The evening lamp glowed in the courtyard as Ann's family gathered for supper. The scent of curry leaves and coconut drifted through the air. Arun chattered endlessly about school while Ann's mother scolded him gently to eat slowly.
But Ann's father wasn't listening to Arun. His eyes were on Ann.
She seemed quieter these days, yet her silence carried something different—not worry, not sadness, but a softness. Sometimes he caught her smiling faintly at nothing, her eyes far away. Tonight, as she absently stirred her rice, that same smile touched her lips.
"Ann," he said suddenly.
She jumped, nearly spilling her plate. "Yes, Appa?"
"What were you thinking about just now?" His tone was casual, but his eyes sharp.
Ann hesitated. "Nothing… just college work."
Her mother raised a brow. "College work doesn't usually make a girl blush, does it?"
Ann's cheeks burned. "Amma!"
Arun, grinning wide, chimed in. "She's thinking about that city uncle again!"
"Arun!" Ann scolded, swatting his arm. But the table erupted in laughter, except for Ann, who stared at her plate, wishing she could sink into the ground.
Later that night, after the children had gone to bed, Ann's father sat in the veranda, sipping tea. His wife joined him, folding her shawl around her shoulders.
"You've noticed too, haven't you?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "She tries to hide it, but her heart is shifting. That boy has already made his place."
Her mother sighed. "Do you think it's too soon?"
Her father was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "No. Sometimes the heart knows before the mind admits it. What matters is whether he can protect her smile. That's all I want for our daughter."
His wife smiled faintly. "From what I've seen, he just might."
Inside her room, Ann sat by the window, the marigold Dennis had given her resting on her desk. She traced its petals gently, her father's voice echoing in her memory.
Ann's POV
Appa always sees what I try to hide. Maybe I don't even want to hide anymore. Maybe… maybe it's alright to let them know my heart is beginning to answer.
The night breeze rustled the trees, carrying with it a quiet promise—that her journey, once hers alone, was now being watched with love and hope by the family she trusted most.