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Radhika's heart is pounding so hard, she's sure it can be heard across the room. It feels like every thud is bouncing off the walls, echoing louder than it actually is.

She clutches the edge of her dupatta with both hands, her fingers twisting and untwisting the delicate fabric as she paces the length of the living room in a loop that's both frantic and oddly precise.

One, two, three steps, pivot. One, two, three steps, pivot. Her payal ring quietly making a sound, but her nervous energy fills the room like a soft hum that only she can hear.

The others, comfortably settled on the big plush couch, seem completely unfazed. Anushka bhabhi is talking animatedly about something, probably a PR strategy or the latest Bollywood gossip.

Ritika bhabhi nods along, occasionally chiming in with her own insights, while Hazel bhabhi smiles at some witty comment from Sara. Even Aditi and Anjali ma'am look relaxed, sipping tea like they're at a quiet picnic.

But Radhika... she can't seem to sit still, let alone pretend to care about whatever they're discussing. Her eyes keep darting to the study door like it holds the secret to her future, and her stomach twists into more knots than her anatomy class notes.

Shubman ji is in there. Alone. With Rohit Bhai.

She freezes mid-step at the thought, the corners of her dupatta crumpled tightly in her hands now. Her breath hitches slightly, her imagination already sprinting ahead, painting scenarios that make her feel faint. She knows her brother.

Rohit Bhai isn't... violent, she tells herself quickly, as if trying to convince her inner worrywart. He's not going to throw punches or grab Shubman ji by the collar. Right? But words? Oh, her brother is excellent with words.

The kind of words that leave people feeling like they've just survived a category-five hurricane of guilt, disappointment, and life lessons.

Her brother has an incredible ability to talk in circles, pulling in everything from moral sermons to cricket metaphors, until the person in front of him is thoroughly disoriented.

He's also unpredictable, thanks to his woh-yeh syndrome—his way of forgetting key details mid-sentence and replacing them with filler words.

It sounds funny in theory, but Radhika has seen her brother reduce grown men to puddles of confusion with this method.

And Shubman ji, with his endearing tendency to stumble over his words when he's nervous, doesn't stand a chance against that. Her fingers twitch against her dupatta, the thought of Rohit Bhai interrogating Shubman ji making her chest tighten.

She's not worried about Rohit saying anything too harsh—her brother isn't unreasonable. But she knows exactly how protective he gets about her.

Rohit doesn't just see himself as her big brother; he sees himself as her unofficial bodyguard, moral compass, and life coach rolled into one.

Combine that with the fact that she's his Khargosh, his baby sister who he's practically raised, and... well, it's no wonder her anxiety feels like it's about to spiral out of control.

Radhika pauses mid-pace, clutching her hands together as she presses her teeth into her bottom lip. A horrifying new possibility crosses her mind.

What if he's telling Shubman ji embarrassing stories about me? Her eyes widen in horror at the thought. What if her brother decides to tell Shubman ji about the time she tried to organize a blood donation camp in her colony when she was ten?

She thought it was a great idea—until the aunty downstairs saw her marching around with syringes and promptly locked herself in her house, convinced she was about to be kidnapped by medical students.

Or worse, she realizes, pressing her lips together tightly, what if he mentions the science fair incident?

She groans internally, shaking her head to dislodge the thought. She has to do something. She can't just let Shubman ji sit in there, subjected to her brother's unpredictable mix of scolding and reminiscing.

But what exactly is she supposed to do? March up to the study, knock on the door, and... what? Drag Shubman ji out by the collar like a heroine saving her lover from the clutches of her angry brother?

Her cheeks burn at the absurdity of the thought. No, Radhika. That's ridiculous. Be normal. She shakes her head quickly, her soft curls bouncing against her shoulders, and resumes pacing.

She takes a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies that have been fluttering in her stomach ever since Shubman ji disappeared into the study.

Her soft curls bounce around her face as she shakes her head again, resuming her pacing with the kind of precision that could rival an exam drill.

One, two, three steps, turn. Repeat. It's a habit, one that usually calms her nerves, but today it's failing miserably.

