Aavya had endured a lot — and buried even more.
Not just words, but memories.
She had locked them away...
Like a grave.
A grave where her mother rested — and with her, Aavya’s innocence.
Arjun learned all this for the first time…
The day Aavya handed him a letter outside college.
On a plain white page, in soft blue ink, it read:
"Will you come with me?
There’s a place I haven’t visited in years…
But today, I must.
And I can’t go alone."
The address said:
“Shanti Memorial Ghat, Sector 4 – My Mother’s Grave”
Arjun nodded without a word.
The morning air was cool. The streets — silent.
They both sat quietly in the auto.
Aavya was silent too.
But today, her silence wasn’t out of fear.
It was as if she had finally prepared herself…
To unlock a door she had sealed long ago.
Arjun looked at her — eyes open, but her lashes barely moved.
“If you feel like crying, don’t hold it in,” he whispered.
“Sometimes, the tears we hide… are the ones that set us free.”
For the first time, Aavya gently held his hand.
Without looking.
Just held on — like a child holds a finger in a storm.
Shanti Memorial Ghat
Aavya walked slowly.
Each step seemed to stir a long-forgotten pain.
Arjun followed — like a shadow.
Not too close, not too far.
Just enough… in case she needed to be held.
Then she stopped.
An old tombstone…
The name still clear:
“Savitri Mishra – A mother who fought to save her daughter until her last breath”
(1977 – 2015)
Aavya sat down.
On the grass. And just stared.
Arjun noticed — her lips trembled, but no sound came.
Her fingers touched the soil softly — as if brushing her mother’s hair.
Then she whispered:
“Ma… look at me.
Today, I speak.
But only to the one… who fell in love with my silence.”
And she cried.
Tears fell onto the earth —
As if years of buried pain were finally breaking free.
Arjun sat beside her and draped his jacket over her shoulders.
Then said gently:
“Your mother is gone, but your childhood isn't.
It's still here — maybe crying, maybe scared…
But I’m here now.
And you are not alone.”
Aavya looked at him.
This time… her eyes held more than just tears —
They held trust.
“You never knew my mother, Arjun.
She was brave…
She fought my father that night — to protect me.
And I… I just stood in the corner, frozen…
Unable to do anything.”
“You were a child, Aavya.
Silence wasn’t weakness — it was protection.”
Arjun gently held her hand and said,
“Now that you’re speaking…
She’s listening too —
In this very air.”
---
A little later…
They lay down on the grass —
Heads near the tombstone, eyes toward the sky.
“Do you think… people can still see us after they die?”
Aavya suddenly asked.
“Yes.
Especially the ones who understood us without words…
Like your mother.”
Aavya held his hand again.
This time — a little tighter.
> “And now… you understand me like that too.”
---
On the way back…
The auto was quiet.
But this silence… wasn't heavy anymore.
It felt peaceful.
Arjun spoke softly:
> “Today, you forgave yourself, Aavya.
Maybe next time, when you visit her grave…
You’ll not just lay flowers —
You’ll smile.”
Aavya smiled… and nodded.
That day, a girl didn’t just meet her mother —
A living soul stepped out… from the prison of her past.
---
“The Language of Silence” was no longer just a love story.
It had become the story of two broken lives…
Where one learned how to speak,
And the other… learned how to truly listen.
---
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