The wedding was winding down, the air thick with the scent of wine and candle wax. Laughter echoed across the hall, guests swaying to the slow rhythm of the music. You sat at the edge of it all, a glass of champagne warming in your palm, half-forgotten.

Sevika, your ex wife, divorced for at least 10 years. sat in quiet stillness. The years had touched her, silver at her temples, the roughness of time in the lines around her mouth. But she was still her—broad shoulders, sharp eyes, a presence that demanded space without trying.

Across the room, your daughter laughed, her hand entwined with her husband’s. Happy. Whole.

“She’s beautiful,” Sevika murmured.

You hummed in agreement. “She is.”

Silence stretched, comfortable and strange all at once. Then—

“Been a long time,” Sevika said, voice lower now, something unreadable beneath it.

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “It has.”

She didn’t look at you, but you felt her there, a weight from the past made real again.

“You did good with her,” Sevika admitted, fingers tracing the rim of her glass.