So let's begin!
SEHGAL HOUSE – NIGHT
The fairy lights twinkle gently across the soft pink walls of the girls’ room. All signs of chaos have faded, replaced by peaceful slumber.
Under a single fluffy blanket, three tiny whirlwinds now sleep like angels — Aashvi clinging to Kikvi’s arm like her favourite teddy, Vanya snuggled against Aashvi with her thumb in her mouth, lips parted slightly as she drools onto her sister’s shoulder.
Outside, the house is still. Bela and Mahir step quietly into the living room. Bela bends to gather the scattered notebooks and broken crayons — remnants of their earlier scolding. A tired smile plays on her lips.
Mahir (wrapping his arms around her from behind, teasing softly):
“Madam SHO… saboot mita rahi ho?”
Bela sighs, but can’t hide her grin. She leans back into him, dropping the last crayon in the box.
Bela (with a soft laugh):
“Crime inhone kiya tha… clean-up duty toh hamesha Mumma Papa ki hi hoti hai.”
Mahir (kissing her forehead):
“Kal chhutti hai. Na unka homework… na hume daantna. Raat bhar sirf shaanti.”
They chuckle softly. Minutes later, they sit close on the sofa — two steaming mugs of coffee in their hands, the silence around them filled with the soft hum of night and their contentment. Bela leans into Mahir’s chest, wrapped securely in his arms — the moment quiet, full of unspoken love.
But the peace is short-lived.
A soft, trembling sound drifts in — a muffled cry from the girls’ room.
---
INSIDE THE GIRLS’ ROOM – MIDNIGHT
Aashvi writhes slightly in her sleep, her tiny brows furrowed, a whimper slipping past her lips. She clutches Kikvi’s arm tighter.
Vanya stirs, blinking blearily. She sits up, rubbing her eyes, her voice barely a whisper but heavy with fear:
Vanya (sniffling):
“Mumma… Mumma…”
Within moments, Bela and Mahir are at their bedside — no words needed. Bela sits down, gently rubbing Aashvi’s back until her trembling slows. Mahir lifts Vanya into his arms, rocking her gently, humming a lullaby only a father can hum.
Kikvi sits up too, her eyes wide with concern. She looks at her sister, then at Bela, guilt flashing across her sleepy face.
Kikvi (whispering):
“Mumma… Aashi ko sapna aaya bura wala…”
Bela nods, placing a soft kiss on Kikvi’s forehead, then cups Aashvi’s flushed cheek with both hands.
Bela (soothingly):
“Koi bura sapna Mumma-Papa ke hote hue kuch nahi bigaad sakta. Hum yahin hain, baby… ab achhe sapne aayenge.”
Aashvi’s eyes flutter open, glassy with unshed tears. Without a word, she wraps her arms around Bela’s neck, burying her face into her shoulder.
Aashvi (sleepy whisper):
“Mumma… aaj aap bhi saath mein so jao…”
From Mahir’s lap, Vanya raises her hand, still half-asleep, reaching toward him pleadingly:
Vanya:
“Papa bhi… Papa bhi yahi so jao…”
Mahir and Bela share a knowing look — that gentle, tired, utterly helpless look that only parents of young kids understand.
They nod.
The large quilt is pulled wide. Mahir lies on one side with Vanya curled on his chest, her tiny fingers clenched into his shirt. Bela lies opposite, Aashvi wrapped like a little monkey around her neck, breathing slow and even.
Kikvi scoots in between them, claiming the center spot — one hand on Mahir’s shoulder, one arm draped across Bela’s waist, her head tucked neatly under her mother’s chin.
The room settles into silence, broken only by the rhythm of soft breathing and the rustle of warm fabric.
Just before drifting off, Aashvi’s sleepy voice rises:
Aashvi (murmuring):
“Mumma… Papa… ab kabhi gussa mat hona… hum hamesha good girls rahenge…”
Vanya (barely audible):
“Promise… good girls forever…”
Kikvi (half mumbling):
“Team Aashvi… good girls always…”
Bela smiles through the dim glow, her heart aching in the sweetest way. She plants a kiss on each forehead. Mahir stretches an arm protectively over the entire bundle.
And for one perfect night — full of forgiveness, warmth, and togetherness — the world outside can wait.
---
Next Morning —
Morning sunlight tiptoes into the girls’ room through the half-open curtains. The fairy lights have faded against the golden glow, but inside the big quilt, the warmth of family is still wrapped tight.
Aashvi is the first to stir. She blinks sleepily, realises her arm is draped across Bela’s neck, and a lazy smile spreads on her lips. She snuggles closer, pressing a soft kiss on her Mumma’s cheek.
Aashvi (mumbling into Bela’s ear):
“Good morning Mumma… I love you…”
Bela opens her eyes, finds her little hurricane-turned-cuddle-bug grinning at her, and chuckles softly.
Bela (sleepy, smiling):
“Good morning team leader… good girl ban gayi?”
Aashvi nods vigorously, then points at Vanya — still sprawled like a starfish on Mahir’s chest, drooling a little on his t-shirt. Kikvi is nestled between them, her head resting on both her parents’ arms, sleeping so peacefully that even Aashvi decides to hush.
Aashvi (whispers):
“Mumma… dekho na… Vanu ka muh phir se Papa ki t-shirt pe… yuck!”
Bela giggles, shushing her gently. She carefully brushes Aashvi’s messy hair back and kisses her forehead.
Meanwhile, Mahir stirs awake as Vanya smacks her lips in sleep and buries her face deeper into his chest. He looks at Bela and Aashvi, his eyes still heavy with sleep but his smile wide awake.
Mahir (teasing whisper):
“Good morning my drama company… koi badmashi toh nhi subah subah?”
Aashvi makes a fake shocked face, whispering dramatically:
Aashvi:
“Nooo Papa! Promise! Good girls only! Dekho Vanu kitni peacefully so rahi hai…”
Just then, Vanya wiggles and lets out a squeaky snore. Aashvi slaps her own forehead playfully, making Bela and Mahir laugh silently.
---
A Few Minutes Later -
Kikvi wakes up next, blinking like a sleepy kitten. She sees Aashvi giggling and instantly joins in:
Kikvi (sleepy smile):
“Mumma… Papa… Good morning!”
Bela pulls her close and plants a big noisy kiss on her cheek:
Bela:
“Good morning mera baccha!Aaj breakfast banana hai Mumma ke saath, okay?”
Kikvi groans, burying her face in the blanket.
Kikvi:
“Mummaaa! TV pehle, breakfast baad mein…”
Aashvi and Bela burst into giggles. Vanya finally wakes up properly, blinking at everyone, then at Mahir — and declares in her squeaky morning voice:
Vanya:
“Papa… bathroom le chalo…”
Mahir shakes his head, kissing her forehead, and sits up with her in his arms:
Mahir:
“Chalo Madam Drama Queen… Papa ki duty shuru…”
---
A Perfect Family Morning
Soon the room is buzzing with soft laughter. Bela helps Aashvi and Kikvi brush their teeth right there in their mini bathroom. Vanya sits on Mahir’s shoulders, giggling as he pretends she’s a royal queen.
