⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The office was buzzing with activity, and Ritvika had her hands full today. She was scheduled for back-to-back meetings and project reviews. Tara, as always, had clung to her in the morning — crying when Ritvika tried to hand her to anyone.
So today, Tara had come along.
Thankfully, the kids' playroom — a cozy, brightly-lit corner set up for employees’ children — was still active on the 4th floor. Soft toys, bean bags, mini chairs, and a vibrant mural of jungle animals on the wall made it cheerful.
“Tara, Mumma will be back in a little while, okay?”
Tara looked up with tear-filled eyes, holding Ritvika’s saree tightly. Her small hands trembled.
“Big man?” she whispered, still unsure about her new surroundings.
“Big man is at work, just like Mumma.” Ritvika kissed her forehead. “You stay here and play, hmm? Mumma will come fast.”
Reluctantly, Tara nodded. A staff member stayed behind to keep an eye, and Ritvika rushed to her meeting.
★
Meher adjusted her designer blazer and walked toward the playroom, a tight smile on her lips — the kind that never reached her eyes.
She hated this.
Hated how Ritvika got everything. Respect. Space. Even Vidyut's silence held more weight for Ritvika than any of her own efforts.
And now that brat of a child — her daughter — was here too, just sitting there like she belonged.
Meher stopped at the door, flashed a polite look at the security.
“Ma’am ne bulaya hai,” she said smoothly. (Ma’am has called for her.)
“Woh choti bachi hai na? Tara?”
(That's the little girl, right Tara?)
The guard hesitated, but Meher’s badge and her confident tone made it believable.
Tara looked up when Meher entered.
“Mumma?”
“Mumma ne bulaya hai, chalo mere saath.”
(Your mumma called you, come with me.)
Tara hesitated.
“Mummaa”
“Mumma ka hi kaam kar rahi hoon main. Chalo bola na.”
(I’m doing Mumma’s work only. I said come.)
Tara got up nervously, dragging her bunny toy.
They exited the playroom. But instead of the conference room, Meher led her to an isolated corridor near the storage wing, away from the main staff areas.
Tara began to squirm.
“Mumma—”
Meher's hand grabbed her arm — tightly. Too tightly.
“Chup. Bahut bigad gayi ho tum.”
(Quiet. You’ve become too spoiled.)
Tara whimpered. “Chholo—”
(Let go—)
“Ek toh tumhari Mumma har jagah dikhayi deti hai, aur upar se tum!”
(First your mother is everywhere, and now you too!)
Her grip tightened, nails pressing into the soft flesh of Tara's small arm. Tara cried out.
Meher bent down, her voice low and venomous.
“Aise hi rahi na, toh ek din tum bhi chhin jaogi usse. Jaise sab kuch chhin gaya mujhse.”
(If you stay like this, one day even you will be taken from her—just like everything was taken from me.)
Tara’s sobs grew louder. Meher shook her once, trying to silence her.
Meanwhile, Ritvika adjusted her saree as she stepped out of the meeting room after nearly an hour.
The board discussion had drained her, but her thoughts went straight to one person—Tara.
She quickly walked towards the kids' play zone the office had set up on the 4th floor, a safe and colourful space where employees could occasionally leave their children.
But as she approached, her steps halted.
Tara wasn’t there.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Before she could even call someone, a sharp cry echoed faintly from the corridor. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound.
“Tara…”
She rushed down the hallway and found Tara near the back pantry room, sobbing uncontrollably.
And right next to her—Meher, looking visibly startled.
Without wasting a second, Ritvika ran towards Tara and knelt down, scooping her in her arms.
“Tara! Kya hua mera baccha?”
(Tara! What happened, my child?)
The little girl clutched onto Ritvika tightly, crying with loud hiccups, while her tiny body trembled. Ritvika gently rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.
“Ma’am…” Meher began quickly, trying to sound calm. “Woh… she was crying in the play area so I thought I’ll bring her to you. Mujhe laga aap free ho gayi hongi…”
(I thought you might be free now…)
Ritvika narrowed her eyes slightly.
Something felt... off.
She stood up with Tara in her arms and looked closely. Tara’s sleeves had rolled up in her panic—and that’s when Ritvika saw it.
Faint red finger marks on both her arms.
Her blood ran cold.
“Yeh marks kaise lage?” Ritvika’s voice dropped to an icy calm as she stared at Meher.
(How did she get these marks?)
