Chapter 7: Defending Boase
Saraswati walked down the school corridor with hesitant steps. Her first day of teaching had passed, yet something continued to unsettle her heart. The piercing gazes of the mothers picking up their children, the hushed whispers that floated in the air, and the sudden resurgence of memories from her past all weighed heavily on her mind. She knew that being a young widow was never easy, especially when working in the same place as an unmarried man like Boase. Sharp tongues had already begun weaving stories—stories that were likely far from the truth.
A painful sting settled in Saraswati's chest, a wound that cut deeper than she cared to admit. The judgmental stares from the mothers of the students made her feel small, undeserving. She wanted so badly to defend herself, to tell them that she was not a divorcee by choice but a widow by fate. No woman wished to become a widow at such a young age. If she had a choice, she would have chosen for her husband to live longer, to stay by her side. But the Owner of Life had willed otherwise. So, instead of lashing out, Saraswati simply smiled in response to their silent scrutiny, swallowing her pain.
The next morning, as Saraswati entered the classroom, the children greeted her with cheerful laughter. Yet, beneath their innocent joy, an unease still lingered in her heart. A small girl ran up to her and hugged her tightly.
"Ms. Saraswati, I'm so happy you're here!" the child said with pure sincerity.
Saraswati smiled, trying to steady herself. "I'm happy to be here with all of you too," she replied gently. But before she could fully soak in the warmth of the moment, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed from the doorway.
A middle-aged woman with a stern expression stood at the entrance. Her sharp eyes scanned Saraswati from head to toe, as if scrutinizing every flaw she could find. "Ms. Saraswati, may I have a word with you?" she asked, though her tone made it clear that it was not a request, but a demand.
Saraswati nodded, keeping her composure. "Of course, ma'am. Please, go ahead."
The woman took a measured breath before speaking. "I've heard quite a lot about you. You're a young widow, aren't you? And now you work here… with Mr. Boase?" Her eyes narrowed, laced with hidden implications.
Saraswati's heart pounded. She had expected this conversation, but hearing it spoken aloud made the bitter reality even harder to swallow. "Yes, ma'am. I work here because I want to provide for my child and give her the best life I can," Saraswati explained, keeping her voice steady. "And I am here because Mr. Boase personally asked me to work at this school."
The woman let out a short, humorless laugh. There was no warmth in it. "I just want to remind you that in a community like this, a woman's reputation is invaluable. You wouldn't want rumors to harm you, would you?"
Saraswati felt her hands clench unconsciously. She understood the veiled warning behind those words—a reminder that her presence here could easily spark scandalous gossip.
Before she could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension. "Is there a problem, Mrs. Sari?"
Boase stood at the doorway, his expression calm, but his gaze sharp.
Mrs. Sari hesitated for a moment before forcing a thin smile. "Oh, no problem at all, Mr. Boase. I was simply offering Ms. Saraswati some advice. After all, as women, we must be mindful of how we carry ourselves, don't you think?"
Boase held her gaze steadily. "Saraswati is a dedicated and hardworking teacher. If there are any concerns, I hope we can discuss them directly, without baseless assumptions."
Mrs. Sari's smile faltered slightly, though she quickly recovered. "Of course, Mr. Boase. I only want to ensure that everything runs smoothly at this school." There was a hint of displeasure on her face—an unspoken resentment at Boase's open defense of Saraswati.
As soon as Mrs. Sari left, Saraswati felt her strength drain from her body. She lowered her head, fighting back the storm of emotions swirling within her. She wanted to cry, to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. Her body trembled from the effort of keeping it all inside.
"Saraswati," Boase's voice was softer now. "You don't have to listen to them."
Saraswati shook her head, then lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I'm used to it, Boase. Ever since my husband passed, people have looked at me as if I were a burden, an inconvenience that needed to be kept at a distance. I just want to live peacefully, to work honestly, to raise Amara without constantly facing these judgmental stares."
Boase exhaled slowly. "The world isn't always kind to women like you. But you're not alone, Saraswati. I see how hard you fight every day. I see your strength. And I want you to know—you have a place here." He paused before adding in a gentler tone, "I was the one who asked you to work here. And I will always stand by you."
His words struck deep, piercing through the walls she had built around her heart. Saraswati fell silent, trying to process the weight of what he had just said. There was something in his gaze—something steady, something safe—that made her want to believe him, to let herself feel protected. But she knew all too well how cruel life could be.
Before she could respond, the school bell rang, signaling the start of recess. The children rushed out of the classroom with carefree laughter, restoring a sense of lightness to the atmosphere. Saraswati wiped her face discreetly, gathering herself once more.
"Thank you, Boase," she said quietly but sincerely, offering him a small smile.
Boase simply smiled back. "Everyone deserves a second chance, Saraswati. Don't let others decide your future for you."
Saraswati held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding. Perhaps, for the first time in a long while, she felt as though someone truly understood her. Someone who believed in her, despite everything.
Yet deep down, she knew—the storm wasn't over. The worst was yet to come. And she had to prepare herself for the battles that lay ahead.