⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The first rays of the sun slipped into the room through the sheer curtains. Ritvika stirred gently, her eyes fluttering open to the peaceful sight of her daughter still asleep. She smiled softly.
Leaning down, she placed a feather-light kiss on Tara’s forehead, then carefully adjusted the blanket over her tiny frame.
A while later, after a refreshing bath, Ritvika stood before the mirror, her fingers carefully pleating the pallu of a simple yet elegant maroon saree.
There was something about her today — her smile had a delicate flutter, her eyes sparkled quietly.
Her hands moved with a calm grace as she applied her skincare, the rose-tinted glow on her cheeks not just from blush.
Today felt different.
She placed a small black bindi on her forehead, added the tiniest touch of kajal, and then twirled slightly in front of the mirror, smiling at her reflection.
"Hmm... perfect," she whispered under her breath.
She turned towards the bed.
"Tara utho... jaldi betu, fast!"
(Get up Tara... quickly baby, fast!)
She rubbed the little one’s back lovingly.
"Dadda aane waale hain aaj..."
(Dadda is coming today...)
That did the trick.
Tara’s eyes opened, still groggy, but her little hands reached out. Ritvika chuckled and quickly dressed her in a cute panda dress, tying her tiny ponytails with matching clips.
Then, holding Tara gently in her arms, she stepped out into the living room where Manisha and Parul were already seated, sipping their morning tea.
"Good morning maa... chachi,"
she greeted with a smile, balancing Tara on her hip.
"Good morning beta," both women chimed in warmly.
Ritvika glanced around.
"Papa aur chachu kaha hain?"
(Where are papa and chachu?)
"Unki jaldi ki meeting thi beta, woh log nikal gaye... aur Hridhaan aur Aarush bhi ghar par nahi hain abhi," Manisha replied.
(They had an early meeting, dear. They left... and Hridhaan and Aarush aren’t home either,)
"Nashta nahi kiya unhone?"
(They didn’t have breakfast?)
"Coffee aur snacks leke gaye,"
(They left after having coffee and snacks,)
Manisha answered, taking another sip of tea.
Ritvika paused thoughtfully and then asked,
"Maa, aaj nashta main bana doon?"
(Maa, shall I make breakfast today?)
Manisha smiled but shook her head,
"Nahi beta, staff hai na, woh kar lenge."
(No dear, the staff will handle it.)
"Maa, please... mann hai mera," Ritvika insisted softly.
Reluctantly, Manisha nodded.
"Theek hai... jao."
(Alright… go ahead.)
In the kitchen, Ritvika set Tara carefully on the slab, making sure she was safe. Tara’s chatter had already begun.
"Pathaaa... pathaa!"
Ritvika laughed, flattening the dough with practiced hands.
"Yes, my munchkin... aaj banega pathaa!"
(Yes, my munchkin... today we’re making paratha!)
Tara giggled and kicked her feet joyfully as the aroma of the first sizzling aloo paratha filled the kitchen, warmth brewing both in the pan… and in Ritvika’s heart.
Ritvika gently placed the last plate on the table, adjusting the cutlery with a soft hum under her breath. The aroma of freshly made aloo parathas filled the space, warm and comforting.
"Aao beta, sab lag gaya," Manisha smiled, patting the seat beside her.
(Come dear, everything is in place.)
"Aayi maa," Ritvika said, lifting Tara carefully from the slab and placing her in a booster chair. Tara’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, her small fingers already reaching for a piece of paratha.
(Coming mom)
"Dadddaaaa!" Tara blabbered happily, mashing the paratha between her tiny fists, her cheeks puffed adorably as she tried to feed herself.
Manisha and Parul exchanged a knowing glance and chuckled.
"Isse toh bas dadda chahiye har waqt," Parul laughed, taking a bite of her own food.
(She just want dadda all the time)
"Bilkul... abhi se itni excited hai... socho jab sach mein Vidyut ghar aayega toh kya hoga," Manisha added with a smile, her eyes flickering to Ritvika.
(Absolutely... she is so excited already... just think what will happen when Vidyut actually comes home)
Ritvika just lowered her gaze with a soft smile, helping Tara wipe her hands gently and breaking another small piece of paratha for her.
"Bas thoda sa aur patience, baby," she whispered to herself, her heart both brimming and trembling at once.
(Just a little more patience)
And as Tara blabbered again — “Daddaaaaa!” — louder this time, her little feet kicking under the table, the women around her couldn’t help but laugh louder, their morning wrapped in warmth, love, and a silent anticipation that hung delicately in the air.
?? ?
