Determination coursed through his veins as he played on the ground, his focus unshaken. He wanted to reach a century—not for himself, not for the records, but for his son. As a birthday gift, something special, something unforgettable. The exhaustion, the strain in his muscles, none of it mattered. All he cared about was making this moment count.

Aryaman sat quietly in Pashmina's lap, his tiny tongue poking out in concentration as he watched the game unfold. His eyes stayed fixed on the field, taking in every movement, every sound. Cricket had a strange hold over him—something about it kept him still in a way nothing else could. Despite being so small, he showed no impatience, no fidgeting. He watched, completely lost in the game as if he already understood just how important this moment was.

Pashmina bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile as she watched Aryaman, completely still, his wide eyes glued to the field. She turned to her sister-in-law, shaking her head in amusement.

"I swear, only cricket can make him sit like this for hours," she said, her voice laced with disbelief and fondness.

Anushka chuckled, glancing at the little boy, who barely blinked as he followed every movement on the ground. "Well, looks like he's already chosen his obsession."

Pashmina sighed, running a gentle hand through Aryaman's hair. "Like father, like son."

Anushka laughed as she gently massaged Aryaman's little head with her fingers. "After two batting stars, we're going to have a bowler in our house," she teased, watching the way his tiny hands clenched into fists every time the ball was delivered.

Pashmina chuckled, shaking her head. "I wouldn't be surprised. Look at him—he's completely lost in the game."

Aryaman, oblivious to their conversation, remained focused, his tongue peeking out in concentration. Every now and then, he would mimic the bowler's action with his small hands, his excitement evident.

Aryaman suddenly turned to his little cousins, his eyes wide with excitement as he pointed towards the field. "Ba... ba... ball!" he tried to say, but the words didn't come out right. His tiny fingers stretched out, trying to form the words.

Akaay watched Aryaman with wide eyes, his tiny hands trying to copy the motions as best as he could. His chubby fingers fumbled in the air as he tried to mimic the bowler's action, even though he was months younger. His lips moved, but the words he tried to say were just cute, unintelligible babbles.

Three-year-old Vamika, sitting nearby with a red cricket ball nestled in her lap, observed them with all the authority of an older sibling. With a proud little nod, she picked up the ball and placed it in Aryaman's hands. "Yes, ball it is!" she declared, as if confirming a great discovery.

Aryaman grasped it with both hands, his tiny fingers barely wrapping around its surface. He let out a squeal of delight, bouncing slightly in Pashmina's lap.

As the ball bounced, the distinct sound of stumps being knocked over echoed through the air. Aryaman turned his head quickly, his eyes wide as he registered the noise. But instead of the usual excitement, a soft whine slipped from his lips. It was a strange sound coming from him, one that didn't quite fit the usual cheerful reaction.

Normally, the crash of stumps would make him giggle with glee, but not now. His focus was on the big screen in front of them, where his father's figure appeared, walking slowly across the field. Shubman looked deflated, his white clothes stained with the dirt of the game. The joy of the moment seemed to have faded, and Aryaman felt it, too. His little face scrunched up in confusion, his tiny fingers gripping the ball even harder, almost like he was trying to make sense of it.

Instead of the usual excitement over the game, a quiet sadness seemed to settle over him. He looked up at Pashmina, his big eyes searching for comfort, a soft whine escaping his lips. Pashmina, noticing the shift, gently rocked him, her heart aching for the little one who had no understanding of what was going on, yet could sense the change in the atmosphere. She kissed the top of his head, speaking softly, "It's okay, baby. Daddy will be okay."

He let out a few small cries before breaking into a sob, his tiny hands gripping the customized jersey that Shubman had specially made for him, his little teeth sinking into the fabric.

"Aww, shh, it's okay," Pashmina cooed softly, rubbing Aryaman's back as she held him close. She didn't want him to cry, especially not on his special day. She gently rocked him, trying to calm his sobs, her heart aching as she comforted him.

Aryaman's cries eventually turned into soft sniffles. His grip on the jersey loosened, and he buried his face against her shoulder. Pashmina smiled gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "There we go, my brave boy," she whispered, her voice filled with love. "You're so strong, just like your daddy."

