Saturday. No matter what, I take these two days off for my daughter. Even if work demands my attention, I mostly handle it from home.

I glanced at Myra, sleeping peacefully, hugging her colourful unicorn plushie. A small smile tugged at my lips as I leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She stirred slightly but remained lost in her dreams.

With a sigh, I picked up my phone and saw a message from my PA regarding the meeting with the Mehta's. Knowing I had to deal with it, I freshened up and headed to my study. Moments later, our maid entered with my usual black coffee. I took a sip, my eyes flickering to the baby monitor beside me. Myra was still fast asleep, her small form curled up under the blanket.

After my meeting, I made my way downstairs, expecting to find my parents at the breakfast table. But the dining area was empty. Frowning, I turned to our cook.

"Did Mom and Dad have breakfast?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, sir. I called them, but they said they weren't hungry."

I sighed. I knew why.

Heading to their bedroom, I knocked before stepping inside. My mother was sitting on the bed, her head resting against the headboard, lost in thought. My father sat by the window, staring outside, silent and withdrawn. On the side table beside my mother lay an old family album. My chest tightened.

Last night's conversation with Myra had affected them just as deeply as it had affected me.

"Ma," I said gently, taking a seat beside her. "The cook told me you both skipped breakfast. And, Papa, you too. You need to take your medication-you remember that, right?"

She didn't respond. Instead, she reached for my hand, her grip warm but firm, pulling me down to sit beside her. My father turned to face me as she spoke.

"Abhi, you heard Myra last night," she said softly. "She's starting to understand things. She asks questions-more questions, deeper ones. And she will keep asking."

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "I know, Ma. She's young. As she grows up, she will understand. And no matter what, we are all here for her."

"But what about you, Abhi?" she pressed.

I looked at her, confused. "What about me, Ma?"

My father cleared his throat. "We've spoken to you about this many times before. Let me say it again-you need a partner in your life. You can't go on living like this, alone."

I shook my head. "Ma, you know my past. How can I-"

She cut me off, her voice firm but filled with motherly concern. "I know your marriage wasn't what it should have been. I know she wasn't a good wife, and she wasn't a good mother to Myra."

I clenched my jaw. "Then how can you be so sure that the next woman who comes into my life will be any different? That she'll be a good mother to Myra?"

"Abhi-"

"No, Ma," I said, standing up. "I've seen enough. Myra may not have a mother right now, but at least she is safe. If the wrong woman enters our lives, it won't just be me who suffers this time-it will be Myra too."

Without waiting for a response, I walked away, heading to my room, shutting the door behind me.

And for the first time in years, I felt the weight of my past pressing down on me again.

I entered my room and saw Myra stirring awake. Smiling, I walked over and cooed, "Good morning, baby."

"Good morning, Papa!" she chirped, throwing her tiny arms around me.

I lifted her up, holding her close as I carried her to the bathroom. We went through our usual morning routine-brushing her teeth, her playful giggles filling the room as she started her usual morning mischief.

Once we were done, we headed downstairs. I glanced at the maid. "Call Ma and Papa for breakfast. Tell them Myra is here and waiting for them."

She nodded and left. Meanwhile, the cook brought Myra her milk. After her usual reluctance, she finally took a few sips.

Soon, my parents arrived. Myra beamed and greeted them, "Good morning, Dadu! Good morning, Dadi!"

They smiled, returning her enthusiasm.

As we started breakfast, my mother's phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and for the first time that morning, a genuine smile lit up her face.

"Hello," she answered cheerfully.

I watched as her expression changed, curiosity gnawing at me.

"Really?" she said, excitement lacing her voice.

Both my father and I paused, watching her intently. She was beaming, her happiness almost contagious.

"Okay, Poornima. Sure! I'll tell Rajesh too," she said before disconnecting the call.

"Who was that, Ma?" I asked, intrigued by her sudden happiness.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned to my father, completely ignoring me.

I sighed. Silent treatment. Clearly, this was about my refusal to remarry.

She looked at my father and said, "Rajesh, do you remember we met Poornima a few months ago at that reception party?"

He nodded.

"She called just now," Ma continued, excitement evident in her voice. "She has gathered a few of our old school friends, and she's inviting us to meet tomorrow. And guess what-she has a surprise for both of us!"

"Surprise?" I asked, echoing my father's curiosity.

