Joy Family

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 21: “When Strangers See You First”

The Return of a Forgotten Aunty

It was a humid Tuesday evening in September when Maria excitedly called Jerusha from the kitchen.

“Jerukutty, clean your room da. My cousin Thangam Akka is landing today from Sydney. Last she saw you, you were a baby pa… she’s coming with her husband and son, they’ll be staying here for a week.”

Jerusha stood there frozen in her loose pink top and floral capris, her camisole strap accidentally slipping off her shoulder. The butterflies in her stomach buzzed louder than ever.

“She thinks… she still thinks Jerusha is alive?” he asked, his voice dropping.

Maria turned, wiping her hands on her towel. “Of course. We never told anyone . Why would we? We got her back, didn’t we?” she smiled gently, placing a kiss on her cheek. “And you’re my kutty now.”

She couldn't argue. It was too late.

Their Arrival

The black Audi came to a slow halt by the gate of Joy Villa around 5:45 PM. Jerusha was already in the living room, but the moment she saw unfamiliar faces stepping out - a tall, posh-looking couple and a lanky teenage boy - her heart raced.

Without thinking, she darted behind her mother’s pallu, like a shy child hiding from guests.

Stephen laughed softly. “Dei, don’t hide like that. She’s family.”

Thangam Akka stepped in with the smell of duty-free perfume and years of distance. Her heels clicked on the tile. Her perfectly styled hair bounced as she exclaimed, “Jeruuuu! My God, you’ve grown into such a little angel!”

Jerusha peeked out from behind Maria.

She was wearing a sky-blue midi with white floral embroidery, her hair braided in a single plait with blue ribbon, and a tiny sapphire stud glittered on her ear.

She forced a shy smile.

“Awwwwwwwwwwww!” Thangam Akka shrieked. “You’re the exact same little cherub I left behind. Cheeks rounder now though!” She pinched her nose affectionately. “Come come, give aunty a hug!”

Jerusha stepped forward nervously and accepted the tight hug. Her cross-chain pressed against her chest. Her hands fidgeted behind her back.

Her son - a boy maybe 13 - peeked from behind his father's legs.

“Hello Akka…” he said softly, looking at her glittery anklets.

Kathir blinked.

He called me… Akka.

Maria beamed with pride. “That’s right, she’s your Akka. Jerukutty, show him your room after tea, okay?”

Gifts and Chocolates

After settling in, Thangam Akka called her to the sofa.

“Jeruu, I didn’t forget you. Look what I got for my niece.”

She opened a soft Zara bag and pulled out a small pink frock with ribbon lace, another floral midi, a lavender hoodie with bunny ears, and two gift boxes of Cadbury Dairy Milk Silk and Lindt chocolates.

“And here,” she grinned, “a tiny perfume just for your school bag!”

Jerusha smiled, cheeks flushed. She could feel the gaze of the boy - her “thambi” - watching her quietly from the armchair.

Stephen was busy clicking candid pictures from his phone. “Smile Jeru! One photo with aunty!”

Click.
Click.
Click.

Later, Jerusha texted her friend: They really believe I’m Jerusha. Even strangers. Even their relatives.

Her friend only replied: Take care…

Bonding Moments

The days passed quickly. The visiting family adored Jerusha.

They took her and the boy to Express Avenue Mall, where Thangam bought her matching sneakers, pastel clips, and even got them both cotton candy.

“Akka, you look like a cartoon girl!” the boy giggled.

Jerusha blushed. “You too!”

Stephen smiled at the sight of them posing for a photo together - the little ‘siblings’ of Joy Villa.

They even forced Jerusha to sit in a “Kiddy Nail Spa Chair” at the mall. She laughed through the embarrassment, legs dangling, as pink nail paint was applied.

At home, they played board games, had biriyani nights, and went on evening walks with umbrellas.

Maria, one night, walked into Jerusha’s room to see her painting with the boy.

“My darling kutty is babysitting too now?” she teased.

The boy piped up, “She’s the best akka!”

Jerusha smiled. And this time, it didn’t feel fake.

