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So this is not what Siya expected when she landed in Mumbai.

Sure, she expected the heat, the chaotic crowds, and the constant honking of horns outside the airport. She had even mentally prepared herself for the long lines at immigration and the occasional confusion over baggage.

And yes, she had braced herself for Rudra's inevitable string of questions about why the air felt so "sticky-sticky" and why everyone around them seemed to be in such a rush. Mumbai, after all, was nothing if not consistent in its chaos.

What Siya didn't prepare for, however, was to find herself crouched on the cold, polished floor of the arrivals terminal, trying to console a teary-eyed Rudra as his world came crashing down over the loss of his beloved stuffed dinosaur, Roary.

Around her, the hum of the airport was relentless—luggage wheels clattering, announcements echoing overhead, and the occasional impatient voice asking why their bag hadn't arrived yet.

None of it mattered to Rudra, though, whose singular focus was on the tragedy at hand.

"Mujhe Roary want!" [I want Roary! Mama!] Rudra wails, his voice rising above the cacophony like an operatic crescendo, heartbreak dripping from every syllable.

His little fists are clenched tightly, and his cheeks are blotchy with tears that just won't stop falling.

He stares at Siya with wide, accusing eyes, as if she is somehow the mastermind behind this devastating loss. "Mama! They Roary kho diya!" [They lost him!]

Behind her, Keart and Lakhwinder stand like reinforcements waiting to be called into action. Keart looks down at Rudra with pure grandmotherly concern, clutching her handbag tightly.

Lakhwinder mutters under his breath, "Yeh airport wale bhi na, ek kaam theek se nahi karte. Ek bache ke khilone ka bhi dhyan nahi rakha jaata." [These airport staff, I tell you, can't even do one job properly. They can't even keep track of a child's toy.]

Siya rubs her temple with one hand, her other arm still firmly around Rudra's trembling shoulders. She takes a deep breath, summoning every ounce of patience she has left.

"Sweetheart, humne staff se baat kar li hai," [Sweetheart, I've already spoken to the staff. They're looking for Roary.] she says softly, her voice laced with as much calm as she can manage.

"Woh log dhoondh rahe hain. Roary mil jayega, thoda wait kar lijiye . Hum ek saath baith ke Roary ko welcome karenge, okay?" [We'll find him, just wait a little. We'll sit together and welcome Roary back, okay?]

But Rudra is not having it. He shakes his head furiously, his curls bouncing with every jerky motion. "No, Mama! Abhi want! Abhi, abhi, abhi!" [No, Mama! I want him now! Right now, right now, right now!] he cries, his voice growing shriller with each repetition.

His tiny body trembles as his emotions overwhelm him, and Siya can see how much he is struggling—not just with the loss of Roary but with everything.

Siya bites back a groan, glancing over her shoulder at Keart, who gives her an encouraging nod, as if to say, You've got this, beta.

Lakhwinder, however, looks ready to storm off to the baggage claim himself, muttering something about "irresponsible people."

She turns back to Rudra, whose face is now buried in his hands, his small frame trembling with the force of his emotions. This isn't just about Roary, she knows.

Nine hours on a plane, a strange new country, too many unfamiliar sights and sounds—it's all too much for him.

His ADHD makes transitions hard enough as it is, and this? Rudra's ADHD and sensory overload have collided like a storm, and there's no calming him down until the waves settle on their own.

Siya crouches lower, her knees starting to protest against the hard floor, and gently cups Rudra's cheeks. "Meri jaan," [My love,] she says softly, her voice dipping into a tone she reserves only for moments like this.

"Hum yahan hai, aur woh log Roary ko wapas leke aayenge. Lekin abhi humein staff uncle aur aunty ko time dena hoga, right? Aap hero ho na? Heroes wait karte hain." [I'm here, and they'll get Roary back. But right now, we need to give the staff uncle and aunty some time, right? You're a hero, aren't you? Heroes know how to wait.]

Rudra's tears slow just a fraction, but his pout deepens. He sniffles dramatically, his little hands rubbing at his wet cheeks. "Hero bhi sometime sometime Roary ke without sad feel hai," [Even heroes sometimes feel sad without Roary.] he mumbles, his voice wobbling.

