The morning air in Mumbai was unusually crisp, carrying the faint, salty tang of the Arabian Sea. Inside the Singh mansion, the celebratory roar of the previous night had settled into a warm, humming glow. But for Avni, the silence of the early hour brought a different kind of weight—a heavy, sweet necessity to connect with the two people who weren't there to hear the news.
In her tradition, there was no headstone to visit, no cold marble to touch. Her parents had been returned to the elements, their ashes surrendered to the holy waters years ago. Yet, she felt their pull more strongly now than ever before.
"You're up early," a sleepy voice murmured.
Avni turned to see Divyansh leaning against the balcony door, his hair a mess of dark waves, his eyes instantly searching hers for any sign of the morning sickness that had plagued her.
"I need to go to the promenade," Avni said softly, wrapping a shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Near the old pier. The place where we used to walk every Sunday when I was little."
Divyansh didn't ask why. He knew that for Avni, the sea was the only cemetery she had. He simply nodded, grabbed his keys, and whispered, "Give me five minutes."
The drive was quiet. Divyansh drove with a newfound gentleness, avoiding every pothole as if the car were made of glass. When they reached the rocky edge of the shore, the sun was just beginning to bleed gold across the horizon. The waves crashed against the boulders, a rhythmic pulse that sounded like the earth’s own heartbeat.
Avni walked to the very edge of the concrete barrier, the wind whipping her hair across her face. She looked out at the vast, shimmering expanse where the water met the sky.
Ma. Papa. I’m here.
For years, coming to the water had felt like an act of mourning. It was where she came to tell them she was lonely, or that she was scared, or that her uncle family had made her feel small. But today, she placed a hand over her still-flat stomach and felt a surge of fierce, radiant pride.
"I’m not the last of us anymore," she whispered into the wind.
Divyansh stood a respectful few paces behind her, a silent sentinel. He watched her shoulders drop, the tension she had carried since the accident finally dissolving into the salt air.
Avni closed her eyes, imagining her mother’s laughter echoing in the spray of the waves. She remembered her father’s strong hands lifting her up to see the ships on the horizon. For the first time, those memories didn't hurt. They felt like a blueprint.
"I was so afraid of hospitals because they smelled like the end of you," she said, her voice stronger now, carrying over the crash of the tide. "But this baby... this baby feels like the beginning of you. I’m going to tell them everything. I’m going to tell them how Papa could never find his glasses even when they were on his head. I’m going to tell them how Ma used to sing off-key just to make me laugh."
She felt a warm presence at her back. Divyansh wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on her shoulder.
"They know, Avni," he murmured. "They’ve been waiting for you to be this happy."
"I used to feel like an orphan," she admitted, a single tear escaping and being whisked away by the breeze. "But looking at this water today... I realize I’m a bridge. I’m the bridge between the love they gave me and the love I’m going to give this little soul."
They stood there for a long time, watching the sun climb higher. The trauma of the parents demise and the sterile, white walls of the ICU felt miles away, buried under the weight of the deep blue sea.
As they turned to walk back to the car, Avni felt lighter, as if she had left a heavy stone behind on the rocks.
"Divyansh?" she asked as he opened the car door for her.
"Yeah, Jaana?"
"Let's stop at the flower market on the way back. I want to fill the house with lilies. Ma loved them."
Divyansh smiled, kissing her temple. "Lilies it is. And maybe some breakfast? The 'toddler' is hungry."
Avni laughed—a real, bright sound that drowned out the ghosts of the past. As they drove away from the shore, she didn't look back. She didn't need to. She was carrying her family with her now, tucked safely beneath her heart.
By the time they returned from the shore, the flower market had provided a fragrant bounty of white lilies that now filled the backseat of the car. But as Divyansh pulled into the driveway, Avni’s mind shifted. There was one more person who shared the weight of their parents' absence—her younger brother, Avyansh.
While Avni had processed her grief through a quiet, stoic strength, Avyansh had always been the one she felt she had to shield. To him, she was both sister and mother. Telling him wasn't just about sharing news; it was about showing him that their broken family tree was finally growing a new branch.
They went to Avyansh new apartment found Avyansh in the sun-drenched library, hunched over a laptop. He looked up as they entered, his expression shifting from focus to a slight, teasing grin.
"You two are out here what might i have done to gain your presence," he noted, his eyes darting to the massive bouquet of lilies in Divyansh’s arms. "What’s the occasion? Did Divyansh finally realize he’s lucky to have you?"
"Something like that," Divyansh chuckled, setting the flowers on the mahogany table. He gave Avni a supportive squeeze on the shoulder and stepped back, giving the siblings their space.
Avni sat on the edge of the desk, gesturing for Avyansh to close his laptop. Her heart was full, a strange mix of nerves and overwhelming affection. "Avyu, we went to the promenade today. To talk to Ma and Papa."
The humor left Avyansh’s face, replaced by that soft, protective look he only wore for her. "Is everything okay, Di? You only go there when things are... heavy."
"Things are changing," she said, her voice catching for a second. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers tracing the knuckles that looked so much like their father’s. "I went there to tell them that they’re going to be grandparents."
Avyansh froze. It took a few heartbeats for the words to navigate through his mind. He looked from Avni’s radiant, tear-filled eyes to Divyansh, who was beaming from the doorway.
"You mean..." Avyansh’s voice was a mere whisper. "I’m going to be an uncle?"
"The best uncle," Avni confirmed.
Avyansh didn't just hug her; he nearly pulled her off the desk. He buried his face in her shoulder, and for a moment, he wasn't the young man trying to find his way in the world—he was the little boy who had lost everything, finally being told that life was giving something back.
"Di," he choked out, pulling back to look at her, his eyes shimmering. "They would have been so happy. Papa would have already bought the kid a miniature cricket bat. And Ma... Ma would have been insufferable with the knitting."
Avni laughed through her tears. "I know. That’s why we went to tell them first. But Avyu, I wanted you to know that this baby... this child will know everything about them because of us. They’ll know their names, their stories, and they’ll know they have the best uncle in the world to protect them."
Avyansh wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a fierce, determined look crossing his face. "I’ll teach them everything, Di. I’ll be the one they come to when they want to hide their bad grades from Divyansh."
"Hey!" Divyansh interjected from the back, laughing. "I’m right here!"
Avyansh ignored him, keeping his focus on his sister. He placed a tentative hand on her stomach, his touch incredibly light. "We’re really doing it, aren't we? We’re actually happy."
"We are," Avni promised, leaning her forehead against his. "We’re finally home."
In that moment, the ghosts of the past didn't just feel distant; they felt at peace. The cycle of loss had finally been broken by the promise of a new life, and as Avyansh held his sister, the Singh mansion didn't just feel like a house—it felt like the beginning of a dynasty.
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