So let’s begin,
School Auditorium – Afternoon
The auditorium was electric with anticipation. Students filled every seat, teachers stood by the walls, and the judges whispered among themselves with serious expressions. The final trophies gleamed on the table like they were waiting for the right hands.
>
Akshu and Vanshu were already in the winners’ line, both glowing with pride.
But Khushi…
Khushi was standing at the side, nervously playing with her fingers, her breath uneven. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
Khushi (whispering to herself):
Bas naam aa jaye… please… bas ho jaye bhagwaan ji… ma’am ne kitni mehnat ki h… main fail nahi ho sakti…
Bela stood behind her, arms folded, expression calm but eyes quietly emotional. Mahir and Team Aashvi sat in the audience, tiny hands crossed, brows furrowed in the same tension.
Finally, the head judge stepped forward to the mic.
Judge:
“And now… the winners of the Debate Competition…”
Khushi squeezed her eyes shut.
Judge:
“Third position goes to… Sacred Elm School!”
A group of three students went up. Loud claps.
Khushi’s fingers trembled.
Judge:
“Second position goes to… Oakridge International!”
Akshu and Vanshu exchanged a glance — only the first position was left.
Khushi’s breath hitched.
Her pulse was in her ears.
The judge smiled.
Judge:
“And the first position… goes to someone who stunned us with clarity, conviction, and a closing line we will remember for years…”
Khushi’s heart dropped in her stomach.
The judge opened the envelope dramatically.
Judge (loud and clear):
“Khushi Agarwal– Greenfield Public School!”
For a second—
Everything
Stopped.
Khushi didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t blink.
Her brain couldn’t register the words.
Akshu (shouting):
“KHUSHIIIII!!!”
Vanshu (screaming):
“TUNE KAR DIYA YAAR!!!”
Khushi’s eyes widened, tears spilling instantly, her hands flying to her mouth in disbelief.
Khushi (choking, voice trembling):
“Mai… main… first…?”
Before she even realized it, her legs moved on their own.
She RAN.
RAN straight to where Akshu and Vanshu were standing.
Khushi (squealing, breathless):
“MAINE KAR DIYA!! MAINE KAR DIYA!!!!”
She threw her arms around both of them, hugging them so tightly that all three stumbled back laughing and crying.
Akshu (hugging her, teary):
“I knew it! I knew you would!!”
Vanshu (crying and laughing):
“Pagal ladki, tune literally hum sabka gala kharab kar diya chilla-chilla ke BUT IT WAS WORTH IT!”
They laughed, cried, held each other, their happiness exploding like fireworks.
Behind them, Bela watched — her stoic expression softening…
Her lips parted in a tiny, proud smile…
And for the first time that day, she let her tears gather without hiding them.
Mahir patted her shoulder gently, whispering:
Mahir:
“Tumne kar dikhaya, Bela. These girls… they did it.
Teeno.”
And on the stage, the unstoppable trio —
Akshu. Vanshu. Khushi.
— Glowed like they belonged there.
Together.
Victorious.
Unbreakable.
The trio stood on the stage, their hands slightly trembling as the trophies were placed in them—shiny, heavy, proof that their hard work meant something. Certificates were tucked under their arms, and the envelope with the ₹10,000 cash prize felt surreal—almost too grown-up for their small palms.
The applause echoed beautifully… but only for a moment.
Because as soon as they stepped off the stage, joy met silence.
All around them, other winners were swallowed into arms—fathers lifting kids, mothers crying happier tears than their children, families clicking dozens of photos, pulling cheeks, fixing hair, saying “Mera bacha!” with overwhelming pride.
Everywhere they looked, there were overjoyed parents who couldn’t stop celebrating their children.
And for a second… Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi stood still.
A hollow drop settled in their stomachs.
They had won. They had made Bela proud. They had achieved more than they ever imagined.
But the ache—
The ache of not having a pair of arms to run into,
Not having someone to kiss their foreheads,
Not hearing “I’m proud of you, beta”—
It washed over them silently.
Their trophies suddenly felt heavier.
Akshu swallowed hard, forcing a smile.
Vanshu blinked rapidly, refusing to let the sting in his eyes turn into tears.
And Khushi clutched her trophy to her chest as if it would fill the void.
They tried to be happy—really tried.
But when you see what you don’t have in a moment you deserved love the most…
Something inside you simply sinks.
They stood together, shoulder to shoulder, trying to rely on each other’s warmth—but the loneliness in such a joyful crowd was a feeling none of them could quite escape.
On one side, Bela stood talking to a group of teachers.
“Ma’am, your girls were outstanding,” a teacher praised.
“Yes, they’ve worked very hard,” Bela replied with her usual calm smile.
She was mid-sentence when her eyes drifted across the hall.
Her smile faded.
There, near the far wall, stood Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi—trophies in hand, shoulders close together, smiles forced but eyes… hollow.
That tiny ache of loneliness on their faces hit Bela like a punch.
Her voice stalled.
One teacher frowned. “Mrs. Sehgal? Everything okay?”
“Hm? Yes—yes. Just… I’ll be back in a moment.”
She excused herself politely.
A few feet away, Mahir was laughing with Team Aashvi as the kids jumped excitedly around him.
“Arre sambhal ke! Chot lag jayegi!” he teased as Team Aashvi was playing around and enjoying.
He chuckled—but then his gaze flickered toward Bela… and then to the trio.
His smile immediately dimmed.
He saw it too.
That quiet grief.
That emptiness.
He met Bela’s eyes across the hall.
No words.
Just one silent exchange.
Aapne dekha?
Haan.
He placed a hand on Aashi’s shoulder. “Baccho, main do minute mein aata hoon, okay? Yahi rehna akele kahi mat Jaana.”
Without waiting for any reply, he walked after Bela.
The trio didn’t notice them approaching at first.
They were too busy pretending.
Akshu tried to sound cheerful, “Hum… jeet gaye, guys. Can you believe it?”
Vanshu exhaled shakily. “Sabke parents kitne khush lag rahe hain…”
Khushi swallowed hard, biting back tears as she watched a mother kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Bas… thoda ajeeb lag raha hai,” she whispered.
That’s when Bela finally stepped close.
“Girls.”
They turned sharply.
“Ma’am,” Akshu forced a smile, wiping the corner of her eye quickly, as if hiding it. “Wo hum bas, aise hi baatein kar rahe the.”
“Haan, ma’am,” Vanshu added, lifting her trophy stiffly. “First place… for the first time.”
