Midnight Without Words

Even after Esther and Theresa kept asking her to come down for dinner, Sri Mathi quietly refused. She didn't feel like eating—not because she was full, but because her heart had started feeling too heavy.

They eventually left her alone in the room.

The light was dim, the fan clicked rhythmically above her head, and the noise from the corridor slowly faded. Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed.

A video call.

"Amma calling..."

She sat up quickly, adjusted her pyjama, and picked up the call.

"Vanakkam ma... look at the time! Why are you still tying flowers?" she asked, half-smiling.

Her mother was seated on a small wooden stool, with a steel plate full of fresh jasmine flowers in front of her. "Tomorrow there's a poojai at the priest's house. He asked if I could tie some for him. That's all."

Sri Mathi stayed quiet for a second. Then, softly, "But why now? Look at the time—it's almost 10. Can't you do it tomorrow?"

Her mother gave her a look—half confused, half gentle. "What's wrong with now? It's peaceful at this time. My mind is quiet. And the flowers are fresh."

Sri Mathi's voice dropped a little. "Can't you think about yourself for once? Do you think you're still young? You need rest, ma. After all these years taking care of me and paati, why can't you take a break now?"

Her mother adjusted her saree pallu, her fingers pausing for a moment.

Sri Mathi continued, gently but firmly. "I've been sending you money... and the scholarship covers everything. I even get a freelance income. I didn't send it for you to save every rupee. I sent it so you could rest. Please don't strain yourself anymore."

There was a brief silence. Not cold, just full.

Her mother replied, her voice a little raised, but not in anger. "I'm not doing this for money. I'm doing it because they're our people. Do you know how many times this priest and his wife helped us when paati fell sick? It's just a flower garland, kanna. My hands are used to this. It's not tiring."

Sri Mathi didn't argue. She never did. Her chest felt warm and tight at the same time.

Her mother sighed, then smiled softly. "Why do you talk like an old woman, ma? You're just seventeen. Even your paati has more fun than you. Always serious. Always quiet."

Sri Mathi smiled faintly. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

After a beat, her mother asked, "Finished dinner?"

Her fingers picked at a loose thread on her pillow. "Not yet."

"Why dear? Whatever happens, don't show it on food. That's why we work hard—to see you happy and healthy. Food is the only thing that fills the body and the heart. Promise me you'll eat."

She nodded, quietly. "I will."

Her mother looked at her for a moment, like she was memorising her daughter's face.

"Tomorrow I'll call at 7. I want to talk to paati too," Sri Mathi said softly.

"Okay, kanna. Sleep well. I don't care about anything else. My queen should be always healthy and happy. That's all I want."

The call ended.

Sri Mathi placed the phone face-down on the bed and lay back.

She stared at the ceiling, unmoving. The ceiling fan still clicked every few seconds. Somewhere outside, girls returned from dinner, laughing and chatting in the corridor.

But inside, the room was still. Soft.

In her mind, her mother's voice played on a loop:

"I don't care about anything else. My queen should be healthy and happy..."

She turned to her side and hugged her pillow, her face pressed into the cotton. A faint smile tugged at her lips.

Tonight, she would sleep with that sentence wrapped around her heart.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Esther and Theresa tiptoed into the room, carrying a silver plate.

"Our friend never goes to bed hungry," Theresa whispered proudly.

Esther nodded, placing the plate on the table. "Three soft idlis. Coconut chutney. And decent sambar. We checked."

Sri Mathi sat up, blinking. "You got this for me?"

"Of course," Esther grinned. "Don't worry—the idlis aren't as hard as we anticipated." She winked.

Something inside Sri Mathi melted. After her mother's call, her chest had felt lighter. But now, with her roommates around her, she felt... warm.

She took a bite of the idli. Soft. Slightly warm. Perfect.

She smiled between chews. "It's really good."

Theresa sat beside her, resting her chin on her palm. "Now you have no excuse to skip meals."

The three of them sat in silence, the plate slowly emptying between small laughs and sleepy eyes.

When they finally lay down to sleep, the room had changed. It wasn't just a hostel room anymore. It was a small world of care, peace and happiness with some anticipation.

And for the first time in days, Sri Mathi fell asleep without heaviness.