Everyone had settled in the living room. Amrutha and Maithili were chatting about visiting a Jewellery exhibition, while Rajesh and Abhi discussed recent projects over coffee. Myra was busy coloring.

After finishing, she jumped up and showed her drawing.
“Mamma, Papa, Dadi, Dadu—see this! How is it?”

Everyone smiled. “It’s lovely,” Maithili said. “It’s nice, baby,” Abhi added. “But who’s the welcome card for? Mihir Mammu?”

Myra shook her head. “No, Papa. It’s for the new baby!”

Everyone paused. “New baby?” Abhi asked, puzzled.

Myra sighed. “Ohho, Papa! You forgot? Yesterday, you and mamma promised you’ll bring me a new baby. So I’m making a welcome card!”

Abhi and Maithili stared at each other in shock. Amrutha and Rajesh hid their smiles.

Abhi recovered first, set the card on the center table, and said gently, “Okay, princess, we didn’t promise—we said we’ll think about it, remember?

 Now come, let’s read your new storybook and scooped her up, glancing at Maithili, whose face was unreadable.

After they left, Amrutha turned to Maithili.
“It’s not wrong for Myra to ask for a sibling. At her age, it’s common. I know you and Abhi got married recently and want time—but Myra can still grow up alongside a sibling.”

She paused. “Maithili... have you two thought about having kids?”

Maithili looked down. “Honestly, Ma... we haven’t. Abhi has never brought it up. Maybe he doesn’t want to.”

Amrutha frowned. “What nonsense. Just because he calls Myra his daughter, doesn't mean he’s forgotten she’s not biologically his. Did you know that—Myra isn’t Abhi’s child?”

Maithili nodded. “I know, Ma. Abhi told me. He didn’t want anyone else to know, so I’ve never even told my mother.”

She paused, eyes soft. “But Ma... please don’t ever say Myra isn't ours. Maybe not biologically—but she’s ours in every way that matters.”

Amrutha smiled gently. “I know, beta. I can see it. Myra is your heartbeat. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have your own child too.”

Maithili looked away. “I don’t know, Ma... Abhi and I haven’t spoken about it.”

Just then, Tina’s voice rang out from the doorway. “Hey!”

Tina walked in with Mihir, both carrying shopping bags. Maithili quickly stood to greet them.

Tina greeted Amrutha and Rajesh, and Maithili introduced Mihir. He touched their feet, and they blessed him warmly.

Tina asked, “Where’s our little queen?” “She just went upstairs with her papa,” Maithili replied. “I’ll call her.”

She stepped into the room where Abhi and Myra were reading.
“Myra baby, Tina Maasi and Mihir Mamu are here!”

Myra squealed with joy. “They came? Yay! She rushed downstairs.
“Slow down!” both Abhi and Maithili called after her, laughing as they followed.

Myra ran to Tina and Mihir. “Tina Maasi! Meer Mamu!”

Tina hugged her. “Look what I brought for you!” and handed her shopping bags.

“Wow! So many gifts again!” Myra gasped.

Mihir picked her up. “How’s my little sweetheart doing?”

“Very good! Am I looking like a cherry?” she asked playfully.

He chuckled. “Of course—you’re the sweetest cherry ever!”

He handed her more bags. “These are for you.”

Myra turned to her parents, beaming. “Mamma, Papa—see! Maasi and Mamu got me dresses and toys and books!”

Abhi smiled. “And what do we say, princess?”

Myra grinned. “Thank you, Maasi and Thank you Mamu!”

Everyone had just settled when Myra asked, “Nani, Bade Nanu, and Badi Nani not coming?”

Tina smiled. “They’re on the way, baby. We just came early to give you these gifts and toy sets!”

Myra grinned.

As everyone relaxed into their seats, Rajesh turned to Mihir.
“So, Mihir—we heard you’re a doctor?”

Mihir smiled. “Yes, Uncle. I’m an ophthalmologist.”

Rajesh nodded approvingly. “Wow, now we have a doctor in the family!”

Myra’s eyes widened. “Mamu, you’re a doctor? Do you give injections too?”

Mihir chuckled. “Only to those who don’t listen. But you’re a good girl, so you don’t need any!”

Myra beamed. “Yesss!”

