I was tired, both physically and mentally. On such days, I slump on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram shorts, trying to escape from reality. That’s when I chanced upon one of the motivational speakers I follow, someone whose words usually resonate with me. But today, he was praising mothers, claiming their love to be unconditional. A surge of annoyance came over me. I kept my phone away, adjusted my pillow and the blanket, and curled up on the couch, utterly drained.

My mind raced back to my own childhood. My mother never showed me unconditional love. Her only focus was on maintaining the family’s honor. My life choices weren’t mine to make—not even when it came to marriage. I was told if I chose my own partner, I would be disowned. Where was the unconditional love that everyone talks about?

I found myself wishing the internet had existed back then, so I could’ve shown her these inspirational shorts to demonstrate what a mother’s love is supposed to look like. I’ve never understood why some women crave children only to treat them poorly or place conditions on their love. Isn’t that wrong? It seems absurd to bring children into the world just to prove your fertility and then make them feel like they owe you for your sacrifices. Motherhood should never be transactional or at least that is what all these people around me seem to profess.

My phone beeped, breaking my train of thought. A message had come through. I was, unsure if I wanted to engage with anyone at that moment. But I braved it and checked the notification. It was from Shashank, someone I’d been messaging back and forth with for a while. Earlier, I had sent him an honest message explaining why I’d never wanted children, and how that had kept me single into my 50s. I confessed that I feared becoming like my mother, and the thought of having children terrified me. I had even avoided dating for much of my life, worried that any potential partner might want kids.

His reply surprised me in the best way. Shashank invited me for coffee the next day at the "Goose on the Loose." His message brought a smile to my face. He told me it was perfectly fine not to want children and that he understood I didn’t hate them—I was simply afraid of what motherhood might turn me into. For once, I felt truly seen. Here was a man who understood my fears and didn’t judge me for them. Instead, he was supportive, offering empathy rather than criticism. I felt relieved. I let my eyes close and fell into a soft slumber where I was lost in dreams of children laughing and running around a park decorated with an array of flowers.

And in that instant I thought perhaps, just perhaps, I do not have to be like my mother after all. Perhaps, I could take a chance and go off on my own; without the constraints of fear and of what the rest of society wants from me. And perhaps, for the first time, I could dream of a future without the shadows of the past clouding my decisions.