29. BEAUTIFUL CHAOS
VEERAJ
A plastic magenta teacup hitting me square in the chest is not how I imagine spending my Friday afternoon.
The tiny cup bounces off my grey linen shirt, leaving behind a streak of pink watercolor before falling onto the Persian rug.
Across the coffee table, my two-year-old niece lets out the loudest, proudest squeal I've ever heard. "Chai, Cha!"
Aadhya slams her little plastic teapot onto the table like she's running the biggest tea business in the country. I lean back into the sofa and rub a hand over my face, letting out a slow sigh.
This afternoon was supposed to be quiet.
Devraj bhai sa and Meher bhabhi sa are out of town for a charity event, Vihaan is buried in meetings and Poorvi is at her clinic and I was planning to spend the next few hours alone in my study going through development reports.
Instead . . . I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor of the family lounge, holding a pink plastic teacup while a tiny dictator in a glittery fairy tutu forces me to attend her imaginary tea party.
She's somehow wearing one of Vihaan's old silk ties around her shoulders like a cape, and judging by the blue glitter covering half her face, she has also managed to raid Meher bhabhi sa's makeup drawer before leaving.
I've handled difficult board meetings. I've negotiated with politicians. I've dealt with palace crises. Nothing has prepared me for this.
"The café is closed," I tell her seriously, placing the empty teacup on the tray. "The manager is taking a break."
"Not closed!" The familiar voice reaches me before I even look toward the door.
I already know who it is. Diya walks inside wearing a loose cotton kurta, her hair twisted into the messiest bun I've ever seen, somehow held together with what looks suspiciously like a pen.
A few loose strands frame her face, and her sleeves are rolled carelessly to her elbows, revealing the pale patches on her wrists.
Her eyes immediately land on the pink paint across my shirt.
Then on the toy teacup in my hand. Then on my expression. A grin spreads across her face. One of those unbearably smug ones.
"Cha!" Aadhya squeals before abandoning me altogether and launching herself toward Diya.
Diya catches her easily. "Hello, my little monster," she laughs, kissing Aadhya's cheek before walking farther into the room.
She looks me up and down. "Oh wow." She bites her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. "Your Highness looks deeply traumatized."
"I am."
She laughs outright this time. "What happened?"
I deadpan, "The management is unreasonable."
Aadhya nods enthusiastically. "Chai!"
"See?" I point at my niece. "She has no respect for working hours."
"And she's unionizing," Diya adds solemnly.
I look at her. She shrugs. "I support the employees."
Traitor.
She drops onto the rug beside me, our shoulders brushing for the briefest second before she settles Aadhya between us.
Within minutes, the room descends into complete chaos. Diya doesn't play with children the way most adults do. She becomes one of them. Suddenly we're not sitting in the palace lounge anymore.
Apparently we're defending Earth from alien squirrels who have come to steal all the crayons.
The cardboard blocks become castles. The cushions become mountains. Aadhya is now officially Queen Fairy.
I have somehow been promoted to . . . "The Giant Knight!"
I stare at Diya. She nods very seriously. "Congratulations."
"I didn't apply for the position."
"You've been selected unanimously."
"By whom?"
She points at Aadhya. "Our queen."
I look at my niece. She claps excitedly. "Cha!"
I sigh. "I've been demoted."
Diya laughs so hard she nearly falls sideways.
Most of the time, I don't say much. I mostly sit where they tell me to sit.
Hold whatever they shove into my hands. Become a wall for the cardboard fort.
Or the mountain that needs rescuing. Or the dragon that's apparently allergic to fairy dust. At some point Diya ducks behind my shoulder because she's hiding from invisible aliens.
Aadhya crawls over my lap to attack the enemy. The room grows louder with every passing minute.
Usually, noise gives me a headache.
Today . . . It doesn't.
The afternoon sunlight pours through the tall windows, warming the floor beneath us.
The room is a complete disaster. Toy blocks are everywhere. Plastic cups are scattered across the carpet. Someone has painted blue fingerprints on the arm of an expensive sofa.
And somehow . . . Looking around at all this chaos . . . I realize I don't mind it.
Not even a little.
The palace has always been quiet.
Orderly.
Perfect.
But sitting here, listening to Diya laugh without holding herself back, watching Aadhya chase imaginary squirrels around the room . . . This feels far more alive than silence ever has.
"You're staring." Diya's voice pulls me back.
She's helping Aadhya stack blocks, but she's looking at me through narrowed eyes.
"What?" I shoot.
She smiles. "My bun."
She points toward her head. "Is it that terrible?"
"I'm trying to decide."
She gasps dramatically. "I spend fifteen whole seconds making this masterpiece and you insult it?"
"I'm wondering whether it survived an explosion."
She places a hand over her heart. "That was rude."
"It was accurate."
She narrows her eyes at me. "You know . . . " She points a block at my face. " . . . before I walked in here, you looked like the unhappiest man in the whole world."
"I was perfectly content."
"Liar."
"I was."
She shakes her head. "No."
"You looked like a gargoyle."
"I do not."
"You absolutely did."
She leans a little closer. "But you're having fun now."
"I'm tolerating you."
"Mhm."
She nods knowingly. "That's progress."
I look at her. She's smiling. Really smiling. No walls. No sadness. No pretending. Just . . . happy.
"You make a remarkable amount of noise," I tell her quietly.
She grins. "And yet you're still sitting here."
"I have nowhere to escape."
"There's literally three doors in this room."
I glance toward them. Then back at her. "They're blocked."
"By what?"
"You."
For a second she simply looks at me. Then a tiny flush creeps across her cheeks.
She clears her throat. "Sounds like a personal problem, Prince."
"It is."
Before either of us can say anything else, Aadhya suddenly dumps an entire bucket of Lego bricks onto my lap.
"Boom!"
The colorful pieces scatter everywhere.
Diya bursts into laughter. Not a polite laugh. A full one. She throws her head back, clutching her stomach as tears gather in her eyes.
I watch her.
For a long moment . . . I don't look away.
Watching her laugh like this without worrying about what anyone thinks, without carrying the weight her father usually leaves on her shoulders .
. . Does something strange to my chest. It feels .
. . Warm.Comfortable. Like this is exactly where I'm supposed to be.
I bend down to help gather the Lego pieces. At the same moment, Diya reaches for the same blue block. Our fingers brush. We both freeze. Neither of us pulls away immediately. She looks up slowly.
I meet her eyes.
Then Aadhya proudly places another plastic teacup into my hand. "Chai!"
Diya starts laughing all over again.
And for reasons I still don't fully understand . . . I don't mind losing this battle at all.