Just then, Swapna, Suguna, and Mahesh arrived, and the living room filled with happy greetings and lively conversation.

As they all caught up, Tina noticed the colourful welcome card lying on the centre table. She picked it up.
“Oh! A welcome card! Who is this for, sweetheart?” she asked Myra.

Mihir teased, “Is it for me?”

Myra shook her head. “No! It’s for the new baby.”

Everyone froze.

“New baby?” Swapna asked, confused.

“Yes!” Myra said cheerfully. “Mamma and Papa are bringing me a new baby sister or brother soon!”

Maithili and Abhi looked completely flushed.

Before anyone could speak, the room erupted in congratulations.

Maithili raised her hands quickly. “Ma, everyone—please! There’s nothing to congratulate us for!”

She laughed nervously. “Yesterday, Richa Di told us she’s pregnant. Myra overheard, and later she asked for a baby of her own. We said, ‘We’ll see.’ She must’ve thought we agreed, so she made this card!”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Abhi leaned toward Maithili and whispered, “I swear, our daughter is going to give us heart attack one day.”

Maithili chuckled, eyes twinkling. “Only every other day.”

The family laughed again as Myra proudly showed her card to everyone, unaware of the stir she had caused.

Maithili got up with a soft smile. “I’ll go check on the preparations,” she said, and walked toward the kitchen.

But the moment she was alone, the smile slipped.

This whole ‘baby’ thing… it’s turning into a rollercoaster, she thought, pulling out a ladle and stirring the simmering rasam on the stove. Ever since Myra brought up wanting a sibling yesterday, something inside her shifted too.

She had started thinking about it.
The truth was—she did want a child. A baby with Abhi.
But they had never spoken about it. Not once.

And now, with everything that had happened yesterday and today—from Myra’s innocent card to the awkward congratulations—it felt impossible to find the right moment.

How do I even bring it up? she wondered, her hand pausing mid-stir. Would he want kids? Has he ever thought about it? Would he agree—or is Myra enough for him?

She let out a frustrated sigh. Ugh. Why is this so hard?

In the living room, Myra’s voice rang out joyfully. “Meer Mamu! Only you didn’t see my room yet. Come—I’ll show you!”

Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Mihir’s hand and tugged him upstairs.

Maithili wiped her hands, took a final look at the neatly arranged dining table and returned to the living room, her expression calm even as her mind spun.

Soon, the front door opened again.

“Hey! We're here!” came Vikrant’s cheerful voice. He walked in with Kaushik, Kairav and Richa.

Warm greetings echoed through the room. Everyone congratulated Richa and Kaushik.

Mihir was coming down the stairs, Myra in his arms, and she was animatedly telling him about her dollhouse.

But the moment his eyes met the two figures near the entrance—Richa and Kaushik—his steps faltered.

Mihir froze. The colour drained slightly from his face.

Richa stood still, stunned. Her lips parted slightly, eyes wide in disbelief.

Kaushik’s arm instinctively moved around Richa’s shoulders.
Maithili moved gracefully between conversations, introducing everyone.

“Mihir, this is Richa di, her husband Kaushik, and that’s Vikrant,” she said with a smile.

Mihir extended his hand, polite and composed. “Nice to meet you all.”

They exchanged handshakes with practiced ease. On the surface, everything seemed normal.

But no one noticed Richa’s stiff jaw, her eyes burning with quiet anger. No one caught Kaushik’s silence, the kind that felt more like a wall than calm.

No one saw Mihir’s momentary freeze—his shock barely masked by a polite nod. All three wore masks that fit too well, choosing silence over disruption.

Amrutha clapped her hands gently. “Alright, everyone. Let’s have lunch.”

Every one moved toward the dining area. Maithili glancing at Richa “Di, is everything alright? You seem a little off… Is your health, okay? Do you want to rest? I can bring food to your room.”

Richa quickly composed herself. “No, Maithili. I’m fine. Just pregnancy fatigue.”

Everyone settled around the long dining table. The maids began serving, but Mihir barely touched his plate. He sat quietly, eyes on his food but thoughts elsewhere.

Trying not to look up. Trying not to look at her.
Amrutha glanced at him and smiled. “So, Mihir… now that you’re back and well settled in your career, what are your plans next? Should we start looking for a bride for you?”