Siya feels her heart twist, and she pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around his trembling little body. "Aww, meri jaan," [Aww...my love,] she whispers, rubbing slow circles on his back as he buries his face in her shoulder.

His small body shakes with the aftershocks of his sobs, and his sniffles echo faintly against her shirt. "Aap tab tak apni eyes close karo, theek hai? Let's take a deep breath together. Aur jab Roary aayega na, woh bolega, 'Rudra, I missed you so much!'" [Why don't you close your eyes for now, okay? Let's take a deep breath together. And when Roary comes back, he'll say, 'Rudra, I missed you so much!']

Rudra doesn't reply, but he lets out a shaky little sigh, his sobs quieting just a fraction. Siya glances up at Keart and Lakhwinder, who are watching with identical expressions of sympathy and quiet admiration.

Lakhwinder clears his throat, his tone low but filled with determination, as if he's about to embark on a mission of national importance.

"Beta ji, ek kaam karte hain," [Beta ji, let's do one thing.] he begins, adjusting the strap of his slightly overstuffed leather bag, as if preparing for battle.

"Main jaake staff se aur baat karta hoon, theek hai? Tab tak Keart ji yahan aap dono ke saath baithengi. Don't worry." [I'll go speak to the staff again, okay? In the meantime, Keart ji will stay here with you both. Don't worry.]

Siya nods, her lips curving into a tired but grateful smile. "Thank you, uncle," she says softly, the weariness in her voice matching the ache in her legs from crouching so long.

She watches as Lakhwinder strides toward the information desk with the confidence of someone who refuses to take no for an answer.

Keart lowers herself onto the polished floor beside Siya, smoothing her neatly pleated sari as she settles in. Her warm, maternal eyes focus on Rudra, whose face is still half-hidden in Siya's shoulder.

"Chote kake," [Little one,] she says, her tone a mixture of gentle teasing and pure affection. "Roary ko toh wapas aana hi padega, nahi toh woh kya soch raha hoga? 'Rudra mujhe yaad bhi nahi kar raha!'" [Roary has to come back, or what will he think? 'Rudra isn't even missing me!']

Rudra lifts his head just a little, his damp curls sticking to his forehead, and blinks at her with big, round eyes. "Really, dadi?" [Really, dadi?] he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the tiniest hint of hope flickering in his words.

Keart's smile widens, and she leans in conspiratorially, as if sharing a grand secret. "Bilkul sach, chote kake," [Absolutely true, Little one.] she says, her hand reaching out to smooth his unruly curls.

"Roary aur aap best friends ho, na? Aur best friends toh kabhi door nahi reh sakte." [Roary and you are best friends, right? And best friends can't stay apart for long.]

Rudra seems to mull this over, his small brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he nods, though it's a slow, reluctant movement, like he's not entirely convinced but willing to trust her for now.

Keart claps her hands lightly, breaking the tension in the air. "Bas, ab chhota hero ka ek kaam hai!" [Okay, now the little hero has one task!] she declares, her voice playful.

"Apni Mama ko ek big smile dena, aur firdadi jo chocolate dengi, woh khani padegi." [Give your Mama a big smile, and then the chocolate that Dadi will give you—you'll have to eat it.]

Rudra tilts his head slightly, his round cheeks still flushed from his earlier tears, and he stares at Keart with suspicion and budding interest. His eyes narrow, his little brows pulling together as if he's calculating the risks of this proposition.

"Chocolate?" he says at last, the word soft and deliberate, as though he's testing its weight in the air.

There's a pause, and then his lips curl ever so slightly, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his expression. The pout, while still present, begins to show signs of cracking.

Keart leans forward just a touch, her hands resting lightly on her knees, her voice dropping to a playful, coaxing whisper, as if she's letting him in on a grand secret.

"Bilkul, chocolate!" [Yes, chocolate!] she says, drawing out the word with dramatic emphasis, her eyes twinkling. "Par ek shart hai, Rudra beta," [But there's a condition, Rudra beta.] she continues, her tone teasing but firm.