"What surprise?" Papa asked.

Ma shook her head, smiling mischievously. "She wouldn't say. She insisted we'll only find out once we meet her tomorrow."

I nodded. "That sounds nice. It'll be a good change for both of you."

As usual, they ignored me.

Myra, who had been listening intently, clapped her hands. "Dadi, you're meeting your friends tomorrow?"

My mother smiled warmly. "Yes, baby. You know, we've all been friends since we were your age! We went to the same school, all the way until college."

"Wow, Dadi! Can I come too?" Myra asked eagerly.

I chuckled. "Myra baby, they're meeting their old friends. What will you do there?"

"But please, Papa! I also want to go out with Dadu and Dadi!" she pleaded, her big eyes full of hope.

Before I could say anything, Ma chimed in, "Of course, come with us, Myra! Everyone will be happy to see you."

I sighed. Myra had her way with them.

Just then, my phone vibrated with a message. It was from Vikrant-my best friend and business partner.

Landed in India last night. Let's catch up. Been a long time.

I smirked. After a whole month in Australia handling company matters, he was finally back. I had sent him because I couldn't leave Myra alone for so long, and I knew he could handle the situation. If there was anyone I could trust blindly, it was Vikrant. People say we were the same soul in different bodies. Our parents had been friends since childhood, and naturally, Vikrant and I had grown up together, inseparable from the start.

I typed back quickly, Sure, let's meet. Been a long time.

Almost instantly, my phone buzzed again.

Will be at your place soon.

Smiling at his message, I kept my phone aside.

After breakfast, Myra scampered off to the living room, her tiny hands already reaching for her toys. My parents, engrossed in their discussion about tomorrow's meeting, barely noticed me sitting at the table.

I leaned back in my chair, observing them. It wasn't often that I saw my mother this animated. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, her hands moving gracefully as she spoke. My father, ever the composed listener, nodded along, occasionally interjecting with a thoughtful remark.

With a quiet sigh, I pushed my chair back and stood up, pulling out my phone. A new message from Vikrant lit up the screen.

I'll be there in an hour. Hope you have my favorite whiskey stocked up.

I smirked, shaking my head. Same old Vikrant.

You wish. But I do have coffee. Take it or leave it, I typed back, slipping the phone into my pocket.

Before I could take a step, Myra came bounding toward me, her little fingers tugging at my hand. "Papa, can I play with the new puzzles you bought for me?"

"Of course, baby. They're in your nursery. Go with Indu Aunty-she'll help you set them up. I'll join you in a bit," I said, ruffling her hair.

"Okay, Papa!" she chirped, her face lighting up with excitement. She dashed toward the stairs, her tiny feet pattering against the floor. Halfway up, she paused, climbing the steps carefully. "Myra, slowly, baby," I called out.

"Okay, Papa!" she shouted back, her voice echoing through the house before she disappeared upstairs. I sighed, shaking my head with a faint smile.

Just as I turned to head to my study, my mother's voice stopped me. "Abhi, wait."

I paused and turned to face her. "What is it, Ma?"

She gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit down, beta. We need to talk."

I hesitated but eventually took a seat, my eyes flickering between her and my father. They exchanged a glance, and my father cleared his throat, signaling the start of a conversation I wasn't ready for.

"Abhi," my mother began, her tone gentle but firm, "I know you think we're pushing you, but we just want you to consider this-not just for yourself, but for Myra."

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Ma, I'm doing everything for Myra. I'm her father and her mother. She's happy. Isn't that all that matters?"

"She's happy now," my father interjected, his voice calm but insistent. "But she's growing up, beta. A mother's presence in a child's life-especially a girl's-is irreplaceable. We won't always be around to support you or Myra. One day, you'll have to navigate this on your own. And as she gets older, there will be things she won't feel comfortable sharing with you. She'll need a mother-someone she can confide in, someone who understands her in ways a father can't. Think about it, Abhi. And even if you set all that aside, what will you do when Myra grows up and leaves you? When she goes away for her education, or when she gets married? Right now, she's your world. But what happens when she builds a life of her own? You might find yourself wishing you had a partner by your side. And by then, it might be too late."

I took a deep breath, my patience fraying at the edges. I didn't have answers to their questions, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty. I met their gaze and said, "Ma, Papa, I've told you this before, and I'll say it again-a wrong woman in Myra's life will do more harm than no woman at all. As for me, I've learned to live this way. I'm content as I am."