Tara sat cross-legged on the soft carpet, a collection of her fluffy toys scattered around her as she babbled to them in her gibberish language. Nearby on the couch, Ritvika was going through a few client files, occasionally glancing at Tara with a fond smile.
She hadn’t gone to the office today—something inside her told her she wanted to be home. Today felt special.
Just then, the distinct hum of a luxury car pulling into the driveway echoed through the quiet air.
Tara's ears twitched like a puppy’s. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly open, and then—
“Dadddddddaaaaaa!”
With pure glee, she dropped her bunny plush and bolted toward the main door, her tiny feet thumping against the floor. Ritvika quickly stood up, startled.
Before anyone could react, Vidyut stepped in through the front door—his coat still on, bag in one hand—and was immediately greeted by a flying bundle of joy.
“Arey... meri jaan!” Vidyut bent instinctively, catching Tara mid-air with ease, spinning her slightly as she burst into a fit of giggles.
"Dadddaaaa aagaye! Dadda aagaye!" she kept repeating, pressing her tiny palms on his cheeks.
(Dadda is here! Dadda is here!)
Vidyut chuckled, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Haan baba, dadda aa gaye.”
(Yes, Dadda has come.)
Parul and Manisha, who had just walked into the living room, couldn’t help but smile warmly at the sight.
Ritvika stood a few steps back, hands folded loosely, her saree pallu flowing softly with the breeze from the open door. Her eyes, calm yet full, met Vidyut’s briefly.
And for a second—just a second—the noise of the room blurred.
Their eyes lingered.
No words.
Just that familiar, gentle stillness between them.
Vidyut looked at her as if he had something to say... but instead, he lowered his gaze to Tara again.
“Chalo madam, ab andar chalein?” he murmured, rubbing her back.
(Come on ma'am, let's go inside now.)
“Mummaaa!” Tara turned in his arms, pointing toward Ritvika with excitement.
Vidyut settled onto the couch, sinking back with a long breath as Tara happily climbed onto his lap, her little legs dangling off his thigh as she played with the buttons on his shirt.
Ritvika approached quietly with a glass of water in hand.
“Paani,” she said softly, holding it out.
(Water)
Vidyut took it with a slight nod, their fingers brushing briefly. “Thank you.”
She watched him sip for a moment before gently reaching toward Tara. “Baby, dadda must be tired... come here?” Her voice was sweet and coaxing as she opened her arms.
But Tara immediately clutched Vidyut's shirt tighter, snuggling into his chest like a possessive kitten.
“Dadddaaa…” she mumbled, eyes drooping contentedly.
Vidyut looked down at her, then at Ritvika, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Let her be,” he murmured, shifting slightly to make Tara more comfortable in his arms.
Ritvika gave a soft sigh and nodded. “Breakfast?” she asked, her voice calm.
Vidyut met her gaze for a second and nodded silently.
A few minutes later, Ritvika returned with a neatly arranged breakfast tray and placed it on the coffee table. She carefully served him, adjusting Tara’s toy that had fallen between the cushions without a word. Vidyut quietly ate, his hand still resting protectively on Tara’s back.
Once done, he stood up, balancing Tara gently in his arms, and started walking towards the stairs.
Before disappearing around the corridor, he looked back at Ritvika and motioned with a slight tilt of his head.
“Chalo.”
(Come.)
Ritvika followed.
Tara sat in the middle of the bed, babbling something to her bunny toy while Vidyut removed his coat. Ritvika adjusted the pillows behind her to prevent her from falling back.
Just then, a knock echoed on the door.
“Sir,” a staff member entered politely, arms loaded with shopping bags and a couple of boxes. Another attendant followed behind with more.
They carefully placed the bags and boxes near the dresser, bowed slightly, and exited.
Ritvika’s brows furrowed in confusion as she looked at the pile. “Yeh sab?”
(All this?)
Vidyut didn’t reply immediately. He just walked to the dresser, opened one of the shopping bags, and pulled out a small pink frock.
Tara’s eyes sparkled. “Prettyyyyy!” she shrieked, bouncing on the bed.
Ritvika remained still, staring between the dress, the bags, and Vidyut—unable to understand what was going on.
The room was slowly filling with soft giggles and squeals of joy.
Tara sat in the center of the bed, surrounded by a riot of colors — soft teddies, bright frocks, chocolate boxes, tiny shoes, and sparkling sandals. Her chubby fingers were busy trying to open a gift box, her entire being glowing with excitement.
Vidyut sat near the foot of the bed, legs stretched out, his eyes fixed on Tara with a calm smile playing on his lips.
Ritvika stood near the dresser, arms folded, her gaze locked on the scene in front of her.