"Pehle apni Mama ko ek badi si smile deni padegi, aur uske baad... chocolate ka ek bada piece milega. Aur agar smile zyada badi hui, toh chocolate bhi zyada milegi!" [First, you have to give our Mama a big smile, and only then will you get a big piece of chocolate. And if the smile is even bigger, you'll get even more chocolate!]

Rudra sits up a little straighter, his interest now fully piqued, though his pout lingers stubbornly. He looks between Siya and Keart, his tiny fingers fiddling with the edge of Siya's sapphire necklace as he contemplates this sudden offer.

"But... how much chocolate I will milegi?" [But... how much chocolate will I get?] he asks, his tone turning cautious, as if he's entering into high-stakes negotiations.

His little voice is so serious, so businesslike, that Siya has to press her lips together tightly to keep from laughing.

Keart's eyes widen as though she's just heard the most important question of the day. "Ek poora chocolate bar!" [A whole chocolate bar!] she declares with flair, holding an imaginary bar in her hands like a prize.

"Woh bhi tasty chocolate. Par shart yaad hai na? Smile jitni badi hogi, chocolate ka piece bhi utna bada hoga. Agar chhoti smile hui, toh sirf ek bite milegi!" [And tasty chocolate, too. But remember the condition? The bigger the smile, the bigger the piece of chocolate. If it's a small smile, you'll only get one bite!]

For a moment, Rudra is silent, his little fingers tapping against Siya's arm as he considers the terms. His face is a picture of deliberation, his brows furrowed, his lips pursed, as though he's weighing all possible outcomes of this deal.

Finally, he looks up at Keart with a gleam in his eye. "Aur if sabse big smile then?" [And what if I give the biggest smile?] he asks, his voice sly, a mischievous grin threatening to break through.

Keart lets out a delighted laugh, clapping her hands softly. "Arre wah, phir toh poora chocolate bar milega!" [Is this a big smile?] she promises, her smile widening as she sees the wheels turning in his little head.

"Aur ek extra piece dadi ke liye rakhna padega, kyunki yeh deal dadi ne banayi hai!" [And you'll have to save an extra piece for dadi, because dadi made this deal!]

There's a beat of silence as Rudra processes this. And then, all at once, his lips stretch into a smile so wide it lights up his entire face, his dimples making a rare and joyous appearance.

His tiny teeth gleam as he beams at Keart, his earlier tears now nothing more than a faint sheen on his cheeks. "This smile big hai?" [Is this a big smile?] he asks, his voice filled with triumph, his grin unwavering.

Keart gasps theatrically, placing a hand over her heart as if she's been struck by sheer brilliance. "Arey wah! Yeh toh duniya ki sabse badi hero wali smile hai!" [Oh wow! This is the biggest hero smile in the whole world!] she exclaims, her voice ringing with exaggerated awe.

"Ab toh poora chocolate bar milna banta hai!" [Now you absolutely deserve the whole chocolate bar!]

Siya chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of Rudra's head. "Good job, baby," she murmurs, her voice warm with pride.

Rudra beams at that, and for a moment, the chaos of the airport fades away. Even the announcements overhead and the clatter of luggage carts seem distant as he leans against Siya, his earlier frustration melting into excitement.

The air around Rudra seems lighter now, his earlier meltdown replaced with the bright anticipation of chocolate and Roary's return.

Siya watches him settle back against her, his tiny fingers still fidgeting with the edge of her necklace, but the tension in his little body is gone.

Keart sits beside them, humming softly, clearly pleased with her expert negotiation skills. For a moment, it feels like things might just be okay after all.

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But the universe, or rather the airport staff, seems to have other plans.

At the information desk, Lakhwinder's patience, much like Rudra's earlier meltdown, is teetering on the edge. He stands stiffly, his hands pressed flat on the counter, as if steadying himself from the sheer absurdity of what he's just heard.

The young staff member, visibly frazzled, offers him a smile so nervous it looks more like a grimace, her uniform slightly rumpled, her hands clutching a clipboard like it's her only shield against his simmering frustration.