No punishment, no scolding — just giggles, toothpaste bubbles, and sticky morning hugs.
And as the sunlight fills every corner, Bela watches her three little hurricanes bounce back to life — naughty as ever, but this time, with a fresh promise of being good girls… at least until the next adventure!
Breakfast Chaos and Love
After the giggly bathroom adventures, the little troop marches into the kitchen-dining area. Bela ties her hair into a quick bun, rolls up her sleeves and claps her hands.
Bela (commanding but sweet):
“Okay meri madam log — Mumma ka kitchen, Mumma ka rule! Aaj tum teenon ko help karna hai. No badmashi!”
Aashvi, standing proudly with her hands on her hips, announces grandly:
Aashvi:
“Aaj hum chef banenge! Aashi Chef, Kiku Assistant Chef, aur Vanu… umm…”
Vanya pipes up immediately, pointing at herself:
Vanya:
“Vanu Taster! Vanu sab taste karegi!”
Mahir, standing by the dining table with his cup of tea, nearly spits out his sip laughing.
Mahir (teasing):
“Taster toh sabse dangerous hota hai! Sab khaa legi Vanu!”
Vanya sticks out her tongue at him and hugs Bela’s leg.
---
Breakfast Preparations Begin
Bela hands each one a small task:
Aashvi gets to stir the besan batter for soft cheelas.
Kikvi helps spread butter on bread slices for toasts.
Vanya stands on a little stool near Bela, in charge of sprinkling a teeny-tiny pinch of salt — under strict supervision.
Aashvi stirs with overconfidence, making little splashes on her cheeks.
Aashvi (bossy):
“Kiku! Bread pe butter side side tak lagao! Nahi toh Mumma daant degi…”
Kikvi glares at her:
Kikvi (muttering):
“Main badi hoon, mujhe pata hai… tu hi dekh apna batter…”
Meanwhile, Vanya sneakily dips her finger in the salt jar and licks it, making a face.
Vanya:
“Ewwww Mumma! Yuck!”
Bela bursts out laughing, wiping her finger and picking her up.
Bela (playful scold):
“Drama queen! Khane mein daalo, muh mein nahi!”
Mahir watches this little kitchen circus, leaning against the fridge, filming them secretly on his phone.
Mahir (teasing):
“Ye video sabko dikhana hai! Teenon chef ya prankster?”
All three squeal:
Trio:
“Nooooo Papa! Delete karo!”
---
Breakfast Served
Finally, the dining table is full: steaming hot cheelas, crisp butter toast, a bowl of fresh fruits, and glasses of warm milk with a hint of cardamom.
Bela and Mahir sit on either side, while the three proud helpers sit in a row.
Aashvi tears a bite of her cheela, pops it in her mouth, then claps dramatically:
Aashvi:
“Wow Mumma! Chef Aashi ne bohot acha banaya!”
Kikvi rolls her eyes, pokes her side:
Kikvi:
“Mumma ne banaya! Tu bas stir kar rahi thi!”
Vanya, mouth stuffed with toast, raises her hand:
Vanya (muffled):
“Vanu Taster best!”
Bela and Mahir laugh, exchanging a look that says “This chaos is our heaven.”
In the middle of the meal, Aashvi suddenly says with a mouthful:
Aashvi:
“Mumma… Papa… aaj se no big pranks. Bas chhota wala mazaak, promise!”
Kikvi nods, adding:
Kikvi:
“Pakka Mumma. Koi bhooth ya lock prank nahi…”
Vanya, still chewing:
Vanya:
“Vanu bhi good girl. Bas yummy wala prank karegi!”
Bela chuckles, wipes Aashvi’s cheek with her napkin, and kisses Kikvi’s forehead.
Bela:
“Bas, Mumma Papa ka promise bhi — jab tak good girl banoge, Mumma Papa hamesha tumhare team mein!”
Mahir lifts his cup for a toast:
Mahir:
“To my three hurricane chefs — best team forever!”
The three little girls giggle, clink their milk glasses with Papa’s tea cup — spilling a little, of course — but for once, nobody scolds.
Because in this warm, noisy breakfast, forgiveness, laughter, and promises taste better than anything else in the world.
After the breakfast giggles and clinking milk glasses, the little hurricane trio helps Bela clear the table — well, help is a generous word: Aashvi drops a spoon twice, Kikvi forgets to wipe the table corners, and Vanya just dances around with a napkin on her head like a crown.
Bela tries not to scold; Mahir watches from the sofa, pretending to read the newspaper but actually recording this cute circus again.
---
Late Morning — Family Time
Bela decides the girls deserve a good dose of fun and discipline — so she spreads out a big mat in the living room and calls out:
Bela:
“Aashi, Kiku, Vanu — yoga time! Stretching, no excuses!”
The three let out a dramatic groan in chorus:
Trio:
“Mummaaa! Boring!”
But the moment Bela shows them how to do a cat pose and downward dog, Aashvi tries to copy dramatically — her pose ends up looking like a sleeping cat instead.
Vanya simply rolls on the mat laughing, chanting:
“Meow meow meow!”
Kikvi, ever the serious one, actually copies Bela perfectly, earning an approving nod.
Mahir pretends to instruct but ends up being the girls’ human jungle gym — they climb his back, swing on his shoulders, and giggle non-stop.
---
Afternoon —
After the morning yoga chaos, Mahir has an idea. He whispers it to Bela while the girls chase each other around the sofa. Bela’s eyes twinkle:
Bela:
“Perfect. But no drama in the mall, samjhe!”
Mahir (mock salute):
“Yes Madam SHO!”
They dress the girls in matching floral frocks. Tiny hairbands, cute shoes — all set for a surprise outing.
Aashvi (excited squeal):
“Mumma! Kahan ja rahe hain?”
Vanya:
“Papa mall? Ice cream? Toy shop? Chocolate?”
Kikvi tries to stay calm but her eyes shine too.
Mahir ruffles her hair:
“Bas… good girl promise yaad rakhna. Fir jo maango, milega!”
---
At the Mall — Family Adventure
At the mall, all three run straight to the toy shop. Aashvi hugs a giant teddy, Kikvi picks a puzzle box, Vanya picks everything her tiny arms can carry.
Bela narrows her eyes playfully:
“Ek-ek cheez. Not the whole shop!”
They nod, giggling. Mahir buys them ice cream cones, and Bela sneaks a small chocolate pack in her bag as a secret treat for later.
At the food court, the trio eats fries and noodles. Vanya drops a noodle strand on Aashvi’s head — instead of fighting, this time they burst out laughing.
---
Evening — Back Home, Little Angels
Back home, the girls are exhausted. They dump their new toys on the floor and flop on the sofa like sleepy kittens.
Bela gently wipes their sticky faces, kisses each forehead and says:
Bela (softly):
“Dekho, bina big prank ke bhi kitna maza aaya na?”
Aashvi nods sleepily:
“Good girls… best girls… Mumma Papa best Mumma Papa…”
Vanya curls up in Mahir’s lap again, thumb in her mouth, eyes closing. Kikvi, half-asleep, hugs her new puzzle box and mumbles:
Kikvi:
“Aaj sab best… kal bhi good girl banenge…”
Mahir and Bela exchange a smile — proud, relieved, and full of love.