Khushi nodded fast. “Haa… we did our best Ma’am, aapke bina—”
Before she could finish, Bela simply stepped forward and enveloped all three of them into a tight hug.
A warm, firm, motherly embrace.
The kind they didn’t even know they desperately needed until that moment.
“My girls…” Bela whispered, voice thickening. “I am so, so proud of you. Bohot. I know I can’t fill that empty space, but always remember that I am here!”
The trio froze—then slowly leaned into her, their tears finally falling freely. Bela’s hug tightened as the trio clung to her, shoulders shaking, trophies digging awkwardly between them and yet none of them caring.
Khushi was the first to pull back, sniffing, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her eyes were wet, but there was a strange calm in them now—like something heavy had finally broken and spilled out.
She looked down at the gleaming trophy in her hand.
Then, without overthinking, she gently pressed it into Bela’s hands.
Bela blinked, startled.
“Khushi… yeh—?”
Before she could even finish, Vanshu moved too.
With trembling fingers, she slipped the medal’s ribbon over her own head… then carefully lifted it and looped it around Bela’s neck instead. The metal disc thudded softly against Bela’s chest.
“Vanshu, yeh kya—?” Bela’s brows shot up, confusion etched across her face.
And then Akshu, eyes still wet but smiling through it all, took her certificate—the one that had her name proudly printed in bold. She smoothed it once with her palm, then placed it gently in Bela’s free hand over the trophy.
Now Bela was standing there, arms full of their victories—trophy in one hand, certificate in the other, medal resting against her crisp kurta. Like she was the one who had just been called on stage.
She looked from the trophy… to the medal… to the certificate… then up at the three of them.
Bela (completely thrown, voice rough):
“Yeh… kya kar rahe ho tum log? Kya hai yeh sab, haan?”
Her tone tried to be scolding—but it cracked midway.
The trio glanced at each other, exchanging a silent nod.
Khushi stepped forward first, her voice shaking but sure.
Khushi (soft, sincere):
“Ma’am… hum teeno se zyada is jeet ki haqdaar aap h. Aap nahi hoti na… toh hum kabhi yeh sab nahi kar paate.”
Her eyes shimmered again, but this time with pride.
Vanshu (earnest, words tumbling out):
“Haan ma’am, sach mai. Aapke bina it was impossible. Aapne hume force kiya, daanta, sikhaya… You deserve this more than us. Please accept kar lijiye… please.”
She pushed the medal centre on Bela’s chest, as if insisting it belonged exactly there.
Akshu stepped closer, her voice low but steady.
Akshu:
“Humare liye winner aap h, ma’am. Hunesha. Aapka aur sir ka support nahi hota na… toh hum kab ka give up kar chuke hote. Especially jab Khushi ka selection cancel ho gaya tha…”
Her throat tightened at the memory.
She inhaled shakily and continued.
Akshu (honest, eyes glistening):
“Tab toh hum shayad back out hi kar jaate. Kyuki ek dusre ke bina hum kabhi participate nhi karte. Agar aap hum par believe nahi karti… toh hum kabhi wapas nahi jaa paate.”
Khushi nodded furiously, words spilling from her heart now.
Khushi (voice breaking, emotional):
“Haan ma’am… you fought for us. Principal Sir ke saamne khadi rahi, humare liye argue kiya… hume itna push kiya jab hum khud pe trust hi nahi kar pa rahe the. Aur… usi motivation ki wajah se aaj hum yaha hain. First place ke saath.”
She gestured weakly to the trophy now resting in Bela’s grasp.
Khushi (whispering):
“We will forever be grateful to you.”
For a long second, Bela just stared at them.
Her strict mask—the one every student feared, the one that even teachers respected—wobbled dangerously.
She looked down at her hands again.
At the symbol of their victory… now given to her like she was the real champion.
Her chest suddenly felt too tight.
Bela (voice low, trying to regain control):
“Pagal ho gaye ho tum log? Trophies… medals… certificates… yeh sab tumhare hard work ka nateeja hai. Maine sirf… raasta dikhaya h.”
Mahir, standing beside them, watched quietly. There was a faint, knowing smile on his face—as if he had always seen this moment coming.
Mahir (gently):
“Bela… bachche sahi keh rahe hain. Tumne sirf raasta nahi dikhaya. Tumne inhe chalna bhi sikhaya h. Girne nahi diya.”
Bela shot him a weak glare, as if silently saying “ab aap bhi mat shuru ho jaiye.” But her eyes were already glassy.
Akshu took a tiny step closer and carefully wrapped her hands around Bela’s fingers, curling them more firmly around the trophy.
Akshu (soft smile):
“Ma’am… please. Jab bhi hum is competition ko yaad karenge na… hum yahi bolenge—
‘Yeh jeet hamari nahi, ma’am ki hai.’
Toh trophy bhi wahi hogi jaha naam hai.”
Vanshu giggled wetly, trying to lighten the mood.
Vanshu:
“Exactly. Hum toh bas… aapke project ka successful result hai. Research paper aapka hai, ma’am. Credit bhi aapko hi milna chahiye.”
Khushi sniffed, adding quickly:
Khushi:
“Plus… jab bhi hum aapko yeh medal aur trophy ke saath dekhenge na… hume yaad aayega ki kisi ne humpe trust kiya tha. Even when we didn’t deserve it.”
That line broke something in Bela.
She exhaled slowly, a tear finally slipping free and tracing a path down her cheek. She didn’t bother to wipe it.
Bela (voice raw, almost a whisper):
“Tum log… samajhte bhi ho… tumne kya kar diya hai mere liye?”
The trio fell silent, watching her with wide, aching eyes.
Bela (continuing, heart in her voice):
“Main roz itne bachchon ko dekhti hoon. Kisi ko padhai se problem hoti hai, kisi ko discipline se. Bohot kam aise bachche hote hain jo apni limit cross karke, apne darr ke against ladte hain… Tum teeno ne wo kiya. Aur ab… yeh sab mujhe de rahe ho?”
She looked at the medal around her neck, then back at them.
Bela (choked laugh):
“Sach bataun? Mujhe lagta tha… main bas ek ‘strict teacher’ rah jaungi tumhare liye. Jo daant’ti hai, punish karti hai. Aaj tumne… mujhe thoda aur bana diya hai.”
Khushi frowned cutely through tears.
“Matlab?”
Bela smiled, eyes brimming.
Bela:
“Matlab… strict teacher se… shayad thoda sa… ‘proud guardian’ bana diya hai tum log ne. Jo yeh keh sakti hai ki—
‘These are my girls.’”
The trio broke into teary smiles.
