of it all.
The Nilgiris, with its blue hills and misty mornings, was a distant memory now—a place where love had once blossomed and then withered. Suvarna had moved on, but the emotional scars remained, shaping the woman she had become. The mountains had witnessed the rise and fall of her marriage, and now, in the city that was her new home, she was determined to protect herself from any further pain, no matter the cost.
The Nilgiris had seen the birth of her love, and now, they would bear witness to its end. As the mountains receded in the rearview mirror, Suvarna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her heart ached, but she knew she couldn’t look back. “The mountains have their own stories to tell,” she whispered to herself, “but it’s time I start writing mine, far away from these shadows.”
As the years passed, Suvarna’s life became a routine of work, success, and the occasional joy her sons brought into her world. She had long buried the pain of her past, focusing on the present. But one day, news arrived that shook her to the core—Ajit was seriously ill.
The information came through her sons, who, despite the distance, had never fully cut ties with their father. Hearing of his condition, Suvarna felt a rush of emotions she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.
“Mom, Dad’s not doing well,” Vishisht’s voice crackled over the phone, breaking the silence she had built around herself. “The doctors… they say it’s serious.”
Suvarna’s heart raced, and memories she had suppressed for so long came flooding back. Without another thought, she began packing a bag, her mind lost in a whirlwind of thoughts as she booked the earliest flight back to the Nilgiris. As the plane soared above the clouds, Suvarna’s eyes stared out at the endless sky, but her mind was far away, wandering through the corridors of her memories, dreaming of what could have been.
In her dream, she imagined a life where destiny had taken a different turn—a life where she and Ajit had stayed together, where misunderstandings hadn’t torn them apart.
She saw them in the early days of their marriage, still in the Nilgiris, their love fresh and untainted. In the dream, they were sitting together on the veranda of their home, laughing as their sons, Vishisht and Vipul, played in the garden. Ajit teased her, mimicking her accent when she spoke Tamil.
“I’m trying to learn!” she protested, playfully swatting at his arm.
He grinned, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her forehead. “And I love you for it,” he said softly.
Their home was often filled with lighter, fun-filled moments that brought immense joy and relief from their busy schedules. Vishisht and Vipul, with their boundless energy and curiosity, provided a constant source of laughter and delight.
One evening, as Suvarna was preparing dinner, Vishisht and Vipul burst into the kitchen, giggling uncontrollably.
“Mom, we’re doing ‘Supermarket Sweep’!” Vishisht announced, his small face lighting up with excitement.
“We need to get all the chocolates before they’re sold out!” Vipul added, zooming around the kitchen, pretending to collect imaginary groceries.
Suvarna laughed joyously at their antics, her tiredness melting away in the warmth of their joy. Ajit, caught up in the children’s playful world, entered the kitchen just in time to see the chaos.
Another weekend, Ajit was sitting in the living room, engrossed in reading a report for work, when there was a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Vipul standing there, holding out a superhero mask.
“Papa, we need you to be Captain Mighty! We have to save the city from the evil Dr. Dull!” Vipul’s voice was filled with urgency.
Ajit chuckled and put on the mask, instantly transforming from a serious working man into a playful superhero. “Captain Mighty, at your service!” he declared, jumping into action as they staged an epic battle, with pillows and cushions serving as their fortress. The living room rang with laughter and imaginative dialogue, a testament to the special bond between father and sons, unmarred by external pressures.
During a family movie night, Vishisht decided to put on a puppet show during the intermission. He crafted characters out of socks and bits of fabric, bringing them to life with his animated storytelling.
“Welcome to the greatest puppet show in the world!” Vishisht announced grandly, holding up his makeshift puppets.
Vipul acted as the enthusiastic audience, clapping and cheering at every twist and turn. Suvarna and Ajit watched with pride and amusement, their hearts swelling with love for their creative and spirited children. The absence of Nupur’s interference made these moments feel even more precious, free from the undercurrents of criticism and control.
Even the simple moments, like family dinners, were filled with humour and affection. Vishisht and Vipul would often recount amusing incidents from their day, their eyes shining with excitement.