"Ridhu bacha, itna tension kyun le rahi hai? Sab theek hoga," Sachin paaji says gently, his warm, reassuring voice pulling her out of her frantic loop. [Ridhu dear, why are you stressing so much? Everything will be fine.]

She pauses mid-step, looking over at him. He's seated on the single armchair near the corner, leaning back comfortably as if nothing in the world could ever go wrong.

He smiles at her, that calm, wise smile that could probably convince a storm to stop mid-blow. Radhika gives him a small, sheepish smile in return, her fingers nervously twisting her dupatta.

She gestures hesitantly, her hands forming careful signs, Lekin paaji, bhai is... unpredictable. Kabhi bhi kuch bhi bol dete hain. [But paaji, bhai is... unpredictable. He can say anything.]

Sachin chuckles softly, nodding in understanding. "Haan, woh toh hai. Par tu jaanti hai na, woh Shubman ko kha nahi jaayega." [Yes, that's true. But you know, he won't eat Shubman alive.]

Yuvi paa snorts at that. "Haan, par woh Shubman ko achhe se grilled chicken zaroor bana dega." [Yeah, but he'll definitely turn Shubman into perfectly grilled chicken.] His grin is wide, teasing, but there's a twinkle of affection in his eyes as he speaks.

Radhika's hands falter mid-motion, her fingers stiffening around the edge of her dupatta as if clinging to it is the only way to steady her racing thoughts. The soft cotton feels worn and familiar under her touch, but it offers no comfort.

Her gaze drops to the floor, where the intricate carpet pattern blurs under her increasingly watery eyes. She blinks rapidly, trying to will the stinging sensation away, but it refuses to leave.

The harder she tries to compose herself, the tighter her chest feels, as though her own emotions are conspiring against her.

Her brother—her Ro bhai—has always been her rock. Her protector. The person who, no matter the situation, stands tall and firm, shielding her from every storm.

She knows this about him, trusts him with all her heart. But it's precisely because she knows him so well that her stomach churns.

Rohit isn't unkind, not deliberately, but he's intense. His words, even when well-meaning, can cut sharp, and his unrelenting gaze can feel like a spotlight that's too bright to bear.

Poor Shubman ji—he isn't used to this. Radhika pictures him sitting in that study, his nervous energy likely betraying him, his words fumbling under the pressure of her brother's scrutiny.

She bites her lip, her teeth pressing against the soft skin as her imagination runs wild.

What if Rohit bhai misreads Shubman ji's awkwardness as carelessness? What if his questions feel too pointed, too overwhelming?

The thought makes her heart squeeze painfully, a sensation she can't quite name but doesn't like one bit.

Taking a deep breath, she lifts her gaze hesitantly, letting it flit across the room. She looks at the familiar faces scattered across the living room, hoping one of them might offer a solution.

Sachin paaji, Yuvi paa, Anushka bhabhi, Ritika bhabhi, and Hazel bhabhi sit nearby, their heads bent close together as they share a hushed conversation.

Sara and Aditi are keeping Samaira, and Vamika entertained. Even Ishan, perched on the armrest of a sofa, seems entirely at ease, playing with the two little girls

But none of them are the person she's looking for. Her eyes finally land on Virat bhai, his arms casually folded across his chest as he leans back on the couch, his head softly caressing Akaay, who is sleeping peacefully in his father's arms.

Something about his steady presence makes her straighten her shoulders, determination slowly creeping into her posture.

She takes a hesitant step toward him, then another, her soft sandals barely making a sound on the floor. Her movements are slow, almost shy, as though she's unsure if she should even be asking for this.

But the thought of Shubman ji alone in that room with her bhai is too much to bear. Her hands lift almost instinctively, though there's a moment's pause before she begins signing, her gestures quick and filled with urgency.

Virat bhai, please jao. Dekho na, Shubman ji ka ke saath kya ho raha hai. [Virat bhai, please go. See what's happening with Shubman ji.]

Virat raises an eyebrow, his expression flickering between curiosity and mild amusement. He doesn't move from his seat, though his head tilts slightly as he takes in her pleading gestures.