Meher blinked and stepped back slightly. “Marks?” she repeated, peeking at Tara. “Mujhe toh pata bhi nahi ma’am. Shayad play karte waqt gir gayi hogi…”
(I don't know ma'am. Maybe she fell while playing)
“Gir gayi toh dono haathon par ungliyon ke nishaan kaise hain?”
(If she fell, why are there finger marks on both arms?) Ritvika’s voice hardened.
Meher looked down, faking concern. “I swear ma’am, I didn’t even realise… maybe kisi aur bachche ne…”
(Maybe some other kid…)
Ritvika didn’t let her finish.
“Enough.” Her voice was low but final.
“Aaj ke baad, meri beti ko mere bina choona bhi mat. Aur na hi usse kahin le jao bina mujhse pooche.”
(From now on, don’t even touch my daughter without my permission. And don’t take her anywhere without informing me.)
There was a long silence.
Ritvika hugged Tara closer and walked away, leaving Meher standing frozen in place, her jaw clenched tight behind that sweet fake smile.
But Ritvika didn’t miss the darkness that flickered in Meher’s eyes.
Something wasn’t right.
Inside her cabin, Ritvika gently sat Tara on the small couch and pulled out a tube of soothing ointment from her drawer. Her fingers trembled slightly as she dabbed it onto the red finger marks on Tara’s delicate arms.
“Bohot dard ho raha hai, baby?” she asked softly, pressing a kiss to Tara’s forehead.
(Is it hurting too much?)
Tara sniffled, but then blurted something that made Ritvika freeze mid-motion.
“Aunty hult Taara…”
Ritvika blinked, unsure if she’d heard right.
“Kya bola baby?” she asked gently, looking into her daughter's watery eyes.
(What did you say, baby?)
“She hult Taar…” Tara repeated, struggling to pronounce but making herself clear enough.
She hurt Tara.
Ritvika’s heart skipped a beat. She had assumed maybe one of the kids had pulled her during play or that Tara had gotten hurt accidentally. But Tara’s words? They didn’t align with that theory.
Ritvika quietly finished applying the ointment, holding back the storm building inside her.
Then she picked up her phone.
Five minutes later
A female staff member from the play station stood before her, visibly confused and a little nervous.
“I just wanted to ask… Tara ko chot kaise lagi?” Ritvika began softly.
(I just wanted to ask… how did Tara get hurt?)
“Ma’am, mujhe nahi pata. Jab Meher ma’am use le gayi tab sab theek tha.”
(Ma'am, I don't know. Everything was fine when Meher ma'am took her away.)
Ritvika’s brows furrowed.
“Meher? Kis authority se?”
“Ma’am… unhone kaha tha ki aapne bulaya hai. Toh maine bhej diya.”
(Ma'am… she said that you have called her. So I sent her.)
Ritvika’s heart sank.
“Maine? Bulaya?” she whispered, more to herself.
(I? Called?)
She took a deep breath.
“Aur us waqt kya Tara ro rahi thi?”
(And was Tara crying at that time?)
The staff member shook her head quickly.
“No ma’am. She was playing fine.”
Now Ritvika’s confusion deepened.
If Tara wasn’t crying, why did Meher lie? Why did she take her away? And worse—why was Tara hurt?
She didn’t speak further. Just pressed a button on her intercom.
“Send me the footage of the fourth floor play zone. 12:45 to 1:15.”
The footage played on her laptop. She watched as Tara was happily playing with blocks, completely fine. Meher entered, spoke briefly to the staff, and then… picked up Tara and walked out.
No signs of distress. No emergency.
Nothing.
The truth was as clear as day.
Ritvika’s voice was calm but cold when she called Meher to her cabin.
Meher entered with her usual air of charm, a notebook in hand.
“Yes ma’am, you called?” she asked sweetly.
Ritvika didn’t waste time.
“Next time, Meher… don’t take my daughter anywhere without informing me.”
Her tone was soft, but there was an edge to it—measured, firm.
Meher blinked innocently. “I thought you had called for her… I didn’t mean anything wrong, ma’am. I was just helping.”
“I saw the CCTV footage,” Ritvika said evenly. “Tara wasn’t crying. Nor did I call you. Don’t repeat this again.”
Meher smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Of course, ma’am. My apologies. I’ll be careful next time.”
Ritvika nodded slowly, though her eyes didn’t move from Meher’s face.
Something about that girl didn’t sit right.
But for now—she chose to observe.
Closely.
It was night.
Ritvika and Tara were in their room.
Tara, giggling endlessly, was running around with one of Ritvika’s dupattas, twirling and stumbling in her tiny steps.