Aryaman's tiny face was still flushed from crying, his eyes red and puffy as he struggled to take deep breaths, his small chest rising and falling. His gaze shifted towards Vamika, who was trying her best to cheer him up with her wide, reassuring smile. Despite the concern in her eyes, she waved her arms excitedly, trying to get his attention.

Akaay was sitting nearby with wide eyes, clearly unsure of how to react. His little hands clutched at his knees as he looked back and forth between Aryaman and the others, his face reflecting the fear of seeing his older cousin upset.

Aryaman blinked at the two of them, and for a brief moment, the sadness in his eyes started to lift. He looked from one cousin to the other, seeing the concern and the effort they were putting in to cheer him up. It was as if a little spark ignited inside him, and despite the tears, he let out a soft whimper before reaching for the ball Vamika had rolled toward him. He smiled shyly, rubbing his eyes and offering a small, quiet "buh."

Pashmina's heart swelled with emotion. She wrapped him in her arms, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and rocking him side to side. Her eyes lingered on his sweet smile, and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Even though the smile warmed her, there was still a heaviness in her chest. She looked at the screen one last time, where the match had ended in a draw.

As Pashmina held Aryaman close, her thoughts drifted to Shubman. She knew him so well—his moods, his silences, and right now, he was brooding. It didn't take much for her to picture him sulking his way back to their hotel room, face turned toward the window, lying down in frustration. She couldn't blame him; the game hadn't gone as expected, and the disappointment was clearly weighing on him.

And right now, exactly that was happening—the very moment she had pictured after the match.

Aryaman sat quietly behind his father, his small hands clutching his red ball. He waited for his father to turn around, but Shubman remained still, facing away from him, lost in his thoughts.

Seeing the situation, Pashmina couldn't let it go on any longer. She leaned over, gently running her fingers through Shubman's hair. "Shubman, come on, it's just a game," she said softly, trying to break through his frustration. "Don't let it get to you."

Shubman's voice came out muffled, his face buried in the pillow. "I wanted that century for him. I wanted to win for the team... but I couldn't," he murmured, his disappointment clear.

Pashmina exhaled slowly, sitting beside him and rubbing his back comfortingly. "You did your best," she said softly, her tone soothing. "That's what matters. Aryaman's proud of you, and so am I."

Hearing his name, Aryaman, still sitting behind them, tried to mimic his mother's words. His tiny face lit up with a determined look, and he attempted to say the word, though it came out as a soft, garbled version of "proud." His little hands raised the ball toward Shubman, as if offering it as his way of cheering him up.

Pashmina smiled, her heart swelling with love at his attempt. "See, Shubman?" she whispered, touching his shoulder. "He's proud of you, too."

Shubman, hearing Aryaman's tiny voice, turned around slowly. The sight of his son, trying so hard to speak and mimic the words, warmed him in a way he hadn't expected. His frown softened, and he reached out to lift Aryaman into his arms, pulling him close.

"Thanks, buddy," he said quietly, kissing his son's forehead. "You're my little champion."

Shubman held Aryaman close, feeling his heartbeat slow as the frustration from the game began to fade. Pashmina, resting her cheek against his shoulder, glanced at their son. Aryaman was busy with his red ball, tapping it against the bed, looking completely content.

She smiled softly before turning her attention to Shubman and asked, "So, everything's settled now? What's the plan for the birthday boys today?"

Shubman, smiling, responded, "I've given Ishan and Rishabh the duty to make today special for his first birthday."

But as soon as the words left his mouth, his expression shifted. The smile faded, replaced by a look of sudden horror. He jumped up from the bed, quickly slipping on his slippers, causing Pashmina to look at him in confusion.

"What happened?" she asked, her concern growing.

Shubman glanced back at her, his eyes wide with worry. "I just hope those two don't do anything stupid. I need to check on them," he said, already heading toward the door.

Pashmina raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "What could they possibly do?"

Shubman shook his head, half-laughing, half-worrying. "You don't know them like I do. I've got to make sure everything stays on track for our boy."

Pashmina chuckled, her laugh echoing softly in the room. She shook her head, waving her hand at Shubman. "Relax, they adore him. They won't do anything crazy." Her voice was full of warmth, trying to ease his worry.