"Main? Main kyun jaoon, Ridhu?" [Me? Why should I go, Ridhu?] he asks, his voice light with teasing, though his eyes study her closely.

Radhika's hands move more animatedly now, her gestures growing sharper and quicker, her worry spilling out with every motion.

Kyunki aap hi sambhal sakte ho, she signs with a slight edge of frustration. Bhai aapki baat sunte hain. Agar Shubman ji ko kuch bol diya toh? Woh already nervous hai. Please, Virat bhai. [Because only you can handle it. Bhai listens to you. What if he says something to Shubman ji? He's already nervous. Please, Virat bhai.]

Her eyes widen slightly, the faint glisten of tears making them seem even larger, and Virat's playful grin falters for just a second.

He exhales deeply, letting his head drop back against the couch as if the weight of her plea is suddenly too much to ignore.

For a moment, he doesn't speak, and Radhika's hands drop to her lap, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of her dupatta as she waits anxiously.

Virat lets out another exaggerated sigh as if he's about to embark on some Herculean task. His movements are deliberate, almost theatrical, as he pushes himself off the couch, taking his time to adjust the baby in his arms.

"Bas tumhari aankhon mein aansoon dekhke dil pighal gaya," [I couldn't bear to see tears in your eyes,] he says with seriousness, glancing down at Radhika's worried expression. "Tumhare liye itna toh karna hi padega, Ridhu." [So I have to do this much for you, Ridhu.]

Radhika's lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but she quickly hides it by looking down, focusing on the hem of her dupatta as her fingers fiddle with it nervously.

Her face is a shade warmer now, her gratitude obvious in the slight dip of her head, though she avoids meeting his eyes.

Virat glances at her once more, his teasing demeanor softening into something gentler. Then, with practiced ease, he shifts Akaay in his arms, cradling the little one against his chest for a brief moment.

The baby stirs slightly, letting out a faint murmur, and Virat's hand instinctively rubs his back in small, soothing circles. "Ridhu," he says, his voice quieter now, "le, tu sambhal le. Lagta hai abhi aur sona hai isko." [Ridhu, here, you hold him. Looks like he wants to sleep some more.]

Radhika looks up quickly, startled for a moment by the sudden responsibility thrust upon her. Her eyes widen slightly, but before she can sign anything in protest, Virat gently places Akaay in her arms.

The baby nestles against her with a soft sigh, his tiny fists curling into the folds of her dupatta, and Radhika's initial panic melts into a calm focus.

She adjusts him carefully, her hands instinctively finding the perfect hold, and her features soften as she looks down at the little face now relaxed in slumber.

Virat watches her for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Dekha? Tere paas ek special touch hai," [See? You have a special touch.] he says, his tone warm but still teasing. "Yeh tujhse zyada relaxed lag raha hai." [He looks more relaxed with you.]

Radhika blushes, the corners of her lips curling upward for just a second before she hides it again. She glances at Akaay, gently tucking the blanket around him, her touch careful and precise, as though she's done this a hundred times before.

Just as Virat takes a step toward the study, Ishan hops up from where he's been sprawled out, munching loudly on a bag of chips. He dusts his hands on his jeans and grins. "Main bhi chalta hoon. Mujhe pata hai, ekdum masaledar scene hone wala hai." [I'm coming too. I know it's going to be a spicy scene.]

Virat groans, shaking his head as he turns to face him. "Ishan, tu kyu aata hai har jagah? Mujhe lagta hai tu sirf drama dekhne aana chahta hai." [Ishan, why do you show up everywhere? I think you just want to come to watch drama.]

Ishan grins wider, completely unbothered. "Arre bhai, drama na ho toh zindagi mein maza kaise aaye?" [Come on, bro, how can life be fun without drama?] he quips, popping another chip into his mouth.

"Aur waise bhi, mujhe lagta hai Shubman ko moral support chahiye hogi." [And besides, I think Shubman will need moral support.]

Radhika glances up at the two of them, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, though she says nothing. Her fingers tighten briefly on the baby blanket, her expression clearly betraying her concern for Shubman ji.

