Proof that we had this.
That we hadus.
“Now it’s my turn,” Jiya had said one day, pulling the camera from my hands.
I looked up at her, surprised, just as she raised it.
Click.
She captured me.
And for a second, I didn’t know how to feel about that.
But when I saw the way she looked at me—like she was trying to memorize me the same way I was memorizing her—I didn’t stop her.
That evening, after dinner, we all settled into the living room.
The children drifted off one by one, Geeta quietly cleaning up, the house slowly falling into a comfortable silence.
I sat on the couch, my body heavier than usual, my mind quieter than it had been in days.My gaze lifted to the fireplace.
The mantle.
Our wedding picture stood at the center.Jiya and I, smiling, standing side by side.Surrounded by smaller frames of the children.
Our family.
Everything felt still.
Perfect in a way that almost hurt.
I leaned back slightly, my chest tightening, not from pain this time… but from the weight of what I was seeing.
What I was about to leave behind.
And yet, despite everything, there was a strange kind of peace in knowing that I had this.
That I hadthem.
Even if only for a little while.
I createda schedule and forced myself to follow it.
I didn’t want to become dependent. I didn’t want to become a burden on Jiya.
Not on her.
Not on the children either.
If I was going to leave… then I wanted to leave them with something good.
That’s all I had control over now.
“You ready, honey?” Jiya asked.
I looked up at her before slowly rising from the chair.
“Yes, babe,” I said, walking slowly toward her.