Before he could respond, Suguna laughed. “Oh, Amrutha ji, you’ve stolen my lines! I’ve been behind this boy for years to get married. Every time, he dodges it!”

She turned to Mihir, mock-scolding, “Now who’ll give a girl to this grown man? Tell me.”

Swapna chuckled. “Come on, Didi, he’s not that old!”

Suguna pointed at her with mock irritation. “See, Amrutha ji, Swapna has pampered him too much. If he had gotten married on time, he would have kids Myra’s or Kairav’s age by now!”

Everyone laughed. Even Mihir gave a faint smile, though his eyes remained distant.

Suguna added dramatically, “Now that he’s back in India, I’ll make sure he doesn’t escape this time!”

Tina and Maithili exchanged a look and giggled, whispering under their breath, “Bhai is gone!”

Maithili teased louder, “Bhai, are you regretting coming back to India already?”

Mihir gave a polite smile, but said nothing.

Mihir gave them a faint smile, but he wasn’t fully there. Across the table, Richa’s eyes hadn't left him for a second.

Then Vikrant joined in, grinning. “Honestly, I don’t get why parents are obsessed with marriage. We just want to live happily, and somehow, they think marriage ruins that.”

Amrutha raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Ask Abhi. He used to say the same—‘I’m not interested in marriage, Ma, don’t start again’—and now look at him! He won’t let Maithili out of his sight!”

Maithili blushed, hiding her face behind her glass of water.

Vikrant laughed. “Well, what can I say, Aunty? Not everyone’s as lucky as Abhi.”

And then Richa spoke.

“Even the lucky ones lose what they have—with their own foolishness.”

The room fell silent for a moment. All eyes turned to her.

Vikrant laughed awkwardly. “Who are you throwing shade at, bhabhi?”

Richa sipped her water calmly. “I’m just saying it generally. Some people don’t know how to value what they have... until it’s too late.”

No one caught on fully.

But Mihir did. Every word landed squarely in his chest.

Lunch had ended, conversations slowly fading into casual murmurs. But Mihir had only one thought in his mind.

Richa.

He had been waiting—watching—for a chance to speak to her alone. It wasn’t luck that brought him back to India. It was purpose. He had left behind his career, his life abroad, his comfort—because he was chasing a name that still haunted him:

Prachi.

And Richa… she was the only one who could lead him there.

So when Mihir noticed Richa quietly heading upstairs, he didn’t hesitate.
He followed her silently, keeping enough distance not to draw attention. He waited just outside the room she had entered. A few minutes passed.

Then, she stepped out.

“Richa,” he said softly. She stopped.

“I want to talk to you.”

She turned slowly, eyes sharp and unreadable. “You want to talk to me?”

He nodded.

“About what, Mihir?” she asked, her tone low but cutting. “About how you hurt her? How you left her? How you used her and walked away like she meant nothing?”

Mihir’s breath caught. “No... I didn’t walk away. I didn’t leave her, Richa. She left. Silently. Without a word. There was no message, no call—nothing. She just vanished.”

Richa’s eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, her voice trembling with anger.
He looked up, eyes pleading. “Where is she Richa? I just want to meet her once."

“Why?” Richa interrupted. “So you can feel better? So you can clear your conscience while she still lives with the scar?”

“No,” Mihir said, his voice cracking. Richa looked away, blinking back tears that had nothing to do with pity.

“You lost her,” she said coldly. “The day you ignored her pain. The day you told her to abort the baby, Mihir.”

Mihir’s eyes widened, breath catching in his throat.

Richa stepped past him.

“And now,” she said over her shoulder, “you don’t have the right to know where she is.”

Richa turned away, her steps heavy, but then—Mihir's voice stopped her cold.

“I didn’t know she was pregnant, Richa.”

She froze in the hallway.

Turning back slowly, her eyes narrowed. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

Mihir stepped closer, desperation rising in his voice. “I swear—on Prachi, on my mother, on my child—I didn’t know. She never told me.”

Richa stared at him, stunned. “That’s impossible. Prachi told me herself... you said you wanted her to abort the baby.”