Her daughter… laughing, smiling, playing — happy.
Her eyes slowly shifted to the man sitting on the bed. Quiet. Observant. Gentle in a way she hadn’t seen coming. There was no announcement in his gestures, no demand for attention. He just… gave.
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
“Mummaaa! Seeeeeee!” Tara held up a pair of glittery butterfly sandals, excitement bubbling in her voice.
Ritvika walked over, sat beside her on the bed, and gently cupped Tara’s feet, helping her try them on.
“Pretty Pretty my baby,” she whispered, kissing Tara’s forehead.
Vidyut didn’t say anything, but he noticed.
His hand moved toward another box, opening it to reveal a huge pink elephant teddy. Tara gasped, “Ephephanttt!” and clapped loudly, crawling straight into his lap again.
Ritvika just stared—softly, silently. Her daughter fit so perfectly in his arms, like she belonged there.
Her heart gave an unfamiliar tug.
She bit her lip and looked away.
Vidyut stood up then, clearing his throat. “Baaki ke boxes abhi mat kholo, princess. Thak jaogi.”
(Don't open the rest of the boxes yet, Princess. You'll get tired.)
Tara pouted but nodded.
He bent down and placed the elephant teddy beside her.
Ritvika started to gather the wrappers and cluttered boxes, placing them neatly in a corner. As she turned back, her eyes met Vidyut’s. There was a stillness between them—brief but lingering.
She didn’t say thank you. But the way she looked at him… it said more than words could.
?? ?
Vidyut sat comfortably on the plush couch, legs stretched and one arm casually wrapped around Tara, who was seated snugly in his lap — her little hands busy munching the chocolates he had brought.
She was unusually quiet for a moment, just licking the melted chocolate from her fingers when suddenly—
“Hawww!”
Tara gasped dramatically, her tiny hands flying to her mouth.
Vidyut frowned slightly, startled by the sudden outburst. “What happened, my kitten?” he asked, bending slightly to look into her eyes.
Tara turned her face to the side with a loud huff, folding her arms over her chest with a dramatic pout.
“I’m angly!” she declared, cheeks puffed.
Vidyut blinked, taken aback. “Angry? With whom, baby?” he asked softly, brushing her hair back.
Tara looked up at him sharply, her eyes brimming with innocent hurt. “Dadda... I’m angly with you.”
His heart skipped.
“Why, princess?” he asked, this time with genuine worry in his tone, shifting her gently so he could face her better.
She huffed again, her eyes welling up slightly. “You leff me! I was clying… but you no come come! I say—‘Dadda come!’ But no come...”
Her voice broke at the end, her fingers clutching the corner of his shirt.
Vidyut’s heart clenched. He exhaled deeply, guilt rushing in like a tide.
“Oh baby…” he cupped her cheeks tenderly. “Dadda is so, so sorry… dadda didn’t want to go away. But work… important kaam tha na? But I called you everyday, hmm?”
Tara blinked, not convinced.
“But I want real dadda... not phone dadda,” she mumbled.
Vidyut pulled her in for a warm hug, gently swaying her in his arms. “Dadda is here now. No more photo dadda. Real dadda promise. Pakka wala.”
Tara sniffled dramatically before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“O-tay... but no go again.”
Vidyut chuckled, his cheek still resting against her soft curls. “Kabhi nahi, meri jaan.”
(Never, my love.)
???????
The room was dimly lit, the soft yellow lamps casting a warm hue.
Tara had left with Lakshay for her ice cream party, leaving the house unusually quiet.
Ritvika, dressed in a light cotton saree, was on her knees collecting Tara’s toys that had been scattered all over the bed. Her hair slightly messy, eyes tired, but a faint content smile playing on her lips — she looked... peaceful.
Vidyut leaned against the wardrobe, arms folded across his chest, silently watching her.
She hadn’t noticed him yet.
His gaze was unreadable. But there was something in it — a stillness, a storm, a strange calm that only brewed when it came to her.
After folding Tara’s blanket and fluffing the pillows, Ritvika finally stood up and turned—
Thud.
Her face bumped directly into a hard chest.
“Sorry…” she mumbled, clutching her forehead lightly, taking a step back in reflex.
But before she could turn to leave and head to the washroom, a firm grip held her wrist.
Vidyut.
She froze.
Slowly, her eyes travelled up to meet his gaze. His fingers were still wrapped gently around her wrist.
Feeling his intense gaze, she lowered her eyes instinctively.
“Voh… I-I…” she began softly, but Vidyut raised his hand and placed a finger gently on her lips.
Her eyes widened. Her breath hitched.