Virat notices and lets out a soft chuckle. "Ridhu, tu tension mat le. Main wahan pehle pahunch jaunga," [Ridhu, don't worry. I'll get there first.] he assures her, then glances at Ishan with a smirk. "Aur agar koi  problem, toh yeh banda sambhal lega." [And if there is a problem, this guy will handle it.]

Ishan throws an arm around Virat's shoulders, munching noisily as they start walking toward the study. "Sahi bola, bhai. Main toh ghar ka SRK  hoon—entry hoti hai, aur sab hil jaate hain." [Well said, bro. I'm the SRK of this house—when I enter, everything shakes up.]

Virat shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "God save us," as they disappear down the hall.

Radhika looks down at Akaay, who has nestled deeper into her dupatta, his tiny fingers curling against the soft fabric as if claiming it as his own.

His rhythmic breathing is soothing, almost
contagious, and she feels her heart begin to settle in her chest. The weight of him in her arms grounds her, a reminder that some things in life are so pure and precious they make all the chaos seem distant.

She adjusts his blanket gently, making sure it's snug but not too tight, her motions careful and practiced, like someone who's used to caring for others.

Her eyes flicker to the people around her. The living room is still buzzing quietly with conversations, though none of it seems as urgent as what's happening behind the closed study door.

Anushka bhabhi and Ritika bhabhi are laughing softly at something Sara has just said, their heads tipped toward each other like sisters sharing secrets.

Hazel bhabhi is scrolling through her phone, occasionally smiling at something on the screen, while Sachin paaji has shifted to a slightly reclined position, his cup of tea now half-empty on the side table.

Even Aditi and Anjali ma'am, seated together with the poise of two people who are used to managing any situation, seem relaxed as they chat in low tones.

Radhika's gaze lingers on them for a moment, her thoughts stirring. These are the people who have gathered to support her family, who have set aside their own busy lives to help navigate this mess.

It's not lost on her how much effort everyone has put in, and the least she can do is make them feel a little more at home.

Her hands twitch slightly against the baby blanket as she considers her next move, a hesitant idea forming in her mind.

Slowly, carefully, she adjusts Akaay in her arms, making sure his head is securely nestled in the crook of her elbow before turning her attention back to the room.

Instead, she glances at the PR team seated at the far end of the room, their laptops and notebooks spread out across the coffee table like they're preparing for a board meeting.

The team looks focused, heads bent and fingers flying over keyboards, and for a moment, she hesitates, unsure if she should interrupt. But then, her natural instinct to care for others nudges her forward.

Taking a small step closer, she raises her free hand, trying to catch their attention. The movement is subtle, shy even, but it's enough to make one of them, a young man with glasses perched on the tip of his nose, glance up in confusion. His brow furrows slightly as he looks at her, clearly trying to decipher what she wants.

Radhika tilts her head slightly, offering him a polite smile before gesturing toward the kitchen with a fluid motion of her hand, then mimicking the act of sipping tea.

The young man blinks, clearly not understanding. His expression shifts from confusion to mild panic as he glances at his colleagues, silently asking if anyone else can interpret what's happening.

Radhika feels her cheeks warm under their collective gaze, her natural shyness creeping up like a familiar shadow, but she presses on. She repeats the motion—kitchen, sipping—hoping this time it will make more sense.

Aditi, who has been quietly observing from the side, suddenly perks up. "Oh, chai?" she says, her voice breaking through the confusion.

Her lips curve into a grin as she looks at the PR team. "Radhika pooch rahi hai ki aap log chai lena chahte ho kya." [Radhika is asking if you all want tea.]

The realization dawns on the group almost simultaneously, and a chorus of "Oh!" and "Haan, haan!" follows.

One of the women in the team smiles sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Haan, chai theek rahegi," [Yes, tea would be nice.] she says, glancing at her colleagues for confirmation.

Another team member nods eagerly, muttering something about needing caffeine to function.

Radhika's smile softens at their response, a quiet warmth spreading through her chest. She nods once, acknowledging their answer, before turning to Aditi with a quick set of signs. Sab ke liye banana padega. Kaun kaun le raha hai? [I'll make for everyone. Who all wants?]

