After the ceremony ended and the guests left, Miya finally changed out of her heavy sangeet outfit. Her shoulders ached from all the dancing, and her feet were sore from the heels she had worn all night. She tied her hair into a loose bun, slipped into an oversized hoodie and soft pajama pants, and wiped off the last traces of her makeup.
Just as she climbed into bed, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
John.
Her lips curved into a smile as she picked up the call.
"Hey... you don't usually call this late," she said teasingly, pressing the phone to her ear.
"I needed to hear your voice," John said, his tone low and quiet.
She blinked. "Late-night drama? What's gotten into you?"
"I just… needed to remind myself of something."
"What's that?" she asked, more serious now.
"That MIYA was mine," he said after a pause.
Miya's breath caught. His words were possessive, yet filled with something softer—ache, maybe. Longing.
But then... she responded. Her voice gentle. Her tone sure.
"Miya was always yours, John. She still is. And she always will be."
John fell completely silent on the other end.
She took a breath, her voice barely above a whisper.
"The way you love her... she loves you even more. Maybe she never found the words. "
Still, John said nothing. And that silence felt louder than anything.
"I've already told my mom," he finally said. "About… everything."
Miya sat up straight. "You told her?"
"I had to. She asked me questions I couldn't dodge anymore. And tomorrow... my beautiful wife meet her beautiful mother-in-law."
he said giggling
"You mean... introduce her?" Miya asked.
"Yes," he said. "Officially."
Before she could respond, a knock came at her door.
"One second," she whispered into the phone, placing it on the bed.
Her younger sister peeked in, grinning. "You're still up? I heard voices. Were you talking to Max?"
Miya flushed. "No! I was just about to sleep."
"Sure-sure," her sister teased, walking away.
She shut the door and picked the phone back up. "Sorry. That was my sister."
"No problem," John replied. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be... a big day."
"Goodnight," she said softly.
"Goodnight," he echoed.
Meanwhile…
John sat in his room, staring at the now-dark screen of his phone.
A familiar voice broke the silence.
"So... sister-in-law coming tomorrow?"
It was Gabriel.
John looked up. "Yeah."
Gabriel leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "We'll give her the warmest welcome."
John smiled faintly, but Gabriel's next question wiped it away.
"And Mom?"
As if summoned, their mother's voice echoed from the hallway. "I already know."
Both brothers turned. She stood in the doorway, calm and unreadable.
"M-Mom?" John rose from the bed.
She stepped inside, closed the door, and sat beside him.
"John, I've always known something was different. I'm your mother. I see things." Her voice was neither angry nor warm—just tired. "After your father died, you became my entire world. And now… you made this choice without telling me?"
"I didn't want to hurt you," he said quickly.
She shook her head. "But you didn't. I'm just surprised. And… if I'm being honest, a little relieved."
He looked at her, confused.
"You've never fallen easily. If you've chosen her, I believe it's for the right reason."
John's eyes widened. "So you're... okay with it?"
She nodded slowly. "Bring her to me. Let me see her for myself. If she's the one, I'll know."
after all she is the wife of my only son.
Just then, Gabriel turned his face away. A silence settled in the room—one that carried weight.
And then... a soft sniffle.
his mother loves him but not like john always mention something that was unexpected and hurt him
Their mother turned to him.
And tonight, those years of quiet hurt shimmered in his eyes.
"Gabriel…" John whispered.
But Gabriel forced a faint smile and straightened up. "We've got a long day ahead, right?"
John nodded, glancing between his brother and his mother.
Something unspoken passed in that moment—fragile, but real.
And outside, beneath the same moonlight... someone else lay awake, wondering what would happen when truths began to unfold—one name, two lives, and a love that belonged to only one.