Mahir reached them and gently placed a hand on Vanshu’s head.
“Arre,” he said softly, “winners udas thodi hote hain? Hum hai na tumhaare saath.”
Mahir clapped his hands gently. “Chalo! Chalo! Ab bohot ho gaya rona.. Aise hi rote rahe toh photo acchi nhi ayegi samjhe, Smile! It’s photo session time.. Aashi, Vanu, Kiku aa jao baccho!”
For the first time, the trio smiled — real, warm, and full.
Akshu whispered under her breath:
Akshu (soft):
“Hum akele nahi hain.”
Khushi squeezed her hand.
“Never.”
Vanshu leaned in, grinning.
“Humari team hi humari family hai.”
Because in that moment, they didn’t feel parentless.
They felt loved.
They felt held.
They felt home.
The three little rockets came zooming toward them — Aashi, Vanu, and Kiku, all squealing, jumping, and glowing with excitement.
Aashi skidded to a stop right in front of Akshu, hands on her hips like a proud soldier.
Aashi (dramatically clearing her throat):
“Waise Aashi ko tareef karna pasand nahi hota… BUT!”
(She raises a finger)
“Aapne bohot accha khela tha. I am proud of you, didi! Mujhe bhi aapki tarah champion banna h aur sabko harana h.”
(Then grinning wide)
“Ab main apni class mein sabko bataungi ki meri didi badminton champion hai! Phir main famous ho jaungi!”
Akshu blinked at her, hands on her waist.
Akshu:
“Oh hello madam! Jeeta maine h aur flaunt tum karogi? Aur yeh kaunsa tareeka hota hai kisi ko appreciate karne ka, haan?”
Aashi (hair flip, attitude full on):
“Aashvi Sehgal aise hi appreciate karti hai didi.
Nahi chahiye toh mat lo. Simple.”
Akshu (faking annoyance):
“Haan toh maangi kisne hai tumse tareef?”
Aashi gasped dramatically like someone insulted her royal ego.
Meanwhile, Mahir watched the two of them argue, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Mahir (shaking his head with a helpless smile):
“Bas yehi reh gaya tha… senior Akshu vs junior Aashvi.”
Khushi and Vanshu pressed their hands to their mouths to stop their laughter.
Bela, though pretending to glare, failed miserably — the corner of her lips betraying a smile.
Seeing the argument escalate again, Vanu stepped in like the tiny peacekeeper.
Vanu (pulling Aashi’s sleeve):
“Aashi bas kar! Phir fight kar rahi hai didi se!”
Aashi (indignant):
“Tu chup kar Vanu! Main toh tareef kar rahi hoon acche se… par inko WO BHI pasand nahi!”
Vanu smacked her own forehead dramatically, turning to Vanshu instead.
Vanshu burst out laughing at the contrast — senior vs junior version of the same chaos.
Vanu (in her tiny soft voice):
“Didi… mai aapki toffee… nahi, tro…
Toffee… dekh sakti hoon?”
She meant trophy — and everyone knew it.
Vanshu knelt down to her height, her heart melting at Vanu’s sparkling eyes.
Vanshu (gently):
“Haan baby, dekh sakti ho. Yeh lo.”
She handed her the trophy carefully.
The little girl held it as if it were a crown jewel.
Vanu (whispering in awe):
“Yeh toh bohot sundar hai, didi…”
She traced the shiny stars engraved on it with her tiny fingers.
Then her eyes widened with a new burst of excitement.
Vanu:
“Sundar drawing banane se agar yeh milta hai na…
Toh main roz sabse best drawing banaungi!”
(Her face lit up like a bulb)
“Aur aapki tarah BEST drawing banaake
Apne liye bhi toffee le aaungi!”
She hugged the trophy to her chest like it was her future destiny.
Everyone — Akshu, Vanshu, Khushi, Bela, Mahir — broke into warm laughter.
Even Aashi stopped fighting for a second.
Aashi (rolling her eyes fondly):
“Hey bhagwan … yeh toffee girl kab sudhregi?”
Vanu (offended):
“Main toffee girl nahi hoon! Main toh vanshu didi ki tarah artist banungi!”
And the entire group burst into giggles again — their earlier sadness washed away entirely by the infectious chaos of the kids.
Kiku had been quiet for a while, clutching her own hands, watching everyone celebrate.
But her eyes kept drifting to Khushi — the girl who had stood on that huge stage, faced a hall full of strangers and judges, and still won.
Finally, gathering courage, she walked up to Khushi and tugged her shirt gently.
Kiku (soft, hesitant):
“Didi… aapko… dar nahi laga tha?
Itne saare log… sabke saamne bolna…
Main hoti na… toh shayad ro padti.”
Her eyes were big, honest, filled with admiration and a little bit of doubt about herself.
Khushi froze for a second — that question hit her straight in the heart.
Because Kiku had unknowingly spoken the exact fear she herself had felt standing on that stage.
Khushi slowly bent down to Kiku’s height.
She cupped her little cheek, her voice soft, trembling with truth.
Khushi (gently):
“Dar toh mujhe bhi lag raha tha, Kiku…
Bohot zyada.”
Kiku blinked, surprised.
Khushi smiled through the lingering traces of her anxiety.
Khushi:
“Stage pe jaake haath bhi thande ho gaye the mere.
Aur jab saare log dekh rahe the na…
Mujhe laga main bol hi nahi paungi.”
Kiku’s eyes widened — didi was scared?
Khushi turned slightly, her gaze shifting to Bela… then to Akshu and Vanshu, all three standing a few steps behind, watching her with the proudest eyes.
Khushi pointed at them softly.
Khushi:
“Par ek baat pata hai, Kiku?”
Kiku leaned forward unconsciously.
Khushi (smiling, voice warm and full of faith):
“Jab aapke saath aapki family ho na…
Jo aapko motivate kare…
Jo aapke upar vishwas rakhe…”
Her voice thickened with emotion.
“Tab dar apne aap bhaag jaata hai.”
Kiku followed her gaze toward Bela, Mahir, and the trio.
Khushi (continuing with full sincerity):
“Jab tak aapke parents aapke saath h na…
Aur aapke paas world ki BEST sisters ho…
Jo har situation mein saath khadi ho…”
Her thumb wiped a tiny tear forming at Kiku’s eye.
“Tab kuch bhi mushkil nahi lagta.”
Kiku swallowed, her heart swelling.
Khushi touched her forehead to hers gently.
Khushi (soft whisper):
“Aap bhi sab kar loge, Kiku…
Dekhna.