"Sir, Humne poora lost-and-found check kar liya hai, par abhi tak aapka stuffed toy nahi mila," [Sir, I'm very sorry. We've checked the entire lost-and-found, we haven't found your stuffed toy yet.] she says, her voice tinged with both regret and a faint trace of helplessness.

"Lekin hum aur search karenge." [But we'll keep searching.] She looks at him with hopeful eyes, as though expecting this assurance to magically defuse the situation.

Lakhwinder stares at her, his brows knitting together in utter disbelief, his mouth opening slightly as if to say something, but no words come out immediately. Instead, he leans back, crosses his arms, and exhales sharply.

Then, with a deliberate tone that could slice through steel, he says, "Matlab kya hai nahi mila?" [What do you mean it hasn't been found?] he demands, his tone sharp but still measured. "Bache ka khilona na hogya, rocket thodi hai jo space mein ud gaya! Kahin toh hona chahiye!" [It's a child's toy, not a rocket that's flown into space! It has to be somewhere!]

The staff member flinches slightly at his words but quickly regains her composure. "Sir," she says cautiously, her hands now gripping the counter for dear life, "shayad yeh kisi aur passenger ke bag mein chala gaya ho. Hum iss possibility ko check karenge." [Sir, maybe it accidentally ended up in another passenger's bag.] [We'll check this possibility.]

"Arey, toh abhi tak kya kar rahe the? Shaadi ke cards likh rahe the kya? Maine toh suna tha ki Mumbai ke airport ki service aachi hoti hai, lekin yahan toh ek dinosaur ka jugaad bhi nahi hota!" [Then what have you been doing till now? Writing wedding invitations? I've heard Mumbai's airport's service is class, but here you can't even manage a dinosaur!]

Lakhwinder's voice rises an octave, his frustration spilling over like an overfilled teacup. The young woman's colleague, a bespectacled man who looks equally harried, steps in now, clearly sensing that reinforcements are needed.

"Sir," he begins, his tone placating, "aap please samajhiye, hum apni taraf se best try kar rahe hain. Kabhi kabhi baggage handling mein galti ho jaati hai." [Sir, please understand, we're trying our best. Sometimes there are errors in baggage handling.]

Lakhwinder rounds on him, his finger jabbing the air for emphasis. "Baggage handling ki galti ko main samajhta hoon," [I understand errors in baggage handling.] he says, his voice dripping with understanding. "Lekin yeh galti mere sher puttar ka dil tod rahi hai! [But this mistake is breaking the heart of my lion cub!]

A small crowd begins to gather around the desk now, curious onlookers drawn by the escalating drama.

One man whispers something to his companion, who nods sympathetically, while another person takes out their phone, pretending to scroll but clearly recording the scene.

The young staff member sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Sir, hum announce karte hain lost-and-found ke liye, aur agar tab tak nahi mila, toh hum complaint officially register karenge," [Sir, we'll make an announcement for the lost-and-found, and if we still don't find it, we'll officially register your complaint.]

Lakhwinder cuts her off with a sharp wave of his hand, his patience now clearly running thin. "Announcement ka chhodo," [Forget the announcement.] he says firmly, leaning in closer to the desk, his tone a mix of frustration and resolve.

"Aap khud sochiye, main apne pote ko kya jawab doonga? Ki pehli baar woh India aaya, aur uski favourite cheez kho gayi?" [You tell me, what should I say to my grandson? That this is his first time in India, and his favourite thing is lost?]

The staff member looks at him, her face betraying just a hint of guilt, but she's not sure what more she can do.

She shifts uncomfortably on her feet, her fingers tapping against the desk, as if searching for some magic words that will calm the situation. "Sir, hum apni taraf se best try kar rahe hain," [Sir, we're doing our best.] she repeats, her voice softer now, almost apologetic.

Lakhwinder takes a moment to collect himself. He turns away from the desk, his hands slightly trembling as he runs them through his salt-and-pepper hair.

The thought of disappointing Rudra gnaws at him, making his chest tighten. He doesn't know why, but the child's face—those big eyes, that mischievous grin—keeps flashing in his mind.