The Day They Left

On Sunday morning, the bags were packed.

As the car engine revved, Jerusha stood at the entrance, arms crossed, tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t speak.

The boy ran back, hugged her, and said, “Bye Akka… I’ll miss you.”

Thangam Akka hugged her tightly again. “You’re the soul of this house, kanna. Never change.”

After they left, Jerusha quietly walked inside. Her feet echoed in the silence.

Then, she sat down on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and began crying.

Stephen came near, knelt beside her.

“Aiyyo, kanna… they’ll come again soon.”

She sobbed harder.

He wiped her tears with a tissue, picked her up like a small girl, and carried her to the couch.

“Appa will take you to Australia soon. Promise. My baby girl will travel like a little queen.”

Maria, watching from the hallway, chuckled and said, “You’re spoiling her too much da.”

“Anything for my toddler,” Stephen grinned and gently tickled Jerusha’s stomach.

She burst into laughter through tears. “Appaaaa!”

They all smiled.

That night, another photo joined the wall - Jerusha in her bunny hoodie, the boy beside her, Thangam Akka’s arm around them, a rainbow cake in front.

Below it, a golden frame:
“Family, Wherever They May Be – Joy.”

Becoming Jerusha

Part 22: “The Girl Who Forgot to Remember”

June to December - The Blossoming of Jerusha

Six months had slipped by like the hem of a soft skirt brushing against silk floor tiles.

The girl who once stood trembling in pink camisoles was now a social butterfly in the high corridors of Daisy’s Elite Girls Academy - a name she first heard like a prophecy and now wore like a second skin.

In school, Jerusha Joy had bloomed.

Her phone was now filled with filtered selfies - floral headbands, soft lip gloss, tongue-out poses - and every photo captioned with playful tags like “Snap queen 💗”, “Bestie Diaries”, or “Daisy Drama 🐝”. She had slowly become the go-to girl for classroom notes, shared secrets in the washroom with Aishu, and held the second-highest English grade in her entire grade.

Teachers called her “petal,” “angel,” and “dear girl.” And even when her cheeks burned with the burden of pretending, she smiled - because it made them happy.

At home, life blurred into a pastel-coloured fairytale.

She was now completely Appa’s princess - always sitting on his lap to narrate school gossip, or steal the biggest piece of cake while he mock-scolded her. He’d ruffle her hair lovingly and call her “my little star.”

Sometimes, just after dinner, she’d poke his belly and say with a smirk, “Appa, you’ve become like Santa Claus!”
He’d widen his eyes in pretend shock. “I’m Bad Santa! I bite good girls!”
She’d squeal, hop off his lap, and run across the hall - him chasing behind like a clumsy monster.

Maria would roll her eyes, grinning. “I’m raising two babies now. One with anklets, and one with a stock portfolio.”
Even the maid couldn’t help but laugh.

Jerusha would curl up later in bed, still giggling.

Her Life Was Sugar Now

Her skin had never looked clearer - thanks to the supplements her mother now gave her every morning. Her voice had softened into a slightly airy tone, warm and bright. And her closet? Overflowing.

Every day at home, she wore something new - a midi with polka dots and matching panties, a lavender hoodie with a bunny tail, denim skirts with heart-shaped buttons, a floral chudidar with glass bangles that clicked when she moved. And under each? The inners that matched - camisoles with tiny bows, boyshorts with lace trim, and soft padded slips that never let her forget who she was pretending to be.

She seldom thought of Kathir anymore. Only sometimes in dreams. And even then, they were blurry, fading, like water on glass.

December Arrives - The Joy Season

The big Joy Villa glowed in fairy lights by December 10th.

A Christmas tree, twelve feet tall, stood in the main hall. Jerusha decorated it standing on a stool, gold tinsel in hand, her anklets chiming each time she shifted weight.

Maria brought down a hidden box from the attic - Jerusha’s old Christmas star ornaments, labelled with years. They hung each with reverence.

Stephen gifted his daughter a wine red Christmas dress, velvet bodice with puff sleeves and a flared tulle skirt that sparkled with little silver dots. “Our angel deserves the prettiest dress at church.”

