Page 44 of Scars and Crowns

It's painfully simple. Walk downstairs. Find Yuvaan. Tell him the truth. He wouldn't even let me finish the sentence before solving it. I know that. He's told me more than once that neither Sara nor I would ever be a burden to him.

And I believe him.

Completely.

That's never been the problem.

The problem sits somewhere much deeper. Some stubborn, exhausted part of me that learnt how to survive alone in Mumbai.

The woman who counted every rupee before spending it. Who learnt to stretch one meal into two. Who discovered that asking for help usually came attached to conditions she couldn't afford. That part of me still flinches at the thought of saying the words aloud.

I need money for my daughter's school fees.

Even to him.

Especially to him.

Because somewhere inside me, I still haven't figured out where the line ends between what a husband willingly gives . . . and what feels dangerously close to charity, no matter how lovingly it's offered. The bedroom door opens before I can think myself into another impossible circle.

I look up. Yuvaan walks in first, still dressed in the clothes he'd worn for work, his sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His eyes find mine almost immediately. He pauses. Just for a second. Then I watch his expression change.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

He noticed. Whatever is written across my face . . . He read it before I even realised I was showing it. "Is something wrong?" The question is gentle.

Careful. Before I can answer—"Mumma!" Sara comes charging into the room behind him with enough enthusiasm to shake the entire bed as she launches herself onto it. I barely have time to react before she's kneeling in front of me, hugging something tightly against her chest. "Mumma!" Her grin is impossibly wide. "Look!" She proudly lifts a brand-new school bag into the air. The excitement radiating from her is so complete that I can't help smiling despite everything weighing on my mind. "I have a school bag now!"

She spins it around several times so I can admire every pocket, every zip, every tiny detail. Then she hugs it dramatically. "I'm going to grow up really fast." I blink. "So I can make you happy."

The words catch me completely off guard. Something inside my chest gives way so suddenly that I have to blink hard before my eyes betray me. I reach for her immediately. Pulling her into my arms. "My baby . . . " I kiss the top of her head. "I am already happy." I gently cup her cheeks between both my hands until she looks at me. "Anyone lucky enough to have you in their life . . . " I smile through the ache in my throat. " . . . will always be happy."

She nods with complete confidence. "I know." Then, after a dramatic hair flip—"Obviously."

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Some things about my daughter are wonderfully impossible to take seriously. Entirely satisfied with herself, she wiggles free from my embrace and immediately begins unpacking her school bag for what must be the fourth inspection of the morning.

Every pencil deserves admiration.

Every notebook requires careful examination.

Every eraser has an important purpose.

Yuvaan quietly sits beside her on the bed. Neither of them notices that I've stopped thinking about school fees altogether.

Instead . . . I'm watching him. Watching the way he watches her. She holds up a broken crayon with complete devastation. He studies it as though she's just presented evidence in an international crisis. She can't decide which notebook cover she likes better. He patiently helps her compare both. The whole state sees him as distant.

Reserved.

Almost impossible to approach.

Yet here he is . . . sitting cross-legged beside a five-year-old, discussing stationery with absolute sincerity. The sight still amazes me. "If you're worrying about the school fees . . . " His voice interrupts my thoughts. He doesn't even look at me. He's busy helping Sara arrange sharpened pencils. "They've already been paid."

I stare. "What?"

He finally lifts his eyes toward me. "They're taken care of."

My mouth opens before I can stop it. "Yuvaan, you didn't have to—"