⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝟖˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
The morning sunlight spilled softly into the room, painting everything in a warm golden glow. The faint smell of antiseptic had begun to fade, replaced by the soothing scent of the fresh marigold garlands Vidyut had hung near the window for Navratri.
The doctor had already left after removing the last of Ritvika's medical support. The room finally felt... alive again. Quiet, but not lifeless anymore.
On the bed, Ritvika sat propped up by pillows, her posture weak yet determined. Her face looked pale, her voice still frail, but her trembling hands were now cupping Tara's tiny face - the very face she had been yearning to see for five endless months.
Tara sat on her lap, clinging tightly to her mother as if afraid she might disappear again. Her eyes glistened with tears, but her lips moved non-stop, words tumbling out in her little gibberish tone.
Ritvika's lips quivered, tears rolling down freely. Her fingers brushed through Tara's soft curls, trembling as they moved.
"Mumma's here now... not going anywhere, my baby..." her weak whisper came out broken, hoarse, but filled with emotion.
Tara sniffled hard, her little head buried in Ritvika's chest. "Dadda say... Mumma is sleep... Tara wait... wait so long..." she said in her innocent tone, lifting her head just enough for Ritvika to see her wet lashes and pout.
Ritvika choked on a sob, pulling her daughter close again.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Tara..." she whispered, her tears wetting the little girl's hair, "Mumma didn't mean to make you wait... my baby was so brave..."
Tara nodded seriously, her tiny hand brushing Ritvika's cheek again. "Tara no cry... Dadda say... Tara strong girl... strong like Dadda..."
A fragile laugh escaped Ritvika's lips amid her tears. Her body trembled with exhaustion, but her heart... it finally felt alive.
"Yes... my Tara is strong... stronger than Mumma..."
Unseen by them, Vidyut stood at the door - frozen. His hand rested on the doorframe, eyes glistening as he watched the two pieces of his world finally together again.
Ritvika's trembling hands, Tara's tiny ones clutching her mother's neck - that sight was enough to melt every wall around his heart.
He didn't speak, didn't move. He just stood there, quietly absorbing the sound of their reunion - the little hiccupped laughs, the broken words, the soft lull of a heartbeat that had finally returned home.
Vidyut, who had been silently watching the tender reunion between Ritvika and Tara, finally stepped into the room with a small smile tugging his lips.
"Alright now," he said in his calm, slightly firm voice, breaking their emotional cocoon. "Enough talking for now, hmm? Both my girls need to get ready. We'll be late for the puja otherwise."
Tara immediately perked up at the word puja, her eyes lighting up like little stars. "Pujaaa! Dadda pujaa!" she squealed in delight, her hands clapping rapidly in excitement.
Vidyut couldn't help but chuckle as he scooped her up effortlessly into his arms. "Yes, yes, puja," he said, pretending to sound serious, "but first, we need to make my little princess look like the most beautiful kanya today."
He turned back to Ritvika, who was still sitting on the bed, her body frail but her eyes glowing softly as she watched them. "You sit here only for five minutes, okay? Don't move. I'm coming."
Before she could even nod, he was gone - Tara giggling in his arms as they disappeared down the hallway.
The faint sound of her squeals and Vidyut's deep laughter echoed faintly from the other room, and Ritvika's lips curved into a faint, peaceful smile.
For the first time in months, this house didn't feel like a place of silence. It felt like home.
A few minutes later, the door opened again.
Vidyut entered, carrying Tara - now dressed in a bright red lehenga-choli, her hair tied into two tiny ponytails with ribbons.
She looked like a doll, a small devi come alive.
Her bangles jingled as she wiggled in Vidyut's arms, proudly showing her little bindi to her mother.
Ritvika's eyes softened instantly. "Oh my... my baby..." she whispered weakly, smiling through misty eyes.
Vidyut smiled at the sight, setting Tara down carefully on the soft couch in the corner of the room. "There," he said, straightening her dupatta, "now you sit here and show Mumma how pretty you look."
Tara twirled once, her skirt flaring like a tiny flame, and clapped again, giggling.
Vidyut turned to Ritvika, who was still admiring Tara with that same motherly awe. "Ritvi-" he paused, correcting himself softly, "I mean, Ritvika, come on now. Get freshened up."
Ritvika nodded gently and tried to get up from the bed, her legs trembling slightly.
Vidyut was instantly by her side, his hand steadying her waist without a word.
She didn't protest this time - her pride subdued by the gentle firmness in his eyes.
Step by step, he walked her toward the bathroom door.
"Take your time," he said softly, his tone unknowingly protective. "I'll be right here."
After a few quiet minutes, the bathroom door opened again - and for a second, Vidyut froze.
Ritvika stood there in a soft cream-white co-ord kurta set, her hair loosely tied back, a faint bindi on her forehead. The simplicity of her outfit only made her look more graceful - fragile yet divine, like she was made of light and pain both.