He doesn't even know the boy well, but yesterday, when Rudra had called him "Dadu," something inside Lakhwinder had stirred. It was as if the word had unlocked something deep inside him, something he didn't even know was there.

As he walks toward the nearby bench, Lakhwinder's mind drifts back to that moment at the airport. Rudra had been crying, and Lakhwinder could see the desperation in Siya's eyes, even though she tried her best to hide it.

He remembered how the little boy had clung to her, his tiny hands gripping her tightly. It wasn't just the way Rudra had reacted to being comforted by him and Keart—it was the way he had seemed so... familiar, so trusting.

There had been an innocence in the way he looked at Lakhwinder, as though they had known each other for years.

Lakhwinder sighs, sitting down on the bench. He tries to shake off the feeling. "Hun main ki kara?" [What should I do now?] he mutters under his breath.

He's not the type to get attached to someone so quickly, especially not a child he's only met once.

And yet, here he is, sitting in a crowded airport, his mind consumed by the thought of Rudra's stuffed toy. It's just a toy, after all, nothing more than a child's comfort.

It's a strange feeling—like he's been watching Rudra, even though they've only just met. He can't explain it, not even to himself.

All he knows is that he wants to see Rudra happy. He wants to find that stuffed toy, not because it's a toy, but because it will make Rudra smile again.

His thoughts drift again to Siya. There's something about her too. The way she carries herself with such quiet strength, how she handles everything on her own.

He remembers her tired eyes from yesterday, but also her patience with Rudra. He doesn't know her story, but he can tell that she's been through a lot.

Lakhwinder finds himself hoping, in some inexplicable way, that they will meet again. Maybe, just maybe, there's a way for him to be a part of Rudra's life.

But right now, the only thing that matters is getting that stuffed toy back. For Rudra.

Lakhwinder pulls out his phone, his fingers moving a little slower than usual as he scrolls through his contacts to find Shubman's number. He pauses for a second, his thumb hovering over the name.

"Shubman ko call karun? Ya khud hi dhoondh loon?" [Should I call Shubman? Or just find it myself?] He mutters under his breath, glancing at the desk where the airline staff is still busy typing away, completely uninterested in his dilemma.

His eyes flick to the desk where the airline staff is still engrossed in their screens, their fingers flying over keyboards as if typing faster will somehow make him disappear. Their disinterest feels almost personal.

He lets out a heavy sigh, the kind that comes from the bottom of your soul when you've given up on expecting miracles. "Kar hi leta hoon call." [I'll just call him.]

His thumb hovers over the call button, the hesitation lingering for a beat longer than necessary before he finally presses it. The phone rings, the sound sharp against the muffled airport noise.

Once, twice...

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Shubman feels like crashing the car—no joke. The thought crosses his mind as he grips the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He doesn't actually want to die, but the idea of silence, even if it comes with a hospital bed, is starting to sound pretty tempting.

In the backseat, Ishan and Abhishek are in their element, oblivious to the storm brewing in his head.

Ishan is half-standing, one foot braced against the car door for balance as he belts out, "TUM TOH THEHRE PARDESI..." [YOU ARE A FOREIGNER...] at the top of his lungs, his hands gesturing dramatically, as if he's performing at an emotional reality show finale.

Abhishek, not to be outdone, leans toward Ishan with a mock pained expression and joins in, his voice somehow managing to be both off-key and twice as loud. "SAATH KYA NIBHAAOGE!" [HOW WILL YOU KEEP YOUR PROMISE?] he bellows, slapping Ishan on the shoulder for emphasis.

Shubman's left eye twitches involuntarily. He stares at the road ahead, willing himself to focus on the task at hand—getting to the airport in one piece. But that task becomes increasingly difficult as Ishan suddenly lurches forward, his hands smacking against the dashboard like it's a tabla.

The sound is loud, jarring, and completely out of sync with the song they're butchering. Shubman's ears, already assaulted by their singing, now have to contend with this impromptu drumming session.