---
Nighttime — The Final Hug
At bedtime, the three snuggle together under one blanket again. Bela sits at the edge, stroking their hair.
Bela (softly):
“Mumma Papa hamesha pyaar karte hain… bas galat pe kabhi pyaar nahi. Okay?”
Tiny sleepy nods. Mahir leans over, kisses all three gently:
Mahir:
“Good night, my hurricane angels. Sweet dreams… and no bhooth pranks in your dreams either!”
Aashvi giggles, eyes half-closed:
“Promise Papa…”
Vanya sleepily:
“Promise Mumma Papa…”
Kikvi, in a whisper:
“Good girls forever…”
---
Next Morning —
Inside the girls’ room? Pin-drop silence — too silent.
Bela, up early as always, tiptoes in to check on her three sleeping troublemakers. She smiles seeing them tangled up like sleepy kittens: Aashvi sprawled starfish-style, Kikvi hugging Aashvi’s leg like a pillow, Vanya half-slipped off the bed, thumb in her mouth.
She shakes her head lovingly and whispers to herself:
“Today… no scolding. Just a sweet morning. Bas.”
She leans down and calls softly:
“Aashi… Kiku… Vanu… utho babies… school bus miss ho jayegi…”
No response.
She tries again, a bit louder:
“Aashi! Vanu! Kiku! Utho!”
Still nothing — except Aashvi’s leg twitches and Vanya makes a tiny snore.
Bela narrows her eyes — this trio never sleeps through her third call. Suspicion rises like steam in her head. She pokes Aashvi’s cheek. It sinks suspiciously easily.
Wait. What?
She lifts the blanket.
Under the blanket — three carefully stuffed pillows! Three soft toys arranged with little dupattas and nightcaps to look exactly like three sleeping girls.
Bela’s eyes widen.
She stands up straight.
She inhales — and bellows like the SHO she is:
Bela (furious, echoing):
“AASHVI! KIKVI! VAN-YAAAA!”
---
Meanwhile… in the Kitchen
Mahir, half-awake, opens the fridge for milk — and freezes.
There they are — three tiny heads peeking from behind the fridge door, giggling softly:
Aashvi holding a big chocolate box.
Vanya clinging to a milk bottle, sipping directly.
Kikvi balancing a huge leftover pastry in her hand.
All three squeak together when they see Mahir:
“Papa! Shhh! Mumma ko nahi batana! Surprise party!”
Mahir tries so hard not to laugh, holding his forehead:
“Tum log! Again badmashi? Aur woh bed mein kaun h?!”
Aashvi, mouth full of chocolate:
“Pillows Papa! Heehee! Sleeping version humara!”
Suddenly, Bela storms in, hands on hips, eyes spitting fire:
“Toh yahan chhupkar chocolate party ho rahi thi? Aur Mumma ko ullu bana diya?!”
The trio squeals — Aashvi drops her chocolate, Vanya hides behind Mahir’s leg, Kikvi tries to cover the pastry with her tiny hands:
“Mumma sorry! Surprise tha! Please gussa mat ho! Please please please!”
Bela tries to keep her angry face, but one look at Mahir’s barely contained laughter and the three guilty faces — she bursts out laughing herself.
Bela (pointing at the trio):
“Breakfast toh milega — lekin pehle kitchen saaf karna padega. Aur chocolate — bas ek bite!”
The three jump and hug her, squealing:
“Yaayyyy!”
Mahir lifts Vanya like a sack of potatoes:
“Aaj toh surprise ka twist tum teeno ne Mumma pe kar diya! Naughty gang!”
---
AT SCHOOL -
The bright school bell rings, and the classroom hums with chatter and scribbling pencils. Aashvi, Vanya, and Kikvi are back on their usual last bench — giggling, whispering, and half-listening to the teacher’s instructions.
Aashvi taps her pencil on her notebook, muttering under her breath:
“Aaj toh maza hi maza… ma’am ne bola drawing period hai na…”
Vanya nods enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing.
“Haan! Vanu ne rainbow banana hai! Fir Miss ko dikhana hai!”
But before the trio can get more excited, their class teacher turns from the blackboard, tapping her ruler on the table with that dangerous teacher smile.
Teacher (sweet but suspicious tone):
“Good morning class! I have a surprise for you today…”
Aashvi freezes mid-tap. Kikvi’s eyes widen. Vanya blinks innocently.
Teacher:
“Keep your drawing books away. Take out your maths notebooks. We are having a surprise maths test!”
A collective groan echoes through the classroom — louder at the back bench where three very different reactions explode.
Vanya:
“Yayyyy! Vanu ko aata hai! One plus one, two! Ten plus ten, twenty! Easy peasy!”
She bounces on her bench, grinning like a mini genius.
Aashvi (nervous giggle):
“Easy bol rahi hai! Main toh spelling mein bhi silly mistake karti hoon, numbers mein toh poochh hi mat…”
She peeks into her pencil box, as if a sharp pencil will magically make her brilliant.
Kikvi (clutching her head dramatically):
“NO! No no no! Mujhe maths nahi pasand! Mumma Papa ne karaaya tha phir bhi… but paper mein toh sab bhool jaati hu mai!”
She buries her face in her notebook, groaning softly.
The teacher walks row to row, placing the question papers. When she reaches the trio, she gives them a suspicious look:
Teacher (sternly):
“Aashvi, silly mistakes nahi chahiye. Vanya, overconfidence nahi. Kikvi… don't panic okk!"
All three nod vigorously, guilty smiles plastered on their faces.
---
During the Test
Vanya scribbles away happily, her tongue poking out in concentration. She hums softly, counting on her fingers but sure of herself:
“One, two, three… done! Easy!”
Aashvi bites her pencil, erases the same sum three times:
“Arrey yaar! Six plus four… ten na? Ya twelve? Mummaaaa!”
She glances at Vanya’s paper but then shakes her head — remembering Mumma’s strict warning: ‘Cheating bilkul nahi!’
Meanwhile, Kikvi looks like she might cry. She has solved the first three sums but now her mind is blank. She presses her forehead dramatically:
“Bhagwaan ji… please… paper mein zero mat dilana… Mumma Papa gussa ho jaayenge…”
She peeks at Aashvi — Aashvi whispers back fiercely:
“Focus Kiku! Tereko Mumma ne karvaya tha na! Yaad kar!”
Kikvi takes a deep brea th, scribbles slowly, still muttering mini prayers under her breath.
---
After the Test
As the teacher collects the papers, Vanya beams proudly:
“Miss! Vanu ne full sahi kiya!”
Aashvi crosses her fingers behind her back:
“Miss, Aashvi ne thoda sahi kiya… thoda… umm… Mumma ko mat bolna please…”
Kikvi hands her paper with puppy eyes:
“Miss… main fail nahi houngi na? Please Miss…”
The teacher hides a smile, pats their heads:
“Let’s see. At least you tried. Good girls!”