The soft fabric flowed behind her like a cape, while Ritvika was busy cleaning the bedsheet that Tara had smeared earlier while eating her ileam.
Once done, Ritvika sat down, sighed, and picked up her phone. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face as she stared at the screen. Her fingers trembled slightly as she dialled Vidyut’s number.
It rang twice.
“Hello,” came Vidyut’s voice—sharp, but unusually soft.
Ritvika’s breath hitched.
“Hello,” she whispered nervously.
There was a pause.
“Ritvika?” he said again, his voice gentler now, pulling her out of the bubble of silence she’d trapped herself in.
“Vo... voh Maa told me to inform you…” she began hesitantly, “that Hridhaan bhaiya’s engagement has been fixed… and she was asking when you’ll return.”
Silence again.
Then, Vidyut’s voice, a little quieter, a little firmer—
“I’ll return day after tomorrow.”
Another beat. Then—
“Is Tara asleep?”
“No… she’s still playing around,” Ritvika replied, glancing at her daughter, who was now trying to drape the dupatta on a teddy bear.
“Baat karwao meri kitten se, video call pe,” Vidyut said.
Ritvika’s heart skipped a beat. Her fingers tapped the screen, connecting the call. His face appeared on her phone—tired, but smiling slightly.
She turned to Tara.
“Tara baby, come here!”
Tara came running, her chubby feet slapping against the floor. The moment her eyes landed on the screen, they sparkled with glee.
“Dadddddaaaaaa!” she squealed.
Vidyut chuckled, his eyes softening.
“Yes, dadda’s princess.”
“Accha baby, what gifts do you want?” he asked, eyes twinkling.
Ritvika quickly intervened, frowning softly.
“No, Vidyut, she doesn’t need any gift. You don’t need to bring anything—”
But Vidyut cut in gently.
“I wanted to.” He then turned his attention back to Tara.
“Accha princess, chalo shuru ho jao! Wait let me bring a paper…”
(Alright princess, let's get started!)
He mimicked pulling out a notebook. Tara, absolutely thrilled, began her demand list, half gibberish, half understandable—
“One pink teddy… big waala! Aur choco-choco box… and shoe....toffee… rainbow ball… ileam.... dress… and and and… ephepant teddy!”
“Yes ma’am,” Vidyut said, mock-serious. “Everything noted.”
Then in a teasing tone—“Waise kitten… aapne ice cream khayi hai?”
(By the way Kitten… have you had ice cream?)
Tara blinked, shook her head innocently.
“Noooo.”
Vidyut chuckled and pointed toward her cheek.
“Toh phir aapke cheeks pe kya laga hai?”
(Then what is on your cheeks?)
Tara gasped and quickly hid her face in Ritvika’s lap, giggling.
“Dadda ke bina hi ice cream, kitten?” Vidyut made a fake sad face.
(Ice cream without Dadda?)
Tara peeked from behind her hands and said cutely,
“Sowyyy… par abhi bhi hai fleeze mein… aapke liye, dadda.”
(Sorryyy… but it’s still in the fridge… for you, Dadda)
He smiled, heart full.
“Okk princess, dadda will come. Then we’ll eat together.”
Tara grinned wide, clapping.
“Accha bacche, ab apni mumma ko phone do,” Vidyut said softly.
(Ok, now give the phone to your mumma.)
Ritvika’s face returned to the screen, her expression careful. Vidyut’s tone grew serious but still gentle.
“Ritvika, tomorrow is your appointment with the doctor. I’ve scheduled it. But I suggest you take Hridhaan with you. We’ll tell him—just him.”
She shook her head softly.
“No… I’ll go myself. Please.”
Vidyut sighed but nodded.
“The appointment is at 11 in the morning. Don’t miss it. Listen to what the doctor says carefully, and tell me everything once you’re back.”
He paused, then added,
“Tara ko ghar pe hi rehne dena. She’ll trouble you.”
(Let Tara stay at home. She'll trouble you.)
Ritvika nodded wordlessly.
“And the medicines—whatever he prescribes—just hand the prescription to the driver. He’ll get them. Take care,” he said firmly.
She nodded again, a quiet 'okay' leaving her lips.
Ritvika hesitated for a moment, then softly said, "Aap... pakka aa jaoge na parso tak? Matlab... Tara poochegi toh..."
(You... you will definitely come by the day after tomorrow, right? I mean... if Tara ask)
Vidyut’s voice came gentle, almost teasing, "Haan baba, aa jaunga. Pakka. Promise."
(Yes baba, I will come. Sure.)
