As we pulled into the driveway of my house, the porch light flickered on, casting a warm glow over the front steps. The house looked inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile hospital. Mom was waiting at the door, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and warmth as she saw Ratika in the backseat. She didn't say anything, just opened the car door and pulled Ratika into a tight embrace. "Come in," she said softly, her voice a balm to Ratika's raw emotions.
Walking into the house, we were greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of Priya's cooking. She was in the kitchen, her sleeves rolled up, her face a picture of concentration as she arranged plates and silverware on the dining table. She looked up as we entered, her expression shifting from one of focus to concern as she saw Ratika's tear-stained face.
"Hey... Ritu," she said gently, setting down the plate she was holding and rushing over to Ratika's side. "How are you holding up?"
