Maya (1251words)

It had been a grey, drizzly morning. Chilly winds brushed against the wi​ndows as Preethi played with her two sons, aged five and three, in the living room. Suddenly, a faint, unfamiliar cry reached her ears. She paused. It was the soft wail of a baby.

Curious and concerned, Preethi opened the front door. To her shock, a newborn lay wrapped in a clean dupatta on the verandah, a feeding bottle placed beside her. The infant, barely a month old, shivered and cried softly—perhaps from hunger, perhaps from the chill.

Who could abandon such a tiny infant in the open, at the doorstep of an unknown house?

She looked around, hoping to see someone. But the street was empty, save for the familiar sight of the old mochi hunched beneath a tarpaulin shelter under the tree across the road.

Preethi rushed to him. “Did you see anyone come to our house just now? A baby’s been left at our door.”

The cobbler squinted, thoughtful. “Amma, a little while ago, a young woman—about 25—opened your gate. She was well dressed. I didn’t notice a baby. She stood near your verandah for a moment. I thought she must be a visitor and looked away.”

“Did you see anything else?”

“She had a slight limp. After she left, I heard a car start somewhere nearby. I couldn’t see who got in.”

Back home, Preethi knelt beside the baby, stunned by her delicate beauty. A chubby, round face. A small mole gracing her chin—a distinctive mark. Lifting the child to her shoulder, she felt a surge of emotion. The baby’s crying stopped instantly, replaced by an unsure smile as she nestled into Preethi’s warmth.

Her boys stood nearby, wide-eyed. Preethi handed the baby to her elder son and hurried inside to fetch a blanket, a soft shirt, and warm milk. After feeding, the baby smiled. That simple gesture etched itself into Preethi’s heart.

When she called Mahesh, he said he’d be home right away.

He, too, was moved the moment he saw the child. The couple had long dreamed of having a daughter, but life had brought them two lively boys instead. While they weren’t opposed to keeping the baby, Mahesh responsibly contacted the police. The officers advised them to send the child to a foster home. But when they saw the couple’s growing attachment and desire to retain the baby, they allowed them to keep her,till the baby’s mother returned to claim her.

They named her Maya.

Years passed. No one came forward. After three years, Preethi and Mahesh officially became her legal guardians. They moved into a new home in an upscale neighbourhood. Maya, with her infectious laugh and inquisitive eyes, became the heart of their family.

Life settled into a comfortable rhythm—until the afternoon that changed everything.

Preethi had stopped by Mahesh’s office to take him to a dental appointment. As he wrapped up work, a tall woman in her late twenties entered with a file.

“Leaving already?” she asked, surprised. “I had something urgent to discuss. No problem—tomorrow, then.”

Mahesh stood. “Sure. Meet my wife, Preethi. This is Mrs. Deepa Ram, our senior HR manager.

Preethi nodded. Deepa was striking—tall, poised, with hazel eyes and a quiet elegance. But as she turned to leave, Preethi noticed something else: a faint limp.

A chill coursed through her. Her mind darted back to that long-ago morning. The mochi’s words. A woman with a limp.

That night, Preethi lay awake, the image of Deepa haunting her. Could she be Maya’s mother? And if so, why abandon her? Who was the father? Surely not her husband. No mother would leave her child if the father stood by her.

Preethi turned toward Mahesh, asleep beside her. He had been a kind, loving partner. She needed to unravel this discreetly.

Over coffee the next morning, she said lightly, “I liked Deepa. She’s graceful, warm. She didn’t seem annoyed when you had to leave.”

“She’s talented,” Mahesh replied. “IIM diploma. Her husband also works in the city. That’s all I know.”

“I’m thinking of inviting her for high tea on Saturday. A ladies’ thing.”

Mahesh grinned. “Sounds perfect. You have her number?”

Saturday afternoon arrived. Deepa came precisely at 4, holding a box of chocolates. She wore a cerulean salwar suit and carried herself with a natural grace. Preethi’s boys ran off after greeting her, but Maya lingered, studying Deepa curiously.

Deepa smiled and extended her arms. Maya glanced at her mother for approval. Preethi nodded.

The little girl ran forward and climbed into Deepa’s lap. Deepa hugged her tightly, tears pooling in her eyes as she kissed her over and over. Maya laughed, clinging to her.

Preethi stood watching, a swirl of emotions rising within her—wonder, suspicion, and a strange tenderness. She went inside to fetch snacks and fruit juice.

Moments later, Deepa gently turned Maya’s head and glanced behind her left ear. A small smile flickered on her face.

She didn’t notice the eyes that had quietly been watching her from behind the fridge in the kitchen.

When Preethi returned with snacks, she found Deepa hastily wiping her eyes.

“Maya, go play with your brothers,” Preethi said, a note of firmness in her voice.

The girl looked disappointed but obeyed, casting a wistful glance back at Deepa before running off.

“You looked upset,” Preethi said gently. “Is everything alright?”

Deepa hesitated.

“I can tell something changed while you were here. You were cheerful when you arrived.”

After a long pause, Deepa murmured, “You’re the first person I’m telling this. My husband and I have been married for five years. We’ve always wanted a child, especially a daughter. But I can’t conceive. The doctors confirmed it twice.”

She exhaled. “Today… with Maya… it stirred everything I’ve buried for so long. The ache, the longing. I couldn’t help it.”

Preethi sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re strong to share that. And Maya clearly has taken a liking for you. She rarely connects with strangers like that.”

After a while, Deepa composed herself and took her leave, promising to return.

But Preethi had seen it when Deepa brushed aside Maya’s hair to look behind her ear. There, unmistakably, was a tiny black dot—just like the mole on her chin. Preethi had somehow missed it all these years.

That night, as Maya went to sleep, Preethi sat with Mahesh in the living room.

“She’s Maya’s mother,” she said softly.

Mahesh looked at her, startled.

“I’m certain. I saw it in her eyes and the way Maya responded. And there’s a birthmark behind her ear. Deepa looked for it.”

Silence.

“She cannot have children. I didn’t tell her. But she’s the woman who left Maya at our door. The mochi described her perfectly.”

Mahesh sat back; his face unreadable.

“She never told her husband, I think. She must have been unmarried then. Maybe the father disappeared. Who knows? But… what do we do now?”

Preethi’s voice broke. “She’s Maya’s real mother. And we promised—if her mother came forward… we’d give her back, though she has not claimed yet.”

Still, Mahesh didn’t answer.

Laughter rang out from the next room—Maya’s high-pitched giggle echoing alongside her brothers’.

Preethi turned toward the sound. Maya was just a little girl, playing without a care, unaware of the choice her parents were about to make.

And so, the decision lingered in the stillness of the room, unspoken, unresolved.