We walked down toward the parking area in comfortable silence, the night air cool and gentle around us. As I reached my car and unlocked it, I turned to Abhi and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you want to follow me?”

He shrugged casually, hands in his pockets. “I didn’t want to follow you—I wanted to drop you. But since you didn’t give me that option, I’m just making sure you reach home safe. That’s it.”

I smiled, heart warming at his quiet stubbornness, and slipped into the driver’s seat. As I adjusted the rearview mirror, I glanced behind me and saw him getting into his car, parked just a few steps away.

Just as I started the engine, my phone rang. Abhiram. Frowning lightly, I accepted the call and connected it to the car’s Bluetooth.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Nothing,” his voice came through, smooth and teasing. “We’re both heading to the same place in different cars. So, I thought why not talk? That way, we’ll still feel like we’re driving together.”

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. “Only you would think of something like that.”

And just like that, we started talking.

His voice filled the car, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. His silly jokes, gentle teasing, that occasional pause where we just listened to each other breathe… it felt like a shared moment even with the distance between us. Somewhere between his laughter and the silence, the night stopped feeling lonely.

Before I knew it, we reached my building. I parked and got out of the car. A second later, Abhiram pulled up and stepped out too.

I walked over to him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Good night, Abhiram.”

“Good night, Maithili. And… thank you. Tonight really made me feel lighter, after a very long time.”

I nodded gently. “I’m always here for you. Whenever you need me.”

His smile deepened, eyes lingering on mine.

“So…” he said.

“So…” I echoed, half a laugh escaping me.

Neither of us wanted to leave. But the night had to end.

I turned to go when I heard him softly call, “Maithili.”

I looked back.

He took a breath. “I’ll arrange a meeting between you and Myra soon. Officially.” His eyes held mine with something deep and unspoken. “I’m going to tell her she’s finally going to meet her mamma. The best one in the whole world.”

A slow smile bloomed on my lips. There was no grand gesture, no fireworks—just sincerity. And it was more than enough.

I nodded, eyes shining. “Even I’m ready… to meet my daughter. Officially.”

He smiled then. That full, honest kind that reached his eyes and made my heart ache in the best way.

No “I love yous.”
No dramatic promises.
Just simple words.
Quiet gestures.

And sometimes… that’s more than enough to know what you truly mean to each other.

It had been a long, exhausting week.

Final project submissions, endless presentation deadlines, back-to-back client calls… everything had drained the life out of me. I barely had time to breathe, let alone talk properly with Abhiram. Our conversations had been reduced to a few scattered texts:

"Take care."
"Hope you're eating."
"Good luck for today."

Short. Distant. But never disconnected. Even when life was pulling us apart with responsibilities, he made sure I never felt alone.
Still… I hadn’t heard anything about Myra.

Was she ready to meet me? Did she even know someone new might be entering her father’s life?
The thought made my stomach flutter with a strange cocktail of excitement and fear.

What if she didn’t like me?
What if she rejected me?

I knew—I truly knew—how much Myra meant to Abhiram. And I also knew… if she said no, he would never go against her.
And where would that leave us?

I couldn't even blame him. From the very beginning, Abhiram had been clear: Myra's acceptance wasn't just important—it was everything.

We had even agreed not to involve our parents until Myra was comfortable. My mother had started asking subtle questions about Abhiram and me lately, but I kept brushing them off, saying, “We’re figuring it out.” Because that’s exactly what we were doing—figuring it out, step by step, carefully.

And now, finally, it was the weekend.
I reached home, ate a quiet dinner, and sank into bed, exhausted. I had barely closed my eyes when my phone buzzed on the side table.

Abhiram calling.

I sat up quickly and answered, my heart instantly lighter.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Maithili,” he said melting away half my tiredness.

“How was your day?” he asked softly.

“Don’t even ask,” I groaned, “This whole week was a mess—deadlines, meetings, last-minute corrections. I barely got a minute to breathe. Today, I finally, finally got a break.”

He chuckled, but there was a hint of concern in his voice. “Did you overstrain yourself? You sound tired.”

I let out a light laugh. “Leave all that. Tell me about your week. It’s been so long since we spoke properly.”

A soft pause lingered between us, gentle and familiar.

“So…” I asked, pulling my blanket closer around me. “How was your week?”

“Busy... but manageable. And quiet,” he said, his voice dipping lower, warmer. “I missed talking to you.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the week slide off my shoulders. “Me too.”

Then, almost hesitantly, he asked, “Maithili… are you free tomorrow?”

I blinked, sitting up a little. “Tomorrow? Umm… I was planning to get a quick grooming session done. Maybe some shopping too. Nothing major. Why?”

He chuckled. “Grooming? You’re already beautiful. Why do you need an appointment to prove it?”

I laughed, rolling my eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “Wow, smooth, Mr. Sinha. Are you buttering me up for something?”

He played along, his voice carrying a smile. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see you.”

Then, a pause.

“And more importantly… I wanted to ask… would you be willing to meet Myra tomorrow?”

My heart stopped for half a second.

“Tomorrow?” I echoed, my voice suddenly much softer.

“Yeah… only if you’re ready,” he said quickly. “No pressure, Maithili. I talked to her about you... she seemed curious. She asked a few things. So I thought… maybe it’s time. If not tomorrow, we can always pick another day.”

I sat fully upright now, adrenaline replacing every trace of sleepiness.

