Bhumi's POV:

"Faster, Daddy! Faster!" Abhi and Sammy screamed as Aryamann pushed the shopping cart across the aisle in the hypermarket.

"Stop it, Aryamann. The manager will ban us from here. This is the nearest supermarket from our place," I said, my lips thinned in annoyance.

"Spoilsport," Aryamann said, and I glared at him.

The boys looked at me with their puppy eyes.

"We will go go-karting in the mall one day, sweeties. Many people are here, and they will be disturbed," I said, and they nodded with a pout.

Once the shopping was done, we made a quick stop at the paint shop. We decided to paint the kids' room ourselves.

It would be fun.

"Is the paint organic?" Aryamann asked the vendor.

"This is not. If you want organic paints, I can arrange for them to be delivered by evening," the vendor said.

"Great. Please deliver them to this address," Aryamann said and wrote our address on a notepad.

"What colours, sir?" The vendor asked.

"A warm blue would do. And sunny yellow too," I answered, and the man nodded and noted it on his notepad.

After that, we left for home.

As soon as we kept the shopping bags in the kitchen, the boys rushed toward them.

"Me! Me! Me!" Abhi screamed, letting everyone know that he wanted to open them first.

"Sammy too," Sammy said adamantly and joined his brother.

"What are they doing?" Aryamann asked in shock, seeing the boys go crazy opening the shopping bags.

"They always want to know what's inside. And they are exceptionally fascinated with my tampons," I said, snatching the box of tampons from Abhi, who was in the process of opening the box.

"Tampons? They are fascinated about tampons?" Aryamann asked in horror.

"Yeah. They think tampons are small glasses made especially for kids. I once caught them taking water in it and drinking from it," I said.

"Eeww," Aryamann said and shuddered, making me laugh.

"Don't be so disgusted. They were new tampons," I said.

"Of course, I know. You wouldn't be leaving used ones around for the boys to get their hands on it," Aryamann said, still looking horrified at the thought of the boys drinking water from the tampons.

"By the way, is it that time of the month for you already?" Aryamann asked.

"In a couple of days," I said, and he sulked.

"Don't be such a baby. It's part and parcel of life. You can't have it 24/7, now can you?" I asked him, huffing.

"Can't have what, mommy?" Abhi asked.

"Damn! Do they listen to all our conversations?" Aryamann asked in horror.

"They are curious toddlers. They listen to everything," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Yay! Choco pie!" Sammy screamed in joy as he got his hands on the packet of choco pie.

He loves it.

Abhi made a face seeing the chocolate delicacy.

"Abhi doesn't like sweets?" Aryamann asked.

"He hates sweets, like you. And Sammy loves them, like me," I said, still wondering how different my boys are from each other.

"Uh, aren't they supposed to be similar in everything? Since they are twins?" Aryamann asked, and I laughed out loud.

"The biggest misunderstanding every parent of twins has in the beginning. Don't worry, it will be changed soon," I said, patting his shoulder.

"I always thought twins think similarly, they do things together, they like the same things," Aryamann said.

"It was only during afternoons they slept together. During nights, Abhi would sleep at around eight in the evening. And Sammy would stay awake playing. And when finally, Sammy goes down to sleep at around eleven, Abhi would wake up and demand to be played with. Sometimes I used to cry because I couldn't sleep," I said, remembering those days.

"Do they get possessive about you?" Aryamann asked.

"Whose sons are they, after all?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

Of course, they are in and out possessive about me. Absolutely like their father.

"I knew it," Aryamann said with a smug smile.

"When they were born, I was advised to feed them at the same time. They call it football feedings or something. Abhi on the right and Sammy on the left. I used to feed them like that for one year. Then when they got a bit bigger, they started fighting while being fed," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Well, thank God they are past the feeding age now. Or there would have been another competitor," Aryamann said with a wink, earning a wack from me.

"Shut up," I said, turning a bit red.

Thankfully, the boys are engaged in checking the shopping bags.

"They both wanted to be my priority. Abhi wanted Abhi to be fed first, played with first, and pampered first. Sammy wants him to be first. And when I feed them anything other than my milk, I have to make sure that they both know they are being fed the same thing. Can you believe it?" I asked with a chuckle.

"Oh, I thought they were so attached to each other," Aryamann mused, looking at the boys who were playing together.

"They are. They absolutely adore each other. They don't like it if I scold any one of them. They fight with each other, but if a third party comes in between them, they will become a team," I said.

"Weird. I don't understand this twin dynamics," Aryamann said, shaking his head in wonder.

"There's nothing much to understand, Aryamann. Every set of twins is different. We just learn as we go by," I said, and he nodded.

"You have to go to the university tomorrow, right?" Aryamann asked.

"Yeah. And I want to finish this painting work before I take my books out of the cartons," I said.

"We will do it in the evening. Hopefully, the vendor delivers the paint on time."

"Let's order a pizza then. I am starving," I said.

"Pizza?" The boys looked up in glee hearing the word pizza, and I rolled my eyes.

