Soon, Lunch had arrived the staff moved around swiftly, laying plates, refilling glasses, and serving generous portions with smiles that matched the easy joy in the room.

Myra sat quietly beside Abhiram her small fingers curled securely around his hand. It was such an innocent, pure gesture—it made my heart melt. I couldn’t stop smiling at how tightly she held onto him, like he was her anchor in a room full of new waves.

Richa leaned forward suddenly, breaking the calm.

"Abhi, take out a pen and paper write down today’s date and time,” she said dramatically.

We all turned to her, confused.

She grinned and pointed at Myra. “From the day this little one started talking, this is the first time I’m seeing her this quiet! Not a single word. Chuttki, what happened? Huh?”

I chuckled, following her gaze. Myra was sitting there, looking completely uninterested in responding. She just squinted her eyes at Richa and, with full dramatic flair, stuck out her tiny pink tongue.

I blinked in surprise, a laugh bubbling out of me. The silent child just stuck out her tongue! The whole scene was so unexpected, and somehow, so adorably sassy.

“See her, Abhi!” Richa said, pretending to be scandalized. “She’s sticking out her tongue! Your daughter has too much attitude.”

I watched as Myra rolled her eyes. Actually, rolled them.

I couldn’t hold it anymore—I burst out laughing softly. This wasn’t just a quiet kid. This was a sharp little girl with full personality. And clearly, Richa and Myra had their own brand of daily comedy. I was beginning to enjoy the show.

Richa tried again, nudging her. “Myra, come on, say something to Maithili. She came here just to meet you. Won’t she feel bad if you don’t even talk to her?”

Myra turned to look at Abhiram again. He gave her an encouraging smile. Then she turned to Kairav.

The boy gave her a slow blink, like they were reading each other’s thoughts.

Then he turned to me, sitting up a little straighter, and declared seriously, “Myra and I have a few questions for you, Maithili aunty. Hmm... I’ll ask on her behalf.”

I stared at him in awe. These kids weren’t just expressive—they were coordinated. Three years old? They were more eloquent than half the adults I’d met.

Vikrant leaned in, laughing. “Oye, what are you? Myra’s personal assistant? Let her speak.”

Kairav shook his head firmly. “No. I’m her best friend. So, it’s my responsibility to make sure she’s happy.”

“Okay,” I said, hands raised in surrender, smiling wide. “Ask away.”

The two of them exchanged another look, full of silent understanding. Kairav unfolded the paper slowly, like he was revealing some top-secret government file. Myra sat beside him, chewing the tip of her finger nervously, eyes wide with expectation.
I gasped, and so did everyone else.

Richa clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell me—this boy came prepared!”

Kaushik laughed. “These kids are operating on a whole different level.”

And I sat there, watching Myra, while her little best friend straightened the paper and cleared his throat like a miniature news anchor.

This wasn’t just a lunch anymore.

It was an interview.

And honestly? I was all in.

Just then, my phone pinged with a message.

I looked over at Abhiram, who subtly signaled me to check it. I picked it up under the table.

“Good luck. This might be tougher than your job interview.”
I smiled at the screen. He wasn’t wrong. My palms were already getting sweaty.

Kairav cleared his throat like a news anchor about to go live. He looked at Myra for a nod, and when she gave him the tiniest, most serious one, he turned to me.

“Aunty,” he began, “Question number one: Do you like chocolate ice cream or strawberry?”

I blinked. That’s what they were starting with?

I leaned in and whispered playfully, “Chocolate. Double chocolate, if I can get it.”

Myra's eyes lit up. She looked at Kairav, who gave a proud nod and ticked something on the list. Abhiram stifled a laugh opposite me.

“Question two,” Kairav said. “Can you do different hair styles like Piu’s mummy?”

I glanced at Abhiram, who was already chuckling. I looked back at the kids. “Well, I know a few… but I love learning new ones too. We can try together.”

Another nod from Myra. Another tick.

“Question three: Can you make pancakes shaped like stars?”

I grinned. “Stars, hearts… even animals. But only if you promise not to laugh when they come out looking funny.”

Myra giggled, hand over her mouth. A real giggle.

“Do you know bedtime stories?”

I nodded. “Lots of them. Funny ones, magical ones, even sleepy ones for bad days.”

Kairav ticked again.

Abhiram gently brushed his fingers through Myra’s hair.

Then came a question that caught me off guard.

“Mittu doesn’t like milk. Will you give her milk, or scold her if she doesn’t drink it?”

