•| THIRTY |•
You were done making breakfast, wiping your slightly sweaty forehead with the back of your hand as you took a step back to admire the dining table. It was Sunday — which meant Krish wasn’t going to the office —
The table was filled with dishes — fluffy pancakes stacked perfectly, drizzled with syrup, strawberry milkshakes in tall glasses, buttered toasts, omelets, cut fruits — everything you remembered hearing he liked.
A small, nervous smile tugged at your lips as you adjusted the plates again and again, hoping — stupidly hoping — that he would understand what you were trying to say without words… that you had accepted his apology.
Footsteps echoed from the stairs.
You looked up instantly.
Krish walked in, freshly showered, hair still slightly damp, sleeves rolled up — looking annoyingly handsome even on a casual morning. He pulled the chair and sat at the dining table.
You smiled at him softly.
But he didn’t look at you.
Not even once.
Your smile faltered for a split second… but you quickly shrugged it off, convincing yourself he was probably just sleepy. Picking up the serving spoon, you walked toward him.
“I’ll serve—”
“It’s fine,” he cut you off calmly without looking up. “I’ll do it myself.”
Your hand froze mid-air.
“Oh… okay,” you murmured, stepping back slowly.
He started serving himself pancakes casually — like it was any other normal breakfast — while you stood there awkwardly, fingers twisting together.
Before the silence could grow heavier—
“Dad! See mummy made all of your favs!”
Kiaan’s excited voice filled the room as he climbed onto his chair, pointing proudly at the table like he had helped cook everything.
That’s when Krish finally looked up.
His eyes landed on you.
You were standing there with your head slightly lowered, a shy smile on your lips — waiting… nervous… hopeful.
Something softened in his expression instantly.
He looked back at the table… then at you again.
“Is that so?” he said slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Then I should eat this all, right?”
Before you could respond, he grabbed two pancakes dramatically and shoved them into his mouth at once.
Your eyes widened.
“Krish ji—!”
Kiaan burst into laughter seeing his father’s cheeks puffed up like a squirrel.
Krish tried chewing but ended up looking ridiculous — syrup almost dripping from the corner of his lips.
You couldn’t hold it anymore.
A soft giggle escaped you… then another… until you were laughing quietly, covering your mouth.
Krish looked at you while chewing — and for the first time since morning — he smiled properly.
After a good half hour of warm family time — filled with Kiaan’s giggles, Mrs. Mehra’s teasing, and Krish’s rare but genuine smiles — everyone slowly drifted back into their own routines.
The house settled into a comfortable quiet.
You were in the kitchen now, sleeves slightly rolled up, bangles pushed back as you focused on doing the dishes.
The clinking of utensils and the sound of running water filled the silence while your mind replayed the morning again and again — the way he had eaten the pancakes, the way he had looked at you… softer than before.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear footsteps approaching.
His voice came out of nowhere.
You jolted slightly, your hand slipping in the soapy water as you turned around in surprise. Krish was standing near the kitchen entrance, leaning lightly against the counter — not in his usual intimidating way… but almost hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to stand there.
You quickly composed yourself, offering him a small smile before turning off the tap.
“No… I’m not angry,” you said softly. “It was my fault too. I should’ve asked you before coming to your office and—”
His sudden interruption made you blink.
He pushed himself off the counter and walked closer — his brows slightly furrowed, guilt written all over his face.
“You didn’t need my permission to come to my company,” he said firmly. “It’s your right… you’re my wife.”
Your fingers stilled over the plate you were holding.
“I’m the fool who shouted at you,” he continued, his voice lowering. “You came there for me… and I—” he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry.”
This time his eyes met yours fully.
And you could see it — sincerity… regret… softness he rarely showed anyone.
Your lips curved into a gentle smile.
“It’s okay,” you whispered, nodding lightly.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
The air felt different — not awkward… just quiet in a peaceful way.
Then his gaze dropped to your wet hands, red from the soap and water.
Without saying anything, he reached forward… turning off the tap completely and taking the plate from your hands.
“Krish ji… what are you doing?” you asked, confused.
“Helping my wife,” he said simply.
Your eyes widened slightly.
He rolled up his sleeves more and started rinsing the dishes — completely serious, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You stared at him for a few seconds… then a small laugh escaped you.
“You don’t even know where things go,” you teased softly.
He glanced at you sideways.
“Then teach me.”
---
Currently, you were sitting beside Kiaan on the bed, helping him with his homework. His tiny fingers held the pencil tightly as his tongue poked out in concentration, making you smile.
“Slowly, baby… write neatly,” you murmured, guiding his hand gently.
Just then, the door creaked open.