A faint, involuntary smile touched Ritvika’s lips as the call ended, leaving her staring at the blank screen—her heart still strangely restless despite his reassurance.
The room had fallen into a tender hush.
Tara was fast asleep, curled into a little ball beside her stuffed penguin, her rhythmic breathing a gentle melody in the night.
Ritvika sat by the window, her back resting against the cool wall, legs pulled close to her chest. A soft breeze filtered through the sheer curtains, carrying with it the earthy scent of night-blooming jasmine from the garden below.
She gazed into the darkness, watching the silhouettes of leaves sway gently under the moonlight. Her mind, however, was far from still.
Everything had changed.
She had married Vidyut. Not out of love. Not out of a dream. But out of helplessness... responsibility... fate?
And yet—
Tonight, when his face filled her screen… when his voice softened while talking to Tara… when he said “haan baba, aa jaunga”—something shifted.
It wasn’t butterflies. It wasn’t magic.
It was just... warmth.
Unexpected. Uninvited. But there.
She wrapped her dupatta tighter around her shoulders, as if shielding herself from a truth her heart hadn’t agreed to yet.
???????
The morning sunlight streamed gently through the Rajvansh Mansion's
windows. Tara was playing on the carpet when Ritvika knelt beside her, brushing a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Mumma thoda kaam se ja rahi hai, baby. Aap Dadi ke saath raho, haan?”
(Mumma is going for some work baby. You stay with Grandma, okay?)
Manisha appeared at the doorway, concern in her eyes.
“Kahin door ja rahi ho?” she asked casually.
(Are you going somewhere far away?)
“Bas thoda kaam hai,” Ritvika replied softly, forcing a calm smile.
She didn’t elaborate. She didn’t want to.
With one last glance at Tara, she left.
(Just a little work.)
The hospital air was antiseptic, cold. The sterile silence of the cardiology wing felt heavier than usual today.
Ritvika sat opposite her doctor, her fingers twisting the hem of her dupatta as he flipped through her latest reports. His brows furrowed slightly.
He looked up.
“Mrs. Rajvansh... the ejection fraction has dropped a little. It was 40% last time. Now it’s around 35.”
Ritvika blinked slowly.
“That means... my heart's pumping capacity has reduced?”
The doctor nodded.
“Yes. It’s not alarming at the moment, but it is a sign that we need to be more cautious going forward. You might start experiencing irregular heartbeats or a little more fatigue than usual.”
Her shoulders stiffened as her voice came out low, unsure.
“That means… my condition is worsening?”
He sighed, his voice measured but honest.
“It’s progressing, yes.
But the good news is—we’ve caught it early.
We’ll make adjustments to your medication.
Also, I’m prescribing a special massage oil.
A light foot massage every night with that should help with the swelling you've been experiencing in your feet.”
Ritvika nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat.
She didn’t cry.
But her mind was already spiraling—
Tara... Vidyut... If something happens to me…
She pressed her lips together, nodding once more, determined to stay composed.
The doctor gently handed her the prescription.
“Take care of yourself, Mrs. Rajvansh. This condition requires discipline—but you’re strong. You can manage it.”
She nodded again, this time more firmly.
“I have to.”
For Tara.
For herself.
For a man she wasn’t supposed to care about—but somewhere deep inside, she was beginning to.
Ritvika handed the folded prescription to the driver through the window.
“ Aap Yeh medicines le aana, main tab tak gaadi mein hoon.”
(You bring these medicines, I will be in the car till then.)
She settled into the backseat, the door clicking shut behind her. The world outside moved on—cars, people, chaos. But inside her mind, there was only stillness. Heavy. Crowded. Quietly aching.
Her fingers played with the edge of her dupatta as her gaze blurred on the windshield.
What if the next report is worse?
How long will I be able to hide this?
Will I be there… for Tara?
And… what about him?
Her phone buzzed.
"Vidyut calling."
She exhaled sharply.
Wiped her eyes—though no tears had fallen.
She composed her voice and picked up.
“He…hello?”
His voice came fast, low, urgent—“Ritvika, have you shown the doctor? Is everything fine? What came in the reports? Everything normal?”
She froze for a second. Then softened her voice.
“Yes… everything is normal. He just changed some medicines.”
She hated lying.
But she hated the idea of worrying him more.
There was a pause.
“Are you sure?”
His tone had dropped, more serious. Like he could sense her hesitation through the phone.
“Yes,” she replied quickly, breathing calmly now, trying to sound firm.
Another pause. Then—
“Okay… then after reaching home send me the reports’ picture. And just rest once you’re home, your voice sounds tired.”