Shubman frowned, shaking his head. "Don't trust them enough," he muttered under his breath. Without another word, he rushed toward the door, already feeling the need to make sure everything was going smoothly for Aryaman's special day.

When Shubman entered the grand ballroom of the hotel, he couldn't help but smile at the decorations. Everything was set up beautifully, with vibrant colors and thoughtful details that made the space feel warm and welcoming. However, his smile quickly faded when he noticed the scene unfolding in the corner of the room.

Ishan and Rishabh were both on small children's swings, laughing as they kicked a ball back and forth. The sight of them goofing off like this instead of managing the event like they were supposed to left Shubman's eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

He took a deep breath and walked over to them, trying to keep his composure. "Ishan, Rishabh," he called, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we need to focus on the birthday celebration. This is for Aryaman."

Ishan paused mid-swing and glanced up at Shubman, flashing an apologetic grin. "We're just testing the toys! You know, to make sure everything's ready for Aryaman."

Rishabh chimed in with a laugh, "Yeah! We'll handle the important stuff soon... but first, we gotta make sure the fun stuff works!"

Shubman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just... try to keep it together. Please."

Ishan scrunched his nose and, with a mischievous grin, kicked the soft ball straight into Shubman's stomach. "Chill, man," he teased. "I mean, it's your birthday too. Come join us! This is more fun than any club could offer."

Shubman, clearly frustrated, grabbed the ball and, with a swift motion, tossed it right at Ishan's face. "Get up, enough of this," he snapped. "If you sit there for another minute, it's all going to come off the hook." He couldn't hold back his frustration any longer, his voice laced with impatience.

Ishan scowled, rubbing his face where the ball had hit him. "Sure, old man," he muttered with a playful glare, but he knew better than to push it further. He got to work, picking up the scattered decorations and setting them up as best as he could. Rishabh, noticing the tension in the air, quickly followed suit, trying to tidy up the mess they'd made.

Shubman watched them for a moment, his frustration slowly fading as they began to work together. He shook his head with a resigned sigh, but couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. Despite the chaos, there was something oddly satisfying about seeing them pull together for Aryaman's special day.

Shubman's smile grew a little wider as he joined in, taking charge of the task at hand. He quickly moved towards the staff, directing them. "Make sure the balloons are centered," he instructed, guiding them through the final touches. "And check that everything is secure. I want everything perfect for Aryaman's birthday."

Shubman took a moment to survey the scene, the chaos slowly coming together. He was about to jump back into the mix, but Ishan, noticing how tense he was, clapped him on the shoulder with a grin.

"Hey, go relax, man," Ishan said, a playful sparkle in his eyes. "It's your day too. We'll handle the rest."

Shubman hesitated, looking at the mess, but then he saw the genuine effort both Ishan and Rishabh were putting in. He let out a sigh, the tension draining from his shoulders.

"Fine," Shubman replied, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "But don't screw this up."

Ishan shot him a mock salute. "No promises, but we'll try," he teased, and Shubman couldn't help but chuckle before walking away to give them space to finish up.

As the clock hit 8, Shubman entered the ballroom once again, now in the crisp shirt and pants Pashmina had chosen for him, looking every bit the handsome, proud father and boyfriend. He paused for a moment to adjust his cufflinks and smooth down the fabric, taking one last look at the arrangements. Everything was in place—just how he imagined it.

The ballroom was a wonderland for any child, especially for Aryaman. The walls were adorned with vibrant cutouts of Aryaman's favorite cartoon characters—superheroes and animated animals, all lined up in cheerful rows. There were cricket-themed decorations everywhere, from miniature cricket bats as centerpieces to piles of red balls scattered across the floor. Swings, tiny cycles, and games like ring toss were spread around, each one guaranteed to keep the kids entertained. It was everything Aryaman loved and more.

As his teammates and family began arriving, Shubman's eyes scanned the room, but a quiet ache tugged at him. He wished his parents and sister were there, too, to see how far they'd come. After everything, seeing them all gathered on this special day would have made it complete.