Tara's eyes widened, and she gasped in pure admiration. "Beeutifull!" she declared, clapping her tiny hands together, her voice high and sweet.
Ritvika couldn't help but laugh faintly at her daughter's enthusiasm. "Thank you, my baby," she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Vidyut, standing by the dresser, looked up at her - and for a moment, words failed him. His throat tightened, his chest heavy with something unfamiliar yet soothing. A faint smile curved his lips as he muttered under his breath, almost inaudibly, "Pretty..."
Ritvika, catching that, blinked - unsure if she'd heard right. But Vidyut had already looked away, pretending to adjust Tara's bangles.
The room hummed with quiet peace - a fragile kind of happiness, born out of pain, stitched together by hope.
The faint hum of the shankh echoed through the house, blending with the soft scent of jasmine and sandalwood that drifted from the temple hall below.
Diyas flickered gently, their golden light reflecting against the marble floor.
The whole mansion was quiet - peaceful - yet somehow alive again.
Ritvika stood by the room door, ready in her soft cream outfit, her hair loosely pinned back.
Tara, dressed like a tiny doll in red, was holding onto her mother's dupatta with one hand and clutching her tiny thaal in the other.
Vidyut stood in front of them, adjusting his kurta's cuff as he looked up - his gaze softening at the sight of the two most precious people in his life.
"Shall we?" he asked quietly.
Ritvika nodded, taking a cautious step forward - but before she could even reach the first stair, Vidyut moved closer. Without a single word, he bent slightly, one arm sliding behind her knees, the other around her back.
"Vi-Vidyut! What are you-"
Before she could finish, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. The sudden motion made her gasp, her heart skipping. "Vidyut! Put me down, I can walk!" she whispered, eyes wide, half in panic, half in disbelief.
Tara giggled, clapping her little hands in delight. "Dadda fly Mummaaa!" she squealed.
Vidyut's lips twitched into a faint smirk as he looked down at Ritvika, his voice low, calm - with that teasing warmth that made her pulse race. "Shhh... you'll fall again if you keep moving. Just let me do it, hmm?"
She tried to glare at him, but her cheeks were already flushed. "You're impossible," she murmured under her breath.
He chuckled softly, tightening his hold ever so slightly. "You've told me that before."
As they descended the staircase, Tara skipped beside them, her anklets jingling, her voice echoing through the hall - soft, childish hums of the aarti tune.
Ritvika's eyes flickered from Tara to Vidyut - her husband carrying her as though she weighed nothing, his expression steady yet.
.. gentle. It felt strange - being in his arms, feeling the faint rhythm of his heartbeat against her arm - but not entirely uncomfortable.
When they reached downstairs, Vidyut carefully placed her on a cushioned chair near the temple. The idol of Goddess Durga shone bright in the golden glow of diyas, surrounded by marigolds and bells. The air was thick with devotion.
Vidyut knelt briefly beside Ritvika, adjusting the edge of her dupatta that had slipped over her shoulder. "You can't stand for long," he said softly, almost in a whisper. "So sit here and do the puja. Tara and I will take care of the rest, hmm?"
Ritvika just nodded, still a little stunned - not by his words, but by the unexpected tenderness behind them.
Soon, the aarti began. Vidyut stood before the deity, holding Tara's tiny hand in his.
The brass plate gleamed with diyas and flowers as Tara chanted after her father, her tiny lips fumbling through each mantra - "Jai.
.. Maa... Durgaa..." Her innocent voice filled the air, echoing through the hall.
Ritvika sat there, her palms folded, eyes glistening.
She couldn't take her eyes off them - the way Vidyut's hand guided Tara's, the way he smiled faintly when she clapped offbeat to the mantras.
For a moment, it didn't feel like chaos or pain or loss surrounded them anymore.
It felt like peace - like a small world stitched together with devotion and love.
Her heart swelled, her throat tightening as she watched her daughter's laughter and Vidyut's silent contentment.
And as the final bell rang and the aarti ended, she found herself whispering a silent prayer of her own - not for herself, not even for her recovery... but for the family that somehow, despite everything, still stood together.
The aarti's last echo faded softly through the house, leaving behind the scent of burning camphor and marigolds. The diya still flickered in front of the idol, and Ritvika sat quietly on the cushioned chair Vidyut had made her take earlier.
Tara was still humming the tune of the mantra, her tiny palms clapping out of rhythm while Vidyut watched her with a faint, amused smile.
Ritvika's eyes softened as she looked at them - the tall, intimidating man who had once terrified her, now patiently helping a three-year-old fold her hands and chant,
"Jai Mata Di!"
(Hail the Goddess!)
When Tara finally grew tired and ran to Ritvika's lap, Ritvika chuckled softly and stroked her hair.