The Sunday school children now knew her as Jerusha akka. They loved her. They clung to her hand when singing carols. She taught them lines, helped a small girl adjust her sash during the nativity play.

After the program, as church bells rang out and camera flashes lit up, Jerusha stood between Maria and Stephen in their matching outfits.

Someone captured the moment.

The three of them smiling.
Joy shining in their eyes.
No one remembered the loss.

Packing for the Hills

“Jeruuuuuu, fold your thermals properly! We’ll freeze in Nilgiris otherwise!” Maria shouted playfully from the closet.

The day after Christmas, they were set to fly to Coimbatore and drive up to their hill cottage till New Year’s Eve. A tradition they were reviving.

The family buzzed around the villa with luggage trolleys and soft suitcases.

Jerusha giggled as she sat on the floor trying to squeeze a pair of pink earmuffs, two puffy jackets, her travel diary, and a skincare kit into a single suitcase.

“Appa, your belly looks even rounder today,” she said, sitting on his lap.

Stephen put down the suitcase he was zipping and squinted at her. “Santa again, huh?”

“No… now you're double Santa,” she said cheekily.

“I’m bad Santa remember?” he warned with a mischievous grin, curling his fingers.

“I’m not scared!”

She shrieked and dashed away as he chased her down the hallway again.

The maid stood near the stairs, laughing with folded arms. “Pavam Amma… you’re raising two children!”

Maria smiled at the doorway, arms crossed, heart full. “No… I’m raising Joy.”

The Luggage of a Journey

As they finally wheeled their bags to the door the next morning, Jerusha paused.

She looked at the row of luggage by the car.

Each one a chapter of her story - from the blue floral midi folded neatly on top, to the soft padded bras in one corner pouch, to the pink hairbrush with her name printed - Jerusha Anne Joy.

She felt a lump rise in her throat. She didn’t wipe it away.

The luggage didn’t just hold clothes. It held her transformation.

Her story.
Her memories.
Her surrender.
Her… Joy.

And as the Volvo purred to life and the Joy family drove toward the airport, Jerusha leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“I feel like a real daughter now, Amma…” she whispered.

Maria kissed the top of her head.

“You always were, kanna.”

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 23: “A Star Falls Softly, A Daughter Rises”

December 30 – The Journey Begins

The morning began not with alarms but with laughter.

Jerusha sat cross-legged on the bed in her soft mint hoodie and high-waist black jeans - a teen-girl airport look that her mother had picked with delight. A tiny pink sling bag with a bunny zip hung across her torso. Her nails were painted faint lilac. Her hair was pulled into a high bouncy ponytail with a velvet scrunchie. The silver anklet still clinked faintly under the leggings, and as always, the platinum cross rested on her chest like a forgotten truth.

She looked at the mirror.

She was a schoolgirl.

And in the past six months, Kathir had all but vanished. His name had become something that floated only on forgotten ID cards buried in drawers.

Her father came in, suitcase in hand. “Ready, kutty?”

She spun and jumped up. “Yes, Appa!”

Maria called from the kitchen, handing her a travel pouch and lip balm. “Don’t forget to reapply. That A/C will dry your lips.”

She grumbled like a typical teen. “Aiyyo, Ammaaaa,” but took it obediently.

They giggled together. The Joys were going on a vacation.

At the Airport – A Little Girl in a Big World

The airport bustled with year-end crowds.

Jerusha clung to her mother’s hand as they navigated check-in, her cheeks slightly red from attention. At security, she hesitated while unzipping her hoodie, revealing the printed inner camisole beneath. The lady officer smiled. “Pretty girl.”

Jerusha nodded shyly. She was getting used to this. It still made her heart thump, but not from fear anymore. From something else. A strange, stubborn peace.

They sat together waiting to board. Jerusha curled up beside Maria and kept poking her cheeks until her mother gave her a toffee. “Neenga enna papa va?” her mother teased.

“Ammaaa… don’t scold me in front of the people,” she whispered, hiding her face in the hoodie.

