Grandmother, Who, Me?

Grandmother, Who, Me?

Chapter 30: The Surprise

Shreya’s POV

The Innova stopped in front of our villa just after noon. I was already standing at the gate in a soft peach maternity saree, one hand resting on the curve of my six month belly. When Lakshmi Attai stepped out, followed by Rajan, I smiled the bright, dutiful daughter-in-law smile I had perfected.

“Welcome home, Attai. Maama.”

She looked tired. The yellow cotton saree from the village was slightly dusty at the hem. The thali still sat exactly where it belonged. Her eyes searched my face the moment she saw me, as if trying to read what kind of day this would be.

I let the moment stretch just long enough.

Then I stepped aside and gestured toward the open front door.

“Attai… surprise. See, your son is back.”

Satish walked out of the house.

He looked exactly as he had the day before the transformation began, clean-shaven, lean, wearing a simple light-blue shirt and dark trousers, the same gentle face, the same soft eyes. He even smiled the way Satish used to smile at me.

Lakshmi stopped dead on the front steps. The anklets gave one weak chime and then fell silent. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The colour drained from her soft cheeks. For a long second she simply stared, as if the world had tilted sideways.

I watched the shock bloom across her features with quiet satisfaction.

(Of course it was not Satish. It was Jessica, sealed inside a specialized full-body suit that had taken an entire month to perfect. That was why I had sent them to the village, so the work could be finished without interruption. The suit copied every detail: skin texture, voice modulation, even the small mole near the left collarbone. Underneath the perfect replica, Jessica remained in complete control.)

We went inside. Tea was poured. Rajan sat in the usual place. The false Satish sat beside me and called Lakshmi “Amma” in a voice so accurate it made my chest tighten. Lakshmi barely touched her cup. Her hands stayed folded tightly in her lap, the toe rings glinting whenever she shifted her feet.

Later, when Rajan stepped out to the courtyard and the false Satish went to “check emails,” Lakshmi pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door.

Her voice cracked the moment we were alone.

“Please. Stop this. Let me transform back. I’m still me. You know I’m still me. Please, Shreya.”

I kept my expression gently confused.

“What are you talking about, Attai? You were always a woman. You’re my mother-in-law. Why are you saying these strange things?”

She broke.

Tears spilled over. She gripped my wrists with both soft hands and begged, really begged, in the mature voice that no longer sounded like the man I had married. She spoke of the first silly night, of Jessica’s chair, of the thali, of the village, of every night she had been forced to open her legs just to keep her mind clear. The words tumbled out in a desperate, continuous stream.

I let her finish.

Then I placed one hand on the firm swell of my belly and spoke softly.

“Okay… okay. Wait till your grandbaby is born. After that… we’ll see.”

The promise was vague enough to soothe and firm enough to keep control. She searched my face for more, but I only smiled and gently wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb.

That evening the four of us sat together in the living room, Rajan, Lakshmi, the false Satish, and me. I asked the neighbour’s teenage son to take a photograph with my phone. We arranged ourselves the way a proper Tamil family should: father-in-law and mother-in-law slightly behind, husband and pregnant wife in front. The shutter clicked.

When I looked at the image later, alone in the bedroom, something warm and dangerous settled in my chest.

It felt complete.

A full family. Mother-in-law, father-in-law, son, pregnant daughter-in-law. Everything I had once ached for while sitting in that hospital waiting hall months ago.

I rested both hands on my belly and whispered to the child inside.

“What if it goes on like this forever…?”

Outside, the house was quiet. Inside my mind, the question kept turning, soft and relentless, long after the lights were switched off.