⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝟔˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
It's nighttime. I'm working on the laptop, finishing up some pending tasks, while Ritvika is in the washroom and Tara is busy coloring in her book. The room is peaceful for once.
The washroom door opens and Ritvika steps out. But something seems off. Her mind is clearly somewhere else. She sits in front of the dressing table and starts fixing her hair, but her eyes look distant. Lost.
I take another bite of the aloo paratha roll she made. Yes, I ate it in the afternoon too. And yes, I'm eating the leftovers now. They're too tasty to let go to waste. And honestly... it feels warm, eating something she made for me.
My gaze shifts back to her. Our eyes meet through the mirror, just for a second and I instantly know her brain is running miles. She wants to say something.
"Ask," I say, straight to the point.
She blinks, confused. "Huh?"
"Whatever is going on in your little brain... ask it," I clarify.
She slowly stands up from the dressing table and walks toward me. I pat the couch beside me, and she sits down without hesitation, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Her silence is loud now.
And I wait. Because I know this is finally the moment.
Her voice came out soft, barely above a whisper, "V... Vidyut."
I hummed, giving her my full attention now.
"Voh..." she tried again.
I hummed once more, encouraging her to continue.
"I... I..." she stuttered, eyes glued to her fingers.
Another hum from me. "Hmm?"
"Want..." she said, so slow that even Tara would roll her eyes at this pace.
I hummed again, but now my patience was starting to feel played with. Tara recites the whole alphabet in one go... and here her mother is delivering each letter like a dramatic monologue.
"Ritvika," I finally said, leaning a little closer, "if you keep saying one word at a time, it will take you an hour to complete one sentence."
Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She took a tiny breath, still not looking at me, but this time she tried harder... her voice trembling with honesty.
"I... want to ask you something."
I nodded slowly. "Then ask."
She finally lifted her eyes to mine — and I felt it. The seriousness. The fear. The need for the truth.
Everything stilled for a moment.
"What do you want to know?" I asked gently, even though deep down, I knew this was finally the question that had been haunting her.
Her fingers twisted in her lap, and her voice trembled so quietly that if I wasn't watching her lips, I might have missed the words.
"How... how did you know me?" she finally asked.
Her eyes lifted to mine — scared, curious, needing answers and I felt my chest tighten.
I didn't look away.
She continued, barely breathing between words.
"You said you loved me... for years. Since my first marriage. But how? Why? When did you even see me? How did you... know me?"
Every question hit me like a memory crashing back.
How do I know her? Since when did I love her?
Her questions echoed in my mind.
But... I can't answer her right now.
No. Not today.
I remembered the doctor's warning.
No stress. No overthinking. No emotional burden.
She's already been through enough.
I already made the mistake of telling her too much the moment she woke up.
I can't push her again.
"Ritvi... it's a long story," I said carefully, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "So let's talk about it some other day."
Her face fell slightly, her voice barely above a breath.
"But... I want to know."
She wasn't stuttering or mixing her words — she was impatient, desperate almost, and that scared me more.
"Yes, I know," I said gently. "And I'm not denying it. I will tell you. Every single thing, how I knew you, when I fell for you, everything from the very start till today."
I paused, looking straight into her eyes.
"Just... not today. Please."
She looked at me for a long second... and finally, to my relief, she nodded.
I woke up first today.
For the first time in months, I didn't wake up confused... or scared... or weak.
I woke up excited.
My heart was beating fast, almost like a little child.
I turned my head slightly. Vidyut was asleep on his side, one arm protectively curled around Tara, who was sprawled comfortably across his chest. Her little fist clutched the fabric of his shirt like she always did.
They looked so peaceful, so soft together, like something I wasn't sure I would ever wake up to again.
My heart melted a little.
Then the excitement hit me again — sudden and strong.
Today... I'm going to drop Tara to school.
I hadn't dressed her in a school uniform in months.
I hadn't held her tiny hand while she skipped towards the gate.
I hadn't watched her wave at me before running inside.
All those little moments — stolen from me.
Yesterday, when I saw her notebook lying open... it almost made my chest tighten painfully.
She had learned so much.
New words, new poems, new drawings... even little alphabets she wrote in her crooked cute handwriting.
And I missed all of it.
A mother isn't supposed to miss these things.
But I did.