The flight itself was smooth. She played with the screen for a while, asked for apple juice, and leaned onto Maria's arm. When she woke, the descent had begun.

Her father turned back. “Nilgiris, here we come!”

Coimbatore – A Car of Dreams, and a Princess Inside

They stepped out into the humid warmth of Coimbatore. The Volvo hadn’t made the trip. Instead, a black Range Rover, polished and purring, stood outside. A gift from one of Stephen’s clients for “testing comfort.”

Jerusha gasped. “We’re going in this?”

“Of course,” he winked. “Only the best for my daughter.”

She climbed in, eyes wide at the screens, buttons, soft leather.

As the city passed by in a blur, she stretched her legs across the seat, resting her head on her mother’s lap. Her hoodie sleeve half-covered her hand as she yawned and blinked slowly.

“Amma,” she mumbled, half-asleep, “will we see snow?”

“No snow here, kanna. But we’ll make memories.”

Stephen lowered his voice from the driver’s seat. “Maria… you know… this life…”

“I know,” she whispered.

He swallowed. “It’s… everything. I don’t know what we did to deserve it. Our daughter. This peace.”

Maria gently stroked Jerusha’s hair. “Let it last, God. Please… just let this last.”

Arrival – The Palace in the Hills

The car curved through the forested hill roads until a vintage stone estate appeared - weather-worn walls, colonial arches, long verandahs, and green creepers trailing down carved railings. The Joy Hillside Cottage, owned by Stephen’s trust.

Jerusha woke slowly, stretching like a kitten.

“Where are we?”

Her father opened the door like a chauffeur. “Home, princess.”

She stepped out, blinking. “This is… ours?”

He nodded. “Everything is ours. Because you are.”

Inside, there were long hallways, wooden floors, and glass windows with sheer white curtains. Old paintings. A library. A swing.

They played board games, ran down the echoing halls, even dressed her in a flowing maxi gown and took photos in the central courtyard, wind in her ponytail.

Jerusha stood with arms wide. “I feel like I’m in a movie!”

Stephen watched her, camera in hand. “No. You are the movie.”

The Surprise – A Family That Still Remembers

That evening, laughter echoed from the main hall.

Jerusha peeked from the hallway - and froze.

Over twenty people stood inside, smiling, waving. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. Many from abroad. And none of them… none of them knew Jerusha had died.

They rushed toward her, arms wide, squealing.

Jerusha, terrified, ducked behind her mother.

“Ammaaa…”

“Shhh… It’s okay. These are your people, kutty.”

One aunty stepped forward with chocolate. “Jerukutty? Look how big you’ve grown!”

Slowly, hesitantly, she stepped forward. They wrapped her in their love.

They dressed her up. Gifted her bangles, sandals. Spoiled her. Even the little boy cousin called her “akka akka akka” and followed her around like a puppy.

She laughed. She danced. She forgot.

In the family group photo, she was at the centre, held tightly.

New Year’s Eve – When Time Stood Still

That night, fairy lights draped the estate like stardust.

Everyone gathered in the courtyard under the stars. They sang, danced, lit sparklers, took endless photos. Jerusha wore a white flare dress with tiny pearls on the neckline. Her hair was braided in a fishtail. Her cheeks pink.

They had cakes. Wine. Appa lifted her up in his arms for a selfie. Maria kissed her cheek. Someone started crying.

Others followed. A prayer broke out - hands held together.

“God… thank You. For her. For this year. Let this stay. Don’t take it away…”

And as the clock hit midnight, someone shouted.

“Look!”

They turned.
A shooting star burned across the sky.
Slow. Glorious. Vanishing into forever.

The End of the Night – A Soft Goodbye

The next day, the guests left.

Jerusha hugged them all, one by one. She smiled. But her eyes welled up.

When the final car drove off, she broke.

“I don’t want it to end,” she whispered.

Stephen lifted her like she was six. “Then it won’t. You’ll always have us.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, baby.”

They bribed her with a pink hoodie from her favourite brand. She smiled again. She was still their child.