The trio exchange a big sigh of relief, giggling quietly.
As the last test paper is collected and stacked neatly on the teacher’s table, the class starts to buzz with whispers and fidgeting. But the teacher raises a single eyebrow — and silence falls again.
Teacher (firm but calm):
“Before you all jump with joy… I have one more announcement.”
The trio at the last bench freezes in synchrony. Vanya's grin falters. Aashvi gulps. Kikvi clutches her chest like she just got shot.
Teacher:
“Tomorrow is… Parent-Teacher Meeting.”
A collective gasp echoes, but the loudest silent scream belongs to the back bench.
Teacher (smiling sweetly):
“And your maths test answer sheets and progress reports will be handed directly to your parents.”
Aashvi (whispers in horror):
“Directly?! Matlab… Mumma ke haath mein seedha!”
Teacher (continuing):
“I’m giving each of you a notice form for your parents. Get it signed. No excuses.”
She starts handing over forms.
The teacher places three forms on their desk. The moment her back turns, the trio huddles in battle mode.
Kikvi (shaky whisper):
“Mujhe toh dikh gaya… Bhagwaan ji ne warning bhej di! Ab toh Mumma mujhe maths ki book se peetegi!”
Aashvi (determined whisper):
“Mission: Notice form destroy! No proof, no meeting.”
Vanya (thinking hard):
“Vanu ke paas ek Fivestar chocolate hai. Paper pe gira dete hain… sticky ho jaayega… unreadable!”
Without wasting a second, chaos begins.
Aashvi folds her form expertly into a paper plane and launches it out of the window with a whisper:
“Fly, baby, fly and never return!”
Kikvi tears hers in tiny bits, stuffing them inside her geometry box under the erasers, muttering:
“Jahaan homework gaya tha, yeh bhi wahin…”
Vanya very seriously unwraps her Fivestar, places the sticky caramel side directly on the form, and then sits on it.
Vanya (proudly):
“Ab koi bhi nahi padhega yeh!”
They exchange high-fives under the bench.
---
LATER THAT DAY – AT HOME
Bela is in the kitchen, humming as she stirs dinner. Mahir is on a work call. The trio walks in — too innocent, too sweet, too quiet.
Bela (suspiciously):
“Homework ho gaya?”
Aashvi (angelic voice):
“Haan Mumma! Aur aaj school mai ek surprise test bhi diya… Maths!”
Bela:
“Accha? Paper kaisa gaya?”
Kikvi (super quick):
“Bohot accha! Ekdum full marks.. But marks baad mein milenge… bohot baad mein…”
Vanya (nods eagerly):
“Miss ne bola ki result New Year ke baad aayega!”
Bela narrows her eyes. Something smells off — and it’s not the curry.
Bela:
“Hmm… koi form mila kya? School se?”
All three together, panicking but pretending calm:
“Noooo Mumma! Kuch bhi nahi! Zero paper! Clean bags!”
They run off to their room before further investigation.
---
IN THEIR ROOM –
Inside, they tumble onto the bed in relief.
Aashvi:
“Operation ‘PTM bachao’ successful!”
Vanya:
“Mumma Papa ab tak confuse hain!”
Kikvi:
“Pakka koi nahi pakdega na? Bhagwaan ji bhi proud honge humpe!”
They laugh, thinking the danger has passed — unaware that Bela has started checking bags… and Mahir has just received a school WhatsApp group message confirming the Parent-Teacher Meeting tomorrow.
NIGHT BEFORE PTM -
In the living room, Bela sips her tea while scrolling through her phone. Mahir is beside her, answering emails when suddenly — PING!
A message pops up on the Class WhatsApp Group:
> 📢 Reminder: Parent-Teacher Meeting Tomorrow – 9 AM sharp.
Kindly bring the signed forms. Report cards & test papers will be handed over personally.
Class Teacher
Bela blinks. Mahir leans in.
Mahir (raising an eyebrow):
“PTM? Signed forms? Tumhe mila koi form?”
Bela (suspicious):
“Mujhe toh kuch bhi nahi mila. Inhone toh kaha ‘clean bag’. Ek second…”
She storms toward the girls’ room like a detective on a mission.
---
INSIDE THE GIRLS' ROOM —
The trio is huddled on the bed, drawing cartoons with innocent giggles. The moment they see Bela at the door — silence falls.
Bela (arms crossed):
“Bag lao. Abhi.”
Aashvi (grinning nervously):
“Mumma… homework dekhne ka mann ho raha hai?”
Bela (deadpan):
“Bag. Abhi.”
The three exchange terrified looks.
Vanya (to Aashvi, whispering):
“Main bola tha caramel ka idea safe nahi tha!”
Kikvi (groaning):
“Bhagwaan ji… ab Mumma ka police mode on ho gaya bacha lena bas!”
One by one, Bela opens their bags:
Kikvi’s form? Found under her lunch napkin — shredded into 42 tiny pieces.
Aashvi’s form? Caught flying in from the open balcony in a tragic paper-plane crash.
Vanya’s form? “Mumma… woh chocolate ke saath chipak gaya tha… accidentally!”
Bela holds all the evidence in her hands, eyebrows twitching.
Bela (quietly, dangerously calm):
“Forms chhupana? PTM se bachne ka plan? Wah… good girls banne ka yeh naya tareeka hai?”
Aashvi (desperately):
“Mumma hum darr gaye the! Maths test tha! Pata nahi sahi kiya ya galat—”
Kikvi (clutching her own ears):
“Mujhe maths se allergy hai Mumma! Allergy!”
Vanya (hugging Mahir’s leg):
“Papa aap samjhao na miss ko meeting na kare!”
Mahir sighs, pulling Vanya into his arms.
Mahir (shaking his head):
“Beta, Miss ko nahi… ab Mumma ko samjhao. Aur khud ko samjhao…”
Bela (stern, pointing):
“Kal PTM pe hum dono jaayenge. Aur agar results sahi nahi hue na…”
She pauses dramatically.
Bela (raising her eyebrows):
“Toh Saturday Sunday — no cartoons, no chocolates, no playing, sirf padhai!”
Trio (wailing in chorus):
“Nooooooo!!”
---
THE NEXT MORNING — PTM DAY
The girls, dressed in perfect uniforms with ponytails tight enough to hurt, walk like mini prisoners beside Bela and Mahir toward school.
Aashvi (whispering):
“Bhagwaan ji… PTM mein miracle ho jaaye please…”
Kikvi:
“Marks mein thoda magic…”
Vanya:
“Ya Miss bhool jaaye paper dena…”
PARENT-TEACHER MEETING —
CLASSROOM 1B
Mid-morning. The classroom buzz is replaced by polite silence. Chairs are lined up across benches, and folders rest neatly on the teacher’s desk.
Aashvi, Kikvi, and Vanya stand nervously outside, peeking from behind the wall. Inside, Bela and Mahir sit side-by-side — upright, alert, and far from amused.
The Class Teacher flips open a file, sighing with the weariness of someone who’s dealt with Team Aashvi all year.
