GOOD MORNING?
ANAMIKA
I wake slowly, the kind of slow that only comes when there's nothing urgent waiting to drag you out of sleep. For a few quiet moments, I don't open my eyes completely. I simply lie there, suspended somewhere between dreaming and waking, letting the warmth around me settle into my bones.
Something feels . . . different. Comfortably different.
Sara is curled against my front, her tiny body tucked into mine the way she's slept since she was old enough to climb into bed beside me.
One little hand is folded beneath her cheek, her warm breath feathering softly against my neck with every sleepy exhale.
I smile instinctively. Then I realise there's warmth behind me too.
Not just warmth. Weight. A steady arm resting loosely across my waist. A slow, familiar rhythm of breathing brushing against the back of my shoulder.
It takes my sleepy mind several long seconds to understand what my body has already figured out.
Yuvaan.
Somewhere during the night . . . Without either of us noticing . . . He'd moved. At some point he'd drifted from the careful distance he'd been keeping since our marriage and ended up behind us, his arm loosely around my waist while Sara slept safely beside me.
For a moment I simply lie there. Completely still.
Afraid that even breathing too deeply might disturb whatever this is.
The room is wrapped in soft grey morning light.
The curtains sway gently with the breeze drifting in through the half-open window.
Everything feels impossibly quiet. Sara's warmth in front of me. Yuvaan's warmth behind me.
Somehow . . . Without either of them meaning to . . . They've surrounded me. Held me. Protected me. The thought settles so deeply inside my heart that it almost hurts.
I don't think I've ever woken up like this before.
Not once. Not in my entire life. I've always been the one staying awake a little longer.
Listening. Making sure doors were locked.
Checking whether Sara had kicked her blanket away.
Carrying the invisible responsibility of being the only adult in the room.
Today . . ..For the first time in yea . .
. Someone else is carrying a little of it with me.
I close my eyes again. Just for another second.
If I could steal one memory from this strange, impossible chapter of my life and keep it forever . . . This might be this one.
Behind me, his breathing changes. Just slightly. A tiny pause. Then another. He's awake. I feel the exact moment he becomes aware of where his arm is.
His entire body goes rigid. The arm disappears from my waist so quickly it almost makes me laugh.
He sits upright immediately. "I'm . . . " He rubs one hand through his already messy hair, looking thoroughly horrified with himself.
"I'm sorry." His voice is still rough with sleep.
"I don't know when that happened." He glances at the bed as though it has personally betrayed him.
"I must've moved while I was asleep." His embarrassment is so genuine that something warm blooms quietly inside me.
I turn just enough to look at him. His hair is sticking up in every direction. His face still carries pillow marks along one cheek. The carefully controlled Maharaja everyone else sees is nowhere to be found. Instead . . . There's just Yuvaan.
Sleepy.
Flustered.
Endearingly human.
A smile escapes before I can stop it. "It's okay.
" I shake my head gently. "It wasn't your fault.
" For a brief second he simply looks at me.
Really looks. Almost like he's trying to decide whether he believes me.
That tiny crease appears between his eyebrows.
The same one that's been there since he was a boy whenever he worried he'd done something wrong.
My fingers almost lift on their own. I almost smooth it away. Instead I curl them quietly into the bedsheet. Probably safer. Just then Sara lets out a tiny sleepy sigh. She rubs both fists across her eyes dramatically before blinking up at us. For a moment she looks completely confused.
Still halfway inside a dream. Then her gaze shifts between the two of us. Once. Twice. A slow smile begins spreading across her face.
Oh no.
I know that smile. That is not the smile of an innocent child.
That is the smile of someone who's just had a brilliant idea.
Before either of us can react, she pops upright and throws one arm around my neck and the other around Yuvaan's, pulling both of us toward the middle with surprising determination.
"Good morning kiss," she declares cheerfully.
Then she taps her own cheek. Waiting. I laugh.
So does Yuvaan. Without hesitation we both lean forward.
I kiss one cheek. He kisses the other. Sara beams as though the day has officially begun exactly the way she'd planned.
Satisfied, she nods once. Then suddenly pauses.
A thoughtful little frown appears. She's thinking.
That is almost never good news. "Mumma?"
"Yes?"
She tilts her head. "You didn't kiss Mister."
I freeze. " . . . What?"
She blinks. "You kissed me.” She points at him, “He kissed me." She frowns, "But you didn't kiss Mister."
I stare at her. Surely she cannot be serious.
"Mumma?" Her voice grows more expectant. "Go."
"I . . . "
Wonderful. I've forgotten how words work. "That's . . . " I clear my throat. "That's different."
"Why?"
Because. Because . . . Actually . . . I have absolutely no answer suitable for a five-year-old. "It's just . . . " I wave one hand vaguely through the air. " . . . different."
She looks completely unconvinced. "Mumma."
"No."
I laugh nervously. "We don't—"
Before I can invent another excuse, movement beside me catches my attention.
I barely have time to turn. Yuvaan leans over.
Very gently. Very carefully. His lips brush against my cheek.
Just a soft, fleeting touch. Gone almost before I register it.
"Good morning, Daisy." His voice is barely above a whisper.
Meant only for me. The words travel straight through me.
Every single coherent thought leaves my head.
Completely.
Utterly.
I simply stare at him. Unable to remember what I was saying. Or thinking. Or breathing, for that matter.
Sara claps enthusiastically. "There!"
She points triumphantly. "Now Mumma's turn!" My heart begins pounding so loudly I'm convinced the entire palace can hear it. I don't have to do this. I could laugh. Tease her. Distract her. Tell her grown-ups don't always follow every game children invent.
I could.
I should.
Instead . . . I look at Yuvaan. He's watching me quietly. Not expecting anything. Not asking. Simply waiting. And somewhere deep inside me . . . some small part that's been carefully starving itself ever since I returned to Devgarh . . . Whispers . . . Just this once.
Before courage has time to disappear . . . I lean forward. Very quickly. My lips touch his cheek. Warm. Soft. Gone in an instant.
The second I pull away my entire face bursts into heat. Oh God. Why am I blushing like a sixteen-year-old? I refuse to look at him. Absolutely refuse.
Sara throws both hands into the air. "Yay!"
She flops dramatically backwards onto the pillows, looking deeply pleased with herself. "I fixed it."
Of course she thinks she fixed it.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.
Beside me . . . Silence. I still don't look. I don't need to. I can feel his eyes on me. Warm. Gentle. Far too aware.
I sit there with burning cheeks, my daughter humming happily beside me, and wonder how many more moments like this life intends to give me.
How many ordinary little miracles I'm allowed before the world remembers it has never been particularly generous with me.
For now . . . Just this morning . . . I decide not to ask. Some happiness is too precious to question while you're still living inside it.