⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝟐˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Ritvika glance d around the table and then smiled to herself.
A slow, mischievous smirk appeared on her lips as an idea popped into her head.
"Vidyut," she said sweetly, "there's no water on the table. Please bring some."
He looked at her, nodded without suspicion, and stood up to get the water.
The moment he turned his back, Ritvika seized the opportunity.
She leaned forward and dug straight into Vidyut's plate, quickly taking a few bites of the spicy food she had been craving. As she ate, she kept her face turned slightly to the side, eyes constantly checking if he was coming back.
Mid-bite, she froze.
Her eyes narrowed.
Across the room, Vidyut was standing near the drinks counter—talking to a girl.
The girl was wearing a fitted bodycon dress, standing a little too close, smiling a little too brightly. And to Ritvika's utter shock... Vidyut was smiling too. Calm. Polite. Easy.
Ritvika slowly straightened in her seat, her jaw tightening.
Just then, Tara followed her gaze.
The little girl tilted her head, squinting adorably in the same direction. When she recognized her father, her tiny brows furrowed.
Now both mother and daughter were staring at Vidyut.
With identical narrowed eyes.
Jealousy flickered—soft but unmistakable.
Ritvika turned toward Tara.
"Tara baby," she whispered seriously, "now we won't talk to your dada."
Tara nodded with full sincerity.
"Yes, mumma. Now we aal angry with dada."
They looked at each other once, sealing their silent pact.
Then, in perfect sync, both folded their arms and turned their faces slightly away, fixing Vidyut with matching angry stares.
Across the hall, Vidyut was still unaware that he had somehow managed to upset not one—but two—of the most important people in his life.
Vidyut returned with two glasses of water and placed one in front of Ritvika.
"Here," he said casually.
Ritvika didn't even look at it.
She turned her face to the side instead, chin lifted slightly, arms folded tight against her chest.
Vidyut frowned, confused.
"What happened?" he asked, leaning closer.
No reply.
He glanced at Tara, deciding to try there instead. Picking up a small bite of food, he held it toward her.
"Come on, eat," he said gently.
Tara copied her mother exactly.
She turned her face the other way, folded her tiny arms, and stared at the opposite wall as if Vidyut didn't exist.
Vidyut blinked.
Once.
Then again.
"What happened to both of you?" he asked now, genuinely puzzled, looking from Ritvika to Tara and back again.
Still nothing.
Two faces turned away.
Two sets of folded arms.
Two very clear signs that something was terribly, mysteriously wrong.
Vidyut stood there holding the food, water forgotten in his hand, trying to understand how—within the span of two minutes—he had managed to upset both his wife and his daughter without saying a single word.
Before Vidyut could say anything more, Ritvika suddenly stood up.
She picked Tara up in her arms, adjusting her carefully against her chest, and without sparing Vidyut even a single glance, she turned away from the table.
Vidyut straightened at once.
"Ritvika?" he called, genuinely confused now.
She didn't stop.
With Tara resting on her shoulder, Ritvika walked calmly but firmly toward where the rest of the family was gathered, her posture stiff, her face set in quiet displeasure.
Tara, still clinging to her mother, peeked over Ritvika's shoulder and shot Vidyut a tiny, offended look before hiding her face again.
Vidyut stayed where he was.
Watching his wife walk away.
Watching his daughter go with her.
Shocked.
Confused.
And for the first time that evening—
Very clearly confused.
By the time Vidyut was done with the last round of unavoidable business conversations, the night had already settled deep.
Tiredness weighed on his shoulders as he finally walked into his room, loosening his collar, expecting silence.
Instead, his steps slowed.
Ritvika and Tara were standing near the bed.
Each of them was holding a blanket.
A small pink one clutched tightly in Tara's tiny fists, and a grey one folded in Ritvika's arms.
They looked at him.
Just one look.
Offended.
Clearly.
Deliberately.
Before Vidyut could even process it, both of them turned around and started walking out of the room.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
"What...?" he muttered, hands lifting slightly in sheer confusion.
"Wait—" he stepped forward. "Where are you both going... and why do you have blankets?"
No answer.
They kept walking.
Vidyut followed them into the hallway now, concern mixing with bewilderment.
"Ritvika, tell me what happened," he asked, slower this time, trying to catch her eye.
Ritvika huffed softly and turned her face away, her grip on Tara tightening just a little.
His heart sank a notch.
He immediately bent slightly and tried again, this time softer, aimed at the little one.
"Tara?"
Tara stopped.
She turned around slowly, scrunching her nose, narrowing her eyes in the most dramatic imitation of her mother's anger.
"Daddaa," she said firmly, wagging her tiny finger, "don't talk."
Vidyut froze.