---
INSIDE THE CLASSROOM
Class Teacher (gently, but firmly):
“Mr. and Mrs. Sehgal, let’s start with Aashvi.”
She lifts a notebook — the pages filled more with doodles than digits.
Teacher:
“She’s brilliant. Sharp, quick, and easily one of the toppers… when she wants to be. But the focus? Missing — unless the topic involves chaos.”
Bela’s jaw tightens slightly.
Teacher (raising a brow):
“She answers confidently… even when she’s wrong. Just last week, she insisted 4×5 was 40 — because it ‘felt right.’”
Mahir (leans in to whisper, half - is smiling):
“Yeh confidence tumse aaya hai. Aaj tak galti maani h tumne”
Bela (glaring):
“Chup kariye.”
Teacher (continuing):
“She’s a born leader — group work, class discussions… and unfortunately, prank coordination.”
---
OUTSIDE THE CLASSROOM
Aashvi (to Kikvi, whispering):
“Mere baare mein hi bol rahe hain na… bas good-good things honi chahiye!”
Kikvi (deadpan):
“Yeh woh ‘good-good’ wali teacher nahi hai…”
---
BACK INSIDE
Teacher flips the page, smiling lightly.
Teacher:
“Now, Vanya.”
Bela (raising an eyebrow):
“Vanya?”
Teacher (nodding):
“Yes. Quiet, sweet, sincere… number one in class.. until she joins her sisters. Then she transforms.”
She opens a report.
Teacher (wry smile):
“She started a class chant last week — ‘Team Aashvi never surrenders!’ Took ten minutes to quiet everyone down.”
Mahir (mock shocked):
“Matlab Team Aashvi mein naye recruit bhi ho gaye hain…”
Bela (to Mahir, whispering):
“Bilkul aapki tarah. Dikhte seedhe h… lekin badmaashi poori.”
Mahir glares at her, lips twitching in silent amusement.
Bela smirks, victorious.
Teacher (still smiling):
“She’s lovely… just needs stronger boundaries.
---
NEXT FILE — KIKVI
The teacher pauses before speaking, glancing down at the report.
Teacher:
“Kikvi is very sharp. Observant. Thoughtful. Leading behind Aashvi and Vanya. But… she’s moody.”
Bela:
“Moody?”
Teacher:
“Some days she finishes early and helps others. On others, she stares at the book like it personally offended her.”
Mahir (murmurs):
“Maths…”
Teacher (nodding):
“Exactly. She dislikes numbers. Last week she faked a stomach ache three times to avoid the maths test.”
Bela (shocked):
“Kikvi?!”
Teacher (calmly):
“She’s clever — but when she doesn’t know something, she masks it with jokes. Once asked: ‘If 1+1 is 2, why are twins called double trouble?’”
Mahir (facepalm):
“Yeh ladki…”
Suddenly, Bela’s expression shifts. Something about what the teacher said sparks a memory — a resemblance. Her stern mask falters, just for a moment. A soft smile tugs at her lips… then disappears as quickly as it came. She sits up straighter, nodding firmly.
The teacher opens a white envelope.
Teacher:
“These are the results from yesterday’s surprise maths test — along with their progress reports.”
She hands over the first sheet.
Teacher (to Mahir and Bela):
“Vanya — excellent, as always. A perfect 10/10.”
Mahir beams and lifts his imaginary collar in the air, smirking at Bela:
“Aakhir beti kiski hai?”
Bela (rolling her eyes, grinning):
"Very funny…”
Next, Aashvi’s report.
Teacher:
“Aashvi — brilliant, but careless. 8/10. She knows it all — if only she’d double-check her answers.”
Bela (nudging Mahir):
“Dekha? Smart toh meri beti hi hai.”
Mahir:
“Bas confidence thoda kam kara do…”
Finally — Kikvi’s.
Teacher (with a sigh):
“Kikvi… in most subjects, she’s excellent. But maths? It just doesn’t click. She tries. I know she does. But 3/10 this time.”
Bela and Mahir exchange a soft, knowing glance.
They don’t speak — they don’t need to. They’ve seen this before… her biggest fear.
Teacher (closing the file):
“They’re wonderful kids. Full of life. But they need structure — discipline. If they don’t balance fun with focus… they’ll fall behind.”
Both parents nod.
---
OUTSIDE THE CLASS
The trio sit on the floor, backs to the wall — the tension thick.
Aashvi (murmuring):
“Mujhe lagta hai is baar sach mein nahi bachenge…”
Vanya (nervously):
“Papa ne suna hoga kya… ‘mini firecracker’...”
Kikvi (holding her head):
“Maths mera dushman kyun hai, Bhagwaan ji…”
---
BACK INSIDE —
Teacher (serious now):
“There’s one last thing. I felt you both should know.”
She hesitates, then speaks gently.
Teacher:
“There are two students in class. They tease Kikvi. Especially when Aashvi and Vanya aren’t around. It mostly happens when she struggles in class — especially in maths. She shuts down afterwards. We’ve spoken to them, warned them. But… I thought you should be aware.”
The words land heavy.
Bela’s face tightens. Mahir’s jaw clenches. That wasn’t mischief. That was cruelty — and it hit too close.
Bela (quietly, firmly):
“Thank you, Ma’am. We’ll take care of it.”
Mahir (soft, but serious):
“Very seriously.”
---
IN THE CAR — ON THE WAY HOME
The car moves steadily down the familiar lane from school to home, but the atmosphere inside feels anything but normal.
Bela sits in the passenger seat, her arms crossed, eyes fixed out the window. Mahir drives silently, jaw tense, his usual hum of music absent.
In the backseat — the three partners-in-crime turned silent statues.
Aashvi sits stiffly, her hands clutched around her water bottle like a stress toy.
Vanya keeps her gaze low, her feet swinging nervously, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes.
Kikvi sits squished in the corner, her head tilted down, eyes outside the window to distract herself.
The silence is deafening. No one dares speak.
The usual bickering? Gone.
The usual giggles? Missing.
All that remains is guilt… and worry.
Bela finally glances into the rearview mirror. All three girls flinch.
She says nothing.
Mahir’s hand gently squeezes the steering wheel, but he, too, stays quiet. Disappointment hangs in the air, heavier than any scolding could’ve been.
---
SEHGAL HOUSE — LIVING ROOM
The front door clicks open. The girls walk in slowly, dragging their feet, school bags still clinging to their backs like weighty reminders of the day.
They expect thunder. Instead, Bela simply says, her voice low and steady:
Bela (calm but firm):
“Bags room mein rakho. Kapde badlo. Phir yahin aana.”
The trio gulps, nodding like little soldiers. No questions asked. They quietly shuffle to their room.
---
FEW MINUTES LATER —
The girls return, now in home clothes, sitting in a line on the couch — shoulders touching, knees close, like a wall of nervous defense. Bela and Mahir sit opposite, serious but composed.
Mahir looks directly at Vanya first, his tone firm but not unkind.
Mahir (to Vanya):
“Vanu… padhai ko leke Mumma-Papa ko kabhi complaint nahi mili. We’re proud of you. But badmaashi ki bhi ek limit hoti hai. Teachers ko pareshaan karna… that’s not manners. Samjhi?”