Bas vishwas rakhna apne aap pe…
Aur hum sab pe.”
Kiku’s eyes sparkled — pride, love, and hope all mixing at once.
She suddenly threw her arms around Khushi’s neck tightly.
Kiku (muffled, emotional):
“Main bhi didi jaise brave banungi… pakka!”
Akshu and Vanshu exchanged a soft, proud smile.
Even Bela’s eyes softened — that deep, fierce pride only a mentor-mother figure can feel.
And for a brief moment…
It didn’t matter who won what.
They just stood there —
A family,
Bound not by blood,
Bela stood a few steps away, arms folded lightly, watching Khushi and Kiku’s heart-melting exchange… watching Akshu and Vanshu smiling proudly… watching her daughters radiating joy.
And once again, that familiar warmth rose in her chest —
A reassurance.
A confirmation.
That the decision she once made… to choose these three girls, to guide them, to protect them, to make them something…
It was not wrong.
Not even a little.
For a second, her eyes softened — full of pride, affection and quiet satisfaction.
Then, like always, she cleared her throat, masking her emotions under her practical tone.
Bela (straightening up):
“Chalo, chalo! Bohot ho gaya ab.
Sab thak gaye honge… ghar chalna hai.”
Instantly, the little ones snapped out of their emotional bubble.
Kiku (dramatically clutching her stomach):
“Haan mumma… bohot zor ki bhookh lag rahi hai!”
Vanu (tugging Mahir’s T-shirt, pouting):
“Mujhe bhi, papa… chalo na kuch khaate hain!”
Mahir bent a little to her height, brushing her hair back affectionately.
Mahir (with a grin):
“Okay girls… ab celebration time!”
(He clapped his hands once)
“Hum ek acche se restaurant jayenge… party karenge… aur bohot maze karenge.
Let’s go!”
The three little rockets screamed in excitement —
“YAYYYYY!”
— Jumping, spinning, already arguing about what to eat.
Behind them, Akshu, Vanshu and Khushi exchanged smiles — tired smiles, yes… but the kind filled with deep contentment after a long, victorious day.
They held their trophies close, not for the shine… but for what they stood for.
Mahir turned to Bela as he started walking backward toward the gate.
Mahir:
“Main gaadi nikaal raha hoon.
Tum log parking mein aa jao.”
Bela gave a small nod, adjusting the files in her hand.
Bela:
“Haan, main yahan sab check karke…
Principal sir se permission leke aati hoon.”
Mahir gave her a thumbs up before jogging off toward the parking lot.
Bela finally finished speaking with the Principal, collected the clearance slip, and stepped outside.
In the parking lot, Mahir already had the car pulled up — engine running, door open, and three restless mini-humans bouncing inside like popcorn kernels.
Aashi (leaning out of the window):
“Mummmaaa! Jaldi aao! Mujhe bohot bhookh lagi hai! Main bas marne wali hoon!”
Vanu (correcting her):
“Nahi mummy… Aashi marne wali nahi, bas rone wali hoti hai jab bhookh lagti hai.”
Aashi:
“VANU! Chup reh!”
Kiku (from the backseat, counting seats seriously):
“Papa! Peeche jagah kam hai! Kaun kahan baithega? Planning karo!”
Mahir rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
Mahir:
“Haan general sahiba, abhi karta hoon.”
Bela walked up with Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi — trophies in hand.
Bela (pointing sternly):
“Koi seat pe khada na mile. Sab belt laga kar baitho. Samjhe?”
The three kids instantly sat like well-trained soldiers.
Aashi (whispering to Vanu):
“Dekha?Sabko chup karane ka superpower… sirf mumma ke pass h.”
Vanu (wise nod):
“Warna papa toh kab se bol rahe the… koi nahi sun raha tha.”
Mahir:
“Main yahin hoon. Sun sakta hoon.”
The girls giggled.
After a two-minute debate that felt like a parliament session:
Mahir was driving.
Bela sat in the front passenger seat.
Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi squeezed into the middle row.
Aashi, Vanu, and Kiku took the last row — their natural habitat of chaos.
The moment the car started..
FOOD CHANTS BEGIN
Aashi (shouting from the back):
“Mummaaaa! Restaurant kitna door hai?!”
Vanu:
“Mujhe noodles chahiye! Bilkul lamba wala!”
Kiku:
“Aur mujhe french fry ka mountain!”
Akshu (rolling her eyes):
“French fry ka mountain? Beta restaurant hai, Everest nahi.”
Kiku stuck her tongue out at her dramatically.
Suddenly Aashi yelled—
Aashi:
“Papa! Music lagao! Dance wala! Mujhe celebrate karna hai!”
Before Mahir could respond—
Vanu:
“Nahi papa! Soft song lagao! Mujhe neend aa rahi hai!”
Kiku:
“Nahi nahi! Krishna ji ka bhajan lagao!”
Mahir looked helplessly at Bela.
Mahir:
“Teen bachche, teen moods. Main kya karu?”
Bela (deadpan):
“Gaadi bandh kar dijiye . Sab chup ho jayenge.”
Instant silence.
Even Akshu and Vanshu choked on their breath trying not to laugh.
Aashi dramatically whispered to Vanu:
Aashi:
“Mumma se panga nahi lena.”
Vanu leaned forward and whispered to Vanshu sweetly.
Vanu:
“Didi… mujhe aapki toffee… matlab trophy… phir se dekhni hai.”
Aashi instantly popped up.
Aashi:
“Haan! Aur mujhe Akshu didi ki racket trophy chahiye!”
Akshu:
“Racket TROPHY nahi hoti, madam.”
Aashi:
“Par dikhne mein trophy jaisi hi lagti hai!”
She grabbed the racket and posed like she won Wimbledon.
Mahir looked at her through the rear-view mirror.
Mahir:
“Aashi, yeh racket se kisi ko maar mat dena —”
THACK!
Kiku screamed.
Kiku:
“Aashiiii! Mere mathhe pe lagi!”
Aashi:
“Sorryyyyyy! Galti se ho gaya! Trophy heavy hai!”
Bela:
“AASHI. SIT. STRAIGHT.”
Aashi sat straighter than an army cadet.
In the middle row, the older trio finally relaxed.
Khushi leaned her head on the window, the city lights passing her like soft rays.
Khushi (whispering):
“Yaar… kitna crazy din tha.”
Akshu:
“Haan. Par we did it.”
Vanshu (smiling softly):
“Together.”
Bela turned slightly, watching them with that rare softness she hid from the world.
