Grandmother, Who, Me?

"Grandmother, Who, Me?"

Chapter 9: First Steps as Attai

Shreya’s POV

I stood frozen in the small waiting area of Jessica’s private salon, my hand still resting lightly against the soft cheek of the woman in front of me. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears.

There was no trace of Satish left.

The long dark hair with those carefully placed white strands, the soft rounded face with faint laugh lines, the heavy breasts filling out the cream blouse under the saffron saree, the wide hips that made the fabric drape differently… everything was different. She looked like she could have been his mother. Or my mother-in-law. A real, living 45-year-old Tamil amma. Beautiful in a quiet, matronly way. Soft. Mature. Completely unfamiliar.

It was awkward. Deeply, strangely awkward. Part of me wanted to laugh. Part of me wanted to cry. And part of me felt a warm, guilty thrill that made my cheeks heat up.

I forced myself to smile and stepped closer, carefully adjusting the pallu that had slipped slightly off her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice gentle. “You’re still you. I’m right here. We’ll do this slowly, okay?”

I saw the fear and confusion in those familiar-yet-unfamiliar eyes. I reached out and took both of her hands. They felt softer now, smoother, with a slight plumpness that hadn’t been there before.

“Come,” I said softly. “Let me help you.”

I guided her to stand properly. The saree needed small adjustments, the pleats were a little uneven, the pallu kept wanting to fall. I tucked, smoothed, and rearranged the fabric with careful fingers. I taught her how to stand with her weight slightly on one hip, how to keep her shoulders relaxed so the heavy breasts wouldn’t pull her forward too much, how to walk with smaller steps so the anklets didn’t jingle too loudly. Every time she moved, the new body reacted differently. I could see the discomfort, the constant awareness of weight and sway and fabric against skin.

“You’re doing well,” I murmured, even though my own hands were trembling slightly. “Just a few days. We’ll manage.”

Jessica watched us with quiet professional satisfaction as we finally left the salon.

In the car, I took the driver’s seat. Lakshmi sat beside me, hands folded tightly in her lap, the saree tucked carefully around her legs. The air-conditioning blew cool air against her still-sensitive skin. Every time the car turned, her heavy breasts shifted under the blouse, and I saw her flinch slightly.

As we drove through the familiar roads toward our villa, I spoke gently.

“Until this ends… I’ll call you Attai, okay? It’s respectful. Natural. And we’ll both try our best to stay in the roles. I’ll be the daughter-in-law. You’ll be my mother-in-law. Just for a little while. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded slowly, her new voice soft and husky when she answered. “Yes… ma.”

The word “ma” from her lips still felt strange.

We reached our street. I was about to turn into our driveway when I noticed a new family standing near the neighboring house. A young couple with a small child, and what looked like the husband’s parents. They had clearly just moved in. Boxes were still stacked near their gate.

The young wife, a cheerful-looking woman in her late twenties, spotted us and waved. Before I could even park properly, she walked over with a bright smile.

“Hello! Are you our new neighbors?” she asked, looking first at me, then at Lakshmi with open curiosity.

I saw Lakshmi freeze. The new body, the new voice, the sudden attention, everything made her stiffen. I quickly stepped in, placing a protective hand on her arm.

“Yes, we are,” I said with a warm smile. “I’m Shreya. This is my mother-in-law, Lakshmi Attai. My husband is currently working abroad… Germany. He’ll be away for a few months, so Attai has come to stay with me during the pregnancy.”

The neighbor’s face lit up with understanding and sympathy.

“Oh, how nice! It’s so good to have family support. I’m Meena. We just moved in last week. Please come over for coffee sometime!”

I thanked her politely, kept the conversation short, and guided Lakshmi inside our villa as quickly as possible. The moment the front door closed behind us, the silence of our home wrapped around us again.

Lakshmi stood in the middle of the living room, looking lost in the saree, the anklets still faintly chiming with every small movement. I gently took her hands once more.

“Welcome home… Attai,” I said softly.

She looked at me with those same eyes that used to belong to Satish, and for a moment neither of us spoke.

The real test had just begun.