“Jiji!” She broke into a run and wrapped her arms around me. “Where have you been all these days? I was so worried. I thought your father sold… ” She stopped abruptly, breathing unevenly. “Thank God. You’re okay.”
“I have my Shiva, Riya,” I said softly, cupping the back of her head. “He won’t let anything happen to me.”
She was still shaking. “Are you alright?” I asked.
“Yes…” she whispered.
“Why was your aunt screaming at you?”
“She’s always like that,” she said quickly, trying to brush it off.
“Riya,” I said gently, holding her hands. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing, Jiji… ”
“She was talking about money.”
Riya smiled sadly. “It’s always money.”
“Am I not your Jiji?” I asked with a sad face.
“You are,” she said quietly.
“Then tell me.”
She stayed silent for a moment. Then the words finally spilled out. She wanted to build her career in sports. She was a brilliantrunner. She was selected for an inter-state competition, but she didn’t have money for travel or sports equipment.
So without thinking twice, I offered her what my father and stepbrother had left me. I had always been like that. Seeing others happy made me happy. And that day, watching Riya’s eyes light up, watching hope return to her face, it felt like my heart bloomed open.
Maybe because somewhere in her, I saw my own childhood. Maybe because I was helping her chase a dream I had never been able to chase myself. Maybe because I wanted everyone to chase their dreams.
“You look pretty in these clothes,” Riya said suddenly, pointing at my T-shirt and lowers.
I smiled softly. Since I had bathed at Saurav’s villa, I hadn’t had any clothes of my own. I had borrowed his. He hadn’t even hesitated. They still smelled like him.
“These belong to your Jiju,” I joked, winking.
Her eyes widened. “Really?” She touched the fabric. “Aren’t they expensive?”
“He’s super rich.”
“Is he an old man?” she asked innocently.
“He’s only three years older than me.” I laughed, taking her hand and pulling her outside. “Come.”
I pointed toward the temple courtyard where Saurav was talking to the priest. “There he is…”
“Oh my God, Jiji,” she whispered excitedly. “He looks like Kartik Aaryan!”
I laughed, squeezing her hand. “Be quiet.”
I watched Saurav as he laughed with the priest. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could tell he was joking about something.
And the priest was laughing with him.
That was Saurav.
He made people comfortable without trying. He made people smile without effort. He walked into spaces and somehow made them warmer.