Vanya (softly, holding her ears):
“Okay Papa… Vanu sorry…”
Bela’s eyes shift sharply to Aashvi, her voice taking on a colder edge.
Bela:
“Aashvi… Intelligence se farak nahi padta agar focus nahi hoga. Pranks aur badmaashi se padhai effect ho rahi hai. Class mein dhyaan diya karo. You want silly mistakes ki wajah se tum peeche ho jao baaki sab se.. Aur notebooks... woh drawing copy nahi hoti. Kal se main har din tumhara classwork check karungi. Samjhi?”
Aashvi lowers her head, genuinely remorseful, clutching her ears.
Aashvi:
“Sorry Mumma… Ab se dhyaan dungi. Pakka.”
On the side, Kikvi stays completely quiet — head lowered, fingers nervously twisting in her lap. The elephant in the room — her maths marks — hangs over her like a cloud.
Mahir and Bela glance at each other briefly, then both look at Kikvi.
Bela (stern, yet gentle):
“Kiku… Look at me.”
Kikvi slowly lifts her tear-filled eyes. But before they can say anything, she bursts out, ears held tight, voice trembling:
Kikvi (choking):
“Mumma… I’m sorry! Mujhe pata hai maths mein fail ho gayi… main try ki thi par… main bhool gayi… main… main—”
There’s a pause. Then Bela’s voice softens, her eyes now moist.
Bela:
“Kiku, fail hona bura nahi hota. Lekin give up karna… woh bura hota hai.”
Mahir (calmly):
“Woh bacche jo tumhe pareshaan kar rahe the… unke baare mein tumne pehle bataya kyun nahi?”
Kikvi shrinks in her seat, shoulders trembling.
Aashvi and Vanya’s eyes shoot up in shock.
Aashvi (fuming):
Kya?! Kiku, kisne pareshaan kiya tujhe? Tune bataya kyun nahi? Main uska muh tod deti!”
Vanya (angrily):
“Haan Kiku! Team Aashvi se tu ne baat chhupayi! Rule break kiya!”
Kikvi (broken, through tears):
“Mumma... woh... Aashi aur Vanu ko gussa aa jaata… woh dono lad lete unse… unhe chot lag jaati toh? Principal sir complaint karte… phir aap dono bhi gussa ho jaate… isiliye chup thi…”
That cracks something inside Bela. She immediately leans forward and cups Kikvi’s face, wiping her tears gently.
Bela (softly):
“Meri jaan, strong banna zaroori hai… lekin chup rehna strength nahi hoti. Strength hoti hai jab hum apne Mumma-Papa pe bharosa karte hain… jab hum sach bolte hain.”
Aashvi (voice low, guilty):
“Miss ne bola tha na… woh kabhi kabhi mere bina usse tease karte hain… Tu batati toh main kuch karti…”
She grabs Kikvi’s hand tightly.
Aashvi (soft but fierce):
“Mujhe protect karna chahiye tha. Mujhe sunna chahiye tha. Meri Kiku ko koi tease kare… main kaise chhup baithi rahungi?”
Vanya (sniffling):
“Mujhe bhi… Next time se mat chhupana. Team Aashvi mein no secrets. Rule yaad hai na?”
Kikvi (small nod, whispering):
“Rule no. 1… no secrets between us…”
The three sisters pull into a soft hug — no noise, just quiet warmth.
The tender sisterly hug still lingers, but Bela’s expression hardens. She slowly stands up, arms folded, eyes narrowing directly at Kikvi.
Bela (sharp, furious):
“Waise… kisi ne kaha tha full marks milenge, haan? ‘Mumma, full marks ayenge’ — yeh hain tere full marks?”
Kikvi stiffens. Her lips tremble as her gaze drops to the floor. Her throat tightens.
Kikvi (stammering):
“Mumma… maine… maine try kiya tha… par… woh—”
But Bela cuts her off — her voice no longer soft. It strikes like thunder, heavy with betrayal.
Bela (angrily):
“Bas! Try kiya hota toh jhooth nhi bolna padta, Problem tumhara maths ko leke dar nahi hai. Problem yeh hai ki tumne school mein jhooth bola. Test ke din pet dard ka drama kiya? Seriously, Kiku? Aur teachers se bhi jhooth?! Teen baar test skip kiya tumne.. Tumse toh yeh bilkul expect nahi kiya tha maine! In dono ko rokti ho galat kaam karne se aur khud itna bada jhooth bola”
Aashvi and Vanya jolt slightly at Bela’s rising temper. Their eyes widen.
Aashvi (whispering to Vanya):
“Aaj toh Kiku gayi… Mumma toh full gusse mein hai.”
Vanya (whispering back, panicked):
“Wahi toh… aur wo jhooth wali baat sirf humein pata thi… hum bhi na phas jaayein kahin…”
Kikvi’s dam breaks. She covers her face with her hands, sobbing harder.
Kikvi (choking, through tears):
“Mujhe kuch yaad nahi aa raha tha… ma’am ne achanak test ka bola… aur jaise hi ‘start’ kaha… sab dimaag se nikal gaya… main darr gayi thi, Mumma… mujhe laga main ro padhungi sabke saamne…”
Bela’s voice drops to a deadly calm — a chilling contrast to the storm in her eyes.
Bela (coldly):
“Darna galat nahi hota, Kiku… lekin jhooth bolna galat hota hai. Tum test se nahi bhagi… tum zimmedaari se bhaagi. Aur jhooth tumne sirf apne Mumma-Papa ko nahi, school ko, teachers ko, sabko bola hai.”
She turns sharply toward Aashvi and Vanya now, her voice sharp as a blade.
Bela (stern):
“Tum dono ne saath kaise diya is jhooth mein? Mujhe kyu nahi bataya? Galti mein saath dena bhi utna hi galat hota hai jitna khud galti karna. Wo dar gayi thi lekin tum dono ko pata tha na ki yeh galat h.. Roka kyu nhi.. Wo rokti h na tum dono ko jab kuch galat karte ho.. Then tum dono ne kyu nhi kiya?”
The trio sits frozen — their guilt now written all over their faces.
Mahir (disappointed, calm):
“This is serious, girls. Jhooth bolna bad manners h.. Yeh koi galti nhi h… it’s a choice.”
Bela walks to the nearby table and picks up a crumpled paper — the PTM notice.
Bela (disbelief, hurt):
“Yeh PTM ka notice form kal mila tha, right? Kyu nahi diya mujhe? Form bhi sign nahi karwaya… Upar se pura kharab kar diya jisse hume kuch pata na chale.. Ab baatein chhupane lage ho tum log Mumma-Papa se?”
The girls lower their heads, silent.
Bela exhales sharply, then points at the dining table.
Bela (icy tone):
“Rough notebooks leke aao… Teeno. Abhi.”
They look up slowly, confused and scared.
Bela (firm):
“Har ek ko 100 baar likhna hai — ‘I will never lie to Mumma-Papa.’”
The girls gasp in unison.
Vanya (softly, pleading):
“Mumma… please…”
Bela (final):
“No requests. No drama. Sau baar. Abhi.”
