That is not the answer

I heard them argue again. Their voices travelled through the closed doors, walls and, the ceilings and reached my room in the first floor. I started palpitating, my usual reaction during such incidents. I was twenty one and I don’t remember reacting any different even during the previous incidents.

We all were silent during dinner that day. I went to the terrace after dinner to relieve myself from the cold deafening silence inside. The warm breeze made me feel fresh. I raised my hands up, bent my body backwards and stretched.

“What are you doing here?”, I heard amma ask. I turned around and saw her stand near the stairs.

“Fresh air”, I replied. She went to the other end of the terrace, leaned over the railing and looked above. I tried to ignore her and let her have the space she wanted. I couldn’t. I walked over to amma and asked, “Why don’t you both get divorced?”

“That is not the answer”, she said.

— -

It was 11:45 P.M, we were in the East Coast road and he drove slow. He held my right hand with his left and squeezed it gently. I felt wanted.

“That is not the answer”, he said.
He continued, “My mom always says that walking out of a relationship is not the answer. And I believe what she says is true.”

I squeezed back his hand gently.