On the way back home, Jerusha dozed off in the car, head resting against the window, anklets still chiming faintly.

The Dream – Full Circle

That night, in the dark warmth of her bedroom, Jerusha turned in her sleep.

The wardrobe door creaked open slightly. A soft wind rustled.

And from within her dream… a white figure stepped forward.

She - the real Jerusha - stood there again.

This time, no sadness.

She looked at the girl in bed… and smiled. Walked forward. Leaned in.

“You did it. Thank you.”

And then, she stepped back… and vanished.

Kathir, in Jerusha’s skin, wept in sleep.

But he didn’t wake up.

Because he wasn’t Kathir anymore.

He was Jerusha Anne Joy.

Forever.

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 24: “Of Birthdays, Snowflakes, and the Girl Who Bloomed”

Five Months Later – The Rise of Joy

The days passed like warm wind through jasmine vines - quietly, fragrantly, joyously.

It had been over total 10 months since Jerusha Anne Joy had first walked into the school gates in pleated skirts and bow-braided hair. And now, in early May, the girl who once hesitated at every mirror had become the very heart of Daisy’s Elite Girls Academy.

Inside those pale green corridors, Jerusha had earned a name.

The teachers adored her for her neatness, handwriting, obedience, and soft, graceful speech. She stood first in most subjects. She organised a prayer meet during lent. In the talent show, she sang a soft Tamil melody that made the principal weep. Her marks were even printed in the monthly bulletin.

Her friends - especially Aishu, her bestie - knew her as the sweet, slightly spoiled but extremely lovable girl who wore strawberry lip balm and knew how to twist teachers around her finger with one blink of those big lashes. On Snap, she was tagged in group selfies with hearts and “Princess Joyyyy 💖💫”.

And in the restroom?

Still humiliating.

The innerwear. The skirt hikes. The way girls touched up their lip glosses and sprayed perfume. Sometimes, she just stood still and smiled, her cheeks pink.

Still Kathir inside… sometimes.

But rarely now. Very, very rarely.

Home – The House That Sang Her Name

At home, she was not Jerusha. She was “Jerukutty,” “Papa,” “Baby girl,” “My chocolate moon,” “Princess of this house,” and occasionally, “My stomach pain” when she played too many pranks.

The Joy Villa had fully transformed.

The family dining room now had floral wallpaper with her framed photos - the church photo, the New Year photo, one with Aishu, and now, her new school merit certificate framed and hung.

Every evening, she’d throw her bag onto the couch, wiggle out of her shoes, and flop across the carpet, moaning dramatically. “Ammaaa I have no lifeeee. This is child labour.”

Her mother, coming from the kitchen, would tap her on the forehead. “Then quit your school and start washing vessels, paavi.”

“Appaaa she’s beating me!”

Stephen would emerge in a suit and tie, pulling her up by the arms and twirling her around. “I’ll rescue my angel!”

Sometimes she’d pinch him. “Appa you smell like old man perfume!”

“Only old man? Appa is young la!”

“No, paavam, just old and fat,” she giggled and ran. He chased her.

Evenings ended in cuddles. She'd rest on his lap, stealing pieces of Mysore pak, while her mother brushed out her ponytail and complained she was becoming too bold.

But they wouldn’t have her any other way.

The Birthday – A Festival of Jerusha

March 28. Her birthday.

It wasn’t a celebration. It was a festival.

The house was decorated in fairy lights, rose petals, and pink-gold balloons spelling “Happy Birthday Jerusha”. There was a stage, a violinist, return gifts with her cartoon face, two photographers, and a three-tier fondant cake shaped like a Disney castle.

She wore a baby pink silk lehenga with pearl embroidery and matching jewellery. Her makeup was done by a professional artist. Her anklets shone. The platinum chain lay over the blouse like it had always belonged there.

Over 120 guests attended - family, school staff, even some church members.

People gifted her dresses, perfume, books, even a custom bracelet with the word “Joy” carved.

And the biggest surprise?

Her father bought her a brand new Mercedes-Benz S-Class.