Five months of her life... so much had changed.
And I wasn't there.
I traced the edge of her small school bag with my fingertips, swallowing the ache.
But today... I will be there.
I won't miss anything anymore.
Then... my thoughts drifted back to last night.
The question.
The one I asked him.
How he knew me.
Why he loved me for years.
The way his eyes softened... the way hesitation filled his voice... it still lingered in my mind.
He didn't answer.
And strangely... for the first time... I didn't feel anger.
I didn't push.
I didn't panic.
The old me would've broken apart with overthinking.
Now... I just want peace.
I want happiness, even if it comes with a few unanswered things.
If the truth needs time... I can wait.
I glanced toward the window, the morning light slowly filling the room.
Today... everyone is coming home.
My heart squeezed tight.
I should be angry.
I should hold grudges.
I should question everything.
Especially Maa.
After everything she did.
Everything Vidyut told me that day.
Everything that happened when I woke up.
But I can't hate her.
Because I never had a mother who cared.
Not really.
My own mother never protected me, never chose me, never looked at me with affection.
Maa did.
She gave me a mother's warmth I never knew existed.
She pampered Tara.
She loved me quietly, like she was afraid I'd slip away.
And everything she did... she did because she thought it would keep me safe.
How can I be angry at her for that?
What she did is nothing compared to what my real parents did to me.
They abandoned me in ways that still hurt.
Maa... she just reacted out of fear.
But Vidyut still hasn't forgiven her.
He's holding on to that pain, that anger, like it's the only way to protect me.
And I understand him — he has seen the worst.
But I want things to heal now.
I want my family back... whole.
I want a mother.
I want a home filled with warmth.
I want Tara to run around happily between people who love her.
I want Vidyut to smile genuinely for once.
I want everything to fall back into place.
I looked at both of them sleeping so close — my little family.
Maybe it's selfish.
Maybe I'm wanting too much.
But after everything I've been through... I deserve this.
I deserve happiness.
Peace.
Love.
I deserve to feel alive again.
And today... maybe everything will start to get better.
I quietly slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake either of them. My legs felt a little unsteady—the weakness was still there, a dull reminder that my body hadn't fully recovered. But it was okay. It would pass. I just needed to keep moving.
I got dressed in my suit, smoothing the fabric over my trembling hands. For the first time in months, I felt... excited. Nervous. Hopeful.
Today, I would drop my daughter to school.
After so long.
I glanced at the clock and my heart jumped.
Tara will get late.
I moved to her side of the bed and gently pushed the loose strands of hair away from her forehead. My little munchkin slept like she was glued to the mattress—a heavy sleeper, stubborn even in dreams. I tapped her cheek softly.
"Tara... baby... uth jao."
She didn't even shift.
Between trying to wake her and trying not to fall from my own dizziness, I didn't realise Vidyut's eyes were open—wide, blinking, confused.
He stared at me... like he had just seen a ghost standing beside the bed.
For a second, I froze too.
His hair was messy, his voice still thick with sleep, and his entire expression looked like his brain forgot how to function.
"Hein?" I muttered under my breath, because why was he staring like that?
Just as I thought he completely lost it, he finally came to his senses.
He blinked slowly, breath steadying, and whispered in the softest, sleepiest tone—
But Ritvi—warm, lazy, unfiltered.
Something twisted inside me. A strange warmth spread across my chest... the kind I hadn't felt in years. Maybe I wanted it all along. Maybe I'd ignored it all along.
I swallowed, pretending it didn't affect me.
"T—Tara will get late for her school," I said, avoiding his eyes.
That one line was enough.
His eyes snapped open fully.
"Oh no, today she has to go to school, I forgot!"
His voice shot up an entire octave as he scrambled upright.
The blanket flew somewhere. His feet almost tangled. He looked around like the sky was falling and then jumped off the bed with so much panic that it almost made me laugh.
He was a mess.
A cute mess.
A panicked father-kind-of mess.
And for a second... just a second... my heart felt full.
The car ride to Tara's school was surprisingly peaceful. Tara, now fully awake and grumpy about it, kept humming nonsense songs in the backseat. Vidyut kept glancing at her through the mirror, pretending not to smile. And I... I felt a strange calmness settle inside me.
