She held pebbles in her hand, caressing them. It reminded her of old times; times when she had been happy. Now, things were different. She wasn’t happy—she was depressed. The pebbles stood for everything that she had lost. Her husband—her happiness and her dignity.

“Mom, dad is here,” her son broke her reverie. She turned around from the window. She let the pebbles remain in her pocket and went to the living room to face her once beloved husband. God, what had gone wrong? He was looking over at the pictures on the wall—eyes fixed on their wedding picture. He turned around.

“Hi.”

“Hello, why are you here?” 

she asked.

“I am here to collect some of the stuff I had left in the garage.”

“Go on then. You know your way around the house,” she said, rather sadly. No longer together. Ten years of marriage gone down the drain. There hadn’t been a catastrophe. It wasn’t a case of infidelity. They had just grown apart over the years. Their only son was seven. It would be the hardest for him, she had guessed, but he had taken it well. It was she who was crumbling apart. Lately, she had resorted to crying in the 

evenings, with the lights off; sometimes she would open a bottle of wine. His collection. She wasn’t much of a drinker. And these days when the pain of it all came crashing down, she tried to collect herself and refrain from drinking too much because she knew it would turn into a habit. So, she just stayed in bed in a stupor. Her son usually spent his time with his father. With her depression, her ex-husband looked after of their 

son now. It hurt her, even though  she still had the custody of her son. It is temporary, he had said.

What should she do with her life? She had a job. She had a few friends. She had had her family. Well, now she just had her son. 

“Okay, I am all set,” her ex-husband said, breaking the silence. “Take care,” he said and headed towards the door.

“What happened to us? Is there no hope of reconciliation?” she asked in desperation. They had talked but he had repeatedly told her there was no way ahead for them.

“I am sorry. It is best this way.”

He left and she heard the car ignite and the gravel crunch. 

Her son was in his room, reading. He was a good kid. Just seven—an age when he thought his parents 

were great. What would it be like once he was a teenager? No, I won’t think of dark thoughts. I won’t. She went to the kitchen to prepare a cup of strong coffee.

While the coffee was brewing, she thought of happier days. Suddenly, she was reminded of the pebbles. She dug her hands into the pocket of her jeans and felt the cold pebbles. 

She had collected them at a beach during a vacation. Stop, he is 

never coming back. She thought to herself. What was she going to do? She missed him, badly. Will she be able to move on? Will she ever fall in love again? Or was that road already closed for her?

She felt she had failed. What could be worse than a failed marriage? Things had started to fall apart last year. She had felt him withdrawing, retreating into his shell and shutting her out. What exactly had gone wrong? She had been a little depressed. Not like now. Now, there hung dark, brooding clouds over her head. As she reflected on the past year, she thought, yes that must have been it. Her depression had consumed her marriage. At least, she had been able to take care of her son. Breakfast and dinner, she duly prepared. Her son had lunch at school. She even helped him with his homework. Now, the contrast was jarring. She could manage to get out of bed and get ready for work. Thank god for work, she used to think. But she and her son had stopped spending quality time together. He just stayed over during the weekends. On week days, he went to live with her father. Pull yourself together, she thought to herself.

She had been taken to a psychiatrist a year ago after the vacation. She was clinically depressed. And then her marriage came falling apart like a house of cards. 

She came back to the present. Her coffee had grown cold. She gulped it down nonetheless. She thought she would lie down. It was just four in the afternoon. There was still time to prepare dinner. When she was with herself, she just cooked 

something instant. But now that her son was here, she had to make a proper dinner.

She lay down and those breezy days on the beach came rushing back. She didn’t like to swim but the father and son loved it. So, she just lay on beach, in the lazy sun, devouring the latest John Grisham. She had been happy. 

What had gone wrong? She kept thinking about their vacation. Her mind was in a vortex. There had been no precursor to the depression. The condition was not hereditary either. It must have been medical. Something had just shut down like the blinders she shut in the room, engulfing her in complete darkness.

Should I open a bottle of wine? She thought to herself. No, better not. Her son shouldn’t see her like this. She knew that once she started, she couldn’t stop. Her son shouldn’t see her fall apart, drunk and sad. She thought she’d get up and start dinner. She got off the bed after it was well past five. She went down to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator. She would make rice and vegetables with lentils. It was almost seven when she finished. She called her son to come down to the kitchen.

He came down and set the table. This was joyful surprise. He looked so young and so adorable. And he was being helpful. This simple gesture was heartfelt. She thought, no matter what happens she still will be a mother. And she wanted to succeed at that. So, she put on a smile, served dinner and asked her son about his day. They talked. This was another joyful surprise. They hadn’t talked in ages.

Later that night, after she had kissed her son goodnight, she went to her room. As she was undressing, she felt the pebbles on her pocket. She took them out and put them on the bureau. Despite her depression, she knew the pebbles would always be there, a reminder that she can be happy again. She had a full life ahead of her.