Aadav stepped into the house, the smell of sandalwood incense faintly lingering in the air. It was a smell he vaguely associated with comfort, from a time before everything in his life fractured into pieces. His shoes clicked against the marble flooring as he noticed something unusual—voices.
The house was rarely lively. His father, Raghav, was a reserved man who treated the house like a pit stop between work and sleepless nights in his study. Today, though, the air buzzed with a tense energy. Aadav tilted his head, trying to place the voices.
And then he heard it.
Her voice.
His stomach twisted. It couldn't be her.
He walked toward the living room, and there she was—his mother, Lakshmi, seated regally on the beige sofa, her silk saree a shimmering gold that reflected the sunlight streaming through the windows. She looked just as he remembered: composed, radiant, and utterly fake.
"Aadav!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness.
He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here?"
Lakshmi's carefully composed smile didn't falter, but Aadav caught the brief flicker of irritation in her eyes. "I came to see you, darling. I've missed you so much!"
Aadav barked out a laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. "Missed me? Really? Since when?"
"Aadav," his father's voice cut through the room like a knife. It was quiet but firm, a tone that Aadav had learned not to ignore.
He turned his head to look at Raghav, who sat in the armchair opposite Lakshmi. His father's expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of tension in his jaw.
"Aren't you going to welcome your mother properly?" Lakshmi asked, her tone laced with mock offense.
Aadav crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. "I'll consider it when she starts acting like one."
Her husband—a man Aadav barely recognized—cleared his throat uncomfortably from the corner of the room, where he stood awkwardly with their two daughters. The girls clung to Lakshmi's saree, their big eyes wide with curiosity as they stared at him.
"I see you've brought the whole package," Aadav said dryly, gesturing to her husband and daughters. "Is this supposed to be a reunion or a family field trip?"
Lakshmi's smile tightened. "Aadav, please. Let's not start on the wrong foot."
"Why not? You've already made it a tradition," he shot back.
"Aadav," his father said again, his tone sharper this time.
With a sigh, Aadav pushed off the wall and walked further into the room. He dropped onto the armchair beside his father, his arms still crossed. "Fine. Let's get to it. What do you want?"
Lakshmi's eyes widened, feigning innocence. "Want? Can't a mother visit her son without an ulterior motive?"
"No," Aadav replied flatly.
Her expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered. "I just thought it was time to reconnect. You're entering such an important phase in your life, and you need your mother's guidance."
He smirked. "Funny. I don't recall you being all that interested in guiding me when you packed your bags and left for the UK."
"That's unfair," she said, her voice hardening.
"Is it?" Aadav challenged. "You left when I was eight. And then, when you moved to the UK, you didn't even say goodbye. Now, all of a sudden, you're back, playing the doting mother?"
Her husband shifted uncomfortably, but Lakshmi ignored him. "I admit I made mistakes," she said, her voice softening. "But I'm here now, and I want to make things right."
Aadav tilted his head, pretending to consider her words. "Right. So what's the catch?"
"There's no catch," she insisted, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Then why does this feel like a poorly rehearsed soap opera?" he asked, his sarcasm cutting through the room.
"Aadav, enough," his father interjected, his voice firm.
Aadav turned to him, his frustration boiling over. "You're really okay with this? After everything she's done?"
Raghav met his gaze, his dark eyes steady. "I'm not okay with it. But I'm also not going to let you disrespect her."
Aadav scoffed and stood up. "Fine. Enjoy your little family reunion."
He stomped up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
In his room, he paced back and forth, his anger simmering just below the surface. He couldn't believe the nerve of her, walking back into their lives as if she hadn't abandoned them.
His phone buzzed on his desk, pulling him out of his thoughts. The screen lit up with a familiar name: Patti.
He picked it up immediately. "Patti?"
"Aadav, kanna, are you okay?" Her voice was warm and soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos downstairs.
"No," he admitted, sinking onto his bed. "Amma's here, and she's talking about custody."
"Custody?" Patti's voice was sharp, brimming with indignation. "What nonsense is this? She gave up custody years ago!"
"That's what I said," Aadav replied, running a hand through his hair. "But she's acting all motherly now, like she cares."
Patti was silent for a moment before she said, "Did your father tell you about the wills?"
Aadav frowned. "What wills?"
"Your grandfathers' wills," she explained. "Both your maternal and paternal grandparents left the majority of their estates to you. Seventy percent of their properties, to be exact. It'll all be yours when you turn 18."
Aadav's mind reeled. "What?"
"Yes," Patti continued. "Until then, it's under my control. But once you're of age, everything will be transferred to you."
He sat back, trying to process the information. "So that's why she's here."
"Exactly," Patti said, her voice firm. "Don't let her fool you, kanna. She doesn't care about you—she cares about the money."
Aadav clenched his fists. "She won't get a single rupee. I'll make sure of it."
"You don't have to worry about that," Patti reassured him. "I'll be there tomorrow. Let's see how she handles me."
Aadav couldn't help but smile. His grandmother was a force to be reckoned with, and if anyone could put Lakshmi in her place, it was her.
The next morning, Lakshmi was in the kitchen, pretending to help Raghav make breakfast. Aadav watched from the staircase, his lips twitching into a smirk. She was trying so hard to act like the perfect mother and ex-wife, but it was painfully obvious that she was out of her depth.
When the doorbell rang, he knew exactly who it was.
"Patti!" he called, rushing to the door.
His grandmother stood there, her gray hair pulled back into a neat bun and her saree perfectly draped. Despite her age, there was a strength in her posture that commanded respect.
"Come in," he said, stepping aside.
Lakshmi's expression soured the moment she saw her. "Amma," she said stiffly.
"Lakshmi," Patti replied, her tone equally cold.
"Patti, do you want tea?" Aadav asked, leading her to the living room.
"No, kanna," she said, patting his hand. She turned to Lakshmi, her eyes narrowing. "So, you've decided to grace us with your presence?"
Lakshmi's smile was strained. "I'm here to see my son."
"Your son?" Patti said, raising an eyebrow. "The same son you left behind while you started a new family?"
Lakshmi flushed, but before she could respond, Patti continued. "Let's not pretend this is about love. We all know why you're here."
Aadav couldn't suppress his grin as he watched his grandmother dismantle his mother's facade piece by piece.
By the end of the day, Lakshmi and her family had packed their bags and left, their plans thoroughly derailed.
As Aadav sat on the porch with Patti, watching the sunset, he felt a sense of peace for the first time in years. For once, he wasn't a pawn in someone else's game. The power was in his hands, and he intended to keep it that way.