“Kiaan, look who’s here,” Krish’s voice echoed softly through the room as he stepped inside.
You frowned slightly, tilting your head in confusion when he signaled someone standing outside to come in.
Within seconds, Aarav walked in, holding his little son in his arms, followed by his wife.
“Hey, champ!” Aarav exclaimed cheerfully, lifting the baby a little higher.
Kiaan’s eyes widened in excitement.
“Woah, Aarav uncle… is he your baby?” he asked, jumping off the bed.
Aarav chuckled. “Yes.”
Kiaan ran toward them instantly, curiosity shining in his eyes. You giggled softly watching the baby boy laugh as Kiaan tried to play peek-a-boo with him.
Krish stood near the door, his arms folded, secretly watching you. A soft smile rested on his lips seeing the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the warmth you carried around children… around his child.
“You’re Samira, right?” Ishika—Aarav’s wife—asked gently, walking toward you.
You looked up and nodded with a polite smile.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t attend your wedding,” she said sincerely before sitting beside you.
“It’s okay,” you replied softly.
Soon, both of you slipped into casual conversation—talking about random things, Kiaan’s mischiefs, motherhood, and daily life.
Across the room, Aarav and Krish stood near the window, speaking in hushed voices about business matters. But every few seconds, Krish’s gaze drifted back to you.
You were smiling… relaxed… happy.
And that made something inside his chest feel lighter.
Meanwhile, Kiaan and little Reyansh were now sitting on the carpet, surrounded by toys, giggling loudly.
After a while, Aarav glanced at you and Kiaan before turning back to Krish.
“It’s okay, Krish. We’ll take care of Kiaan,” he said knowingly.
Krish stiffened slightly.
“You just go with her.”
Krish hesitated, his jaw tightening as nervousness crept onto his face.
“What if she says no?” he muttered, biting his nails unconsciously.
Aarav sighed, shaking his head at his friend’s anxious state.
“For a man who runs an entire company, you’re such a coward when it comes to your wife.”
Krish glared at him but said nothing.
Because deep down…
He was afraid.
Afraid you’d refuse.
Afraid you were still hurt.
Afraid he had already ruined too much.
His eyes slowly lifted toward you again—
Watching you laugh at something Ishika said.
And in that moment…
He decided he wanted to try again.
Here’s your scene edited, extended, and with light humor added while keeping your soft emotional tone intact:
---
“You should work on your relationship… give it a chance,” Ishika said gently.
Her words lingered.
You looked at her, confusion clouding your eyes.
“Shall I?” you asked softly, almost like a child asking for reassurance.
Ishika smiled warmly and nodded.
“Every marriage has fights, Samira. What matters is… whether you both still try.”
You lowered your gaze, thinking deeply.
Krish’s apologies… his efforts… his silent guilt…
A shy smile slowly formed on your lips as you nodded your head in agreement.
Maybe… you should try too.
---
After some time, Aarav and his little family said their goodbyes.
Kiaan clung to Reyansh, refusing to let him go until Aarav bribed him with chocolates and the promise of a sleepover.
Once they left, the house fell quiet again.
Upstairs, you were inside the bedroom, arranging the wardrobe when—
Knock. Knock.
You glanced at the door.
“Come in,” you uttered softly.
The door creaked open slightly, revealing Krish standing there with an awkward smile… the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes because nervousness had taken over.
“Yes… Krish ji? You need something?” you asked politely.
He scratched the back of his neck.
“N-No… it’s… why the fuck am I stuttering… I want to ask you about— NO!!”
You flinched at his sudden loud outburst.
He shut his eyes tightly, clearly done with himself.
“Smooth, Krish. Very smooth,” he muttered under his breath.
You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing.
He took a sharp breath like a soldier going to war.
“Umm… get ready. We’re going out.”
He said it in one go and immediately turned around as if the mission was complete.
You blinked.
“Wait— what about Kiaan?” you asked, tilting your head.
Without turning back, he replied—
“Aarav will take care of him. Now get ready.” you frowned slightly.
“But where—”
“You’ll know.”
He walked away before you could ask anything else.
You stood there, confused.
“…Is he planning a kidnapping or a date?” you mumbled to yourself.
From outside the door, Krish—who had very much heard that—stopped mid-step.
He facepalmed.
“Great. Now she thinks I’m a criminal.”
After a pause, he muttered—
“…I mean, I could kidnap her… but legally… she’s already my wife.”
He blinked.
“…Why am I like this?”
Inside the room, you were still staring at the door before a shy smile slowly spread across your face.
Maybe Ishika was right.
Maybe… you should give this a chance.
You walked toward the wardrobe, your heart beating a little faster—