I paused. This was more than a silly question. It was careful, intentional.

I looked at Abhiram. Then at Myra.

I said gently, “Milk is healthy—even I used to hate it. But my mom never scolded me. She just found a way to make me drink it. I’ll do the same. I won’t scold her. But yes, I’ll make sure she gets what her body needs.”

Kairav and Myra exchanged a look. No tick this time.

For a second, I worried. Did I mess up? Am I coming off too strict?

But I couldn’t lie just to stay in their good books.

Then came the next question—the heaviest yet.

“Kairav said, ‘Mittu didn’t get to do Mother’s Day activities at school. Do you know how to play sports, so you can help her win next time?’”

The table went silent. Even the clinking of cutlery seemed to pause.

I looked at Abhiram his face reflected the same ache I felt.

Quickly, I gathered myself and smiled. “Of course I do! I’m very good at sports. And I promise, Myra and I will win not just at Mother’s Day, but every celebration from now on.”

That earned a wide-eyed smile from Myra. And a big tick from Kairav.

He didn’t stop there.

“If Myra feels sad, will you make her smile? Abhi uncle does that… but will you? Or will you make her cry like Cinderella’s mother?”

My heart clenched. The room was still again.

I looked straight into Myra’s big, searching eyes.

“I’ll always try to be your safe space Myra,” I said softly. And never like that wicked Cinderella lady.”

“I’ll never stop trying. I’ll always be there. Always.”

I wasn’t sure how much Myra truly understood… but Abhiram did. I could see it in his eyes.

Then came the final question.

Kairav held the paper a little closer. “Last one. Myra wrote this one.”

She whispered something to him. He nodded, and then read gently:

“Aunty she wants to call you ‘Mummy’. Is that okay with you?”

Every eye at the table turned to me. Myra’s were the biggest of all—bright, hopeful, expectant.

Tears instantly welled up in my eyes.

But I smiled and said, “No.”

A wave of confusion swept across the table. Myra’s face fell. Her little shoulders drooped.

Kairav asked, “Why can't she call you Mummy?

I turned to him. “Kairav, if you want to talk to your mummy, would you ask Myra to do it for you?”

He shook his head. “No. I talk to Mummy directly.”

“And if Myra wants something from her father, would you go and talk to your Abhi uncle for her?”

“No,” he said again. “Myra goes to Abhi uncle herself.”

I shrugged. “Exactly. If Myra wants to call me Mummy… she has to ask me. Not you.”

The room burst into warm laughter. Everyone smiling through their tears.

I saw the two kids whispering. Then Myra slid off her chair and walked toward me. I turned slightly, unsure of what she’d do.

She stopped right in front of me. “Can I sit on your lap?” she asked.

My throat tightened. I nodded, and she climbed up.

Then, she hugged me.

Softly, into my ear, she whispered, “Thank you for coming back to me, Mamma. Now I can tell everyone… I have a Mamma too.”

I couldn’t hold the tears anymore.

Abhiram’s eyes were full as he watched us. I hugged Myra tighter, my voice thick with emotion.

“Your Mamma is always with you, darling. Always.”

And for the first time in a long time… my heart felt whole.

Myra comfortably nestled in my lap not stiff or shy anymore, but relaxed. Her presence on my lap didn’t feel like weight—it felt like home, like a place I was meant to belong.

Vikrant, Myra, and Kairav were having a lively debate about anime characters and their powers, with Myra and Kairav defending their favourites.

I couldn’t help but smile. The room had slipped into easy laughter, everyone lost in conversation, clinking glasses, playful nudges.

"Come here, Myra. Your favourite white pasta is ready," Abhiram called as Myra sat in my lap.

Before I could respond, Myra snuggled deeper into me and said, “No, Papa. Today Mamma will feed me.”

My eyes met Abhiram’s across the table.

There was a softness in his gaze—a mix of awe and quiet emotion. He passed the plate to me and said with a tender smile, “Do the honours.”

I smiled back, holding the warm plate close. I scooped a small bite of the creamy white pasta, blew softly on it to cool it down, and gently brought the fork to Myra’s lips. She took the bite happily, chewing with a content expression that melted something deep inside me.

I felt Abhiram’s gaze still on us. I looked at him again and this time, I smiled more openly acknowledging that something beautiful was unfolding in this moment, unspoken but deeply felt.

Just then, Myra grinned mischievously. “Mamma, now my turn!” she announced, picking up a fork and delicately stabbing a piece of pasta. With all the gentleness she could muster, she brought it to my lips.