“Guess what happened in swimming class today?” Vipul began, his voice eager.
Vishisht eagerly chimed in, “And then the teacher slipped and—”
Their tales, often embellished with hilarious exaggerations, led to a table full of laughter and shared joy.
Their days, though busy, were now punctuated with the pure joy of being together, free from the manipulations and mischief of Nupur. The city, with its fast pace and constant demands, became a backdrop for their story of resilience, love, and endless laughter.
In another scene, they were walking hand in hand through the tea plantations, the boys running ahead, their laughter echoing through the hills. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and Suvarna felt a sense of peace she hadn’t known in years. Ajit stopped to pick a wildflower, tucking it behind her ear with a smile.
“You’re still as beautiful as the day I met you,” he said, his voice tender.
Suvarna rolled her eyes, though her heart fluttered with happiness. “Flattery won’t get you out of washing the dishes tonight,” she teased.
Her dream shifted to a cozy evening at home, the four of them gathered around the dining table. The boys were telling stories from their day, their animated faces glowing in the warm light of the room. Ajit was recounting a funny incident from work, exaggerating the details to make them all laugh.
“And then he spilled coffee all over his papers—right in front of the boss!” Ajit said, his voice full of mock horror.
Suvarna watched him, her heart swelling with love as she realized how deeply she cherished these simple moments—the sound of their sons’ laughter, the warmth of Ajit’s smile, the way he would reach across the table to squeeze her hand when he thought no one was looking.
In her dream, their life was filled with joy and laughter, with family vacations to the beach, where Ajit would build sandcastles with the boys while Suvarna read a book nearby.
She imagined them dancing together at family weddings, Ajit twirling her around, both of them laughing like teenagers in love. Their sons grew up in this dream, confident and happy, shaped by the love and unity of their parents.
But as the dream unfolded, a shadow of regret began to creep in. Suvarna imagined a life where they hadn’t let pride and misunderstandings come between them, where they had fought for their love instead of letting it slip away.
She saw the future they could have had—a future where they grew old together, where their sons got married and had children of their own, bringing a new generation into the fold.
She imagined sitting on a porch swing with Ajit, holding hands as they watched their grandchildren play, their love stronger than ever, weathered but unbroken.
Suddenly, the dream began to fade, replaced by the harsh reality that awaited her. Suvarna’s heart clenched as she thought of Ajit lying sick and alone, the years they had lost, the memories they could have made. She knew that the past could never be undone, but the regret was still there, sharp and painful, mingled with a longing she hadn’t felt in a long time.
As the plane began its descent into the Nilgiris, Suvarna wiped a tear from her cheek, steeling herself for what was to come. “I can’t change the past,” she whispered, “but maybe, I can find some closure for the future.”
The Nilgiris, with its blue hills now faded in her mind, awaited her return, a place where she had once known both the heights of love and the depths of heartache.
She needed to ascertain if Ajit was still in the old house. In her hurry she had not taken the details from her sons.
Suvarna hesitated before dialling Ajit’s number, her heart pounding with anxiety. When a stale female voice answered, her stomach dropped.
“Is Ajit back to his old ways?” she thought, her mind racing with doubts. Just as she was about to hang up, the voice on the other end spoke again.
“This is Sister Maneesha. Who’s calling? Mr. Ajit is sleeping.”
Relief washed over Suvarna, and she chided herself for jumping to conclusions. “I’m Suvarna,” she introduced herself. “Please don’t wake him. I’m on my way.”
Ajit wasn’t sleeping, though. His illness had sharpened his senses, and he recognized the much-loved but lost voice that had just spoken. His heart raced, and a glimmer of hope sparked in his chest. He tried to get up, fumbling for his car keys, but the nurse and his caretaker quickly restrained him.
“I have to go!” Ajit shouted, his voice filled with desperation. “Let me go! I need to see her!”
“Mr. Ajit, please,” the nurse pleaded, trying to calm him. “You’re too weak!”
But Ajit was relentless, threatening, begging, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, they relented.