That last line… hit deeper than she expected.
A strange warmth bloomed in her chest. Not love. Not yet. But something… close.
“Hmm… I will,” she whispered, almost more to herself than him.
The call ended. But his voice lingered.
And her mind?
It was still not still.
???????
The soft click of the closing door echoed faintly as his assistant left with the final round of files. Vidyut leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the locked drawer on his right.
It had been there since yesterday.
That one file.
Ritvika Rajvansh
Her name printed in bold across the brown folder.
He hadn’t opened it.
Last night, he was pulled into an emergency meeting. And by the time he returned to his cabin… something inside him refused to touch it.
He told himself it could wait.
But now…
he knew something wasn’t right.
His hand hovered over the drawer key. But instead of unlocking it, he quietly took the file out and placed it in his laptop bag.
Still unopened.
Still unread.
His expression remained unreadable as he zipped the bag shut.
“I’ll ask her myself,” he muttered under his breath, almost like a promise.
Because somehow…
Knowing from her felt more important than knowing from a piece of paper.
???????
The moment Ritvika stepped into the house, a gentle aroma of jeera rice and kadhi wafted in from the kitchen. Her eyes were tired, body moving on autopilot.
"Oh aa gayi beta?"
Manisha’s voice reached her from the kitchen.
(Oh, you're back, dear?)
"Maine na Tara ko sula diya tha… jaa, use utha le. Main khana laga deti hoon."
(I made Tara sleep... go wake her up. I’ll serve lunch.)
"Ji maa... thank you," Ritvika whispered, barely audible.
Her voice lacked weight—like something had quietly drained her from within.
She walked toward the bedroom, every step heavier than the last.
And then she saw her.
Tara, curled up in the center of the large bed, her tiny fists balled up under her cheek, her chest rising and falling rhythmically—peacefully.
Ritvika just stood there, motionless, staring.
Her eyes were hollow.
Emotionless.
Or perhaps… too full to even show emotion.
She knelt beside the bed, her fingers gently brushing away the strands of hair from Tara’s forehead. Her voice cracked as a soft whisper left her throat.
"Betu... agar kabhi mumma nahi hui toh... aap reh loge na?"
(Baby… if someday you don’t have your mumma… will you be okay?)
A shaky breath escaped her lips.
"Aap toh strong ho na... Mumma se bhi zyada?"
(You’re strong, right… even stronger than Mumma?)
"Bas... bas yaad rakhna ki Mumma ne aapse bohot pyaar kiya... hamesha."
(Just… always remember Mumma loved you… so, so much.)
A single tear traced down her cheek.
That’s when Manisha’s voice called out again from the dining area—
"Ritvika, beta? Aa jao, khana lag gaya."
(Ritvika, dear? Come, lunch is ready.)
She quickly wiped her tears, forcing herself to sit straighter.
Then she leaned close to Tara’s ear and whispered firmly—like a mother trying to build her child strong:
"Baby… ab aap three years ke hone waale ho… aapko Mumma ke bina rehne ki bhi aadat daalni hogi."
(Baby… you’re about to turn three… you’ll have to learn to stay without Mumma too.)
Her jaw clenched slightly as if sealing a silent promise.
She stood up, gave one last look to Tara’s innocent face, and left the room—carrying a storm inside a composed shell.
Ritvika walked into the dining room, her eyes a little red but her expression composed.
"Maa, Tara is in deep sleep... agar abhi uthaungi toh ro degi,"
(Maa, Tara is in deep sleep... if I wake her now, she’ll cry.)
she said gently.
"Okay beta, tum khao... aao jaldi, thanda ho jaayega,"
(Alright dear, you eat… come quickly, it’ll get cold,)
Manisha replied warmly, patting the seat beside her.
Ritvika took her place quietly, and Manisha sat down opposite to her with a soft smile.
A few moments passed as the plates were being served. Then Manisha asked casually:
"Accha beta, tumne Vidyut se pucha… kab aa raha hai voh?"
(So dear, did you ask Vidyut… when is he coming back?)
"Yes maa, he is returning tomorrow," Ritvika replied, keeping her voice even.
"Great!" Manisha smiled with a hint of excitement.
"Accha waise, Hridhaan ki engagement paas aa rahi hai... humein bohot saari tayari karni hongi."
(By the way, Hridhaan’s engagement is coming up soon… we’ll have a lot of preparations to do.)
"Ji maa," Ritvika nodded, forcing a small smile, as she began to eat.
━━━━━━?? ━━━━━━
I changed Ritvika's friend's name from Divya to Roohi.
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