I opened my mouth, laughing softly. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I said, savouring not just the food but the love behind it.

Then—click.

I heard the soft sound of a camera shutter.

I turned and saw Abhiram with his phone, capturing us mid-laughter. I chuckled. “Myra, look! Papa is taking our picture—say cheese!”

Myra looked at the phone and we both posed—her tiny hands around my neck, my cheek brushing against mine. I could already imagine the picture: love, in its purest form.

Before I could catch my breath, Kairav’s voice piped up. “Aunty, me too!” he exclaimed, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Before anyone could stop him, he climbed onto the other side of my lap. I instinctively caught him, balancing both kids on either side of me. Richa immediately spoke up, half-laughing, half-worried, “Kairav! Careful, beta! Aunty will get hurt!”

But I shook my head. “It’s okay. I’ve got them.”

They were both giggling now, nestled against me—one leaning on each shoulder.

Abhiram lifted the phone again. Click.

The camera captured more than just a picture. It captured the beginning of something whole.

As I looked down at Myra’s glowing face, her little hand grip mine.

This was the first page of a chapter I never knew I’d get to write—with them. With us.

Soon the lunch was wrapped up and the plates were cleared.

That’s when Kaushik bhai’s voice broke through the calm.

“Abhi, come sit near Maithili. Let me take a picture of your family—you, Maithili, and Myra.”

Myra's eyes lit up like someone had switched on a string of fairy lights inside her. “Yay!” she squealed, clapping her little hands.

Abhiram looked at me, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes—soft, full, and unspoken. He got up and came to sit beside me, the space between us disappearing like it had never existed. Myra immediately shifted onto his lap.

His arm came around me naturally, resting on my shoulder with a gentle weight that was more comforting than I could explain. I turned slightly toward him, and when our eyes met, I smiled—quiet and full, the kind that only came when your heart was too full to put into words.

Click.

The camera flashed, capturing the three of us in that single, delicate moment. Myra’s laughter. Abhiram’s calm, steady presence. My smile that held more than just joy—it held a promise.

I saw Vikrant on the side, his phone up too. He took a photo, then quickly looked down, smiling a little too fast. For a second, just a second, I saw it—the shimmer of something more than happiness in his eyes. Richa, too, stood behind the lens, her face soft with a tenderness that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. They hid it behind teasing smiles and light jokes, but I understood why it felt deeper. They had seen the before. And now, they were witnessing the beginning of an after.

Then, Myra’s small voice piped up again.

“Now only Mumma and Papa picture!”

She slid off Abhiram’s lap, giving us a look that was both proud and commanding. We stood up Abhiram beside me and without a word, he reached out and took my hand gently, fingers brushing mine like a quiet declaration.

The camera clicked again.

And just like that, a memory was framed. Not just in pixels—but in time.

As the laughter faded and the last of the plates were cleared, Richa clapped her hands and said with mock authority, “Okay, kiddos—off you go! Go play.”

Myra and Kairav didn’t need a second invitation. With gleeful squeals, they darted off, leaving behind echoes of their footsteps and our soft chuckles.

As soon as the children disappeared, Richa turned her attention to us with the kind of pointed mischief only she could manage. “So, Abhi… Maithili… now that you’ve officially passed Myra’s very intense and very adorable vetting process,” she paused dramatically, “when are you both going to make it official to your respective parents?”

I glanced toward Abhiram, whose expression mirrored mine: thoughtful, but not uncertain. Then I looked back at the others and spoke up first. “My mother… she’s been asking about us for a while now. I’ve been dodging the questions, but I think… I’m going to tell her tonight.”

“Today?” Abhiram asked, surprised, his brow arching ever so slightly.

I shrugged. “As we discussed earlier… we wanted to tell our parents after we told Myra. And now that she knows—now that she’s accepted me—what’s there to hide? Unless,” I paused, searching his face, “you want to wait?”

His gaze flickered between Richa, Kaushik, Vikrant, and then back to me. There was no hesitation in his eyes, just a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. Not doubt—more like… hesitation laced with intention.

"I don't want to wait," he said. "But could we hold off for a few days before telling your mom?"

My curiosity sparked instantly. “Why?” I asked, my voice gentle but firm.

He gave a crooked smile, the kind he gave when he was keeping something close to the chest. “You’ll know. Soon.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to read between the lines, but all I saw was calm assurance. And that quiet, warm feeling I’d come to trust.

“Alright,” I said, finally nodding. “As you wish.”