After dropping her off and watching her run to her class with her tiny bag bouncing behind her, we both slowly walked back to the car.
The moment we settled inside, Vidyut turned toward me.
"Are you sure you want to forgive Maa?" he asked, voice low, serious.
I let out a long sigh.
"Yes, Vidyut. I want to. I want our family back. I want to meet them."
He opened his mouth to argue, but I continued before he could.
"And don't tell Maa that I'm happy she's coming. I want to surprise her." A small, excited smile tugged at my lips. "By the way... when is she coming?"
Vidyut exhaled sharply and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Ritvika... listen—"
"No, Vidyut."
I cut him off gently but firmly.
"I want to meet them now. You know I never got any love from my parents.
"
My voice dropped to a soft whisper.
"And now... now when someone is ready to love me.
.. when Maa is ready to give me all the motherly love I never had.
.. I want that, Vidyut. I want to feel a parent's love. Please. I want them."
I didn't realise tears had gathered in my eyes until one almost slipped out.
Vidyut immediately leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"Fine. They'll come—only if that tear doesn't come out of your eyes."
I blinked rapidly, wiping it away with the back of my hand and forcing a bright smile.
"Done. No tears."
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath—something like "pagal aurat"—but the corners of his lips softened. He drove back home quietly, glancing at me every few seconds as if checking whether I was fine.
When we reached the house, he parked the car and stepped out with me. He even attached a house helper to me, grumbling that he needed to go out for an hour and I "better not walk around without support."
I rolled my eyes but secretly felt warm.
I turned to go inside when something slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
"And... it's Ritvi."
I paused, heartbeat skipping.
"Not Ritvika."
I didn't wait for his reaction.
I hurried inside, cheeks burning, palm pressed to my face.
Behind me, I could almost feel Vidyut freeze in the driveway.
— .... —
I sat in the hall, hands twisting in my lap like a child waiting for her exam results.
Vidyut had called minutes ago to say the family would reach anytime, and ever since, my heart had been beating too fast.
It wasn't like I was meeting them for the first time.
But today... today I felt everything more deeply.
Today my heart felt open, prepared, wanting.
I checked the time again.
It was almost time for Tara to return from school as well, and Vidyut had said he would pick her up and bring her himself.
So it was just me in the house.
Me... and this nervous excitement.
Just then—
The doorbell rang.
My stomach flipped and I immediately stood up from the couch, but before I could take even two steps, the lady helper rushed ahead to open the door.
Of course... Vidyut's orders.
I huffed under my breath and stood where I was.
The door opened.
And the moment I saw who was standing there, a huge smile stretched across my face.
Papa.
Chachu.
Chachi.
Aarush.
Hridhaan.
All of them.
Only one face was missing—
Maa.
My eyes searched behind everyone, hoping she was just slow, maybe stepping out of the car...
But she wasn't there.
Still, before that thought could bloom into disappointment, they all walked inside.
Papa was the closest, so I stepped forward and instinctively bent to touch his feet—
But he stopped me with both hands and pulled me straight into his arms.
Warm. Firm. Fatherly.
Something I had craved my entire life.
He patted my back with a smile.
"Bas, bas... how are you, beta?"
I nodded into his shoulder, my chest feeling tight but warm.
Behind him, Chachu cleared his throat dramatically.
"We also want to meet our daughter," he said, pretending to be offended.
Papa laughed, and I turned, hugging Chachu next.
Chachi stepped forward and wrapped me in her soft, sweet-smelling embrace too.
One by one, the weight in my heart lightened.
Then came Aarush.
Before I could say anything, he bent down and touched my feet.
I gasped.
"Aarush!"
He looked up, grinning mischievously.
"What? You're elder to me. Respect toh banta hai."
I shook my head at his antics, smiling.
But then...
When I turned to Hridhaan...
He wasn't smiling.
His eyes were downcast.
Shoulders stiff.
Expression unreadable, cold almost.
Why?
We were never this distant.
I stepped closer and waved a hand in front of his face lightly.
"Heelllooo?" I said, my tone accidentally too excited, like a child trying to grab attention.
They probably thought I had truly lost it.
Hridhaan finally lifted his eyes to me.
Hridhaan finally raised his eyes — and before I could say anything, he surprised me.
He bent down...
and touched my feet.