Definitely, my boys!

******

Aryamann's POV:

"Okay. Now, dip your hands in the paint bucket," I told the boys, and they did so happily.

I never thought that painting a bedroom would be so fun.

I have paint all over my t-shirt. Even my hair has paint on it, I am sure.

"We did it, Daddy!" the boys shouted in unison, looking gleefully at their paint-covered hands.

"Now, press your hands on this wall," I said, pointing at the one wall, which we left to be decorated with our own handiworks. The other three walls were roughly painted a warm blue.

Though the painting wasn't immaculate, it looked perfect for us.

The boys pressed their hands on the wall, and an imprint of their hands was formed on the walls.

"Now, let us also do that," Bhumi said, and we both dipped our hands in the paint bucket and then pressed our hands on the walls, on either side of the boys' hand imprints.

"Now, this one wall is for you two to draw anything on. You can draw, you can paint, you can write. Anything you want. Do whatever comes to your mind on this wall," I said.

"They haven't yet learned to write anything, Aryamann," Bhumi said, and I frowned.

Right! They are hardly three. How can I expect them to write anything?

"Then Daddy will write on this wall, and you can learn with Daddy," I told the boys, and they nodded enthusiastically.

"Now, go and wash your hands properly," I said.

Abhi, instead, dipped his hand in the painting bucket once more and pressed his hands on Sammy's chest.

Sammy was equally shocked as we were by what Abhi did.

Abhi laughed loudly, clapping his paint-covered hands together in joy.

Sammy was quick to recover though. He dipped his hands inside the paint bucket and did the same to Abhi. I was busy laughing, didn't expect that coming.

What followed was a paint fight between the boys.

I tried to intervene but accidentally spilled some paint on Bhumi.

And she was never one to back down from a fight.

A supposed fight, since I didn't intentionally spill the paint on her.

"You are dead, Aryamann Mehrotra!" Bhumi screamed and threw the paint at me.

"Damn it, Bhumi!" I cursed as I got covered in the paint.

I quickly grabbed another bucket and aimed it at Bhumi.

She screamed and ran out of the house. I followed her, and the twins clapped their hands, enjoying the sight.

As I reached out, I grabbed her with one hand and held her captive in my arms. I poured the bucket of paint down her head.

We heard a collective gasp from behind us and turned to see the triplets next door staring at us with open mouths.

"Are you playing paintball without a gun?" The little girl, Zada, asked with huge eyes.

"Can we also join?" One of the boys asked.

"No, Zahir. Momma will scold us if we make a mess," the other boy said. Since he called the first boy Zahir, he must be Zian.

"But we are not making a mess in our home. Then how can Momma scold us? We are making a mess in their home. And we will tell her that they started it," Zahir said, with a casual shrug.

Man! The boy is unbelievable.

He is very much what the media portrays him to be.

"We are done playing, young man," I said.

"There is more paint there," he said, pointing at the unopened paint buckets on the veranda.

"That's not for playing," I said.

"We will buy it. We have money in our piggy," he tried to bribe me.

Definitely an Ahmed!

"Sorry, champ. I am not selling," I said, and he huffed.

"Aryamann," Bhumi pinched me lightly.

I looked down at her, and she glared at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Why are you fighting with a little boy?" Bhumi asked.

"I am not fighting. I am just telling him that he can't play with paint here," I said.

"You are upsetting him," Bhumi said, and I looked at the boy, and he looked angry. Furious maybe.

Upset? No!

"Does he look upset to you?" I asked.

"I am the Crown Prince of Zidra. Everyone should obey me," the little boy said. Actually, he ordered. The nerve of the boy.

He is hardly six years old. And he has the nerve to order me.

Me!

The Aryamann Mehrotra.

"Well, little prince, we are not in Zidra. We are in India. And here no one is obliged to obey you," I said, and this time Bhumi pinched me harder.

"Enough. Stop behaving like a baby. He is only six. What's your excuse?" Bhumi asked.

"Mommy. Can we go and play with Rocky and Bruno?" Abhi asked.

"Who the hell is Rocky and Bruno?" I asked Bhumi.

"It's the puppies next door," Bhumi said, and as though they heard their names being called, two puppies came running out of the cottage, followed lazily by a kitten.

"You can play here, only if you get me a bucket of paint," Zahir put forth his deal, with a smug smirk.

"Okay," Abhi agreed without skipping a beat and rushed into the house and came back with a small bucket of paint.

"Bye-bye, Daddy. Bye-bye, Mommy," Abhi said and ran to the next house.

"I always get what I want," Zahir said with a smirk.

That boy!

At six, this is the attitude he shows.

What will he be when he grows up?

I glared at Bhumi when I heard her chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked.

"I was not," Bhumi said, trying to hide her smile.

"Stop laughing. We have to get ourselves cleaned and then the house cleaned too. Thankfully, the boys aren't covered in paint. Only their t-shirts are," I said and walked back into the house, not before narrowing my eyes at Zahir, who still had that smirk on his face.

A/n

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SF