Bela (quietly, to Mahir):
“They deserved this day.”
Mahir (smiling back):
“Haan. Aur yeh party bhi.”
From the back—
Kiku:
“Mummaaa! Papa! Aur kitni der hai?”
“Mere pet mein chuhe daud rahe hai!”
The whole car burst into laughter.
**And the car sped off…
Full of tired champions, hungry kids, and the sweetest chaos possible…
Toward their celebration dinner.**
🍽️ THE RESTAURANT —
The group entered the bright, warmly lit family restaurant. Soft music floated in the background, and a giant neon board at the entrance flashed cheerfully:
“WELCOME TO SPICE & SWIRL!”
Aashi stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening dramatically.
Aashi (loud gasp):
“MUMMMAAA! Yaha toh AC bhi chal raha hai… aur lights kitni sundar lag rahi hain! Yeh toh REAL restaurant lag raha hai!”
Mahir (facepalming):
“Toh pehle jaha gaye the who kya tha? Dhaba?”
Aashi nodded with full honesty.
Aashi:
“Haan papa… wahan toh AC nahi tha.”
Bela (one sharp glare):
“Aashi…”
Aashi zipped her lips instantly.
The waiter guided them toward a long table, but before he could say anything—
Kiku (sprinting):
“Main mumma ke paas baithungi!”
Aashi:
“Nahi! Main baithungi! Main team leader hoon!”
Vanu:
“Main papa ke paas baithungi!”
Akshu (half-dead):
“Mujhe toh bas chair chahiye… nahi toh mai behosh ho jaungi bhookh se.”
Khushi (laughing):
“Mujhe bhi!”
Vanshu:
“Aur mujhe toh fever jaisa lag raha hai… itni thakaan…”
Bela tapped the elder trio on the head—light, precise, and full of warning.
Bela:
“Drama band karo teenon. Seedhe baitho.”
They straightened immediately like disciplined cadets.
The waiter appeared with a hopeful smile and notepad in hand.
Waiter:
“Sir, what would you like to order?”
Mahir:
“Haan toh—”
Aashi (slicing his sentence in half):
“PASTA! And garlic bread!”
Vanu:
“Noodles! Super long! Extra long! Ultra long!”
Kiku:
“French fry mountain! Jo maine bola tha!”
The waiter blinked.
Waiter (confused smile):
“Ma’am… mountain size nahi aata…”
Kiku (serious, business tone):
“Toh do plate le aao uncle. Mountain ban jayega.”
Akshu and Vanshu erupted into laughter.
Waiter (to Akshu):
“And for you, ma’am?”
Akshu (dazed, barely functioning):
“Mujhe kuch bhi spicy chalega… pav bhaji, misal pav… aur haa chas(buttermilk) mandatory h uske bina khana adhura h mera, aaj ke match ke baad energy hi nahi bachi.”
Aashi (teasing):
“Toh soup le lo! Old people soup!”
Akshu:
“AASHI! TU CHUP REH!”
Aashi beamed proudly while the others giggled.
Waiter (to Vanshu):
“And you?”
Vanshu:
“Hmmm… ek cheese burst pizza.”
Bela turned toward her like she asked for poison.
Bela:
“CHEESE BURST? Competition jiti ho tum ya heart attack lene ka plan banaya h haa?”
Vanshu (full puppy eyes mode):
“Ma’ammm… pleaseee… celebration day hai…”
Bela (defeated sigh):
“Haan theek hai. Ek din ka cheat chal sakta hai.”
Vanshu discreetly fist-pumped.
Waiter (to Khushi):
“And for you, ma’am?”
Khushi:
“Mujhe ek cold coffee aur… hakka noodles.”
Akshu:
“WHATTT? Noodles with coffee?! YUCK!”
Khushi (shrugs):
“Kuch bhi ho… mujhe accha lagta hai. Aur waise chas ke saath Chinese khane se toh better hi h.”
Aashi:
“Didi, aapko kuch karne ki zarurat hi nahi, aap waise bhi smart ho.”
Khushi melted instantly, cheeks turning warm.
Finally — Bela and Mahir
Waiter (relieved):
“Sir and ma’am?”
Mahir:
“Humare liye… ek paneer tikka, ek dal makhni, butter roti—”
Aashi (again interrupting):
“Papa aap roz paneer hi kyun khate ho?! Boring!”
Mahir:
“Kyunki main shanti se khana chahta hoon. Aur tum teeno shaitaan mujhe khane hi nahi dete.”
Bela (completely dry, classic Bela tone):
“Koi faayda nahi beta. Aapke papa ko roti khaaye bina shaanti nahi milti. Five-star hotel le jao tab bhi inka order yahi hoga. Inke choices hi boring hote hain.”
Mahir (stunned and betrayed):
“BELA… tum bhi?!”
The whole table burst into laughter.
The moment the dishes landed—
Aashi:
“GARLIC BREADDDD!”
She snatched the whole basket.
Vanu attacked the noodles.
Kiku stacked french fries into a mountain with scary dedication.
Akshu:
“Yeh kya bana rahi ho?”
Kiku:
“Art. Vanshu didi ki student hoon.”
Vanshu (folding arms, proud teacher mode):
“Koi baat nahi… sikh rahi hai.”
Meanwhile, Khushi lifted her cold coffee like a CEO beginning her board meeting.
Khushi (sighing theatrically):
“Finally… peace.”
But two seconds later—
Aashi (screaming):
“DIDIII! Dekho! Pasta ka VOLCANO!”
Khushi choked on her coffee mid-sip.
Between laughter, clinking plates and chaotic snack-wars…
The elder trio shared a small, unexpected pause.
Akshu (soft, almost whispering):
“Yaar… kabhi nahi socha tha ke hum iss tarah celebrate karenge. Ghar se dur hoke bhi… itna apnapan milega.”
Vanshu:
“Haan… family jaisa feel hota hai. Sach mein.”
Khushi smiled — eyes unexpectedly shining.
Khushi:
“Haan… apni family jaisa.”
Across the table, Bela and Mahir watched them —
Exhausted, content, glowing with belonging.
They exchanged a small, quiet smile —
The kind that said:
“We chose right. We did good by them.”
AFTER-DINNER CHAAT SCENE —
The group stepped out of the restaurant, stretching and sighing after the heavy dinner.
But the moment Bela looked across the road… her eyes lit up like Diwali lights.
There they were —
A full row of footpath stalls:
✨ Golgappa wala
✨ Ice cream cart
✨ Chaat vendor with sizzling tawa
✨ Cotton candy stand
And Bela instantly stopped walking.
