Page 126 of The Rules of Playing with Fire

“This is my favorite spot in the house. I am a Cancerian. I love the water. Sans alligators,” she teased.

I laughed. “Yes, I remember. Your birthday is just around the corner, isn’t it? I hope you aren’t expecting a gift,” I baited her.

Instead of getting annoyed, she responded in a whisper. “Mihir, I need to tell you something. I met your mother today.”

I frowned in confusion.

“Your birth mother.”

I leaped out of my cushioned seat. “You found her? When? How?” After she told me, I fumed. “Why did you keep this from me? You had no right to go meet her alone.”

“I didn’t want to quash your hopes and your heart again if the information didn’t pan out, or if she decides she doesn’t want to meet you.”

“She doesn’t want to meet me?” Like my voice, my body slumped to the sofa.

“She’s not sure. We just sprang this on her. She had her reasons to give you up. She might not want to rekindle something that could cause her distress. It’s been a long time. She might be worried she can’t offer what you seek. There could be any number of reasons for her apprehension.”

“So if she refuses to meet me, will that mean she doesn’t love me?” I pushed my hand through my hair to stop myself from wringing them in despair.

Sona slipped from her chair and knelt before me. “I know this hurts. But it could mean she’s afraid. She doesn’t know how you feel about her giving you up.”

Despite my angsty state, I couldn’t help but marvel at the kindness and wisdom of the woman before me, the maturity with which she had approached the situation. I had been such a fool to break her heart and ruin her trust.

Sona scooted back to her seat. “Your feelings are valid. You’re hurt, and you have a right to be hurt. But finding out your parents adopted you doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t change your heart. We all straddle different worlds, Mihir, and no one knows this better than people who’ve migrated. It doesn’t fracture our identities, it strengthens them. My career and future is in the U.S., but I leave behind my most cherished connections here. You feel cheated at having lost your connection with your birth mother, but you’re dwelling on only one part of your identity. Your adoptive parents love you. You run a successful business. You’re a loyal friend, a fantastic lover. You’re all those things despite the circumstances of your birth. Or perhaps because of it…”

Sona was right. If my birth mother hadn’t given me up, I wouldn’t be who I was.

“It’s going to take time for you to heal. It might take time for you to rebuild the trust you had in your parents. But with time and love, anything is possible. Look at us. You dumped me ungracefully?—”

“How long are we going to keep talking about that?”

“…and yet here I am, right beside you, standing by you. It means you did something right.”

“Or it means you’re a better person than I am.”

She gave a wry smile.

I leaned forward and clasped my hands around hers. “I did do something right when I chose you, Sona. Then I made a foolish blunder and pushed you away.”

“Yet here I am,” she repeated. “Focus on the positive.”

I squeezed her hand. Three months ago, my world had shattered, but this felt worse. Claustrophobic, like I was being buried alive. Sona’s love would help me heal, yet that’s the one thing I couldn’t reclaim yet. I couldn’t change what I had done, and I couldn’t change how I had felt at the time. Lost. Terrified. Alone. But I’d done the unforgivable. I’d done the one thing she’d asked me not to—I’d left her. I’d broken my promise, and I had to pay the price. She had pulled her guard back up, and I knew I couldn’t hurt her any more than I already had. My only hope was the plan her parents had laid out.

“Are you alright?” she asked at my silence.

I pulled myself up. “I will be,” I replied. “Thank you for everything, Sona. And I’m grateful to your parents for showing me love. But I can’t force myself into the life of someone who no longer wants me.” Like my birth mother.

She sat upright. “I’m sorry, Mihir.”

“I broke up with you because I felt insecure, inadequate. I was an abandoned child. How could I think of starting a family with you when I didn’t know where I came from? It filled me with cynicism and distrust.” I had used these words many times over, but I had never spelled it out to her before this.

She looked up at me with a gasp just as there was a gentle knock on the glass door. It opened, and the scent of an elegant perfume drifted to us. Mrs. Thomas walked on to the balcony with her husband. He was dressed in a smart suit that complemented his wife’s lustrous, rich saree.

“We are off now,” she said as Sona and I rose from our seats and walked toward the door.

“Hope you both have fun,” Sona said.

Her mother smiled and touched Sona’s cheek gently. “Lata’s gone. Have your dinner on time. Order some dessert if you want.”

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