Maithili and Abhiram returned home after a pleasant evening with Maithili's family. They entered the living room to find Kaushik, Richa.

As soon as Richa spotted them, she got up with a bright smile and hugged Maithili tightly. “I missed you, Maithili.”

Maithili grinned and hugged her back, “Missed you too, di.”

Kaushik came forward and hugged Abhi warmly. “Finally, you’re back. We’ve been waiting.”

Just then, Kairav dashed toward Myra and the kids ran upstairs to her room, their giggles echoing in the hallway.

While everyone settled in the living room, Rajesh smiled meaningfully. “Abhi, Maithili... have some sweets.”

Abhi arched a brow, exchanging a glance with Maithili.

“Special occasion?” he asked, reaching for a piece.

Richa blushed slightly, her eyes flicking to Kaushik, who grinned and took the sweet in his hand.

“Ready to be a mamu again?” Kaushik teased, feeding the sweet to Abhi with a cheeky grin.

Abhi blinked, surprised—and then realization dawned. His eyes widened, then softened. He looked at Richa.

“Are you…?”

Richa nodded shyly. “Doctor confirmed it recently.”

Abhi immediately stood and hugged Richa tightly, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m so happy for you, di.”

The way he said “di” brought tears to Richa’s eyes. She hugged him back, moved by his genuine warmth.
Maithili smiled warmly. “That’s wonderful news! I’m so happy for you, Di,” she said, squeezing Richa’s hand. “When did you find out?”

Richa smiled. “I meant to tell you at the mall, but we got sidetracked and I never found a good moment.”

"You made this moment perfect," Maithili said with a warm smile.

Myra rushed in, Kairav just behind her, her face lit up as she ran to her parents.

"Mamma! Papa!"

Maithili bent down. “Myra, what’s wrong? Why are you running?”

“Mamma, Kairav is getting a baby sister!” Myra exclaimed.

Everyone chuckled. Maithili replied, “Yes, that’s wonderful. You’ll have a new friend.”

“Is it really a sister?” Myra asked.

Richa chuckled. “We don’t know yet, Myra. It could be a baby sister or a baby brother.”

Myra paused for a moment. She then addressed the group, saying, "So, Kairav is going to have a baby sister or brother. Kaushik uncle has Vikrant uncle. Mamma has Meer Mamu and Tina Maasi... but Papa and I do not have any brothers or sisters," she concluded.

Silence filled the room. Abhi’s smile faded as he gripped his glass tighter. Maithili glanced at him, Amrutha looked down blinking, and Rajesh’s expression became unreadable.

Sensing the tension, Kaushik smiled. “There’s a solution,” he said.

Myra asked, “What is it, Kaushik uncle?”

“Just ask your parents for a baby brother or sister,” he replied.

“Really?” Myra said, surprised.

He nodded. “Yes.”

Myra turned to Abhi. “Papa, can I have a baby brother or sister?

Abhiram smiled. “We’ll see, princess.”

She looked at Maithili. “Mamma, can we?”

Maithili gave a brief smile. “Let’s see, baby.”

Myra stood with Maithili briefly, then walked to Abhiram and tugged his hand. “Papa, you didn’t have a brother or sister either, right? Did you feel lonely playing as a kid, like I do?”

Abhiram was caught off guard.

She continued, “Kairav can’t stay here forever, and he’s getting a baby sibling. But I’ll be alone. I want a brother or sister too.”

Her words lingered.

Maithili softened, knelt, and touched Myra’s cheek. “Go play now, sweetheart. Mamma will talk to Papa, and we’ll think about it.”

“Okay!” Myra lit up with hope and ran off to join Kairav again, their voices soon turning into playful arguments.”

But the living room fell quiet.

Abhiram didn’t speak. He stared at the space where Myra stood, his jaw clenched, his shoulders too still.

Maithili felt the familiar ache—the silent pain visible in his quietness, in the way he gazed at Myra, and listened closely to laughter in the house.

He was hurting.

She moved closer, gently brushing her hand against his.

Then Amrutha’s voice broke the stillness, soft and nostalgic. “If Prachi were here... she’d be married by now. Maybe even have a child Myra’s age.”