Mihir ran a hand through his hair, the weight of his own confusion pulling him down.
“Did she tell you the whole conversation?”

He looked at her, eyes pleading. “Richa... I recently found out she was pregnant. She never told me about her pregnancy to me. One day she just said, ‘It’s not going to work.’ No explanation. Nothing. She walked away before I could say anything.”

His voice broke.

“I was going to propose her. I had made up my mind to tell my parents that I’d found my soulmate. Prachi was it for me. And just... like that, she ended it.”

He took a breath, steadying himself.

"I searched. I tried calling her, asked around, checked with mutual friends... but no one knew anything. I didn’t even know she had left the US. For years, I wandered like a madman, searching every corner of the country, hoping for a sign, a trace — anything."

Richa’s expression was unreadable now.

“A few months back,” Mihir continued, his voice low, “I visited London. There, I met one of our mutual friends — Stella. She told me she had been with Prachi during the early days of her pregnancy.” He paused, the words heavy on his tongue. “That’s how I found out… about the baby. My baby.” His voice faltered, the weight of it crashing into silence.
“And then she told me about the complications. That Prachi had flown to India — to Mumbai. That was the last place she contacted Stella from.”
“For years, my parents begged me to come back to India,” Mihir said softly. “But I never left the US. I held on to this hope — that I’d find her, somewhere, in some quiet corner of that country. That hope kept me there... until I went to London and met Stella.”
He swallowed hard. “That’s why I left everything behind. My job. My life. I came here for her, Richa. I didn’t know where to begin, how to search... and then, today, I met you.” His eyes brimmed with a raw, painful hope.
“I thought… maybe God finally heard my prayers.” He looked at her, pleading. “Please, Richa. Please tell me where Prachi is. Tell me where my child is.”

He paused, voice trembling. “Do I… do I have a son or a daughter?”

Richa looked at him, her heart breaking. “Please, Richa. Please.” His voice cracked. “I just want to see them. Just once.”
“If Prachi doesn’t want me, I won’t interfere — I swear. I won’t cause trouble. But at least… let me look after them from afar. Let me see my child. Just once.”

He begged — not with force, but with a quiet desperation that broke her heart.
Richa was stunned.

For a moment, she couldn’t form words. Her mind ran wild with questions, rewinding every memory, every late-night conversation with Prachi.

“Then... why did she say you told her to abort the baby?” Richa asked finally, voice low, as though afraid of the answer.

Mihir shook his head slowly. “It’s all a misunderstanding. I never said that to her. That day—”

Before he could finish, a familiar voice broke the moment.

“Meer Mamu! What are you doing here?”

Myra stood at the door, hands on her hips.

“We’re all playing downstairs! Richa Aunty, you too come!”

Richa quickly composed herself and smiled. “We’re coming, baby.”

Myra turned to Mihir. “Mamu, come fast!” she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room.

As the room fell silent, Richa stood frozen.

Her heart thundered in her chest. Everything Mihir had just said played again in her mind. His confusion. His pain. His sincerity.

She whispered, almost to herself, “What the hell did you do, Prachi?”

If Mihir was telling the truth, then everything Prachi had made her believe... was only half the story.

You made a mistake, Prachi. You ran away. Again. Why do you always run the moment something feels too hard? Why can’t you face problems like a warrior, head-on, instead of disappearing?
What were you thinking—keeping your pregnancy from Mihir? Hiding something so big?
God, if you were alive right now, I swear I would’ve slapped you.
Slapped you for choosing the easy way out. For running when you should’ve stayed.
How do I tell him, Prachi? How do I tell him you're gone? That you’re no longer alive? And how do I tell him... that his daughter — his own flesh and blood — is Myra? God… what am I supposed to do? What do I say?

Her breath caught.

And worse... how will he survive knowing that his child is calling someone else ‘Papa’?

Richa wiped the tears from her cheeks and stepped out into the hallway.

Downstairs, Richa stood at the edge of the stairs, eyes locked at Mihir and Myra.

No, she thought. You shouldn’t know, Mihir. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

She clutched the wooden banister, her knuckles white.
Myra calls someone else Papa now... and he’s the one who held her through every nightmare.

I can’t imagine how Abhi will react. And this truth... this truth has to stay with me.