Then, just as he was about to let the thought slip away, his eyes caught the sight of his parents walking through the door. They were holding Aryaman, wrapped up in the love and warmth of his grandparents' arms. Aryaman, dressed in a tiny, customized white jersey with cricket prints and a 77 on the back, was beaming. His eyes sparkled, and his cheeks flushed with excitement as he looked around at all the decorations and guests. His smile was wide and pure, exactly what Shubman had hoped for on his son's first birthday.

Shubman couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he watched his little one, so content in the arms of his grandparents. Aryaman's eyes locked on Shubman, and without missing a beat, he reached out, giggling and babbling. It was the sweetest thing to witness—his own child on his birthday, full of joy and wonder.

As he stepped closer, Shubman felt a lump in his throat. His parents were here. For Aryaman's birthday. And for his too, he realized with a grin. He rushed to them, enveloping them in a tight hug. "You guys made it. On our birthday," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His heart felt full, knowing that his family, the people he loved most, were there, making this moment even more unforgettable.

His mother chuckled softly, her eyes filled with love. "How could we not be here?" she said, her voice warm and comforting. "It's our boy's birthday, after all. We wouldn't miss it for anything."

And with that, Shubman felt the familiar warmth of kisses pressed against his cheeks, each one carrying love and blessings. The wishes that followed weren't just words to him—they were something he would tuck away in the treasure of his heart, just like he did every year.

But then came the one thing that made his heart stutter—the softest, most precious touch.

For the first time, and for a lifetime to come, he felt the gentle press of a kiss from the love of his life. A lingering warmth against his cheek as he pulled her tiny frame against his, holding her close like she was his safe place.

"Happy birthday to the love of my life," Pashmina whispered, her voice barely above a breath, yet carrying the weight of everything she felt for him. "And to the amazing son and father that you are... and brother too, and friend, and the person who holds us all together."

Shubman let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled Pashmina closer. "That's a lot of roles to live up to," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

She smiled against his chest. "And yet, you do it so effortlessly," she said, squeezing his hand.

Before he could respond, a familiar whine made him turn. Only to find Aryaman staring at him with big, jealous eyes, his tiny lips pushed into a pout. A small growl escaped him, followed by an impatient whine as he wriggled in his grandmother's arms, clearly unhappy that his papa was hugging his mamma more than him.

Shubman smirked, taking him from his grandmother's arms. The moment Aryaman was in his hold, he clung to his father's neck, burying his face into his shoulder like he was reclaiming his spot. "Alright, alright, champ. No one's taking your place," Shubman chuckled, pressing a kiss to his messy curls.

Aryaman huffed dramatically, still pretending to be upset, but his little fingers gripped onto his father's shirt tightly, refusing to let go. Pashmina folded her arms, tilting her head. "So what about Mumma, mister?" she asked, feigning hurt.

Aryaman tugged gently on Shubman's shirt, his small fingers clutching with determination. He looked up at Pashmina, his pout still visible but beginning to fade. With a quiet grunt, he reached for her, silently demanding her attention.

Shubman chuckled, carefully lowering Aryaman toward Pashmina. As soon as he was close enough, Aryaman stretched his little arm out, his tiny fingers brushing against her sleeve, pulling her in. Pashmina bent down, her eyes softening, and without warning, Aryaman leaned in, pressing a tiny kiss right on the tip of her nose.

Pashmina laughed softly, her heart swelling at the sweetness of the moment. She pulled him close, cradling him in her arms, and Aryaman, satisfied with his gesture, rested his head against her chest.

Shubman chuckled, a light laugh that bubbled up from his chest. "Look at him—switching sides so quickly," he teased with a grin. "But let's be real, he'll always be Daddy's boy."

Pashmina stuck out her tongue, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Okay, okay," she said, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Right now, he's all about Mumma. But don't worry, he'll come back to you soon enough."

Pashmina noticed Aryaman's gaze shift as he stretched his tiny arms out towards the game area where the kids were laughing and jumping around. His wide eyes sparkled with curiosity, his little feet kicking excitedly as he wiggled in her arms. It was clear that he wanted to be part of the action, eager to join in on the fun.

Pashmina couldn't help but smile at the way Aryaman's little hands reached eagerly toward the game area, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Alright, chipmunk," she said with a soft laugh, "Let's go see your friends."