I blinked, stunned for a second.
This... this was new.
"Bless you," I whispered awkwardly, placing my hand on his head.
His jaw clenched, eyes still refusing to meet mine properly, but he nodded once and straightened.
I opened my mouth to finally ask what I had been waiting for since morning—
"Where is—?"
But before my sentence could even end...
Someone appeared at the door.
My breath hitched.
She stood there, right at the entrance — saree perfectly draped, hands clutching her purse a little too tightly, eyes hesitant... scared almost.
She probably hadn't seen me yet — my small frame was hidden behind Hridhaan.
Then she stepped inside.
And her eyes finally landed on me.
Everything inside me softened instantly...
but I immediately looked away, pretending to fix the dupatta on my shoulder.
My plan.
I deliberately ignored her.
Her footsteps slowed.
She opened her mouth — probably to say my name, or apologize, or something...
But before she could,
I cheerfully guided everyone further inside.
"Come, come! Sit down.
Just the parul chachi asked, "How are you, Ritvika?"
I swallowed and nodded.
"Better," I said quietly.
Papa scoffed dramatically.
"Huh! Better? Look at her face and tell me if she looks better."
He turned to everyone, his protective anger loud and clear.
"She just came out of such a tragic phase! How can she be better?"
I looked at him, eyes widening a little.
He sounded... hurt.
For me.
Like a real father.
And for a moment, that warmth filled the hollowness inside my chest — the one that had been empty since childhood.
Papa kept complaining about my face, my weakness, how I should be resting — and I nodded along politely, but my eyes kept drifting...
...towards her.
Maa stood near the door, half inside, half outside, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to enter.
Her fingers held her saree edge so tightly that the fabric trembled.
She looked smaller.
Quieter.
Almost... scared.
The moment her eyes met mine, I quickly looked away.
I knew she noticed.
Good.
Let her think I'm upset.
She took a hesitant step forward.
Then another.
"Ritvika..." she spoke softly, almost as if she was checking if the name itself would hurt me.
I didn't answer.
I adjusted the cushion under my arm, pretending to be busy.
She swallowed hard, her voice cracking just slightly.
"Beta, how are you now? Are you... feeling better?"
I nodded once. Nothing more.
Papa frowned. "Dekha? Even now she looks so pale"
she stood a little distance away, wringing her hands like she was scared to come closer.
"I know you are upset with me," she finally said quietly.
Everyone froze.
Hridhaan stiffened.
Chachi looked down.
I didn't look at Maa — but I could feel her gaze pinned to me.
"I didn't... handle things well," she continued, her breath uneven.
"I should have talked to you. Explained. Told you why I did what I did. But I didn't. I acted out of fear... and I ended up hurting you instead."
I inhaled sharply — quietly — but she still caught it.
Her voice softened further.
"You had just come into this family. Just started trusting us. And I—" she exhaled shakily, "—I snatched that comfort from you. I made you feel unwanted when all I wanted... was to keep you safe."
I kept my eyes lowered.
Inside, my heart softened instantly.
But outside... I let the silence stretch.
Maa took another small step forward.
Not dramatic. Not desperate.
Just... hopeful, nervous, human.
"I know Vidyut is angry with me," she said, her eyes glistening. "Maybe he has every right. But you... you are my daughter. And the thought that you might be angry too—"
Her voice broke before she finished.
I looked up for a second.
She quickly wiped her eyes, trying to hide the tears but failing miserably.
"Ritvika, I never meant to hurt you," she whispered. "I never wanted you to feel alone in this house. You and Tara... you two became mine before I even realised it. And then I ruined everything with my fear."
Her fear.
For me.
For my safety.
For Tara's safety.
I knew the truth now.
I knew why she did what she did.
But I let her continue... because I needed her to understand how much her acceptance meant to me.
"And I know," she said slowly, carefully, "that your own parents weren't there for you the way they should have been. I know you grew up without the love you deserved. That's why it hurts even more that I... someone who should have loved you properly... failed."
A lump formed in my throat.
She took one more step — she was close enough to touch me, but she didn't.
She didn't dare.
"Just... just tell me you're not too angry," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I can handle anything... except you staying away from me."
My chest tightened painfully.
For a moment, I almost broke character.
Almost.