The air turned colder.

Rajesh, who had remained still, finally spoke. But his tone was stern—almost cold. “I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t want her name mentioned in this house.”

Maithili stiffened. Abhiram slowly turned his head, his expression unreadable.

Rajesh’s voice was firm. “She shamed us by leaving. If she cared about us—or Abhi—she would have reached out, even once. But she never did. No message, no letter. She left us behind.”

His eyes flicked to Amrutha. “To me, Prachi died the day she left this house without telling anyone.”

The room froze.

Maithili held her breath. Richa looked down, her fingers curling tightly. Kaushik shifted uncomfortably beside her.

Then Abhiram’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and louder than anyone had heard in a long time.

“Enough, Papa!”

Everyone jolted. “Don’t talk about Di like that,” Abhi’s voice was tight, his chest rising and falling. His eyes were red but dry. She may have left this house, but she has not left me or us.

He didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and walked out toward the backyard, his steps heavy with rage and sadness.

Abhiram stood in the backyard, facing away from the house with clenched fists. His jaw tightened and breath unsteady, he wrestled with a mix of grief, anger, guilt, and love.

He didn’t hear Maithili come out.

But he felt her.

She didn’t say his name. Didn’t call out or ask him what was wrong. She didn’t try to fix the silence with comforting words.

She simply walked up beside him… and slipped her hand into his.

Her touch was warm, steady—quiet in its strength.

Abhiram didn’t move.

For a few seconds, they just stood there. No words. No explanations. The breeze whispered between them, tugging gently at Maithili’s hair, brushing against the sleeves of his shirt.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Her presence alone said what a thousand words couldn’t:
I see you. I feel what you’re carrying. You’re not alone.

Abhiram let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding. His shoulders, once tensed like coiled wire, dropped slightly. Not from relief, not completely—but because someone was holding space for him now.

His hand squeezed hers just a little.

She squeezed back.

The ache inside him didn’t go away, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel crushed under its weight.

He turned his head slightly, eyes still shimmering with unspoken sorrow, and looked at her.

Maithili didn’t break the silence.

She only lifted their joined hands and brought them gently to her lips, pressing a quiet kiss against his knuckles.

And Abhiram closed his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, everything paused. The pain. The questions. The past.

It was just the two of them.

Standing together in the quiet.

Where her silence became his comfort.
Where her stillness told him—he didn’t have to speak to be understood.

After the quiet on the balcony, Abhiram and Maithili stepped back inside the house

In the living room, Richa glanced up and asked gently, “Maithili, is your brother back?”

Maithili nodded with a soft smile. “Yes. Yesterday. Everyone’s coming for lunch tomorrow. You, Kaushik bhai, and Vikrant should join too.”

Richa was about to decline politely, but before she could speak, Amrutha interjected warmly, you are family. I was just about to invite you myself.”

Soon after, Richa and Kaushik left with Kairav, promising to return the next day.

The house grew quiet again.

Everyone slowly retired to their rooms, the emotional heaviness still lingering like a scent in the air. Maithili stopped by her in-laws’ door and softly called out, “Ma, Papa... dinner’s ready.”

“We're not hungry, beta,” Amrutha replied gently.

Maithili didn’t press further. She moved to Abhiram’s study. He sat at his desk, elbows resting on the wood, staring at nothing.

“They didn’t eat,” she said quietly. “But you know their health, Abhi. Ma needs to eat with her medication. Papa hasn’t spoken much. Please talk to them.”

Abhiram looked up at her—his eyes weary, like he had fought an invisible war all evening.

He nodded.

Without a word, he rose and walked to his parents' room. The door was ajar.

“Ma... Papa?” he called gently.

There was no response.

He stepped inside and saw both sitting side by side—Amrutha looking down at her lap, Rajesh staring blankly at a photo in his hand. It was a family portrait when they were young.

Abhiram knelt beside them.

“I know,” he began, his voice barely a whisper, “you miss her. Every second.”

Still, silence.