“Appaaa are you mad?!”

“You’re the princess of this palace. What’s a palace without a chariot?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “You’ve fully spoiled her.”

“I’ll spoil her again,” he smiled.

And she ran and hugged them both, kissing them on the cheek.

More Moments – Between the Lines of Joy

The days were filled with rituals of sweetness.

She and her mother had the silliest fights. About the toothpaste cap. About whether Jerusha could wear a denim skirt instead of chudidar for church visit. About how much ice cream was too much.

They always ended with mock sulks and real hugs.

Her father took more and more photos. Sometimes, she caught him just watching her, as if trying to memorise every blink.

They started calling her “thangam” even in public.

She helped the maid decorate the prayer altar. Wrote her own Bible verses on the fridge. Cooked a meal once and burned the rasam. Laughed so hard she cried.

At night, she’d lie on the swing, writing in Jerusha’s diary.

Now… her diary.

Now – Summer, Heat… and a Wish for Snow

May began, and Chennai boiled like a kettle. Jerusha, now completely sunk into her summer casuals - hoodie dresses, soft cotton nighties, polka dot shorts with spaghetti camisoles - lay belly-down on the sofa one evening, drawing a picture.

It was a snowman.

Stephen peeked over her shoulder. “That looks cold.”

“I want to see snow, Appa,” she said wistfully. “Real snow. Like in the cartoons.”

Maria snorted from the dining room. “She’ll get sick and cough in 3 minutes.”

“Then 3 minutes is enough.”

The next morning, her father held a flight itinerary.

“Zurich, the Swiss Alps. 10 days.”

She blinked. “For what?”

“For snow, kutty.”

She screamed. “Appaaaaaaaaa!”

Packing – The Luggage of a Life Rewritten

She packed her things like a storm - earmuffs, snow boots, woollen frocks, soft sweaters, pink thermals, cartoon gloves, even a snow-themed diary.

Her passport now read Jerusha Anne Joy.

Her school ID. Her Aadhaar. Her report card. All of it did.

There was no Kathir.

There was only her.

Maria folded sweaters and whispered. “Can’t believe my girl is going abroad.”

Jerusha touched her mother’s cheek. “All because of you.”

Stephen walked in with his DSLR. “Smile, snow princess.”

She posed on the bed with a woollen hat and tongue out.

Click.

The camera clicked, and the light blinked red on the family photo frame across the room - the one that now said “Our Joy Forever”.

Becoming Jerusha - Joy Family

Part 25: “Feathers, Farewells, and Foreign Dreams”

Two Years Later – And Not a Trace of Kathir

If someone had whispered the name “Kathir” in the grand halls of Daisy’s Elite Girls Academy, not a single girl would’ve turned her head.

That name didn’t exist anymore.

Jerusha Anne Joy was not a name anymore. It was an institution. A presence. A charm that ran down every corridor in the flutter of skirt hems and the scent of body mist.

Two full years had gone by since she had first stood in that uniform, trembling with shame, her lips trembling with the words she didn’t know how to say.

Now?

She was the girl others watched in admiration. The one who shared her tiffin, adjusted others’ bra straps casually in the restroom, cried in public when she saw a puppy outside the school gate. She was their kutty akka. Their sweetheart. The pet of every teacher. The darling of every group project.

In 12th grade farewell, her batchmates surprised her with a soft floral sash that read “Purest Joy”. When the last bell rang, the girls hugged her all at once, not letting her go, weeping into her shoulders.

“She’s not just a classmate, Miss…” Aishu told their English teacher, through sniffles. “She’s our blessing.”

Jerusha cried too - tears wetting the corner of her school blazer. She didn’t even try to stop them.

And when the camera clicked for the final time, her platinum cross sparkled under the collar, as it always had.

The House – Still Her Palace of Mischief

Back at home, nothing had changed.

Which was to say - everything had bloomed.

Joy Villa was louder, softer, warmer, and sillier than it had ever been.