I shifted slightly, letting out a soft sigh — enough to make her worry more, but not enough to push her away.
Her eyes filled again.
Before she could speak more—
The door opened.
Vidyut entered, Tara in his arms, both looking at the scene.
Maa stepped back instantly, wiping her face like she didn't want Vidyut to see her crying.
But it was too late.
And I...
I straightened slightly, preparing for the moment I had been waiting for —
To bring this family back together.
The door clicked open behind me as I stepped inside with Tara in my arms.
One glance.
That was all it took.
Maa stood near the sofa — eyes red, trying to pretend she wasn't crying.
Ritvika sat quietly, looking down, her hands resting nervously on her lap.
Papa and Chachi were watching the two women like they were scared to breathe too loudly.
And just like that...
My jaw tightened.
I knew exactly what had happened.
Maa must have tried talking to her.
Tried apologizing.
Tried fixing what she had broken.
And seeing Maa cry...
It didn't soften me.
It irritated me.
Because I knew why she was crying — guilt.
Meanwhile Ritvika had already suffered enough.
But then...
My eyes landed on her.
My wife.
My tiny, soft, emotional mess of a wife.
Her eyes flicked up at me, just for a second —
and in that second, I saw everything she was trying to hide:
Her longing
Her confusion
Her exhaustion
Her desperate want for family
...her fear of losing them again.
My irritation melted instantly.
She wasn't hurting.
She wasn't scared.
She wanted this.
She wanted them.
She wanted Maa.
I exhaled slowly.
And Tara — completely unaware — wriggled in my arms.
"dadda... down," she mumbled sleepily.
I placed her on her feet.
She blinked around, spotted her Dadi, and her whole face lit up like a bulb.
"Dadiiiii!"
Maa froze.
She hadn't expected that.
Tara ran straight into her arms — small hands clutching her neck — as if nothing had ever happend
Maa held her carefully, like she was scared the little girl might disappear if she hugged too tight.
Her voice cracked as she whispered,
"Missed you... so much."
Tara giggled, patting her cheek.
"No crying. Mumma says good girls no cry."
A strangled laugh escaped Maa.
She pressed her forehead to Tara's, breathing her in —
and it hit me again...
This was real.
This bond wasn't fake.
Wasn't forced.
Wasn't temporary.
This was love.
I looked at Ritvika again.
Her lips trembled.
Not in fear.
In relief.
She wanted to go to Maa.
But she was holding herself back because of me.
Because I was the angry one.
Because she thought it wasn't her place if I didn't step forward first.
My chest tightened.
Damn.
This girl...
I walked to her — slow, measured steps — and stopped right in front of her.
She looked up at me like she was scared I would say no.
I didn't say anything.
I just extended my hand.
Ritvika blinked — confused — then her fingers slipped into mine.
Warm.
Shaky.
Trusting.
I guided her forward.
Towards Maa.
Maa saw her coming and stiffened — not out of ego, but fear.
Fear of what Ritvika might say.
Fear of being rejected.
Tara looked between them and innocently jumped out of Maa's arms.
"Mumma!" she squealed, grabbing Ritvika's dupatta.
And just like that...
There was no space left to hide behind.
Ritvika finally lifted her eyes.
Not angry.
Not hurt.
Just full of soft ache.
"Maa," she said gently.
Maa's breath hitched.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"I'm... I'm so sorry, beta," she whispered.
"I didn't know I was scaring you. I didn't know you would think—
I didn't want you to feel unloved—
I didn't—"
"Maa," Ritvika said again, this time stepping closer.
Her voice was soft.
Heartfelt.
Almost breaking.
"You never made me feel unloved."
A tear slipped down Maa's cheek.
Ritvika continued, her voice trembling yet steady:
"I never had a mother who cared. Not truly. When I came here... you were the first person who made me feel like I belonged. Maybe you made mistakes. But I also know you love me. And Tara. And I... I don't want to lose that love."
Maa covered her mouth again, tears slipping freely.
Ritvika stepped closer — close enough to touch — but waited.
Waited for Maa to make the first move.
And Maa did.
She pulled Ritvika into her arms — not tightly, not desperately — just enough to let her feel:
You are loved.
Maybe... maybe some wounds deserved to heal.
THANK YOU FOR READING!!
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(bina complete hue update nhi milega)