He swallowed, his voice quivering now. “I miss her too, Papa. I miss Di every single day. There’s not a moment where I don’t wonder what life would’ve been like if she had stayed. Or just... called.”

Rajesh’s jaw tightened. Amrutha’s hands trembled slightly.

Abhiram continued, “But I can’t hate her. I was angry. Hurt.”

Rajesh didn’t look at him, but his eyes moistened.

“I know you feel betrayed. I do too,” Abhiram whispered. “But Di didn’t stop loving us. Maybe she was scared. Maybe she didn’t know how to fix things. Maybe she didn’t even get the chance.”

A long pause. Then:

“Papa... please eat. Ma, you need your medicine. And for tonight... can we stop being angry and just... miss her together?”

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Then, slowly, Amrutha’s hand reached out and covered her son’s.

Rajesh looked at Abhiram his eyes, red-rimmed and heavy and in that one glance, decades of unsaid pain, broken expectations, and unspoken love passed between them.

He exhaled.

And nodded.

Amrutha pulled Abhiram into a sudden hug—tight, trembling, wordless. And then Rajesh, stiff and hesitant at first, wrapped his arms around both of them.

From the hallway, Maithili stood frozen with a lump in her throat. She simply wiped the silent tears that escaped and turned away to set the plates.

A few minutes later, they all walked into the dining room—together.

Abhiram slid beside his wife and whispered, “Thank you... for pulling me back when I was about to get lost again.”

She placed her hand over his under the table. No words. Just presence. Just love.

And that night, dinner was had not out of hunger, but out of healing.

The morning sun filtered softly through the kitchen window, casting a golden glow across the countertops. Amrutha and Maithili stood near the kitchen island, s they discussed the lunch menu for the family gathering.

“I was thinking—paneer butter masala, veg pulao, and methi malai mutter?” Amrutha suggested, her tone thoughtful.

Maithili smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Perfect, Ma. And maybe that dry aloo jeera Papa likes?”

Amrutha grinned. “Good idea. And tomato rasam—your version, the one Abhi likes.”

“Kheer for dessert?” Maithili asked.

“Of course,” Amrutha replied without hesitation, her eyes twinkling. “You make it better than I do now.”

The cook nodded and left to begin prepping the meal.

Maithili and Amrutha rinsed their hands, and each poured a mug of steaming coffee. Together, they stepped into the backyard.

Amrutha sipped her coffee “Maithili…” she began, eyes fixed on the far wall as if gathering courage.

Maithili turned to her, “Yes, Ma?”

Amrutha hesitated for a second, then met her “I’m sorry beta.”

Maithili blinked, surprised. “Sorry? For what Ma?”

“For not telling you about Prachi… for never speaking of her,” Amrutha said, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re my daughter too, and yet… we kept you in the dark about the most precious part of our lives.”

Maithili reached across the table and took her mother-in-law’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Ma…” she smiled faintly, “you don’t have to say sorry. I’ve always understood. Just saying her name is hard for you. Abhi told me… everything. Even before we got married.”

Amrutha’s eyes widened in surprise. “He did?”

Maithili nodded. “Yes. He told me about Di… about what happened… and how much it shattered your hearts. He never wanted me to mistake your silence for indifference.”

Amrutha looked away for a second, her eyes shimmering. “Not a day has gone by without thinking of her, Maithili. We just… don’t say it out loud. Because saying her name pulls the curtains back on everything we’ve tried to block away.”

Maithili’s eyes softened. She had always known there was an invisible grief in the house—quiet, but constant.

“She is the light of this home,” Amrutha whispered, “Her laughter filled every corner. When she left… it was like someone turned off the sun.”

Maithili gently rubbed her thumb over Amrutha’s hand, silent, letting her speak.

“I say it out loud,” Amrutha continued, “but Rajesh… he can’t. He hides his love behind his anger. But if Prachi walked through that door one day…” her voice caught in her throat, “he would be the first to run and hug her. I know it.”

Maithili forced a smile, her own throat tightening. Before she could respond, a little burst of energy came flying into the kitchen.

“Mamma!” Myra’s voice was full of excitement. “Can I wear my new purple frock today? Please?”

