“Then why did you divorce?” my mother asked.

After a pause, Meera spoke again, her voice shaking.
“It was my fault. I was obsessed with earning more, thinking money would keep everything stable. I didn’t see how alone he felt. I was so determined to be strong that I made him feel unnecessary.”

Those words hit me hard. For years, I’d believed she chose her career over us. I never imagined fear was hiding behind her strength.

“I’m scared,” she continued. “Afraid that if I don’t prove I can carry everything, one day he’ll leave because he thinks he’s a burden.”

My mother was silent for a long moment.
“A marriage isn’t only about money,” she finally said. “It’s about standing together when life gets hard.”

I returned to my room but didn’t sleep. Memories surfaced—hospital nights alone, meals eaten cold, conversations I wanted to have but never did. We hadn’t stopped loving each other. We just didn’t know how to ask for help.

At dawn, I woke Meera. Half-asleep, she asked why.