The trio begins walking hesitantly toward the table, their shoulders heavy with guilt. But Bela stops Kikvi midway, her gaze extra stern.
Bela (extra firm):
“Aur Kiku… tum yeh likhne ke baad 2 se 10 tak ke tables bhi likhogi. 3 times Pura. Clear handwriting mein. Samjhi?”
Kikvi (nodding, trembling):
“J-Ji Mumma…”
Mahir (softly to Bela):
“Bela… thoda zyada nahi ho raha?”
Bela (firm but softening):
“Mahir ji, please.”
Mahir nods silently, understanding.
The girls take their seats at the table, pick up their pencils, and begin writing — each stroke slow, labored, full of the weight of their mistakes.
LIVING ROOM – NIGHT
The room is unusually quiet.
The girls sit at the dining table, heads bowed, scribbling into their rough notebooks. The only sound is the scratch of pencils on paper.
Aashvi and Vanya are halfway through their punishment lines. Their hands have begun to ache. They shift uncomfortably in their seats, wrists sore, eyes heavy.
But Kikvi — her face is pale, fingers trembling. She’s already done the 100 lines… and is now on her second round of writing tables from 2 to 10, three times each.
Her little fingers cramp. Her wrist jerks mid-word. She presses her palm and flexes it, trying to hide the pain.
But she doesn't say a word.
She just clenches her jaw… and keeps writing.
Nearby, Bela stands silently with arms folded, leaning against the wall. She watches them — especially Kikvi. Her sharp eyes miss nothing.
Aashvi glances at Vanya. They nod slightly. Quietly, they slide their notebooks toward the center and begin jotting down multiplication tables onto a small sheet — planning to pass it secretly to Kikvi to help her finish faster.
Just as Aashvi extends the help-sheet toward Kikvi—
Bela’s voice cuts through like lightning.
Bela (stern):
“Notebook apni taraf rakho. Sabko apna kaam khud karna hai. Help karna sirf tab sahi hota hai jab koi maange — aur yeh punishment hai, help nahi.”
The girls flinch. Vanya slowly pulls back the sheet, shame-faced.
Kikvi doesn’t look up.
Her hand shakes violently…
And suddenly—
Her pencil slips. Clatters onto the floor.
She gasps, her eyes darting toward Bela, terrified.
For a second, the room stills.
Then, without a word, Kikvi bends, picks up the pencil with her aching fingers, adjusts her posture…
…and starts writing again.
Her handwriting is shaky, her palm red, but she refuses to cry now. Not after what she’s done.
Bela watches — eyes unblinking. Her jaw clenches, her heart pulled tight — but she says nothing. Her silence carries weight, and Kikvi senses it.
Time crawls.
Finally — after what feels like an hour —
Kikvi puts the final full stop at the end of her last table. Her head is spinning, her fingers stiff, but she doesn’t say a word.
She quietly places the notebook on the edge of the table and folds her hands in her lap.
Bela walks over.
She picks up the notebook, flips through the pages, scanning the lines.
She says nothing for a long moment.
Then —
Bela (quietly, but firmly):
“Kaam complete hua. That’s good. Kal se school ke baad hum dono milke maths kareinge. Daily. Understood?”
Kikvi (hoarse whisper):
“Ji Mumma…”
Bela:
“Ab jaake haath dho. Cream lagao. Aur seedha so jaana. No cartoons. No playing.”
Kikvi nods again and slowly gets up.
As she walks past, she pauses beside Bela.
For a fleeting moment — she looks up, eyes tired, lips trembling — not in fear now, but hoping for a flicker of forgiveness.
Bela sees it.
But still, she doesn’t smile.
She simply raises a hand and gently pats Kikvi’s head — once.
Kikvi’s eyes shimmer.
She walks away silently, holding onto that tiny touch as if it’s the warmest hug.
GIRLS’ BEDROOM – NIGHT
The moonlight filters softly through the curtains. The room is dimly lit by a tiny night lamp shaped like a bunny on the study table.
Kikvi sits cross-legged on the bed, in her nightdress, fingers still sore. She rubs her palms together gently, trying not to wince.
Just then — Aashvi walks in, carrying a small tub of hand cream, and Vanya follows her with a warm towel and a sipper of water.
Aashvi (gently):
“Bas… ab tu koi drama nhi karegi. Tera haath main theek karungi, samjhi?”
Vanya (with a sweet grin):
“Aur main teri nurse hoon!”
Kikvi (tired smile):
“Tum dono ke aage aaj tak chali h meri.. Jo ab chalegi”
They all giggle softly.
Aashvi sits beside her and opens the cream tub. She starts massaging Kikvi’s tiny palm — slowly, carefully.
Aashvi (whispering):
“Bohot dard ho raha h na?”
Kikvi(smiles seeing her sister's love) :
"Doctor Aashi aur Nurse Vanu h mere pass toh Dard kaisa.. Wo toh abhi choomantar ho jayega"
Vanya:
“Mujhe toh likhte likhte aisa laga tha meri ungliyaan classroom mein reh gayi hain…”
Kikvi chuckles through her exhaustion.
Kikvi :
"Tum dono ko bhi dard ho raha hoga na? Ruko mai karti hu ab"
Kikvi takes their hands , then starts massaging.
Kikvi (softly):
“Sorry… tum dono ko bhi punish hona pada meri wajah se…”
Vanya (instantly):
“Aree pagal! Tu humari behen hai! Tere liye toh koi bhi punishment chalega!”
Aashvi (mock dramatic):
“Haan! Kal se tu kuch bhi jhooth bole toh humein pehle batana… taaki hum plan bana sakein!”
They burst into quiet laughter again. Kikvi kisses their palms in love feeling blessed to to have them by their side always supporting her.
Then Vanya gently covers Kikvi with the soft pink blanket and crawls in beside her. Aashvi switches off the lamp and cuddles up on the other side.
Kikvi lies in the middle, warm between them, her eyes fluttering shut.
Kikvi (half-asleep):
“Tum dono ho toh… kuch bhi theek ho jaata hai. Mujhe kabhi chod ke mat jaana”
Aashvi (kissing her forehead):
“Humesha rahenge, Kiku.”
Vanya (snuggling closer):
“Promise.”
The three of them slowly drift into sleep — tangled together like puzzle pieces that fit just right.
GIRLS’ BEDROOM – LATER THAT NIGHT
The door opens with the faintest click.
Bela steps in quietly, her eyes immediately landing on the bed. Mahir follows behind her, holding three mugs of warm milk — one for each of them, untouched.
They don’t speak. They don’t need to.
The sight before them says everything.
Aashvi, Kikvi, and Vanya lie tangled together under the pink blanket, their little faces calm and full of peace. Aashvi’s arm is protectively curled around Kikvi’s middle. Vanya’s head rests against Kikvi’s shoulder. Their fingers are still slightly curled from the writing strain — but there’s a faint smile on their sleeping face.
Bela walks slowly toward them.
Her eyes soften — the sternness she wore all day now melted into quiet love.
She bends slightly, brushing back a loose strand of hair from each of their forehead.
