THE moon shone brightly in the sky, its soft glow exuding a touch of charm that was calming to the mind, despite the scattered clouds. The woman sitting on the super veranda of her modest home sighed deeply, sadness in her heart. It was a night like this when her husband had proposed to her and she had said ‘yes’.
It had felt like a magical night with the moonlight, fresh roses and a bottle of wine.

Life had been so wonderful after their marriage — the love, togetherness, and joy. Two years later, the birth of their son had brought added happiness, but now, ten years later, she sat alone, admiring the exquisite beauty of the moonlit night.
She had never for a moment thought her husband would have left her the way he did. The pain was still deep, but she had managed to pull through, living her life with the beautiful memories of the years they had spent together.
He had a love for cars, and it had seemed like only yesterday he had gone with his friends to the South Dakota Circuit. The news that reached home that night of the deadly crash on the highway had shattered her world. She just couldn’t believe it; she refused to accept he was no more.
“Why?” she had cried over and over. “Why did this have to happen?”
No one could answer. No words could comfort her. The days, weeks and months that followed were so agonising that she came close to a mental breakdown. Her son’s cries and his little voice calling for her had brought her back from the brink.
The years passed as she lived her life as a single mother with her eight-year-old son. Family and friends had thought that because she was still young — in her early thirties — she would bury her grief and move on in her life with someone new. But she didn’t. Not showing interest in anyone, though many tried, her heart rejected them all. She worked to provide for herself and her son, not depending on anyone for assistance. She managed a small business, assisted animal rescuers with strays, and donated to their cause. She had always been a plant lover, so her flower and vegetable gardens occupied her time and earned her some extra money.
She was satisfied with the peace and quiet of her simple life, doing the things she loved.
Family and friends continued to drop hints that she was still young and had her whole life ahead of her, but she feared that someone new could disrupt the smooth and peaceful life she was living with her son.
“And suppose he doesn’t like my son?” she questioned silently. “That would definitely cause a problem.”
She believed in her heart that if something new was meant for her, it would find her.
A few years went by, and on moonlit nights, she sat with a glass of wine and a fresh rose. Her heartache was no longer so deep, for time had healed her wounds, but his memories she still cherished.
“One day, we will meet again,” she said, looking up at the heavens.
“But you may not recognise me if I grow old, for you left so young.”
A star pitched from the sky, but she did not make a wish.
“What do I wish for?” she asked quietly.
Finishing the glass of wine, she went to bed, the fresh rose beside her, and as she slept, fate turned a new page in her life.
Later that month, one night at the mandir she attended, she was talking with a few of the members when she noticed a stranger — with similar good looks to her husband — looking at her with a pleasant smile. She would normally not pay any interest, but there was something different about him.
After a short while, he walked to where she was standing and asked a little unsurely,
“Was Arvin your husband?”
That question sent a little chill through her body, and she answered quietly,
“Yes.”
He smiled and said,
“He was my good friend from school days, and I bought my first car from him.”
“That’s good to know,” she said with politeness in her voice, but was unable to mask the pain in her eyes.
“I didn’t know about the accident,” he told her. “Until I came back two weeks ago. I am so sorry for your loss. It shocked me.”
She smiled warmly and said,
“Thank you.”
“I wanted to come and see you,” he continued, a bit apologetically, “to give you my sympathy, but I wasn’t sure how receptive you would be to a complete stranger.”
She smiled a little and said to put his uncertainty at ease,
“It’s good to know that as an old friend, you remembered my husband, and thanks again for the sympathy.”
He nodded, and she left a moment later with a few ladies for home.
A few days passed, and she couldn’t stop thinking of him, for there was something about him that drew her interest.
“I wonder…” she mused.
She didn’t see him again, anywhere. But that Sunday morning, as she was putting together a fresh flower vase with cuttings from her garden, a red X-Trail pulled up by her home.
It was him: her late husband’s old friend.
Seeing him again filled her heart with a strange feeling of joy, and he had that same pleasant smile on his face.
“Good morning. Can I come in?”
She hesitated a little, then unlocked the gate. He said, a bit apologetically,
“Sorry if I’m disrupting you from anything.”
“No-no,” she assured him.
He sat down, and after a short moment, he asked her,
“So, how are you coping?”
“Good. It was tough at first, but I managed.”
“And you have a child?”
“Yes, a boy. He’s eight.”
He shook his head and expressed with regret in his voice,
“Once again, I can’t say how sorry I am that this happened. I was away most of the time travelling on business, so Arvin and I lost contact.”
She sighed,
“It was a cruel blow from fate.”
“Yeah,” he sighed too. “But you have something precious to go on living for — your son.”
The way he said that touched her, giving rise to a new feeling in her heart, and she nodded with a warm smile. There was a short moment of silence because neither of them seemed to know what more to say. Then he said to her,
“I am back now to invest in my country, so no more extensive travelling. And if at any time you need my assistance for anything, just let me know. It’s the least I can do for my old friend’s family.”
“Thanks,” she smiled. “I appreciate that.”
He gave her his card, saying,
“See you again sometime.”
But he stopped by more than she expected him to, and started to bond with her son, Aryan — showing him basketball shots and talking about cars. Her heart warmed towards him, and slowly, something special began to develop. Aryan held his mother’s hand one night, after he had left, and said to her,
“Mum, I like him.”
She put her arm around her son and said,
“So do I.”
She had believed in her heart that if something new was meant for her, it would find her.
And it did.