A soft shiver ran down her spine. Her cheeks flushed faintly — a hue blooming slowly like the first shade of twilight.
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Just stood there, eyes lingering on her.
And then, without breaking eye contact, he stepped aside… walked to the wardrobe… and returned with two bags in his hand.
Ritvika looked at him, confused.
Vidyut motioned her to sit on the bed.
She obeyed, still silent, heart pounding.
He handed her one of the bags.
“This is for you.”
Blinking in surprise, she hesitantly opened it. Inside, neatly folded, were 6–7 pairs of soft cotton t-shirts and matching lower pajamas.
Comfy, simple. Cozy.
Ritvika looked at him, confused again.
Vidyut rubbed the back of his neck and spoke—his tone awkward yet sincere.
“These are for you... I noticed you sleep in sarees and kurtis — and I thought… it must be uncomfortable.”
He paused, then continued, “You should feel free… relaxed. Especially with your condition… you don’t have to stay wrapped in heavy clothes all the time.
These will help you sleep better.”
He cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.
“I’ll order more… but first just check the size. ”
Ritvika stared at him blankly — her throat dry.
No one had ever done something so… thoughtful.
She looked down at the clothes, then back at him. “You didn’t have to…” she whispered.
But Vidyut cut her off. His voice low but firm.
“I needed to. And I’m your husband, Ritvika. I think it is my right to care for you. Isn’t it?”
His words hit her chest like a slow echo.
Husband.
Right.
She swallowed hard.
“I… I’ve never worn clothes like these,” she admitted honestly, still looking at the clothes in her lap.
Vidyut sat beside her and said calmly, “Try once. For comfort, not for style. No one’s going to judge you here. Least of all, me.”
She blinked slowly, the words wrapping around her like a soft shawl.
Understanding. No pressure. No force. Just care.
Then he reached for the second bag and placed it in her lap.
“Open this too.”
She opened it slowly — and her breath caught in her throat.
A stunning twin dress set lay inside.
One — a beautiful simple yet elegant gown for Ritvika.
And the other — a shorter, adorable matching version of the same dress for Tara.
Her eyes welled up slightly, her fingers trembling as they traced the fabric.
Vidyut didn’t say anything.
And neither did she.
The air had settled into a quiet warmth. Tara still hadn’t returned from her little outing with Lakshay, and the room was bathed in the soft glow of bedside lamps.
Ritvika sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the set of pastel pink cotton nightwear — simple t-shirt and pajama, folded neatly in her lap.
She looked at Vidyut with hesitation.
“Vidyut… I really don’t—” she began softly, her voice laced with discomfort.
But his eyes were already on her — calm, unreadable, yet firm.
“Ritvika,” he said with a steady gaze, “Just once. Try it for me.”
That was it.
She sighed, defeated.
No one could win against that look.
Tucking the clothes in her arms, she quietly walked into the washroom, shutting the door behind her.
Vidyut remained seated, glancing at the door once... then pulling out his phone to check something.
Fifteen minutes passed.
And then, the door creaked open.
He looked up —
And paused.
There she was.
Dressed in the soft pink co-ord set — a little oversized on her frame, the t-shirt sliding slightly off her shoulder, the pajama comfortably loose. Her hair damp, combed neatly to one side.
No makeup, no accessories.
Just her.
Plain. Simple. Effortless.
Her hands were fidgeting nervously at the hem of her t-shirt as she stood awkwardly in front of him.
Eyes low. Cheeks a soft red.
“I know it doesn’t suit me... I look—” she began, ready to retreat.
But Vidyut had stopped hearing after she stepped out.
What the actual hell.
Why... why does she look so—
Cute?
No. No. Too soft a word.
Too damn adorable.
Not in a glamorous, striking way.
But in a way that made his brain short-circuit and his heart do a somersault.
That pink. That oversized t-shirt. That bare face. That nervous fidgeting.
He didn’t even know this version of Ritvika existed — and now that he’d seen it, he didn’t think he could unsee it.
And dammit, she looked like the most comforting thing he’d ever laid his eyes on.
Why did it feel like home?
He blinked, forcing his eyes to look away for a second — just so he could breathe.
She noticed his silence and turned to leave in panic.
“I’ll change—”
“No.”
His voice stopped her in her tracks.
She turned back.
Vidyut stood up slowly and walked to her.
His eyes still on hers — firm but gentle.
“You look... perfect.”
The words left his mouth before he could think twice.
Ritvika’s breath caught.
Her eyes widened slightly.
And in that moment, their hearts beat a little louder than usual.