She leaned toward Mahir, whispering like a child plotting something secret.
Bela (soft, excited whisper):
“Mahir ji… chaliye na mujhe chaat khani hai.”
Mahir looked at her, already smiling because he knew this woman better than anyone.
Mahir (teasing):
“Abhi toh dinner kiya hai madam. Pet nahi bhara kya?”
Bela shot him a legendary Bela glare — the one that meant
Don’t question my love for chaat.
Bela:
“Aap chal rahe hain ya nahi?
Mai ja rahi hoon.
Aap sambhaliye bacchon ko.”
And without waiting for an answer, she strode toward the chaat stall with full determination.
Khushi blinked in confusion.
Khushi:
“Arey… yeh ma’am udhar kyun ja rahi hain? Gadi toh is taraf hai na?”
Vanshu:
“Pata nahi… kuch kaam hoga maybe…”
Akshu (narrowing her eyes):
“Nahi… ma’am ka expression kaam wala nahi lag raha. Kuch aur hi scene hai.”
Mahir joined them, hands in pockets.
Mahir:
“Chaat khane gayi hai tumhari ma’am.
Uske bina uska khana adhura hota hai.
Tum log ko khana hai toh chalo.”
The elder trio exchanged a look.
Akshu:
“Chaat? After THIS dinner?”
Khushi:
“Koi bhi normal insaan mana karega…”
Vanshu:
“…but hum girls? NEVER!”
And they rushed toward the stall like an army.
By the time they reached, Bela was already in full action:
Bela (commanding tone):
“Bhaiya, teekha thoda zyada.
Aur nimbu ache se daalna.
Crispy wala dena… ha, wohi.”
The chaat vendor obeyed as if she were his boss.
Akshu leaned closer, whispering dramatically.
Akshu (teasing):
“Waise ma’am, hume pata nahi tha ki aapko chaat itni pasand hai…”
Before Bela could respond, Mahir answered for her.
Mahir:
“Arre yeh toh favourite hai inka.
Shaanti se khane do warna yahin daant padegi tum sab ko.”
Bela shot her husband a very sharp, very pointed glare.
Bela’s glare meaning:
“Shaanti se khane denge ya nahi aap?”
Mahir immediately shut up.
The girls tried not to laugh.
One by one, the girls attacked their favourite stalls.
Akshu:
“Bhaiya… teekha wala. Nimbu double.”
Khushi:
“Mujhe sukhha papdi bhi dena.”
Vanshu:
“Mere golgappe mein pani thoda kam… basically golgappa without pani.”
Vendor (confused):
“…toh papdi de dun?”
Vanshu:
“Haan wohi.”
Meanwhile, the junior trio —
Aashi, Vanu, Kiku —
Had already started a competition:
Aashi:
“Dekhte hain kaun zyada golgappe kha sakta hai!”
Kiku:
“Main jeetungi!”
Vanu (tiny voice):
“Mujhe bas do hi chahiye…”
The seniors giggled as they watched the chaos unfold.
After the spicy madness, everyone ended with their favourite treat —
ice cream.
Bela stood beside Mahir, happily licking her cone like a secret indulgence.
She nudged him softly.
Bela:
“Aapko yaad hai mera favourite flavour?”
Mahir smiled instantly.
Mahir:
“Of course. Chocolate.
Kaise bhool sakta hoon?”
He winked.
The elder trio — Akshu, Khushi, Vanshu — stared at them silently, their jaws slightly open.
Because for the first time… they were seeing a SIDE of Bela they had never witnessed:
Laughing.
Teasing.
Blushing a little.
Enjoying her chaat like a teenager.
Khushi (whispering):
“Yeh… ma’am ka soft mode hai kya?”
Akshu:
“Mujhe lagta tha unke emotions sirf glares aur daant tak limited hain.”
Vanshu (smiling softly):
“Nahi yaar… wo bhi insaan hi hain.
Bas… humne aaj unka cute version dekh liya.”
Across the footpath, while the kids licked ice creams and the seniors giggled…
Bela and Mahir looked like two people
Who carried the entire world on their shoulders —
But tonight,
Just for a while…
They allowed themselves to be happy.
The ride back home was wrapped in a soft, sleepy silence.
Everyone was exhausted — the kind of exhaustion that comes after a full day of nerves, excitement, victory, and emotions too big for their small bodies.
The three mini tornadoes — Aashi, Vanu, and Kiku — had collapsed into a pile on the backseat.
Vanu’s head lay on Aashi’s shoulder, Aashi’s arm was flopped over Kiku, and Kiku had her cheek pressed against Vanu’s hair.
Their faces still had faint streaks of ice-cream marks, dried at the corners of their mouths.
Their breathing was slow and soft — the peaceful kind that only comes to children after a long, eventful day.
On the other side, the elder trio — Akshu, Vanshu, and Khushi — were also half-asleep.
Heads tilted on each other, hair half open, trophies still clutched loosely in their laps.
Every few seconds, one of them would jerk awake only to yawn and drift off again.
Bela, sitting in the passenger seat, finally seemed at ease.
Her posture had softened; her eyes, though tired, carried quiet pride.
She glanced at Mahir once — he was driving silently, but his eyes kept drifting to the rear-view mirror, lingering on his sleeping daughters with infinite tenderness.
The car rolled Into the Sehgal driveway.
Bela stepped out first, stretching her tired shoulders. She opened the back door and leaned in.
Bela (soft but firm):
“Utho. Ghar aa gaya.”
Three sleepy groans came in response.
Akshu, Khushi, and Vanshu stumbled out like zombies, yawning, dragging their bags and legs along with equal difficulty.
Bela then turned to wake her daughters—
Bela:
“Aashi… Vanu… Kiku… utho baby… ghar aa gaye…”
She shook Aashi gently.
No response.
She shook Vanu.
Nothing.
Kiku shifted slightly but only snuggled deeper into the seat.
Mahir walked around the car, chuckling at the sight.
Mahir (fond):
“Yeh toh bilkul uthne waale nahi hain. Tum chalo mai chod deta hoon inhe room tak.”
Without a word, he leaned in and picked Aashi into his arms first — her little arms automatically wrapping around his neck in sleep.
Then he carefully lifted Vanu, who buried her face in his chest instinctively.
Her hairband fell, but Bela caught it midair with practiced reflex.
Meanwhile, Bela bent down and gently picked Kiku, holding her tiny body close as the little girl drooped against her shoulder.
They walked into the house quietly.
Inside, the elder trio disappeared into their room — sleep-walking more than walking.
