Chapter 26: A Better New Life
Mornings in their little house always began with the aroma of coffee and the soft giggles of Amara. The house was simple—cream-colored walls, wooden windows facing a tiny garden—but it was filled with warmth. In every corner, there was a trace of the love they had built together.
Saraswati woke up earlier than usual. She brushed aside a strand of hair from Amara's sleeping face and kissed her daughter's forehead gently. In the kitchen, Boase was already busy making breakfast, his expression serious but full of affection.
"Good morning, my beautiful wife," Boase greeted as he handed her a cup of warm tea.
Saraswati smiled, accepting the tea. It tasted simple, yet sweeter than any tea she had ever sipped.
Their days passed peacefully, like spring finally blooming after a long, harsh winter. Saraswati continued teaching at the kindergarten—a place where she felt she truly mattered. Every smile from the children seemed to plant a new seed of hope, washing away the old wounds that had once frozen her heart.
In her classroom, Saraswati became the teacher the children adored. She listened to their innocent stories, comforted those who cried, and taught not only letters or numbers but also the courage to dream.
When the school bell rang, she often came home carrying funny little stories to share at the dinner table.
"One of my students said today, 'Teacher, I want to be an astronaut, but I'm scared of flying in a plane,'" she said with a soft laugh one evening.
Boase chuckled, placing a plate of homemade fried rice in front of her.
"Maybe he can be a virtual astronaut," he teased.
Amara, hearing this, giggled along even if she didn't fully understand.
Their nights were filled with laughter, small discussions about the future, and warm embraces before bed.
Sometimes, when the rain poured heavily outside, they would huddle together on their small sofa, wrapping themselves in a big blanket while reading bedtime stories for Amara.
"Mama, Papa, when will I have a little sibling?" Amara asked one night with innocent eyes sparkling under the dim nightlight.
Saraswati and Boase exchanged shy glances and chuckled.
"Someday, when God sends us another gift," Saraswati answered softly, caressing her daughter's cheek.
Every weekend, they had a little tradition: visiting the city park. They would pack simple meals—rice balls, omelets, and sliced fruit—and sit together on a picnic mat, enjoying the cool breeze.
One time, Boase taught Amara how to fly a kite. She ran around, squealing with delight whenever the kite soared into the sky, though it often got caught in the trees. Saraswati sat under an old flamboyant tree, watching the two people who had become her universe, her heart swelling with gratitude.
Of course, their new life was not without its ripples. There were days when Boase came home covered in paint after working on a client's house, or when Saraswati returned home with a throbbing headache after managing a classroom full of energetic children.
One night, they even had a small argument over something as trivial as forgetting to buy gas for the stove.
"I thought you were going to buy it!" Boase exclaimed, scratching his head.
"You promised you would," Saraswati replied, half-annoyed, half-laughing.
They fell into silence for a moment. And then, as if on cue, they both burst into laughter. The argument dissolved, like mist evaporating under the morning sun. They realized there was nothing too big to fight about when love and understanding were the foundation.
That afternoon, after the rain had stopped, they sat again under the flamboyant tree—the tree that had become a witness to their new journey.
"You know," Boase said, squeezing Saraswati's hand, "I used to think happiness was like fireworks. It had to be spectacular, big, dazzling. But now I realize, happiness is more like this..."
He pointed at Amara, who was busy picking wildflowers.
"...small things we nurture every day. Not an explosion, but a small flame that keeps burning."
Saraswati looked at him, her eyes misty.
"I used to think love had to be perfect too. But I've learned... all we really need is someone who chooses to stay, even when the world falls apart," she whispered.
They embraced each other in a comfortable silence, surrounded by the scent of wet earth and the songs of the birds at dusk. Amara ran toward them, a handful of wildflowers in her tiny hands, and tucked one into Saraswati's hair.
"For Mama," she said sweetly.
Saraswati smiled, bowing her head so Amara could easily place the flower. For the first time in her life, she realized she no longer needed to wait for happiness to come from somewhere else.
Her happiness was already here—inside her, within her family, in every moment she lived.
They built a new life, not because it was perfect, but because they chose to fight for each day together.
And within that choice, Saraswati knew, true happiness was born—not through grand explosions, but through the quiet persistence of everyday love.