She adjusted him gently in her arms, making sure he was comfortable, before walking toward the cluster of kids playing. Aryaman kicked his legs with excitement, his tiny feet eager to touch the ground, and he let out a soft coo, as though he couldn't wait to join in the fun.

As they approached, the children noticed him immediately. His cousins and friends, excited to see him, waved and cheered, and Aryaman beamed back at them, his little face lighting up with joy. With a giggle, he reached out, trying to touch the brightly colored swings and toys scattered around the area.

Shubman sighed contentedly, taking a sip of the juice the waiter had just handed him. With one hand casually tucked in his pocket, he leaned against the counter, eyes scanning the party around him. The laughter, the chatter, the joy—it was all around.

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. His teammates, a group of grown men, were acting more like kids than the actual children at the party. Ishan and Rishabh, in particular, seemed to have forgotten their ages entirely. Ishan was attempting to climb up a children's jungle gym while Rishabh encouraged him from the bottom, laughing so hard that he almost lost his balance. They were a far cry from the serious athletes everyone knew them to be, and Shubman couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

As he stood there, a quiet reflection swept over him. The carefree days of his life before seemed so distant now. Last year, his birthday had been a far cry from this moment—he had celebrated with his friends, living for the thrill of the music and laughter in a crowded club. The night had been filled with wild dancing, drinks flowing, and no thoughts about anything beyond the moment. He hadn't known how fleeting those days would feel, how little they would matter compared to what was to come.

Now, everything had shifted. Pashmina had entered his life, and with her, the warmth and stability he never knew he needed. Aryaman's arrival had completely changed him. He had never imagined a love so pure, so overwhelming, that it consumed him in the best possible way.

Here he was, celebrating his birthday—not in the loud, chaotic way he once had, but in the quiet, subtle joy of fatherhood. Surrounded by loved ones and the happiness of his son's laughter, Shubman realized that this was a new kind of celebration. And despite the simplicity of it, it felt infinitely more meaningful than anything he had ever experienced before.

Pashmina's voice pulled him from his thoughts, her words like a soft invitation. His gaze met hers, and he saw her smile—gentle, filled with love. Aryaman was there too, kicking his legs happily, reaching for him, as if to say, Come join us, Dad.

With a small sigh, he finished the last sip of his drink, the glass feeling unexpectedly empty in his hand. He set it down and walked towards them, feeling the shift in his own heart, the change in what mattered. When he sat beside her, Pashmina gave him a knowing look, her eyes full of tenderness, and Aryaman wiggled excitedly in her arms, clearly happy to have his parents together.

As the evening carried on, the excitement didn't die down. Aryaman, now sitting in Pashmina's lap, eagerly waited as the cake was brought to the table. It was a perfect mix of everything he loved: colorful cartoon characters, cricket motifs, and all things playful. With a little help from his parents, Aryaman managed to blow out the candles, his face lighting up with joy as everyone cheered. The room was filled with a happy buzz, the energy higher than it had been all day.

Despite the delicious meal and cake that everyone devoured, the kids seemed to have endless energy. Ishan and Rishabh led the group, challenging each other to races and daring the younger ones to follow. The swings were crowded with laughter, and the little trampoline saw kids bouncing non-stop. Aryaman, eager to join in but unable to walk yet, crawled with determination, his tiny hands and knees working hard to keep up with the fun.

Meanwhile, the men stood off to the side, relaxed and tired after the dinner, casually watching the kids play. Coach couldn't help but laugh. "I swear, I've never seen these two this energetic in practice," he said, shaking his head in amusement as he watched Ishan and Rishabh lead the chaos.

Shubman was about to reply when a loud gasp from Vamika made everyone turn their heads in concern. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest, and for a split second, his breath caught in his throat. He quickly turned his attention to Aryaman, who, with all his little strength, was trying to stand. The tiny boy wobbled, his wide eyes locked on Shubman, and his bunny teeth flashed as he smiled. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, watching in anticipation. Aryaman took one small, hesitant step, then another—his tiny body swaying from side to side, his hands reaching out for balance.

Finally, after a few wobbly steps, he stumbled forward, falling straight into his father's arms. Shubman caught him effortlessly, his heart bursting with pride and love. In a breathy whisper, Aryaman finally spoke his first ever words: "Pa... pa... pa."