Chapter 18: Between Mother and Son

Avi had always believed he knew every line of his mother's story. Shalini had lived so long in measured routines, guarding her dignity behind quiet patterns of daily life, that it was hard to imagine her shifting even a step beyond them. After his father, Dushyant, had died, she'd wrapped herself in a kind of armor — unadorned sarees, practical hair buns, barely a hint of color or perfume.

But this armor was cracking, and Avi was seeing the pieces slip.

It began with little things: a new bottle of perfume that filled the house with a sensual, almost exotic scent, so different from her usual mild rose water. Then came the tighter churidar suits, colors richer and more vivid than the dusty browns she used to wear. Shalini even changed her earrings, from small gold studs to dazzling drops that swung against her neck when she moved.

Avi noticed every shift.

It unsettled him.

One Sunday morning, he watched as she stood before the mirror, checking her reflection again and again. She dabbed a hint of red on her lips, something he had never seen her do since his father died. Her bangles clinked as she adjusted the dupatta across her chest.

"Ma," Avi asked, voice stiff, "why are you getting so dressed up for a coaching class?"

She glanced at him in the mirror, her eyes catching his for a heartbeat. "Because I feel like it," she replied, a strange, almost playful note in her tone.

"Okay…" Avi said, but the word felt heavy.

Shalini's phone buzzed, flashing a name he couldn't see. He watched her face brighten, something almost girlish in the way she smiled at the screen before turning it off.

---

That night, Avi lay awake. The memory of her lipstick and bright suit wouldn't leave him alone.

A part of him told himself to stop — she was an adult, entitled to her own life. But another part, darker and sharper, could not help but worry.

What if someone was taking advantage of her?

She was vulnerable, after all. A lonely widow. A soft-hearted teacher. He tried to imagine some smooth-talking man whispering into her ear, making her feel wanted. His stomach turned at the thought.

---

A few days later, Avi came home from his own classes early and heard his mother on the phone.

"…no, no, they don't suspect anything," she was saying, her voice lower and softer than he'd ever heard it. "I'll manage. Trust me."

Her words made him freeze in the hallway, every sense on high alert.

They don't suspect anything?

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He stepped around the corner. "Ma?"

She spun around, her face flushed as if he'd caught her doing something criminal.

"Avi! I didn't hear you come in," she stammered, pressing the phone against her chest.

"Who was that?"

"Just… a friend," she said, too quickly.

His chest felt tight. "What kind of friend?"

Shalini's smile was stiff. "Don't worry about it. You're still young. You wouldn't understand."

He hated that answer.

---

Over the next week, Avi tried to focus on his own studies, but his mind kept looping back to her.

He watched her getting dressed with more care, spraying a heavier perfume. Her new churidar suits showed off the curve of her hips in a way that made his face burn with embarrassment — she was his mother, for god's sake. Why was she suddenly drawing so much attention to herself?

One afternoon, he caught her humming to herself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while a text message notification buzzed and buzzed on the counter.

She saw him watching, and her hands stilled.

"Avi, what is it?"

"Who keeps messaging you?" he asked, sharper than he meant to.

Shalini frowned. "Don't you trust me?"

He swallowed, feeling like a child, but the question spilled out. "Are you seeing someone?"

The silence that followed was so dense he could barely breathe.

Her jaw twitched. "Avi, that is none of your business."

He felt something collapse in him at those words. "How can it not be my business? I'm your son!"

She set down the knife, closing her eyes. "You're still too young to know everything," she whispered.

---

That night, unable to sleep, Avi found himself sneaking into the hall to check her phone. It was wrong, but he couldn't help it — he needed to know.

He scrolled past teacher group messages, grocery lists, until he found a string of late-night chats with someone named Malika.

They talked about "fun" and "taking risks." About "young boys" and "secrets."

One message made him go cold:

"Trust me, Shalini, no one will ever know how far you go with them. Live a little."

Them? Who was "them"?

His hands shook as he set the phone back. He could barely process what he had read.

---

Days blurred into each other after that. Avi became hyperaware of every move she made.

He noticed how she'd hold the edge of her dupatta in a teasing way when greeting the students for coaching. The playful smiles she gave Ravi and Prayush — the way those boys looked at her like she was made of gold.

It made his skin crawl, though he couldn't say why.

One night, after Shalini had finished another late phone call, Avi cornered her in the kitchen.

"Ma," he said, voice trembling, "I know you're hiding something."

Her eyes darted away, and a long pause stretched.

"You're imagining things, Avi," she finally replied, but her voice had lost its steadiness.

"Don't lie to me," he shot back. "I heard you. I saw your messages."

She went still.

Her face shifted through a dozen emotions — shame, irritation, then a kind of resigned exhaustion. "Avi, I don't owe you every piece of my life," she said, more gently now, but with a firmness that startled him.

He felt a tear slip down his cheek. "But you're changing, Ma. I don't even know who you are anymore."

She reached out, as if to comfort him, but then drew her hand back. "I'm still your mother," she said quietly. "But I am also a woman. Try to remember that."

---

Avi could not sleep that night, images looping over and over.

His mother, in tight churidars.

His mother, giggling into late-night calls.

His mother, drawing the hungry stares of two teenage boys.

He wanted to protect her.

He wanted to scream at her.

He wanted to drag her back to the safe, dull version of herself — the one he could understand.

Instead, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like the world was turning upside down.

---

The next morning, he tried to act normal. Over breakfast, Shalini poured his tea, asking about his test marks, fussing over whether he'd eaten enough. For a moment, it was almost as if nothing had changed.

But then she stood, smoothing down her bright, curve-hugging churidar, and he saw that faint shimmer of hidden excitement in her eyes.

His gut twisted with dread.

Something was coming, he could feel it — something neither of them could control.

And as she stepped out, high heels tapping smartly on the floor, Avi realized he didn't know if he'd ever get his old mother back.