Vidyut, still standing near the mandir, looked back over his shoulder.
"Puja perfect thi, ab Kanya Pujan ka time hai."
(The puja was perfect, now it's time for the Kanya Pujan.)
He began arranging the thalis while Ritvika instinctively tried to stand.
"Main khaana bana leti hoon," she said quickly.
(I'll make the food.)
Before she could even step forward, his firm voice stopped her.
"Baith jao, Ritvika."
(Sit down, Ritvika.)
She blinked, startled by the command.
"Par khaana toh banana hai-"
(But we have to cook-)
Vidyut turned, brows raised, his tone a mix of irritation and concern.
"Are you mad?" he interrupted, walking closer.
"Tum abhi-abhi bed se uthi ho aur soch rahi ho main tumhe kitchen mein jaane dunga?
Bilkul nahi."
(You just got out of bed and you think I'll let you go into the kitchen? Absolutely not.)
Ritvika frowned, confusion flickering in her eyes.
"Toh phir khaana kaun banayega?"
(Then who'll cook?)
He leaned slightly, hands on his hips, his voice turning casual - teasing even.
"Main."
(Me.)
Her eyes widened.
"Tum?"
(You?)
"Haan, main." He shrugged, heading toward the kitchen.
"Main halwa aur sabzi already bana chuka hoon, bas puriyan reh gayi hain.
Itna toh aa gaya mujhe - in these five months Tara ke liye practice kar hi li.
"
(Yes, me. I've already made the halwa and sabzi, only the puris are left.
I've learned a few things - got enough practice these five months for Tara. )
Tara gasped in excitement, clapping her little hands.
"Dadda cooking!" she giggled, her voice echoing through the hall.
Ritvika's lips curved into a soft smile, the warmth in her chest impossible to hide.
"Tumne sach mein sab bana liya?" she asked in disbelief.
(You really cooked all that?)
He turned back once, smirking faintly.
"Koshish kar raha hoon perfect banne ki... ...for you two."
(Trying to be perfect... for you two.)
Her breath caught for a second - that quiet confession, so effortlessly dropped, lingered longer than it should've.
"Tum bas yahin raho... Tara ke saath," he said again, softer this time.
"Main sab ready kar deta hoon. Hamari chhoti chhoti devis abhi aane wali hain."
(You just stay here with Tara. I'll get everything ready. Our little goddesses are about to arrive.)
Ritvika watched him disappear into the kitchen - sleeves rolled up, determination firm in his steps. The same man who once never allowed anyone close was now cooking, arranging plates, and preparing for the Kanya Pujan with so much care.
Tara crawled into Ritvika's lap again, mumbling,
"Dadda good ..."
Ritvika smiled faintly, brushing her fingers through Tara's curls.
Yes, she thought, her eyes drifting to the kitchen door - he really was.
The aroma of freshly fried puris and ghee-laden halwa drifted through the house, curling softly in the air like invisible garlands.
Diyas flickered gently across the marble floor, their flames casting a warm, golden hue over the marigold decorations swaying lightly with the breeze from the open windows.
Vidyut stepped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. A faint smudge of halwa clung to his wrist, and his face was flushed - maybe from the heat of the stove, or maybe from the way Ritvika's gaze lingered on him a second too long.
"Everything's ready," he said quietly, voice low but carrying a sense of fulfillment.
Before Ritvika could reply, the doorbell rang - followed almost instantly by a burst of laughter and tiny voices. Tara gasped, eyes going wide with excitement as she bounced in her seat.
"Goddesses are here!" she squealed, clapping her hands with uncontainable joy.
Vidyut chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked toward the door.
When he opened it, a group of seven little girls stood there - each dressed in bright lehengas, bangles tinkling, their hair tied with ribbons.
Their shy giggles filled the hall as they stepped inside, eyes wide at the glowing decorations and the sweet scent of halwa.
"Come in, little ones," Vidyut said gently, guiding them toward the temple area.
His tone was softer than Ritvika had ever heard - patient, almost reverent.
He helped one girl adjust her dupatta that had slipped off her shoulder, untangled another's anklet chain, and smiled each time a shy thank-you escaped their lips.
From her chair near the temple, Ritvika watched him - the same man who once spoke in clipped, commanding tones now kneeling down to talk to children, his every move careful and kind.
There was something almost sacred in that gentleness, something that made her heart ache in a way she couldn't explain.
Tara ran to him, clutching her tiny bowl and puffing her chest with pride. "I'm a goddess too!" she declared, her voice echoing with pure innocence.
The laughter that followed filled every corner of the room. Vidyut grinned, scooping Tara into his arms and pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. "Yes, you are my littlest goddess," he said warmly.
He placed Tara beside the others and turned to Ritvika, who was still sitting quietly, her eyes tracing every movement he made. "You stay here," he said gently. "I'll handle everything."
