She carried one simple belief in her heart:
My daughter will look after me. I will look after my granddaughter. A family survives because everyone supports each other.
Each morning, she walked little Aarav to kindergarten.
Each afternoon, she cooked meals, scrubbed clothes, and kept the household running.
She never mentioned to Riya that the 20 million rupees she earned from selling her house were still untouched in her bank account, nor that her savings passbook was carefully wrapped and hidden inside her old cloth bundle.
That particular afternoon in Delhi was brutally hot. Dry, scorching winds swept through the small garden outside the house.
Lakshmi’s throat burned with thirst.
On the table sat a half-finished glass of sweet lime juice that Aarav had been drinking. A few melting ice cubes clung to the glass.
She took one small sip—just enough to wet her lips.
At that exact moment, Riya stepped out of the kitchen and caught sight of her.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Riya shouted sharply, her eyes flashing with anger.
Lakshmi flinched.
“Beta, I was so thirsty… I only took one sip…”
Riya slammed her spoon onto the glass table.
“That’s my child’s juice!
Have you lost all shame, even at your age?”
Little Aarav slipped behind his mother’s dupatta, staring silently with wide eyes.
Riya stretched out her arm and pointed directly at the front door, her voice shaking with fury.
“This house doesn’t feed useless old people who contribute nothing!
Get out—go wherever you want!”
Lakshmi stood motionless, her white sari fluttering in the hot wind.
She did not cry.
She did not plead.
She walked quietly into the small living room and picked up her old cloth bag—the one holding her savings passbook worth 20 million rupees.
When she stepped out of the luxurious Greater Kailash house, she did not turn back even once.