Aditi translates effortlessly, her familiarity with Radhika's gestures evident. "She's asking who all want tea. Raise your hands, guys!" Her voice carries a light-hearted cheer that breaks the formal atmosphere, and soon, almost everyone in the room has a hand raised, some with sheepish smiles, others with enthusiastic grins.

Even Yuvi paa, who has been lounging comfortably, waves his hand lazily. "Mujhe toh double do, Ridhu. Energy kaafi low lag rahi hai." [Make mine double strength, Ridhu. Feeling low on energy.]

Radhika presses her lips together, a small amused smile tugging at the corners, before nodding in acknowledgment. With Akaay still cradled in one arm, she begins making her way toward the kitchen, her steps measured and deliberate.

The gentle hum of conversations fades slightly as she crosses the threshold, entering the quiet warmth of the kitchen. It's a familiar space, one she's always found comfort in.

The soft clinking of utensils, the earthy aroma of stored spices, and the faint sound of the refrigerator hum all feel like a welcome contrast to the chaos outside.

Radhika adjusts Akaay in her arms, cradling him close as she steps into the kitchen. His soft warmth presses against her chest, and she tilts her head slightly to look at him, her lips curving into the faintest smile.

The baby's lashes flutter but his eyes remain closed, his tiny fist clutching a fold of her dupatta. She doesn't mind; if anything, the feeling of him resting so trustingly against her brings a calm she didn't know she needed.

The kitchen is quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint murmur of voices from the living room. It's a space she knows well—clean, orderly, and somehow always comforting in its simplicity.

She shifts her weight slightly, careful not to jostle Akaay too much, and begins mentally running through what she needs to do.

First, chai. Then breakfast. Everyone must be hungry by now. Her gaze drifts to the counter, where the spice box sits neatly beside the tea leaves and sugar.

Taking a deep breath, she pulls herself together, determined to make everyone feel at home despite the chaos outside.

She starts by reaching for a saucepan with her free hand, her movements slow and deliberate so she doesn't disturb the baby nestled against her shoulder. Her bangles make a faint tinkling sound as she sets the pan on the stove and turns the gas on, the small blue flame flickering to life.

Balancing Akaay in one arm, she reaches for the water jug, pouring just enough into the pan before carefully measuring the milk. The familiar actions soothe her nerves, the quiet rhythm of preparation bringing a small sense of normalcy to the day.

As the liquid begins to heat, she leans slightly against the counter, bouncing Akaay gently when he stirs.  Her free hand moves instinctively to smooth the tiny curls on his head, her touch light and calming.

He settles almost immediately, his tiny mouth twitching into a contented pout, and Radhika can't help the fond smile that tugs at her lips.

Next, she opens the spice box, her fingers hovering over the compartments before picking up a small piece of ginger.

Holding it carefully, she uses the edge of her palm to crush it against the counter, the sharp, earthy scent filling the air. Cardamom pods follow, their shells lightly cracked before being tossed into the bubbling mixture.

Her motions are unhurried, as though time has slowed to accommodate the delicate balance of caring for the baby and preparing tea. Every movement is thoughtful, precise, her years of medical training lending her the dexterity to multitask without ever feeling rushed.

Behind her, there's a faint shuffle, and she turns to see Aditi leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a mix of admiration and exasperation. "Ridhu, tu sach mein kya kar rahi hai? Ek haath mein baccha aur dusre haath mein chai bana rahi hai? Koi aur kar leta na!" [Ridhu, what are you even doing? A baby in one hand and tea-making in the other? Someone else could've done this!]

Radhika glances at her and raises her eyebrows, her expression gently teasing as she shakes her head. She gestures lightly with her free hand, signing, Sab busy hain. Mujhe koi problem nahi. [Everyone is busy. I don't mind.]

Aditi lets out a soft laugh, stepping closer to peer into the saucepan. "Tujhe problem nahi, par dekh ke mujhe ho rahi hai. Tu literally ek angel hai, Ridhu. Mera bas chale toh tujhe ek award mile." [You don't mind, but watching this makes me anxious. You're literally an angel, Ridhu. If it were up to me, you'd win an award.]