Doors closed, footsteps dragged, and within seconds, thuds and soft groans indicated they had collapsed on their beds.
In the twin girls’ room, Mahir laid Aashi and Vanu on their beds side by side, tucking the pillows behind their heads.
Bela placed Kiku in the middle, smoothing her hair with soft strokes.
Mahir left to park the car safely.
Bela stayed back.
She gently cleaned their faces with a warm cloth — removing traces of chocolate, ice cream, chaat, dust, and the day’s chaos.
She changed the three of them into matching pastel night suits, each printed with bunnies holding tiny stars.
As she buttoned Kiku’s top, the little one mumbled, half-asleep:
Kiku:
“Mumma… hum… jeet gaye…”
Bela’s heart melted.
She kissed her forehead, whispering:
Bela:
“Haan baby… sab jeet gaye.”
She pulled the blanket over them, tucking it snugly under their chins.
She stood there for a moment, just staring at her three little tornadoes — peaceful, innocent, and utterly precious.
With a soft smile, she switched off the lights and quietly stepped out of the room.
The house was silent now.
A kind of silence that comes only after a day filled with triumphs… and hearts full of love.
Bela stepped out of the room when she paused mid-step.
“Ek baar dekh leti hoon… so gaye ya nahi,” she murmured, shaking her head fondly. Knowing these three, she doubted it.
She pushed the elder trio’s door open gently—only to sigh in disbelief.
The three were sprawled like starfish across the bed, still in their outing clothes. Shoes half off, hair messy, bags dumped in one corner, and their trophies and medals proudly (yet clumsily) displayed on the table like they’d won a national championship.
Not a single one had even bothered to pull a sheet.
Bela put her hands on her hips.
“Yeh teeno… itne bade hoke bhi bilkul bacchon se kam nahi.”
She stepped closer and tapped Akshu’s shoulder.
Bela (stern): “Akshu, Vanshu, Khushi—utho. Change karo, fresh hoke sona. Aise koi sota hai?”
Akshu made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine.
“Ma’am… please sone dijiye na. Bilkul mann nahi ho raha uthne ka…”
Khushi didn’t even open her eyes.
“Haan… kal uth jayenge seedha. Abhi nahi.”
Vanshu, face smushed into the pillow, mumbled,
“Ma’am… main toh washroom tak bhi chal nahi sakti. Rehne dijiye naa…”
Bela stared at them like they were speaking another language.
“Aree! Yeh kya bachpana hai? Utho, chalo!”
With the authority of a general and the patience of a mother, she tugged each one up—Akshu slipping back twice, Khushi dragging her feet, and Vanshu still half asleep.
Defeated, the trio shuffled like zombies to their cupboards, pulled out their nightclothes, and headed to the washroom one by one… still grumbling.
And Bela just stood there, arms crossed, trying not to smile.
By the time all three re-emerged, they looked a little more alive—hair tied up messily, faces washed, but still dragging their feet like sleepy kittens.
Akshu blinked at Bela.
“Ma’am… ab so sakte hain?”
Bela gave a tiny nod.
“Haan, ab so jao. Warna kal subah gala phad ke mujhe hi chillana padega.”
They nodded vigorously—almost too tired to register the joke—as they collapsed back onto the bed, this time properly slipping under the blanket.
Khushi yawned so wide she teared up.
“Good night, ma’am…”
Vanshu was already half-asleep. Akshu managed a faint smile.
Bela softened. She walked up quietly, fixing the blanket edges around them, brushing a strand of hair away from Akshu’s forehead, gently patting Vanshu’s shoulder to help her drift off.
A small, unspoken affection filled the room; the trio wasn’t just her students anymore—they had become hers in their own way.
She looked around—trophies shining proudly on the table, medals catching the dim light.
“Mehnat ki hai teenon ne,” she whispered, her expression a mix of pride and fondness.
Switching the light to a dim warm glow, she stepped out of the room and gently closed the door behind her.
As she walked down the hallway toward her own room, the house was finally quiet.
The kind of silence that comes only after laughter-filled chaos, chaat cravings, medal-winning excitement, and three knock-out rounds of sleep.
Mahir was just coming in from outside, keys in hand, looking tired but content.
He raised an eyebrow.
“So gaye sab?”
Bela nodded.
“Haan. Chote toh chote yeh bade baccho ko sulaana bhi kisi mission se kam nahi…”
Mahir chuckled softly.
“Aur tumhari energy ka kya? Tum toh chaat ke baad bilkul fresh lag rahi thi.”
Bela gave him a playful side-eye and walked past him.
Bela pushed open the door to their room, finally letting out a breath she’d been holding since the car ride. Her shoulders relaxed as she saw the neatly lit, quiet space waiting for her. She walked in, running a hand through her hair, exhaustion finally catching up.
Behind her, Mahir entered silently, leaning against the doorframe for a second—just watching her with that lazy smirk he saved only for his wife. The kind that always meant trouble.
Bela picked up her towel and comfy night clothes, ready to dash into the washroom and call it a night. She took two steps toward the door—
—and suddenly her path was blocked.
Mahir slipped in front of her, placing a hand against the door with a dramatic sigh, trapping her between him and the washroom.
Bela narrowed her eyes.
“Mahir ji… yeh kya bachpana h? Hat jaiye. Mujhe change karna h.”
Mahir dipped his head a little, smirk deepening.
“Change karna h? Achha… toh mai help kar du aaj?”
Bela’s eyes widened.
“Aap—! Mahir ji, badtameezi mat kijiye.”
He chuckled, leaning a little closer.
“Badtameezi? Arre madam, pura din toh aap teacher mode mein thi. Itni strict, serious… socha thoda mood halka kar deta hoon.”
Bela tried to push him aside, but he didn’t move an inch.
“Aur aap tabhi free hote h na mood halka karne ke liye jab mujhe sone ki sabse zyada zarurat hoti h?”
He raised a brow.
“Sona? Abhi? Aaj ke din ke baad tumhe lagta h mujhe neend aane wali h?”
Bela stared at him.
“Aap kya soch rahe h?”
He tapped his chin dramatically.
“Bas yahi… ki meri biwi ne din bhar sab kuch itna perfectly handle bhi kiya, dinner bhi kiya, chaat bhi khayi, ice cream bhi, bacchon ko handle kiya, sabko sula bhi diya…
Par mujhe ek bhi minute bhi nahi diya.”
Bela’s cheeks flushed instantly.
She exhaled sharply.
“Mahir ji, side ho jaiye. Meri thakaan ka level aapko samajh bhi nahi aa raha h.”
