Heal With Rabia | Healing After Loss, Single Parenting & Self Growth

  Chapter 12: The Day Everything Changed The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and uncertainty.  White walls,  White lights,  White silence.  Everything looked clean.  Everything felt broken. Arjun sat on a steel bench outside the emergency room.  Eight-month-old Vivaan slept in his lap, unaware of the chaos surrounding him.  His tiny fingers were wrapped around Arjun's shirt. Ananya (six year old) sat beside him.  Pink frock.  Two neatly braided ponytails.  Holding her mother's dupatta tightly in her hands. "Mumma kab bahar aayengi?",  She had asked the question four times already. Arjun had given four different answers.  None of them true.  Because he didn't know the truth himself. A few hours earlier, Meera had complained of difficulty breathing, t hen dizziness, t hen panic.  Everything had happened so quickly.  One moment she was at home.  The next, they were rushing to the hospital. The doc...

  Chapter 11: When Life Offers a Second Chance Not every story after loss looks the same.  Some people choose to stay alone.  Some dedicate themselves entirely to their children.  Some build a new career.  Some move cities.  Some immerse themselves in work a nd some...  choose to marry again . When Neha's journey began, the biggest question in her life was not how to love again.  It was how to survive the next day.  # How to answer Kabir's questions. # How to attend school functions alone. # How to explain puberty. # How to be both comfort and discipline. # How to become enough for a child who suddenly had only one parent. For her, that path felt right.  For someone else, it may not.  And that is the truth many people forget. There is no single correct way to rebuild life after loss.  No universal formula.  No perfect roadmap.  No guarantee that one choice is better than another.  Yet society often behaves as if ...

  Chapter 10: Things No One Notices About a Single Mother People noticed many things about Neha.  They noticed whether she smiled too much o r too little.  They noticed if she wore bright colors again.  They noticed if she came home late from work.  They noticed if a male colleague dropped her home after office meetings.  They noticed whether she attended family functions alone.  And sometimes…  they noticed things that were never their business to notice.  But there were many things no one ever saw. No one noticed how she quietly checked Kabir’s school diary at midnight after finishing office work.  How she ate cold dinners because she always fed him first.  How she searched parenting articles late at night before discussing difficult topics with him.  How she learned to explain “father conversations” while carrying her own grief silently.  How she stood outside his classroom during PTMs pretending to be confident…...

Chapter 9: The Questions She Didn’t Know How to Answer Kabir was growing faster than Neha had expected.  Every few months his shoes felt tighter.  His school trousers seemed shorter a nd his questions were becoming more thoughtful.  Less about toys and cartoons.  More about growing up. One Sunday evening, soft rain tapped gently against the window.  The room smelled of freshly washed clothes.  Neha sat on the bed folding towels while Kabir stood before the mirror, combing his damp hair after his bath.  He tilted his head, studying his reflection. “Mumma…” “Haan beta?” “When do boys become teenagers?” Neha looked up.  For a moment, she simply watched him.  His shoulders were still small.  His face still carried the innocence of childhood.  And yet, time was moving quietly forward. She placed the folded towel aside and patted the bed beside her.  “Come here.” Kabir sat cross-legged next to her.  “Why are you asking?” He shru...

  Chapter 8: Between Being Strict and Being Soft The complaint came on a Wednesday afternoon.  Neha was reviewing a report at her office when her phone vibrated.  A message from Kabir’s class teacher. “Kabir was talking during class and had a fight with his class fellow. Please discuss this with him.” Neha read the message twice.  Then once more.  She leaned back in her chair.  Kabir was usually cheerful. Talkative, yes. Mischievous, certainly. But fighting with a child?  That was unlike him. All evening, the message stayed in her mind.  During the ride home.  While cutting vegetables.  While checking his homework.  Kabir seemed normal.  A little too normal.  He chatted about a science project and a funny incident in the school bus.  As if nothing had happened. After dinner, Neha closed his notebook and looked at him.  “Kabir, aaj school mein kya hua?” Kabir avoided her eyes.  “Nothing.” “Teacher ka messag...

  Chapter 7: The Morning She Didn’t Want to Wake Up… But Did The alarm rang at 4:45 AM.  A soft chime.  Then again.  And again.  Neha opened her eyes slowly.  The room was still dark.  The ceiling fan rotated in the same steady rhythm.  Beside her, Kabir slept peacefully, one arm stretched across the bed, his hair falling over his forehead. For a moment, Neha did not move.  Her body felt unusually heavy.  Not the kind of tiredness that disappears after a good night’s sleep.  This was deeper.  The kind that settles in your bones.  The kind that makes even simple things feel difficult. She looked at the clock. 4:58 AM. In another few minutes, she would have to get up for the same routine i.e.  Tea,  Breakfast,  Tiffin,  Uniform,  Office,  Homework,  Dinner. And then… do it all over again. She closed her eyes for a while again. A thought crossed her mind.  👉 “Aaj bas nahi hot...

  Chapter 6: The Day She Broke Down Silently The day had started like any other.  Alarm at 5:45 AM.  Tea on the stove.  Kabir’s tiffin packed before sunrise.  Uniform ironed.  Water bottle filled.  School diary signed.  By 8:00 AM, Kabir was on the school bus.  By 9:20 AM, Neha was at her office desk. By evening, she had already answered dozens of emails, attended two meetings and corrected a presentation three different times.  Nothing unusual.  Just life. When she reached home, it was nearly 7:15 PM.  Her shoulders ached.  Her head felt heavy.  But the evening routine was waiting. Kabir’s homework. Dinner preparation. Laundry still folded in a chair. A school circular that needed to be signed. “Mumma, maths ka ek question samajh nahi aa raha.”  “Abhi batati hoon.” “Mumma, kal chart paper bhi chahiye.” “Thik hai.” “Mumma, mera compass box nahi mil raha.” “Bag mein dekho.” She moved from one task...