My mother shook her head, her eyes pleading. "Not every woman is like her, Abhi. You deserve a second chance at happiness."

A dry chuckle escaped me. "Happiness? Ma, I stopped believing in that word a long time ago."

Her expression softened, but I couldn't bear to continue this conversation. "Ma, let me make this clear once more-I am both father and mother to Myra. When she's old enough, she'll understand everything. She won't need explanations. And for that, I don't need a wife, and Myra doesn't need a mother. I won't risk bringing someone into our lives who might hurt her. I can't take that chance."

With that, I stood up and walked to my study, closing the door firmly behind me. I leaned against it, exhaling slowly as the weight of their words settled over me.

No matter how much time passed, some wounds never truly healed. Memories lingered, refusing to fade. Love, no matter how painful, could never be forgotten.

An hour later, Vikrant arrived, barging into my study without knocking-like always.

There he was, standing in the doorway with his trademark grin, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a faint tan from his time in Australia.

"Missed me?" he asked, his voice dripping with teasing.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Like a headache."

He laughed, stepping inside. "Good to see you too, mate. Finally."

"Same here," I said, leaning back in my chair.

He looked around the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail before landing on me. "Abhi, you need better security. I just walked in without anyone stopping me. What if I was a criminal?" he joked, dropping onto the couch with the ease of someone who owned the place.

I smirked. "Then Myra would've arrested you before you got past the door."

He laughed, the sound filling the room. "Fair point. Where is the little champ, anyway?"

"Playing with her new puzzles upstairs," I said, getting up to pour him a cup of black coffee.

He made a face as I handed him the mug. "So, no whiskey?"

"No whiskey."

"You're a terrible host," he muttered, taking the coffee anyway.

I sat across from him, rubbing my temples. Vikrant watched me for a moment, his playful demeanor shifting to something more serious.

"You look like hell. What's going on?"

I sighed, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. "Same old story, man. My parents want me to remarry. They think Myra needs a mother."

Vikrant leaned back, crossing his arms. "Well... don't you think she does?"

I shot him a glare. "Not you too."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Abhi. I'm not saying your parents are right. I know what happened in your past messed you up. But you can't live in the past forever."

I scoffed. "I'm not. I'm living for Myra."

"And that's exactly the problem," he said, setting down his cup. "You're so focused on protecting her that you're shutting out the possibility of a future-for both of you."

I stayed silent, my jaw tightening.

He sighed, his tone softening. "Look, I'm not saying jump into marriage tomorrow. But maybe-just maybe-give yourself the chance to meet someone. If not for you, then for Myra."

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. "And what if that person turns out to be just like-"

"She won't," Vikrant cut in, his voice firm. "You're smarter now. You'll make sure of it."

I shook my head, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I don't know, man."

Vikrant leaned forward, his gaze steady. "Aunty and Uncle are right, mate. Think about it."

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers.

"It's not that simple," I said quietly. "You don't know what it's like-to trust someone completely, only to have them destroy everything. To look at your child and wonder if you'll ever be enough."

Vikrant sipped his coffee, his expression thoughtful. "I don't pretend to understand what you went through, Abhi. Myra turned you into one of the most protective, loving fathers I know. That counts for something."

I laughed bitterly. "Protective, sure. But loving? I'm just doing what any parent would do."

"No," he said firmly. "Not every parent would put their child above everything-above their own happiness, their own future. That's the problem, Abhi. You've stopped living for yourself."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

"Hear me out. I'm not saying forget about Myra. But you can't use her as an excuse to shut yourself off. What happens when she grows up and realizes you gave up everything-including your own happiness-just for her? Do you think that's what she'd want?"

His words hit me hard. I looked away, my throat tight. "I don't know," I admitted.

Vikrant leaned forward, his voice softening. "You're a good man, Abhi. Myra's lucky to have you. But you've got to stop punishing yourself for the past. You deserve to be happy too."

I stayed silent. His words made sense, but the thought of opening myself up again-of risking everything with Myra-terrified me.

After a moment, Vikrant stood, clapping my shoulder. "Think about it, mate. That's all I'm asking. And for what it's worth, I'm here for you-whatever you decide."

He left with a grin. "Next time, stock the whiskey." I smiled at his response, shaking my head.