Page 84 of Scars and Crowns

For once, I simply let myself sit there in a borrowed kurta, surrounded by voices that somehow belong to me now, and accept the happiness exactly as it arrives.

Because the walls I've spent years building around my heart are no longer collapsing all at once. They're disappearing quietly. One brick at a time.

And for the first time . . . I'm no longer trying to rebuild them.

PLEASE GO

YUVAAN

The first sign is so small that, for a moment, none of us think much of it. Sara pushes away her lunch plate.

Normally, that wouldn't mean much with most children. With Sara, it's enough to make everyone at the table look up. Food has always been one of life's greatest joys to her. I've watched her negotiate for extra dessert with the confidence of an experienced lawyer and declare three different breakfasts "the best breakfast ever" in the span of a single week.

Seeing her leave half her favourite meal untouched doesn't fit. I notice her pressing a hand against her stomach just as Anamika does. She's beside her before I can even push my chair back. "What happened, sweetheart?" Her voice is calm, but I can hear the worry tucked underneath it.

She crouches in front of Sara immediately, brushing loose strands of hair away from her forehead before resting the back of her hand against it.

No fever.

She checks again anyway. Then her palm moves gently to Sara's stomach. "Does it hurt here?"

Sara nods a little. "Just a little." She curls instinctively toward her mother. "I think . . . I ate too fast."

Anamika doesn't answer straight away. She presses lightly again, asking where exactly it hurts, watching every tiny expression that crosses Sara's face with the kind of attention only mothers seem capable of.

I've seen this look before. The world narrows until only one person exists. Everything else disappears. The same look when her blood sugar dropped. The same look in the bookshop after the man with the buzz cut walked in. Fear never freezes her. It makes her move.Think. Fix.

"I think we should call the doctor," she says quietly. Her hand finds Sara's forehead again as though a fever might have appeared in the last thirty seconds. "Just to be safe."

"Mumma . . . " Sara's voice is softer than usual. "I'm okay." She shifts slightly against the cushions. A tiny wince slips across her face before she can hide it. Anamika catches it immediately.

"So that's a no."

"It only hurts a little."

"You never stop eating halfway through lunch."

Sara looks down at the untouched plate. " . . . I know."

"I'd rather overreact than ignore something important."

Sara sighs dramatically. "I just want to lie down."

"I know."

"I'll feel better after sleeping."

"I know."

"So . . . " Hope appears in Sara's eyes. " . . . can we still go to the fair later?"

Anamika's expression changes almost imperceptibly. The answer is already there before she speaks. "No." She sits beside Sara on the cushions and gently pulls her closer. "We're staying here."

Sara blinks. "But—"

"We'll go another day."

"Mumma."