Mahir stepped even closer, voice dropping to a low teasing whisper.
“Samajh raha hoon… isiliye toh help karne ka offer de raha hoon.”
Bela’s jaw dropped.
“Aap…! Mujhe jaane dijiye warna—”
He smirked.
“Warna?”
She glared at him, flustered beyond measure.
“Warna main aapse bina baat kiye sone chali jaungi.”
Mahir gasped dramatically, hand on his heart.
“Aap aisa zulm kar sakti h mujhpar?”
“Bilkul,” she huffed.
Finally, Mahir stepped aside—slowly, deliberately.
“Theek h. Jao. Par ek baat yaad rakhna…”
Bela paused at the bathroom door.
“…main yahin hoon. Aur aaj tum itni easily bach nahi paogi, Mrs. Sehgal.”
Bela’s cheeks warmed again as she ducked inside the washroom, closing the door a little too fast—
And Mahir’s soft chuckle echoed behind her.
---
Bela shut the washroom door behind her with a quick click of the lock.
She leaned back on it, hand on her chest, breath catching as heat rushed to her cheeks.
Bela (muttering to herself, flustered):
“Yeh aadmi pagal ho gaya h… sach-mein. Ho kya jaata h inko kabhi-kabhi? Uff… andar aa toh gayi par bahar kaise jaungi? Dimaag bilkul kharab ho gaya h inka…”
She splashed cold water on her face before her bath, hoping it would calm the way her heart was thudding at the memory of Mahir blocking her path.
But even after her soothing shower, slipping into her soft night clothes, her pulse hadn’t entirely settled.
Still towelling her damp hair, Bela unlocked the door slowly and stepped out—
—and froze.
Mahir was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Shirtless.
Whistling.
Like the world’s most shameless teenager caught red-handed enjoying himself.
The moment he spotted her, his whistle stopped, and that infuriatingly knowing smirk spread across his face.
Mahir (slow, smug):
“So finally… tum aa gayi.”
He stood up with deliberate laziness, hands tucked casually into his pockets as he began walking toward her.
Bela instinctively took a step back.
Bela (stammering):
“Y-yeh… yeh aap bina T-shirt ke kyu ghoom rahe hain, haan? Dekhiye, Mahir ji… mai bohot thak chuki hoon. Bohot. Please mujhe sone dijiye…”
But Mahir only stepped closer.
And closer.
And she kept stepping back with every step he took forward.
His voice dropped lower, thicker, teasing in that way that never failed to make her heart stumble.
Mahir:
“Aise kaise?
Aaj nahi, madam.
Pura ghar soya hua h…
Tum aur main ek kamre mein band…
Itna perfect mauka kaise jaane du?”
Her back hit the wall.
Her breath hitched.
Mahir hummed thoughtfully, closing the final distance between them, trapping her gently between him and the wall without even touching her yet.
Then—
His hands slid to her waist.
Slow.
Certain.
Possessive in the softest way.
Bela sucked in a shaky breath as he finally pulled her into him, his forehead nearly brushing hers.
Mahir (murmuring against her cheek):
“Bas… yahin chahiye tha mujhe.
Tum itna nervous hoti ho…
Aur phir kehti ho main pagal ho gaya hoon.”
He chuckled softly, the vibration brushing her skin.
“Sach toh yeh h, Mrs. Sehgal… tumhara yeh blush karna hi meri saari thakaan door kar deta h.”
Bela’s fingers curled instinctively around the fabric of his trouser pocket, her face flushing crimson as he continued teasing her—slowly, deliberately—just to watch her blush deeper and hide her face against his shoulder.
For a long moment, Bela didn’t move.
Her breathing was uneven, her fingers still gripping his pocket as if unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.
Mahir loosened his hold on her waist just a little, giving her space, his voice softening instantly.
Mahir:
“Bela… agar tum thak gayi ho toh I’ll stop.
Bas bata do. Main bas mazaak kar raha tha…”
Something in his tone—gentle, careful, utterly sincere—made her chest ache.
And in that moment… the exhaustion, the long day, the chaos, the running around… all melted into a sudden, overwhelming warmth.
She slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.
And for the first time that night, she didn’t step back.
She stepped forward.
Her hands slid up from his pockets to his shoulders, fingers curling lightly into his bare skin. Mahir’s breath caught, surprise flickering in his eyes.
Bela (quiet, shy):
“Main bhaag nahi rahi…
Bas… aapko aise pass dekhkar kabhi-kabhi thoda nervous ho jati hoon.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Aur thoda… kuch aur bhi.”
Mahir raised a brow.
Mahir (teasing, softer now):
“Kuch aur?”
He leaned in slightly.
“Kaisa ‘kuch aur’, hmm?”
She swatted his chest lightly, flustered.
Bela:
“Mahir ji… bas… aap na…”
But she was smiling now—small, shy, but undeniably warm.
He cupped her cheek with one hand, brushing away a strand of her damp hair sticki ng to her face.
Mahir (gentle):
“I tease you because tum itni pyaari lagti ho jab blush karti ho. Uff, for this blush of yours yeh Mahir kuch bhi kar sakta h..
Par agar tum thak gayi ho toh… bas mere paas aa jao.
Yeh bhi chalega.”
He opened his arms.
This time, Bela didn’t hesitate.
She slid right into them, her head resting against his bare chest as his arms wrapped securely around her. He kissed the top of her head—slow, lingering—the kind of kiss that had no mischief, only pure affection.
Bela closed her eyes, exhaling deeply for the first time that day.
Bela (mumbled against him):
“Thak gayi hoon… par aapke paas rehkar accha lag raha h.”
Mahir smiled into her hair.
Mahir:
“Toh humesha rehna.
Mere paas.”
She blushed but nodded softly, hiding her face even deeper in his chest.
He chuckled and lifted her chin gently.
Mahir:
“Ab sone ka time, Mrs. Sehgal.
Kal phir se tumhare chote toofan aur teen bade bacche ready honge naye drame ke saath.”
She laughed quietly.
He took her hand, led her to the bed, and pulled the blanket over both of them.
Bela curled into his side, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her waist.
Before sleep could take over, she whispered:
Bela:
“Mahir ji…”
Mahir:
“Hm?”
Bela:
“Thank you… aaj ke liye.
Sab kuch ke liye. Aapki presence hi meri sabse badi strength h.”
He tightened his arm around her and kissed her forehead.
Mahir:
“Mere hone ka yahi matlab h, Bela.”
- - - -
To be continued..
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