Dhara took a deep breath and pushed her way to the front. The Arrivals Gate must be the happiest place in the world, she thought, reaching the railing. From there, she could see Priya walk down the small concourse from the Baggage Section. She craned her neck and stood on the middle rung of the railing to see over the crowd coming out. She checked her watch and glanced at the Arrivals board behind her. She had checked it already but she checked it again, scanning nervously for flight SQ321. It still said ‘landed’.

She watched the swing doors open and close. Priya walked out holding two-year-old Smrithi in her arms. She saw Dhara immediately and smiled. She passed the sleeping child to Dhara’s outstretched arms without saying anything and they kissed each other. Dhara held Smrithi carefully, anxiously. The fierce, clenched pain in her chest relaxed.

•

Rajan watched Priya adjust the toddler on her hip with one hand and unpack her baby bag with the other. She gave Ayah the empty milk bottle and a small jar of baby food.

‘Why don’t you rest, mahal? You must be tired. Let Ayah take her.’ He smiled at the child who was inspecting him closely.

‘She’s grown so quickly,’ he said.

‘She looks like photos of Dhara at this age, don’t you think?’ she asked happily. She handed the child to him and dragged her suitcase onto her old bed.

Rajan was unsure of how to answer. Priya looked at his confused face and laughed.

‘It’s okay, Appa. You can say it—say whatever is on your mind. You’ve never kept your opinion to yourself before.’

‘True, but my opinion has never been so divided—or the subject of quite so much criticism from your mother.’

‘Is she being mean to you?’ Priya asked, unusually cheeky.

‘You could say that.’ He smiled again. ‘Although she’d probably say the same about me.’

‘And what would you say about me, Appa—and this?’ she stood up and kissed the baby’s temple; then surprised him by kissing his.

She was so comfortable in the relationship and more comfortable with herself than he had ever seen her. The unease that had been gnawing at him from the day Dhara announced her decision swept over him. It tasted like cold metal in his mouth.

He wanted to warn her. He had lost children too, and although he had carefully boxed the pain away and allowed time to fog the memory of it, he knew where the pain and the memory were hidden. They were always there.

He didn’t want to see her hurt. He didn’t want to see any of them hurt.

‘Appa?’ his daughter, his firstborn, smiled at him. She was so beautiful. She looked just like Nala.

His mother had taught him to speak rarely but honestly.

‘I would say that you are an excellent mother,’ he replied, not untruthfully.

•