Chapter 9: Conflict with the Mother-in-Law
Saraswati took a deep breath before stepping into her mother-in-law's house. The aroma of incense mixed with the scent of jasmine tea welcomed her at the doorstep. Her heart felt heavy, but she knew this visit was unavoidable.
Outside on the veranda, Amara, her daughter, was playing with her cousins, her laughter ringing out amidst the rustling leaves swayed by the evening breeze. Yet, beneath the warm atmosphere, Saraswati felt a chilling sensation creeping into her chest. Memories of the past flooded her mind—those days when Arman, her husband, was still by her side. The pain resurfaced, sharp and relentless. She had never imagined that Arman would leave her forever. The loss had left a deep wound in her heart, filled with both anger and disappointment.
Her mother-in-law, Ratna, sat in the living room, her piercing gaze immediately locking onto Saraswati. Despite her age, the woman still held an air of elegance, though fine lines had begun to show at the corners of her eyes. But behind that graceful demeanor lay an expression of scrutiny and judgment. Saraswati swallowed hard and bowed her head slightly as a sign of respect.
It was the first time Saraswati had seen her mother-in-law behave this way. Ratna had always been kind and gentle to her, treating her with affection. But something had changed. Something had influenced this sudden shift in attitude.
"Sit down," Ratna's voice was cold, almost devoid of emotion.
Saraswati settled onto the ornately carved wooden chair, feeling the rough texture of the wood beneath her fingertips. Her fingers intertwined, squeezing tightly in an attempt to calm the unease swirling within her.
"I've heard rumors," Ratna finally spoke, her voice laced with disapproval. "They say you've grown close to that man."
Saraswati's heart pounded faster. She had expected this conversation, yet she was still unprepared for the accusation in her mother-in-law's tone. Lifting her gaze, she steadied herself, refusing to be intimidated.
"Boase is just a colleague, Mother," she replied calmly, though a slight tremor betrayed her unease. "Nothing more."
Ratna let out a quiet scoff, her lips tightening into a thin, almost derisive line. "People are talking, Saraswati. They say you've forgotten my son too soon. It hasn't even been a year since you became a widow, and already you're entertaining another man."
The words sliced through Saraswati like a blade. She felt her blood rush in indignation, her nails digging into her palm as she fought to control the emotions surging within her. Was it so easy for others to judge without understanding the weight she carried every day?
"I have not forgotten Arman," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "How could I? Every night, I still cry for him. Every morning, I wake up with his face lingering in my mind. But I have to live, Mother. I have to keep going for Amara."
Ratna shook her head slowly, her gaze unwavering. "I'm not asking you to mourn him forever, but at least have some respect for our family's name. Have you considered how Amara will feel when she grows up hearing people gossip about her mother?"
Saraswati's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Family's name?" she repeated softly, a bitter smile forming on her lips. "Since when did my happiness become a sin? Is working to provide for my daughter a disgrace? Must I imprison myself in grief just to prove my loyalty?"
Ratna remained silent, but her expression remained firm. Saraswati knew that her mother-in-law had been raised with strict traditions and values. To Ratna, a widow was expected to maintain her dignity by living in sorrow, bound by the past. But Saraswati could not live that way. She had spent too long drowning in her pain, and now, she wanted to stand up again, even if it meant walking on a path lined with thorns.
"I am not looking for a new man," Saraswati continued, her voice gaining strength. "I just want to work and survive. I want Amara to have a good future, without having to experience hardship."
"But not like this," Ratna interjected sharply. "You may think you're strong, but the world will never see you that way. People will always see you as a widow desperate for love."
Saraswati shook her head, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. "I am tired of living under the weight of people's opinions, Mother. I just want to live for myself and my child. If that makes me wrong in their eyes, so be it. I can no longer imprison myself in their expectations."
Ratna took a deep breath, turning her face away. A flicker of emotion crossed her features—anger, disappointment, and perhaps... pity? The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the distant sound of children playing outside.
After a long pause, Ratna's voice softened, almost hesitant. "I only want what's best for Amara," she murmured. "I don't want her to grow up carrying the burden of her mother's choices."
Saraswati let out a weary sigh, her lips trembling. "And I want the best for her too, Mother. Believe me, I would never lead her down the wrong path."
For the first time, Ratna's gaze lacked its previous harshness. There was doubt, but also the beginning of understanding. Perhaps, for the first time, she was starting to see Saraswati not just as a daughter-in-law, but as a mother fighting for her child's future.
The silence stretched between them, heavy yet less suffocating than before. Saraswati knew that this battle was far from over, but at least, for tonight, she had spoken her truth.
Outside, Amara's laughter echoed into the house, a sound so pure that it momentarily eased Saraswati's heart. That laughter was innocence, was hope. And for Saraswati, as long as her daughter could laugh like that, she would keep fighting—no matter how many people stood against her. She would not surrender to fate.
She would keep moving forward, for Amara was all she had.