The next day at the Gills' house was peaceful, with warm sunshine streaming through the French windows into the cozy living room. Mama and Papa Gill sat on the couch, sipping hot tea, their faces serene as they watched the scene before them. On the floor, Pashmina, Shubman, and Shahneel were deeply engrossed in a board game, their focus so intense that not a single word passed between them—only the sound of the dice rolling across the floor broke the silence.

For once, Shahneel and Shubman weren’t fighting, though it was evident from their expressions that they suspected each other of cheating. Amid the subtle tension, Pashmina kept her calm, her serene demeanor acting as a quiet anchor for the group.

Mama Gill's smile grew a little wider as she noticed Shubman stealing glances at Pashmina. He fawned quietly, his eyes softening at her every endearing move.
Shubman's gaze softened every time Pashmina tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear or scrunched her nose in concentration as she studied the game board.

Mama Gill’s heart warmed at the sight, the subtle adoration in her son's eyes unmistakable.

Just as Mama Gill was about to turn to Papa Gill to point out how their son was acting like a marshmallow around Pashmina, the sudden chime of the doorbell startled them both. They exchanged puzzled glances, each silently wondering who could be visiting so early in the day. 

Papa Gill set his tea down, the porcelain clinking softly against the saucer. "Were we expecting someone?" he asked, his brow furrowing. 

Mama Gill shook her head, her curiosity piqued. "Not that I know of. Maybe a neighbor?" 

The children paused their game, their heads turning toward the door as the dice rolled to a stop. "Should we check who it is?" Shahneel asked, already halfway to standing up.

"No, no," Mama Gill said, motioning for her to stay put. "I'll see who it is."

The children, momentarily distracted, quickly turned their attention back to the game.

Meanwhile, Mama Gill, in her soft and fluffy slippers, shuffled gracefully toward the door. The faint swish of her movement against the floor added to the cozy stillness of the house. She reached the door, pausing for a moment to adjust her cardigan before opening it slowly.

Her eyes widened as she saw the familiar pair of eyes, not so familiar in years.

Mama Gill quickly glanced back into the living room, where Shubman seemed completely engrossed in the game, his attention fixed on the board. With a hesitant breath, Mama Gill turned back to the couple on the doorstep, her voice shaky as she finally spoke, "Please, come in."

She opened the door wider, though a part of her still lingered in uncertainty.

Shubman took a moment to blink his eyes, letting them relax from the prolonged staring at Shahneel's every move in the game, making sure she didn’t cheat. As he shifted his focus, his gaze suddenly landed on the door, and his eyebrows furrowed in anger. He quickly stood up, the game pieces scraping against the floor, startling everyone in the room.

"You stop right there, you two!" he shouted, his voice sharp and full of frustration.

Poonam and Ranjeet Bagga gulped as they watched the young man march toward them. Just as Shubman was about to say something more, Mama Gill quickly stepped in, her voice calm but firm.

"Baby, look, calm down," she said gently, placing a hand on his arm to steady him.

But Shubman wasn’t having any of it. He looked at his mother, his expression angry—a look he rarely ever gave her and hated to show, but right now, with the Bagga family standing in his home, his blood was boiling.

"No, Mumma, you ain’t stopping me, not this time!" he snapped, his voice sharp and filled with frustration.

The room fell silent. Mama Gill stood there, her eyes wide with shock. She had never seen her son react like this, and the force of his words made her step back for a moment.

"And you two, why are you still here? Out of my house, right now!" Shubman shouted again, his finger pointed sharply toward the door.

His voice rang through the room, full of authority and anger. The Bagga couple stood frozen, caught off guard by his outburst. Poonam's face turned pale, while Ranjeet’s jaw tightened, both unsure of how to handle the confrontation.

Just as the tension in the room reached its peak, the sound of a soft cry pierced through the shouting. Shubman's eyes immediately shifted towards Ranjeet's hands, where a toddler—barely a year old—was crying uncontrollably. The baby’s tiny face scrunched up in distress, the tears flowing freely as the loudness of Shubman's voice seemed to have startled them.

Shubman squinted, his gaze narrowing as he focused on the child. His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was the same baby he had seen in the car the day before—the same little one who had been laughing at the funny faces he’d made, so carefree and joyful. Now, that same child was in Ranjeet's arms, crying because of his own outburst.

For a moment, Shubman stood frozen, his anger faltering as he looked at the child. The sight of the baby, so small and helpless, seemed to cut through his frustration. He felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly overshadowed by the storm of emotions still swirling inside him.

Ranjeet’s hands gently rocked the baby, trying to soothe the child with soft murmurs. "Shh, it's okay, little one," he cooed, his voice calm and steady as he shifted the baby in his arms. But no matter how gently he rocked or how comforting his voice sounded, the baby’s cries only grew louder, the little face scrunched in distress.

Shubman felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest as he watched the baby cry, his heart softening for a moment again. The innocent wails made him feel a deep sense of remorse, but the anger and frustration still echoed in his mind, refusing to let go. The emotions he'd been holding onto—the wrongs, the tension—were like a storm inside him, clouding his judgment. He was about to retaliate, to shout again, when his father’s stern voice cut through the air like a sharp command.

"Stop it right now, Shubman!"

Papa Gill’s voice was firm, commanding, and it stopped Shubman in his tracks.

Shubman bit down on his inner cheek, the frustration still bubbling beneath the surface. His fists clenched as he was about to move upstairs, needing space to calm down. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the middle of this confrontation. But just as he started to turn away, Ranjeet’s pleading voice stopped him.

"Shubman, wait. We need to talk," Ranjeet said, still holding the baby, his voice softer now but laced with urgency.

Shubman turned around, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but he took a deep breath, trying to control himself for the sake of the toddler. His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was a hint of restraint in it as he spoke. "Is there anything left to say after everything you’ve done?"

"Please, I beg you," Poonam pleaded, her eyes almost filled with tears.

Pashmina didn't know who they were, but it was clear they needed help. Seeing the distress in the room, she decided to step in and intervene.

Walking towards the couple, Pashmina extended her hand toward the baby, hoping she could calm him. Ranjeet hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should let her hold the child, but when the little one reached their tiny hands out toward her, he softened. With a deep breath, he decided to give it a try, hoping that someone could settle the toddler’s cries as quickly as possible. He gently handed the baby to Pashmina, trusting her to help soothe the child.

Pashmina cradled the baby carefully in her arms, her voice soft and gentle as she whispered, "Aww, aww... rote nahi, baccha... shh, shh..." She rocked the baby gently, her calming words and rhythmic motions beginning to ease the toddler's cries.

Once the cries came to a halt, the baby nestled their face into Pashmina’s shoulder, their tiny body relaxing in her arms. Their little mouth instinctively bit onto the fabric of her kurti, as if seeking comfort and security in her presence. Pashmina gently stroked his back, her heart warming as she felt the baby's grip loosen, their breathing now steady and calm.

Shubman was about to turn and move upstairs once again, his frustration still simmering, when Pashmina’s soft voice stopped him. "Shubman, please," she said gently, her tone filled with quiet pleading. "Listen to them, just once. Please, let them explain."

He stopped at the sound of her voice. He could never deny the love and calmness in her tone. Turning around, he kept his gaze on the baby, still cradled in Pashmina’s arms, making sure he didn’t raise his voice again.

"I’ll give you 15 minutes," Shubman said, his voice tight but controlled. "Talk, say whatever you want, and then leave."