The sky outside had turned a deep blue, scattered with stars that blinked in quiet rhythm. The soft hum of the ceiling fan filled the room as a gentle breeze made the curtains sway. The air inside was still — warm, lived-in.
Tara had returned an hour ago after her "ileam party" with Lakshay and was now lying between Vidyut and Ritvika, in her usual starfish pose, one leg draped across Ritvika’s stomach and one tiny arm spread over Vidyut’s chest.
Her bunny plushie rested on her chest, rising and falling with her soft breaths.
Ritvika sat propped against the headboard, one hand caressing Tara’s curls, her other hand unconsciously smoothing the new pajama set she wore. Vidyut lay beside Tara, one hand folded behind his head, eyes on the ceiling, though his thoughts were elsewhere — very much beside him.
"She was happy, right?" Ritvika whispered suddenly, breaking the silence.
Vidyut turned his face slightly toward her.
"Hmm?"
"Tara... she looked really happy when she came back with Papa."
Her voice held a tinge of fear — fear of being replaced, fear of not being enough.
"She was," Vidyut replied softly. "But now she's even happier… because she’s home."
Ritvika’s eyes flicked toward him.
He was already watching her.
There was something in his gaze — a softness that made her stomach twist.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“For what?”
“For... all of this,” she said, gesturing gently to the sleeping little girl between them. “For giving her more love than I ever imagined. For… making her feel safe.”
Vidyut didn’t respond at first.
He just looked at her.
Really looked.
And then he leaned forward slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with surprising gentleness.
“She’s my daughter too,” he said, his voice low.
Her breath hitched.
He didn’t say anything after that. Just leaned back into the pillow, eyes now closed.
I stared at the ceiling.
Sleep didn’t come.
The fan whirred softly above, and the occasional rustle of leaves outside filled the silence, but inside me — it was anything but silent.
My arm was trapped under a tiny leg. I glanced down.
Tara.
Sprawled across me like a little queen, her bunny squished between her chest and mine.
I shifted my eyes to the other side.
Her.
Ritvika.
Lying on her side, one arm curled under her pillow, her body slightly curved, soft cotton pajama clinging to her like a whisper.
But tonight, I couldn't stop thinking.
I don’t even know what’s happening to me anymore.
I should hate this.
I should hate them — both of them.
They came into my life forcefully.
Uninvited.
Unwelcome.
A marriage I never wanted. A child that isn’t mine. A woman who carries secrets.
And yet…
Here I am.
Craving this warmth — their warmth.
I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated.
What am I becoming?
Me — Vidyut Rajvansh. The man with no patience. The man whose hands are soaked in blood and sins. A man feared by many, respected by Everyone… and incapable of emotions.
And yet I find myself calmly dealing with a toddler’s tantrums, spoiling her with chocolates and teddies, buying her clothes I never imagined myself picking. I find myself looking at Ritvika… and wondering.
Why do I look at her when she isn’t looking?
Why does my heart feel like it’s settling when she’s near?
Why do I want to… protect her?
I turned to look at her again.
Her face was toward me, eyes shut, calm… fragile. That same innocence.
That same fear that night — our wedding night. The way she trembled when I came near her. The way she clutched her dress, ready to cry.
I thought she was faking it. Manipulating. Pretending to be scared.
But now… now I wonder.
Was she really scared of me?
What kind of a man did I become that night?
She never once defended herself, never once explained anything — just stayed quiet, like she didn’t even think she had the right.
She looks after Tara like a mother who has known no other world. Not once has she faltered, not once has she neglected. She never raised her voice, never complained.
I sighed, rubbing my face.
No, this isn’t happening. I shouldn’t be feeling this.
This is wrong.
She’s just my responsibility. She’s sick. That’s all. I should just make sure she gets her meds, lives safely, that’s it. That’s the line.
But when I was away…
I didn’t just miss Tara.
I missed her too.
Her presence. Her soft voice. That small nod she gives when she agrees. The way she walks like she’s constantly apologizing for existing. Her scent lingering in the room. Her gaze when she thinks no one is watching.
I clenched my fists.
No. I’m not falling. I can’t fall. I don’t fall.
This is not what we had planned. This is not what I had planned.
But then again…
Nothing about her was ever in the plan.
Slowly, I leaned forward.
Tara stirred a little in sleep. I kissed her forehead gently, whispering, "Dadda's here, baby."
But then…
I don't know what happened.
My eyes moved to Ritvika again. And before my mind could stop me, my heart — that damned betrayer — took the lead.
I bent slightly forward and placed the softest kiss on her forehead.
She didn’t move.
She just breathed.
Peacefully.
I closed my eyes.
God help me.
I’m in trouble.
???????