Radhika's cheeks turn a soft, rosy pink at Aditi's words, the kind of blush that creeps up unbidden and spreads warmth across her face.

She drops her gaze immediately, pretending to focus on the swirling chai as if it requires her utmost attention, even though she knows it's already mixed to perfection.

Her fingers tighten slightly around the handle of the saucepan, and the shy smile tugging at her lips disappears as quickly as it came.

She stirs the tea one more time, more out of nervous habit than necessity, her eyes fixed on the rich caramel liquid as if it holds the answer to the sudden heat in her cheeks.

Aditi leans casually against the counter, her arms crossed loosely in front of her, watching Radhika with a mixture of amusement and affection.

There's something both endearing and exasperating about her friend's quiet selflessness, a trait that Aditi admires deeply but also worries about.

She shakes her head, letting out a small sigh that's more fond than frustrated. "Yeh ladki na," she mutters, her voice low but warm, "ek din apne aap ko khatam kar degi dusron ke liye kaam karte karte." Her words are half a scold, half a resigned observation, as if this is a conclusion she's come to long ago. [This girl is going to exhaust herself one day, constantly doing things for others.]

Radhika's hands still briefly, the ladle hovering over the saucepan as she absorbs Aditi's words. Her lips press into a faint line, and her eyes flicker toward Aditi for the briefest second before darting back to the chai.

She knows Aditi isn't really angry—her tone carries no sharp edges, only the soft weight of concern—but still, Radhika feels the familiar twinge of embarrassment that comes whenever someone points out her inability to prioritize herself.

Aditi isn't finished, her words softening further as she continues, "Ridhu, tu thoda relax karna seekh le kabhi kabhi." She unfolds her arms and steps closer, her gaze gentler now as she tilts her head, studying Radhika's profile.

"Main samajhti hoon ki sab ka khayal rakhna teri aadat hai, but kabhi kabhi khud ka bhi khayal rakhna zaroori hai, samjhi?" [Ridhu, you should learn to relax sometimes. I understand that taking care of everyone is a habit for you, but sometimes it's important to take care of yourself too, understand?]

Radhika doesn't lift her gaze, but her free hand comes up, her fingers signing quickly, Main theek hoon, sach. Mujhe kaam karna achha lagta hai. Relax karne ka time baad mein milega. [I'm fine, really. I like staying busy. There will be time to relax later.]

Her gestures are fluid but slightly hurried, as if she's eager to brush the topic aside. Aditi watches her for a long moment, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"Haan, haan," [Yes, yes.] she replies lightly, though her eyes betray the protective worry she feels.

"Main tumhare bahane sun-sun ke expert ban gayi hoon, doctor sahiba." [I've become an expert at listening to your excuses, Doctor Sahiba.]

Radhika's lips twitch slightly at the teasing, but she doesn't reply. Instead, she lifts the saucepan carefully, pouring the chai into the waiting cups on the tray, her motions precise and practiced.

The rich aroma fills the small kitchen, blending with the faint warmth of sunlight streaming in through the window, and for a moment, everything feels calm.

Radhika sets the saucepan down gently, the soft clink of metal against the counter echoing in the quiet kitchen. Her fingers, still wrapped around the handle, linger for a moment as she begins arranging the cups on the tray with practiced care.

The fragrant steam from the chai curls upward, filling the air with its warmth, but Radhika's mind is already wandering.

Chai is good—it will wake everyone up and offer a moment of comfort—but it's not enough. A room full of people, some of whom have been dealing with the ongoing tension all morning, need something more substantial to ease their exhaustion.

Her gaze drifts toward the counter, where the morning light catches the edge of a breadbox and a bowl of fruit, but neither seems enough for what she has in mind. She pauses, her fingers brushing the rim of a cup as her thoughts begin to shift and take shape.

Breakfast. Something hearty. Something warm. The kind of meal that makes people smile just by looking at it.