“I’ll meet her tomorrow.”

“You sure?” His voice held concern. And hope.

“One hundred percent. Everything else can wait.”

He smiled audibly over the line. “Then Zayra? Same place. Lunch?”

“Lunch it is,” I said, my heart already hammering inside my chest.

There was a slight pause, then he asked, a little carefully, “You sound low suddenly... is everything okay?”

I hesitated. Should I tell him? Should I burden him with my fears now?

“Maithili?” His voice broke through again, gentler this time.

“Yeah... I’m here,” I said quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

I sighed deeply. The truth tumbled out before I could stop it. “I’m scared.”

The other end went silent.

For a second, I thought the line had disconnected. But then his voice came, steady and sure.

“Give me a second. Let’s talk properly,” he said.

Before I could ask what he meant, the call disconnected.

Within seconds, my phone buzzed again Incoming FaceTime Call: Abhiram.
I hesitated for half a heartbeat, then accepted it.

Abhiram’s face filled my screen.
His hair was messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it all evening. He looked exhausted too—lines of tiredness softening his face—but the moment he saw me, he smiled. That familiar, gentle Abhiram smile that somehow always reached his eyes, like he couldn't hide it even if he tried.

“Hey…” he said quietly, voice warm and soothing.

I tried to return the smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.
He caught it instantly.

“Talk to me, Maithili,” he said, voice so tender it made my chest ache. “What’s scaring you?”

I hesitated, looking away for a moment, staring at the corner of my bed, trying to find courage. Finally, I lifted my eyes to meet his through the screen.
“I’m scared… what if she doesn’t like me, Abhiram?” I whispered, voice trembling. “And if she doesn’t... you’ll choose her. And you should. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle losing you.”

The words tumbled out before I could stop them—raw, messy, terrifying.

Abhiram didn’t immediately jump to reassure me. He didn’t rush to paint everything perfect. He just… stayed. Patient. Listening. Letting me say everything I was holding inside my heart.

“I know how much she means to you, Abhiram. And she should. She’s your world.” My throat felt thick. “And I’m not expecting anything else. It’s just... this matters to me too. You matter to me.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was full. Full of things neither of us needed to explain anymore.

Then finally, softly, he said, “Maithili, listen to me.”

I nodded, biting my lower lip to keep it steady.

“I’m not asking you to win Myra over in a day,” he said, voice low, earnest. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, or fit some idea of what she should like. I’m just asking you to be yourself.”

He leaned in closer to the camera, as if he could somehow bridge the physical distance between us.

“The same Maithili who stayed with me when I couldn’t find words. The same Maithili who brought me food even when I said I wasn’t hungry. The same Maithili who makes me feel like maybe... maybe the worst parts of my past don’t have to define the rest of my life.”

My chest tightened, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Myra’s important, yeah. But so are you. You’re important to me. Don’t ever forget that.”

I felt my throat close up again, overwhelmed by how deeply he meant every word.

“And you know what?” he added after a pause, voice even softer. “Even if tomorrow doesn’t go perfectly… even if she’s hesitant… it won't change how I feel about you.”

“Really?” I managed to whisper.

“Really,” he said, his smile warm, sure. “We’ll take it slow. Together. No pressure on you. No pressure on her. Just… one step at a time.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and this time, I couldn’t stop one from escaping.

I wiped the tear away quickly, feeling both embarrassed and impossibly grateful.

“Hey…” he said, noticing. “Don’t cry. Please.”

I laughed through my tears, shaking my head. “Sorry… I’m just… overwhelmed. It’s a lot.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But you’re not alone in this, okay? I’m with you.”

I nodded, feeling like maybe, just maybe, I could breathe again.

“I’m so nervous,” I admitted, my voice small.

He grinned a little, playful now. “Good. It means you care.”

I let out a watery chuckle. “That’s your pep talk?”

He laughed too, the sound filling up the empty spaces inside me.
“Nope. That was just the warm-up. The real pep talk is... you’re the kindest, warmest person I know. And that’s all you need to be. You are enough, Maithili.”

His words settled over me like a warm blanket, sinking deep into all the places that had felt shaky and unsure.

I sniffled, managing a real smile this time. “Thank you, Abhiram.”

He grinned wider. “Always.”

“And hey,” he said, mischief dancing in his eyes, “if she doesn’t like you instantly... we’ll bribe her with chocolate. Works every time.”

I burst out laughing, feeling the last of my tension finally ease from my shoulders.

“Chocolate bribery, huh? That your secret parenting technique?”

“Top secret,” he said with a wink. “Way better than negotiations or time-outs.”

We sat there like that for a few minutes—smiling, teasing, feeling so close despite the miles between us. No complicated promises. Just a simple, steady understanding.

Before we disconnected, he said quietly, “Sleep well tonight, Maithili. Tomorrow’s going to be a good day. I promise.”

I nodded, heart a little steadier now.
“I’ll see you at Zayra. Lunch.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“And Maithili?”

“Hmm?” I said, smiling without even meaning to.

“I’m proud of you. Already.”

Tears threatened again, but this time… they were happy ones. Hopeful ones.

“Good night, Abhiram,” I said softly.

“Good night, Maithili.”

He lingered a moment, just watching me, as if memorizing my face. Then, with a small wave and a smile, he ended the call.

I stared at the blank screen for a long while, my heart full to the brim.
Tomorrow could change everything.

And for the first time... I finally felt ready.