Mahir (softly, beside her):
“Lagta hai saari thakaan is ek jadoo ki neend mein chali gayi…”
Bela (whispers, smiling faintly):
“Haan… aur saara gussa bhi.”
She gently lifts each of their hands in hers, inspecting it again. The fingers are less red now, but still tired-looking.
She brings their hands to her lips and kisses it softly. Her eyes linger a little longer on Kikvi's. She remembers how she expected a smile from her but her strict demeanor defied it.
Then, with great care, she pulls the blanket up to cover their shoulders fully and strokes each of their heads, one by one.
Bela (murmuring):
“Meri brave bacchiyan…”
She turns to Mahir.
Bela:
“Galti hoti hai… par agar yeh saath banaye rakha, in teeno ne toh har galti ek seekh ban jaayegi.”
Mahir (placing a hand on her back):
“Tumhe dekh ke toh yeh seekh rahe hain… sabse bada role model unke samne hi toh hai.”
Bela smiles at him, then looks back at the girls — a full, content smile this time.
Bela (softly):
“Good night, mere chhote soldiers…”
They turn off the lamp and quietly step out of the room, closing the door with the lightest click.
Behind it, the three sisters remain curled in each other’s arms, safe in a world where even scoldings end in love.
---
MASTER BEDROOM — LATE NIGHT
The house is silent now.
The girls are asleep — safe, warm, forgiven.
In the master bedroom, a soft amber lamp glows. Bela slowly shuts the door behind her and leans against it for a second — drained.
Mahir looks up from the bed. He opens his arms without a word.
Without hesitation, Bela walks over and melts into his embrace — resting her head against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist tightly.
Bela (softly, sighing):
“Bas… ab aur kuch bolne ki himmat nahi hai…”
Mahir gently strokes her hair, letting her soak in the quiet comfort.
Then, with a small smirk, he leans in near her ear.
Mahir (teasing):
“Oho… ab badi bacchi ko pyaar chahiye kya?”
Bela (half-laughing, lifting her head):
“Mahir ji…” [gently hits his chest]
“Main serious hoon…”
Mahir (chuckling):
“Main bhi… par thodi si muskaan bhi zaroori hoti hai, Madam SHO.”
They sit down together on the edge of the bed.
Bela pulls her legs up and leans against Mahir’s shoulder, eyes closed, letting her body relax completely.
But then… a flicker of worry creeps into her face.
Bela (quietly):
“Mahir ji… hum kuch galti toh nahi kar rahe hain na? Kiku ke saath… woh… shaant thi aaj bohot…”
Mahir doesn’t respond right away.
He turns slowly to look at her — really look.
He can see it all in her eyes — the storm of a mother’s guilt, the constant questioning, the endless love.
Mahir (softly):
“Bela…”
He cups her face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing her cheeks.
Mahir:
“Hum koi galti nahi kar rahe. Kiku sirf aur sirf humari beti hai. Uske har reaction mein ek cheez common thi — uska bharosa. Woh royi, darr gayi… par kabhi Mumma-Papa se door nahi bhaagi.”
Bela blinks at him, a little moisture forming again.
Bela:
“Par wo shaant ho gayi thi ekdum se… Kuch kaha bhi nhi.. Na koi shikayat”
Mahir smiles softly and pulls her forehead to his lips, kissing her gently.
Mahir (reassuring):
“Bacche kabhi kabhi khud ko blame karte hain jab unhe lagta hai ki unki wajah se mumma papa gussa h.
Par sach toh yeh hai — Hume gussa unki galti pe aata h. Pyaar toh kabhi kam nhi hota na
Tum uski duniya ho, Bela.
Aur woh tumhare hone se hi strong hai.”
He pulls her into another hug — this time longer, slower.
Then, a teasing twinkle lights up in his eyes again.
Mahir (grinning):
“Waise… meri theory sunogi?”
Bela (suspicious but smiling):
“Ab kya…”
Mahir (dramatic):
“Kiku na… usne Mumma-Papa dono ki best aur worst qualities inherit ki hain.”
Bela (raising an eyebrow):
“Woh kaise?”
Mahir (counting off fingers):
“Jab shaant hoti hai — Just like me… ekdum thoughtful.
Lekin jab badmashi pe aati hai — full Bela mode! Chhoti si SHO.”
Bela (laughs, nudging him):
“Haww! Toh aap keh rahe h main jhooth bolti thi school mein?”
Mahir (smirking):
“Nahi… main keh raha hoon ki tum bhi maths se bhaagti thi…”
Bela (pretending to gasp):
“Mahir ji! Maine kabhi maths se nhi bhaago hu…”
Mahir (interrupting with a grin):
“…toh kya? Teacher ko kabhi pet dard ka excuse nahi diya?”
Bela (blushing, mumbling):
“Ek baar diya tha… lekin woh situation alag thi…”
They both laugh — warm, full, relaxed. The laughter fades into a gentle quiet.
Bela lies down, pulling the blanket over herself. Mahir joins her, arm protectively draped across her waist.
Bela (softly):
“Thank you… for calming me down.”
Mahir (kissing her forehead):
“Humesha. Tum theek ho, hum theek hain.
Aur Kiku bhi theek ho jaayegi… because uske paas sabse strong Mumma hai.”
They both close their eyes, resting together peacefully.
They lie like that — until Mahir suddenly smirks, his eyes playful.
Mahir:
“Waise… agar hum character analysis karein…”
Bela (mock suspicious):
“Toh?”
Mahir (grinning):
“Toh Aashi bilkul tumhari photocopy hai.
Drama, nakhre, mischief — sab copy-paste kiya hai tumse!”
Bela (gasps, teasing):
“Oh really! Aap keh rahe h main drama queen hoon?”
Mahir:
“Main keh raha hoon Aashi jab bhi acting karti hai na… mujhe lagta hai tumhara mini version mere saamne khada hai.”
Bela sits up slightly, folding her arms with a smile.
Bela (with fake attitude):
“Fine! Toh phir Vanu kya hai? Mr. Calm, Mr. Gentle, Mr. Smiles-At-Chaos?
Bilkul aapke jaise.
Main kuch bhi boloon, reaction milega… ‘hmmm’…”
Mahir (laughing):
“Arey vo toh meri sweetheart hai — sabse sorted.
Tum gussa karo, Aashi chillaaye, Kiku chup ho jaaya kare —
Vanu bas ek bite chocolate ka leke sabka mood thik kar degi.”
Bela (giggling):
“Mini-Mahir in full control.”
They both laugh, warm and free — shedding the stress of the day like a second skin.
Mahir (smiling into her hair):
“Teeno alag hain… par teeno mein hum dono hain.”
Bela (softly):
“Haan… aur teeno mere dil ka tukda hain…”
She cuddles closer, resting her head on Mahir’s chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.
Mahir (closing his eyes):
“Aur tum mere dil ka… saara universe.”
The lamp is turned off. The night wraps them in quiet.
Together, they fall asleep — parents in love, still learning, still holding the weight of parenthood softly between their joined hearts. ❤️
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To be continued..
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