Maithili chuckled “Not today, baby. Why don’t you wear your red summer frock instead? You’ll look like a little cherry blossom.”

“Okay!” Myra grinned and ran back upstairs.

As the sound of her giggles faded, Amrutha watched her disappear with a fond smile. “You know… I’ve never told this to anyone—not even Rajesh or Abhi—but every time I look at Myra… I see Prachi... the way she talks, walks, her little bossy tone and those curious eyes... I see Prachi.”

Maithili’s eyes welled up instantly. She turned slightly, discreetly wiping a tear before it fell.

Amrutha smiled through her own tears. “Oho! Now I’ve made you cry too.”

Maithili chuckled, blinking quickly. “No, Ma. It’s nothing like that. Just... she must’ve been really special.”

“She is,” Amrutha whispered. “She had a spark, just like Myra. Brave, quick to love, and quicker to fight. And if she were here today... I know, she would have loved you like a sister. She’d be so proud of you, Maithili. Of you and Abhi.”

The words settled deep in Maithili’s heart. She swallowed the knot in her throat and slowly leaned in, wrapping her arms around her mother-in-law. The hug was warm, long, and filled with all the unspoken ache they shared.

“As you said, Ma,” Maithili murmured, “wherever she is... I hope she’s happy.

She didn’t say the last part aloud—"And I hope she’s watching us and loving us. Maybe she sent me here... to love Abhi and Myra, when she couldn’t.”

Just as Maithili and Amrutha pulled apart from their emotional hug, a familiar deep voice cut through the soft quiet of the kitchen.

“Oh-ho!” Abhi leaned casually against the doorframe, arms folded, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips. “All the hugs and love for my wife? Nothing left for your very own son?”

Maithili chuckled softly, still brushing away the corner of her eye. Amrutha turned toward him, hands firmly on her hips, her expression pure mock annoyance.

“Please,” she scoffed. “Your wife loves you so much, you’ve turned into the most pampered prince of this house. You don’t need our love anymore.”

Abhi pressed a hand to his chest with mock offense.
“Still… feels a little unfair. I’m the one who brought this amazing daughter-in-law into your lives, remember?”

Amrutha gave him a light whack on the arm, laughing.
“Yes, and look at her! Bechari Maithili—handling you and your tornado of a daughter every single day? She deserves triple the love. She needs extra power.

Abhi laughed, walking toward Maithili and slipping his arm around her shoulders.
“True. I can’t even argue with that. Between Myra’s never-ending ‘why’s and my occasional mood swings, she definitely needs more power.”
“And yet,” he added, pulling her a little closer, “she handles both of us like a queen. Calm, graceful—and only occasionally threatening to throw me off the balcony.”

Maithili gave him a side-eye and smirked.
“Oh, so you are finally admitting you have mood swings? Should I record this historic moment ?”

Abhi chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Only when I don’t get your attention. That’s my one weakness.”

“Drama king,” she muttered under her breath, making Amrutha burst into laughter.

Just then, Rajesh—who had been silently watching from the doorway—finally stepped in, laughing.
“My God. One calls him a pampered prince, the other calls him a drama king. What a reputation you’ve built, beta!”

Abhi threw his hands in the air dramatically.
“Betrayed in my own house! My mother calls me a prince, my wife a drama king—and the media? A cold, ruthless CEO. What image am I left with?

That broke everyone—Amrutha and Maithili burst out laughing as Abhi gasped in mock offense.

“Hey! I thought you were on my side, Papa!”

Before anyone could respond—

“Mamma! Papa! Look at me!”
Myra came wearing her red summer frock, twirling like a little ballerina.
“Don’t I look like a cherry!”

Abhi bent down instantly and scooped her into his arms.
“The cutest cherry I’ve ever seen!” he said, nuzzling her nose.

“And the juiciest too,” he added, pretending to nibble her cheek.
“I might just eat you up!”

Myra squealed and giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Noooooo, Papa! I’m your baby, not food!”

And in that moment—watching her husband cradle their daughter like she was his whole world, her in-laws rediscovering joy in the ordinary—Maithili felt something settle inside her.

A quiet peace.