The room felt heavier after Vikrant left, the silence pressing against my thoughts. I stared at the ceiling, the faint hum of the house around me—Myra’s distant laughter from upstairs, the soft ticking of the clock—filling the space.

I had immersed myself in work to block out all the unnecessary thoughts. First, it was my parents, and now Vikrant. Their words were messing with my head, stirring up emotions I had buried long ago. Work was my escape, my shield.

I was so engrossed that I didn’t notice the knock on the door until it came again, louder this time. “Come in,” I called out, my voice distracted.

“Papa?” Myra’s voice floated in, soft and hesitant.

I looked up to see her peeking through the door, her big eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and disappointment. “Myra, baby, come here,” I said, setting aside the papers I was working on.

She stepped inside, clutching her favourite stuffed bunny. “Papa, today is Saturday, but you didn’t come to play with me or have lunch with me. Now it’s evening, and you promised to take me to the park.”

I glanced at the clock, startled to see it was already 5 PM. I had been so absorbed in my work that I hadn’t noticed the time slipping away. In our house, there was a strict rule: no one was allowed to disturb me in my study unless I said so. But looking at Myra’s face, I felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, crouching down to her level. “I lost track of time. How about we go to the gaming zone? We’ll play games, and I’ll get you your favourite ice cream. What do you say?”

Her face lit up instantly. “Yay!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement.

“Okay, go get ready. We’ll leave in a few minutes,” I said, ruffling her hair.

She nodded eagerly and ran off, her laughter echoing through the house.

“Papa, I’m ready!” Myra’s voice broke through my thoughts. She stood in the doorway, dressed in her favourite pink jacket and matching shoes, her hair tied up in a ponytail.

“Did you tell Kittu? Is he coming?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

I smiled. Kittu—Kairav—was Vikrant's nephew, son of his brother Kaushik and sister-in-law Richa. He was Myra’s little best friend. She called him “Kittu,” and he called her “Mittu.” Their bond was adorable, and Vikrant often joked that they were inseparable.

“I’ll message Vikrant Uncle now, baby,” I said, pulling out my phone. I quickly typed out a message: Going to Funky Monkeys. Bring Kittu along. Myra’s asking about him.

Almost instantly, Vikrant replied: Okay.

I helped Myra into the car, securing her in the front seat with her seatbelt. As I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was humming a tune, her legs swinging back and forth in excitement.

The drive to the gaming zone was short, but Myra’s chatter made it feel like an adventure.

The gaming zone was buzzing with energy when we arrived. Bright lights, cheerful music, and the laughter of children filled the air. Myra practically bounced out of the car, her hand clutching mine as she dragged me toward the entrance.

“Papa, look! They have the ball pit!” she exclaimed, pointing to a colourful sea of plastic balls.

I chuckled. “We’ll go there first, okay?”

Before I could say more, I heard a familiar voice behind us. “Mittu!”

We turned to see Kittu running toward us, his face lit up with excitement. Vikrant followed, carrying a bag of snacks and wearing his usual casual grin.

“Kittu!” Myra squealed, letting go of my hand to run toward him. The two of them hugged like they hadn’t seen each other in years, even though it had only been a week.

Vikranth walked up to me, handing me a coffee from the takeaway cup he was holding. “Figured you’d need this.”

I took it with a grateful nod. "Thanks. You're late."

He shrugged. “Traffic. And someone,” he gestured to Kittu, “took forever to decide which shoes to wear.”

I smirked. “Sounds familiar.”

We watched as Myra and Kittu dashed off toward the ball pit, their laughter ringing out.

We spent the next couple of hours watching the kids play, their energy seemingly endless. Myra dragged me into a game of mini golf, while Vikrant and Kittu tackled the climbing wall. For a while, it felt like the weight of the world had lifted.

But as the evening wore on and we headed back to the car.

As I buckled Myra into her seat, she looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes. “Papa, today was the best day ever.”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m glad, baby.”

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

I chuckled. “Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. I promise.”

She nodded, satisfied, and leaned back in her seat, already half-asleep.

As I drove home, the quiet hum of the car filled with Myra’s soft breathing.

As soon as we reached home, I carried Myra to my room, her small body curled against my chest. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake as I gently placed her on the bed. I removed her shoes, tucked her under the blanket, and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She looked so peaceful, her cheeks still flushed from the excitement of the day.

I made my way downstairs, grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen to keep in my room—just in case Myra woke up hungry in the night. 

Back in my room, I set the snacks on the bedside table and sank into the armchair by the window. Just as I was about to relax, my phone rang. It was Vikranth.

“Myra asleep?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “What about Kittu?”

“Out like a light the second we got home,” he replied with a grin. “Richa’s going to have her hands full tomorrow with all that sugar.”

I chuckled softly. “Thanks for today. Myra had a great time.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful. Then, after a pause, he added, “Abhi, I saw you the whole evening. Even though you were there, your mind was somewhere else.”

I didn’t respond immediately, his words hitting closer to home than I wanted to admit.

“You know, you’re doing a good job with her, Abhi,” he continued. “Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. Vikrant had a way of saying things that cut straight to the heart, even when he wasn’t trying to.

“And Abhi…” he said, his voice softening, “take it one day at a time, yeah? You don’t have to figure everything out tonight.”

I smiled faintly, though it felt more like a reflex than anything else. “Yeah. One day at a time.”

As soon as the call ended, I set my phone aside and leaned back, my gaze drifting to the photo on the mantelpiece. It was one of my favourites—Myra and me on her first day of school. She was clutching my hand, her smile bright and full of trust, her tiny backpack almost as big as she was.

I picked up the photo, tracing the edges of the frame with my thumb. Myra was growing up so fast. Soon, she wouldn’t need me to carry her to bed or hold her hand at the park. She’d have her own friends, her own dreams, her own life.

The thought was both comforting and terrifying.

I set the photo back down and leaned back on the couch, closing my eyes.

As I sat there in the quiet, I made a silent promise to myself—to be present, to cherish the time I had with Myra, and to take things one step at a time.

The future was uncertain, but for now, that was okay.

The next morning, I woke up to Myra jumping on my bed.

"Papa, wake up! Dadu and Dadi are getting ready to meet their friends, and I need to pick my dress!"

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my face. "Baby, it's too early for this much energy."

"But we have to go soon!" she insisted, pulling at my arm.

I peeked out from under the blanket and saw her grinning widely, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I sighed, sitting up. "Alright, alright. Let's pick a dress."

She ran to her wardrobe, pulling out a pink frock with unicorns on it. "This one!"

I chuckled. "Perfect choice, princess."

After helping her get ready, I went downstairs, where my parents were already waiting. My mother looked elegant in a light green saree, while my father wore a crisp white kurta. They looked at me expectantly.

"You’re not coming?" my mother asked.

I shook my head. "You know the answer, Ma."

She sighed but didn’t argue. "At least drop us off."

I hesitated. "Fine."

Myra cheered, grabbing my hand. "Let's go, Papa!"