The living room had upgraded again - now a massive TV, pastel sofa set, and another shelf just for her perfumes. Jerusha no longer walked - she danced. She’d skip from the kitchen to the pooja room, wearing one of her ridiculous hoodie dresses that had bunny ears stitched to the hood, shouting:

“Ammaaaaa where’s my lip balm? My life depends on it!!”

“Check your handbag,” Maria would shout back from the kitchen.

“Which one?! I have seven!!”

Her father, overhearing from the upstairs balcony, would mutter dramatically: “We need a minister to manage her bags.”

“Oh please,” Maria would call out, “You’re the one who bought her five out of seven.”

“Because my daughter deserves the world,” he’d respond proudly.

“Your daughter needs to stop painting her nails during breakfast.”

“It’s self-care, Amma,” Jerusha would say with the most serious face, holding her toes up for drying.

She had become naughtier, funnier, more fearless.

The Joys adored her. Stephen Joy, her father, often said to his clients: “My daughter is not just my heart. She’s my luck. Ever since she came into my life, our turnover tripled.”

And it was true.

He had bought new lands. New resorts. He opened an office in Dubai. And he always credited Jerusha.

“She’s the energy of this house,” he said. “And God knows, I need it.”

After Exams – The Future, the Fight, and the Feathers

It was a few days after her final board exams. The tension had vanished like sugar in tea.

She sat cross-legged in the middle of her fluffy bed, in a ruffled pastel camisole top and matching capris, scrolling through college brochures.

Maria was next to her, drying clothes, and Stephen had just entered the room.

“Okay,” Jerusha began, squinting at the screen. “No hostels. Non-negotiable. Right?”

“Absolutely,” her father nodded. “My daughter is not living in some unknown dirty hole. No chance.”

“And what about foreign?” she tested the waters.

“Foreign is fine.”

Maria looked up sharply. “Only with us.”

Jerusha grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll smuggle you into my suitcase.”

Stephen sat down, casually. “You just marry your father and stay home.”

Jerusha gasped. “Ewww!! Appaaa!! That’s illegal!”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Why would she marry a pot-bellied businessman when she has ambition?”

Stephen clutched his chest. “My own wife…”

Jerusha fell back laughing. “You both are mentally 7 years old.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what are you, Miss ‘I cried for one hour because my nail broke’?”

“That was serious trauma, Appa.”

“I’ll give you trauma now,” Maria said, throwing a pillow.

Jerusha ducked. “Abuse! Child abuse!”

By the time they stopped giggling, all three were on the bed, surrounded by cotton and half-folded laundry.

Then, Jerusha pouted, seriously this time. “I want to study Business Management in London.”

Both parents fell silent for a second.

Maria gently touched her cheek. “That far?”

“I’ll video call every day,” she said softly. “I just… I want to grow. Be more. And London’s calling me.”

Stephen looked at her - eyes full of memories of a thousand days where this little girl had wrapped his heart around her finger.

“I’ll come with you,” he finally said.

Maria blinked. “What?”

“I’ll shift base. I’ll open something there. You think I’ll let this kutty ponnu go alone?”

Jerusha stared. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious.”

Maria sighed. “Then who’ll take care of our houses here?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

And just like that, her dream became a plan.

The Ending of the Night – Feathered, Framed, Forever

Of course, it didn’t end like that. Nothing in the Joy house ended peacefully.

Jerusha jumped on her mother.

Maria hit her with a towel.

Stephen threw a cushion.

Feathers exploded.

Within minutes, the three of them were covered in cotton, feathers in their hair, lying flat across the king-sized bed, panting with laughter.

Jerusha lay in the middle, her head on her mother’s chest, her feet across her father’s stomach.

Her platinum chain glinted.

Her anklet jingled.

Stephen kissed her on the forehead. “My baby’s growing wings.”

Maria tucked the blanket over them. “Let her. But we’ll always be her nest.”

Jerusha closed her eyes, her fingers gently entwined with theirs.

Somewhere in the hallway, the photo frame on the wall blinked red - “The Joy of Our Life” glowing softly.

And Kathir? That name had faded like a chalk drawing in rain.

Only Jerusha remained.