Her brow furrows slightly as she considers her options. Then, without looking up, she turns toward Aditi, who is still leaning against the doorframe.

Her hand lifts instinctively, forming quick, fluid gestures. Shubman ji ko breakfast mein kya pasand hai? [What does Shubman like for breakfast?]

Aditi's eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise at the sudden question, but her lips curve into a teasing smile almost immediately. "Shubman ke pasand? Kyun, Ridhu, ab uski pasand-dislikes bhi jaan logi kya?" she quips, her tone light and mischievous. [Shubman's preferences? Why, Ridhu, are you planning to learn all his likes and dislikes now?]

Radhika feels her cheeks grow warm, the faint pink deepening into a blush that spreads to the tips of her ears. She lowers her gaze quickly, the nervous habit of fiddling with the edge of her dupatta kicking in as she bites back a smile.

She doesn't reply directly, but her fingers sign again, slower this time, with a little more hesitation. Woh aaj nervous lag rahe the. Main bas unke liye kuch achha banana chahti hoon. [He seemed nervous today. I just want to make something nice for him.]

Aditi's teasing smile softens instantly, replaced by something gentler, almost fond. She tilts her head thoughtfully. "Hmm," she hums, pretending to think for a moment.

"Shubman ko kya pasand hai? Oh, haan! Usko aloo paratha kaafi pasand hai. Woh bhi pure style." [What does Shubman like? Oh, yes! He loves aloo paratha. And that too full punjabi style.] She grins, her eyes twinkling.

"Tere haath ke parathe kha ke toh uska din ban jayega, pakka." [If he eats parathas made by you, his day will definitely be made.]

Radhika's hands pause mid-motion, her gaze lifting toward Aditi briefly before dipping again as an idea blooms in her mind. Aloo paratha. Simple but filling. Familiar but comforting.

It feels just right for the morning—something warm and homemade, a gesture of care that she hopes will ease even a fraction of the tension swirling around them all.

She nods, her decision made, and her hands sign with a quiet sense of purpose. Aloo paratha banati hoon. Sabke liye. Shubman ji ke liye bhi. [I'll make aloo parathas. For everyone. For Shubman ji too.]

Aditi raises an eyebrow, clearly amused but not surprised by Radhika's determination. "Tujhse yeh hi umeed thi," she says with a soft laugh.

"Theek hai, lekin ek condition hai—ab Akaay ko mujhe de do. Ek haath se paratha banana toh nahi hoga na?" [This is exactly what I expected from you. Fine, but on one condition—give me Akaay now. You can't make parathas with one hand, right?]

Radhika hesitates for a moment, glancing down at the baby nestled in her arms. Akaay's tiny fingers are still curled into the edge of her dupatta, his breathing soft and even against her chest.

A part of her feels reluctant to let go, the instinct to keep holding and protecting him tugging at her heart. But Aditi's outstretched hands and the gentle smile on her face reassure her, and slowly, carefully, she transfers Akaay into her friend's arms.

The process is delicate, almost reverent. Radhika adjusts the baby's blanket one last time, her fingers lingering briefly to smooth a wrinkle near his shoulder.

Akaay stirs faintly, letting out a soft murmur, but Aditi bounces him lightly, her movements natural and practiced, until he settles again.

"Dekha? Mere haath mein bhi bilkul relaxed hai," Aditi says with a grin, cradling Akaay close as she steps back to give Radhika space. "Ab tu apne parathe ka mission shuru kar." [See? He's perfectly relaxed in my arms too. Now start your paratha mission.]

Radhika offers her a small smile, one filled with gratitude, before turning toward the pantry. Her movements are unhurried but purposeful as she begins gathering everything she needs: a small sack of potatoes, a bowl for kneading dough, and the spice box that holds the familiar mix of flavors she knows by heart.

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AWW...Apni Radhika kitni cute hai, worry about her future tharki pati.

Kaisa laga? - dagabaazreee, Esma_Hiranur_Sultan, bowledover18

Pasand aaya, toh vote and comment kar dena. Story mein kuch chahiye, toh bata dena.

Aur prem so bolo,

Radhe..Radhe 🙏🏻