EPILOGUE
MAAHI
Two Years Later - Ratna Mahal
I inform my assistant to oversee the designs scheduled for delivery next week. She assures me everything is on track, which finally puts me at ease. I check my phone—no calls, no messages. That’s good, right? Or should I worry? No, Daadi said not to worry.
I turn back to my laptop and check next week’s schedule. I have to meet Mrs. Ved to discuss designs for her son's wedding. She insists on the best for him and the bride. Blush Boutique has expanded to New York with a men’s line called Hunk Fashions. This was two years ago when I was five months pregnant. Managing it wasn’t easy, but thanks to my supportive family, everything fell into place. The surprise was having my husband, the hottest hunk in town, Vikram Singh Grover, inaugurate it. He was against the idea, but since I was pregnant, he didn’t refuse, and I didn’t need to convince him. Since then, he’s been buying all his clothes from Hunk Fashions. Isn’t that cute?
Suddenly, I feel the need to check my phone again. No calls, no messages. Good, right? Maybe. I check the time—it’s been four hours since I got to work and four more until I can go home. Should I call and check once? No, Daadi strictly forbade it. Well, I miss them. But tomorrow is the weekend, and I’ve already told my assistant I won’t be coming to the boutique. I can spend all my time with my family. Plus, Vikram mentioned he has some special plans, and I can’t wait.
Two more hours pass, and I’ve checked my phone countless times. No messages, no calls. Is that good? Should I check?
Yes! Absolutely yes. It’s been six hours since I left home, and I miss them terribly. It’s not my first day back at work after maternity leave. I’ve been coming to the boutique for six months now, but my family knows how much I stress about them while I’m at work. They’ve advised me not to call ten times a day to check on them.
Debating for a few minutes, I finally decide to call. Just as I’m about to, my phone rings. It’s Vikram.
“Finally,” I snap. “Is everything okay at home?”
He laughs instead of answering, making me even more curious.
“Vikram, I’m serious here, and you’re laughing?” I shout.
“Maahi,” he finally grunts.
My name in his husky voice still makes me squirm.
“Just relax, sweetheart. Everything is under control as always. You don’t need to worry.”
I sigh in relief. No matter how many assurances I get, the one from Vikram always calms me.
“Are you okay to fly to New York next month? Mom was asking because, you know, no one will go without you.”
I smile. That’s true. I might have delivered in New York, but we shuffle between the two countries every six months. Every time we plan this, my family checks my schedule and interest too, which is wonderful. Daadi has her own Satsang gang in New York now. She’s joined an Indian group there, so she’s happy in both countries. Devki Estate is flourishing with the Grover Foundation and the old age home we inaugurated a year and a half ago. We have enough management to care for those homeless elders who are now part of our family. It’s sad that people still abandon their old parents, but karma will get them. They’ll understand the pain when their children push them out. This cycle needs to break, which is why the Grover Foundation organizes events advising people not to take such harsh steps against their old parents. My mother-in-law has been a speaker at these events, sharing her own experiences. Her contribution to the foundation is remarkable. We’re all so proud of the woman she has become.
“Sweetheart?”
Vikram’s voice brings me back to reality. I forgot he was still on the call.
“Yes, I’m ready to fly whenever you all are. I’ll inform the team there accordingly once we’re set to go home.”
Home! The penthouse in New York is also my home.
“Good. One last question, Cub. Are you ready for a date tomorrow at Leela Mahal?”
Date? It’s been ages since we went on a date.
“Hmm.”
My response doesn’t sit well with him.
“Just ‘hmm’? If you’re not okay, we can reschedule.”
“I’m ready, Vikram. More than you know,” I quickly respond. “It’s just that...”
“I know,” he interrupts, sensing my worries. “They’ll be fine. Trust me on that.”
I do. I can trust Vikram and the family with my eyes closed.
“Thanks for loving me so much,” I murmur.
“You want to thank me? Come home soon. Love you.”
“I love you more.”
I disconnect the call and return to work, feeling relaxed after talking to Vikram.
An hour later, I'm ready to leave. I have my own car, though I don't drive it. Vikram hired a professional bodyguard and driver to take me to and from work, both here and in New York, ensuring my safety at all times. I wait for the traffic to clear, eager to get home and see my little ones.
As soon as the car parks at Ratna Mahal, I hurry to the living room. There they are—my babies, Aarav and Aashi. They're 18 months old now, playing with their toys and grandparents. Mom and Dad bring them to the living room around this time, knowing I'll be home soon. As always, when they see me, they run towards me.
I drop my bags and kneel to embrace them. One hug and the mother in me is satisfied. It was both tough and thrilling when the doctor confirmed I was pregnant with twins. Vikram always wanted more children, and we were blessed with two at once.
The pregnancy was difficult. I was weak carrying twins, so my diet was completely changed. The family kept me in bed for months until the doctor confirmed everything was fine, then I was allowed to do some work from home. I enjoyed my pregnancy so much, I could write a book about it.
Aarav is a bit heavier than Aashi, who's slender like me. But both are healthy. Touchwood.
“Mumma,” Aarav kisses me first, then Aashi kisses my other cheek.
Aarav immediately makes a face seeing his sister kissing me. He has taken after his father in his possessiveness for me. I try to carry them both, and though they're heavy, I lift them and sit on the couch with them on my lap.
“How are my babies doing?” I ask.
They start telling me about their playtime in their kiddish tones, half of which I don’t understand.
“Maahi,” Mom approaches. “Your son is becoming naughty. And Aashi is no less.”
I laugh.
“They take after their father, for sure,” I tease.
“Excuse me?”
There he is—my husband, the love of my life. Aashi hops onto his lap as soon as he sits next to me.
“Daddy’s girl.” I mutter.
“Just like Aarav is Mumma’s boy,” Vikram replies.
He kisses Aashi’s head before turning to me. “Did you mean I was naughty?”
“You still are,” I tease further.
He gives me a warning smile, which is exactly what I was waiting for. Whenever he smiles like that, I know he's planning to tease me when we're alone in the bedroom. I can't wait. Since we had twins, it took six months before Vikram and I made love again. I was too exhausted, mentally and physically, but Vikram was always understanding and supportive.
Once we started again, there was no stopping. We've expanded our bedroom in both the New York penthouse and Ratna Mahal, connecting two rooms with a small door we keep open in case Aarav or Aashi wakes up at night. Thankfully, they sleep well and wake up only in the morning after us.
“Tea is here,” Daadi says, coming out with Dad, who helped her make our special evening tea. Aashi hops down from Vikram's arms to play, and Aarav follows him. Our kids are our world, and seeing them so attached to each other, always looking out for one another, makes us smile and feel at ease.