But Ritvika shook her head, her voice faint yet firm. "No... I'll help."
Her attempt to stand was shaky, her body still weak.
Without thinking, Vidyut stepped closer, one hand hovering protectively near her waist - not touching, but close enough to catch her if she stumbled.
She didn't stumble, but their eyes met - a fleeting moment of silent care that said far more than words ever could.
Together, they began serving the food. Ritvika ladled halwa into small bowls, her bangles chiming softly with every movement, while Vidyut placed puris on each plate, making sure each portion looked perfect.
Tara followed close behind, proudly handing out spoons, her laughter mingling with the chatter of the girls.
When one of the girls shyly asked for more halwa, Vidyut crouched down to her level with a smile that could melt anyone's heart.
"As much as you want, sweetheart," he said, serving her an extra spoonful.
Ritvika couldn't help but smile - that sight of him surrounded by children, with flour dusted on his sleeve and an expression so gentle, it was almost unreal.
As the girls finished their food, Vidyut poured water over their tiny palms to wash them clean. He did it with quiet reverence, his movements steady and respectful - like he was performing something holy.
When the little ones folded their hands and whispered their blessings - "May the goddess always keep you both happy" - something inside Ritvika shifted. It wasn't pain this time, but a deep, overwhelming warmth that bloomed right in the center of her chest.
Vidyut looked up at her, his expression softening. "Did you hear that?" he asked under his breath.
Ritvika blinked, confused for a second. "Hear what?"
"May she keep us happy," he said slowly, his voice almost a whisper - a prayer more than a reply.
For a heartbeat, the world around them faded.
The diyas flickered between them, the golden light tracing every curve of her face.
The children's laughter echoed distantly, but all Ritvika could see was him - the way his eyes softened, the faint smile tugging at his lips, the exhaustion and quiet devotion blending together into something achingly tender.
He reached out instinctively, adjusting the edge of her dupatta that had slipped from her shoulder. "You must be tired," he murmured. "Sit down. I'll take care of the rest."
Just then, Tara came running, her tiny arms wrapping around both their legs. "Dadda, Mumma, happy!" she giggled, her eyes shining brighter than any diya in the room.
Vidyut glanced at Ritvika - their hands brushing for just a fleeting second, a touch so brief yet so electric it made her breath catch.
And in that moment, surrounded by laughter, blessings, and the soft crackle of flames, both of them realized something simple yet profound - happiness hadn't just arrived. It had always been here, quietly waiting for them to notice.
After the Kanya Pujan ended, laughter and chatter slowly faded into the background.
The tiny feet of the little girls had left small halwa stains on the marble floor, and the scent of ghee still lingered in the air.
Tara was sitting near the temple, lazily clapping her hands while Vidyut finished cleaning the space with quiet precision.
Ritvika tried to stand, her hands gently pressing the arms of the cushioned chair, but before she could move, Vidyut was already by her side.
"Don't even think about it," he said, his tone calm but unyielding.
Without waiting for a response, he bent slightly and slid one arm behind her knees and the other around her back.
"Vidyut!" she gasped, her eyes wide as he effortlessly lifted her into his arms again.
He didn't look at her, just started walking towards their room. "You were sitting for too long. You need rest," he murmured, his voice low and composed - but there was something else beneath it, something that made Ritvika's heartbeat stumble.
"You know," she began softly, trying to hide the blush creeping up her neck, "you're treating me as if I'm made of glass."
That made him pause at the doorway. He finally looked at her - eyes glinting faintly in the afternoon light - and for a second, the teasing curve of his lips almost looked like a smile. "Maybe you are," he said quietly, "and I don't want to see you crack."
Her chest tightened. She wanted to reply, maybe even argue, but the way he said it - not with dominance, but care - left her silent.
He gently set her down on the bed, adjusting the pillow behind her back with the same attentiveness as before. Then, as he stepped back to take Tara from the doorway, Ritvika's gaze followed him unconsciously.
There was something about the way he moved - calm, protective, sure - that stirred something strange in her. It wasn't love. Not yet. But it was something that felt dangerously close.
Tara clung to Vidyut's leg, babbling about sweets and puja bells. He smiled faintly, bending down to scoop her up, and the soft image of father and daughter made Ritvika's lips curve unknowingly.
The room was filled with silence again - warm, quiet, peaceful.
Vidyut finally turned toward her, about to say something, when her voice broke the silence.
"Vidyut..." she began hesitantly, her fingers twisting the edge of the bedsheet. He looked at her, waiting.
Her eyes lifted slowly to meet his. "Who... is Siya?"
The question hung in the air - sharp, sudden - freezing him mid-motion. The faint smile that had been on his face vanished, replaced by a look Ritvika couldn't read.
And just like that, the peace of the afternoon turned into a silence heavy enough to make her heartbeat echo in her ears.
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Thank you for reading