The driver, caretaker and nurse accompanied him as did his oxygen equipment. The journey to meet her was filled with a mix of anticipation and anxiety and the road took him through winding paths and rolling hills, eventually leading him to their favourite spot overlooking the Nilgiris as it was enroute ,the way from the airport. The serene beauty of the landscape has always been a cherished part of their relationship, and Ajit decided to stop there hoping that the lore and memories would help mend the emotional rift between them.
Ajit stepped out, breathing in the cool, misty air. He could almost see their younger selves here, laughing, talking about dreams that now seemed so distant.
“Suvarna,” he imagined himself saying, “I’m glad you came. I missed this place… I missed us.”
But his thoughts were interrupted by the screeching of tires. He looked up just in time to see Suvarna’s taxi speeding up the slippery path, the rain pouring down, turning the road into a treacherous trap.
“Suvarna, no!” Ajit shouted, his heart lurching as the car skidded on an oil spill and crashed into the mountainside. Panic surged through him, overpowering his own physical pain. He pushed past the nurse and stumbled towards the wreck, his breath ragged and his vision blurred.
“Suvarna!” he cried out, his voice cracking with fear.
Despite the rain and mud making every step a struggle, Ajit pressed on. The sight of Suvarna hanging out of the rear window, her arms bloodied and eyes closed, drove him forward.
“Don’t leave me,” he whispered as he neared her, his voice trembling. “Please, not like this.”
Maneesha and the caretaker had already reached Suvarna, prying her from the wreckage. Ajit, gasping for air, felt the sharp sting of the oxygen tube being yanked away from him. His chest burned, but all he could focus on was Suvarna’s face. He crawled towards her, ignoring the chaos around them.
“Suvarna,” he murmured, reaching out to touch her arm. “I’m here… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
Suvarna’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his. In that moment, the rain, the mud, the pain—they all faded into the background. They stared at each other, their eyes brimming with a mixture of regret and longing.
“I was so angry,” Suvarna whispered, her voice soft but laden with emotion. “I jumped to conclusions… I should’ve trusted you more… I shouldn’t have held on to that one instance of supposed unfaithfulness… I shouldn’t have let it destroy us.”
Ajit’s voice broke as he tried to explain. “I never stopped loving you… It was all a mistake… I let Nupur get into my head… I was weak, but I never betrayed you… Never.”
Tears welled up in Suvarna’s eyes, her breath shallow as she whispered, “I should have been more patient… I should have fought for us instead of clinging to my anger…”
Their hands trembled as they reached for each other, trying to bridge the gap that had grown between them. But in that shared moment of vulnerability, their thoughts turned to their children—the ones who had borne the brunt of their mistakes.
Their eyes locked, and in that gaze, they saw the turmoil they had brought into their children’s lives. The years of tension, the bitterness of their divorce, and the wounds inflicted on their sons, all flashed before them. Their hearts ached with the knowledge that their own failures had scarred the lives of those they loved the most.
“I’m so sorry,” Ajit choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything… For what we did to them…”
Suvarna’s fingers curled around his, tears streaming down her face as she nodded. “I regret it too… Every day… They didn’t deserve this… They deserved better from us.”
Their hands clasped tightly, they both silently begged for forgiveness—not just from each other, but from their children, whose lives had been shattered by their actions. The storm raged around them, the once-beautiful landscape now a sombre backdrop.
As the world closed in, their lids grew heavier, but their final thoughts were of their sons. They had failed them in so many ways, but in this moment, they held on to the hope that somehow, their children could find peace. They could only feel the frantic endeavours of the medical staff and the distant sound of sirens that was growing louder by the minute.
The Nilgiris, stormy and obscured watched silently , as the rain lashed on mercilessly. Once a symbol of their love, they now stood as silent witnesses to their pain, the misty hills shrouded in a fog as thick as the emotions between them. As the rain lashed down, the landscape reflected the turmoil of their souls—a mirror to the chaos that had torn them apart, and now, perhaps, a witness to their final, fragile connection here or beyond.