"Ishan, dashboard kabse dholak ho gaya? Baith ja, warna brake maar ke tujhe gaadi ke bahar nikal doonga," [Ishan, when did the dashboard become a drum? Sit down, or I'll slam the brakes and throw you out of the car.] Shubman snaps, his voice sharp and laced with exasperation.

Ishan, utterly unfazed by the threat, grins mischievously and leans closer to Shubman. "Arre bhai, chill kar na! Masti toh banti hai," [Bhai, relax! This kind of fun is necessary.] he says, his tone as casual as if he's discussing the weather.

Shubman exhales through his nose, his irritation simmering dangerously close to the surface. "Mujhe masti nahi chahiye. Mujhe bas shanti chahiye," [I don't want fun. I just want peace.] he mutters, his words clipped as he glares at Ishan through the rearview mirror.

Abhishek, ever the instigator, decides to throw more fuel onto the fire. "Arre, Shubman, zindagi mein shanti keliye tujhe retirement ka wait karna padta hai. Abhi toh bas enjoy kar!" [Shubman, you have to wait for retirement to find peace. Right now, just enjoy!] he declares, spreading his arms wide like he's delivering a life lesson.

Shubman's jaw tightens even further, a muscle in his cheek twitching with barely controlled frustration. His grip on the steering wheel is so firm that it feels like it's permanently molded to his hands.

The noise in the car, the singing, the drumming, the non-stop banter—everything is starting to blur together into one giant headache. A small part of his mind dreams of a future, a peaceful one, where he's sitting alone in a room, the walls silent except for the soft hum of a ceiling fan.

No songs, no drumming, no Ishan and Abhishek being their usual chaotic selves. Just silence.

The ringtone slices through the chaos in the car like a sharp blade, momentarily stealing Shubman's attention from Ishan and Abhishek's off-key duet and relentless drumming.

He glances at the glowing screen on the dashboard, his eyebrows pulling together in mild surprise.

"Papa?" he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, as if saying it aloud will help him understand why his father is calling now of all times.

His dad doesn't usually call at random moments—he's the type to plan everything meticulously, including when to make a phone call.

And considering his flight landed barely ten minutes ago, Shubman is confident he's not late. It's not like he could control the infamous Mumbai traffic anyway, with its bumper-to-bumper pace and honking symphony.

So why the call?

He snatches the phone off the dashboard and answers it, one hand still firmly gripping the steering wheel. "Hello, Papa? Sab theek hai na?" [Hello, Papa? Everything okay, right?] he asks, his tone curious but not yet concerned.

The voice on the other end is calm but carries an undercurrent of something that makes Shubman sit up a little straighter in his seat.

"Haan, puttar ji, sab theek hai," [Yes, son, everything is fine.] Lakhwinder says, though there's a slight edge to his tone, as if he's trying to keep something from boiling over. "Bas yahan airport par thodi gadbad ho gayi hai." [Just a little issue here at the airport.]

"Gadbad?" [Issue?] Shubman repeats, his brows knitting further as he casts a quick glance at the traffic ahead. "Aap aur Mummy theek ho na? Koi dikkat toh nahi hai?" [You and Mummy are okay, right? No trouble, right?]

His voice tightens just a bit, and in the rearview mirror, he notices Ishan and Abhishek exchange curious glances, their usual antics momentarily on pause.

"Haan, haan, hum bilkul theek hain," [Yes, yes, we're absolutely fine.] Lakhwinder reassures him, though his words come out a little rushed, as if he's eager to move past the pleasantries.

"Par yeh bacha—arre, Rudra—woh apne stuffed toy ke liye ro raha hai, aur ab staff usse dhoondhne mein lage hue hain. Lekin ab tak kuch pata nahi chala." [But this child—arre, Rudra—he's crying for his stuffed toy, and now the staff is looking for it. But so far, no luck.]

His voice grows a little more exasperated as he explains, the frustration of the situation creeping through.

Shubman blinks, momentarily thrown off by the unfamiliar yet familiar name. "Rudra? Kaun Rudra?" [Rudra? Who's Rudra?] he asks, his voice unconsciously dipping into confusion.

Lakhwinder sighs audibly, and Shubman can almost picture him rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Woh flight pe humare paas jo bacha baitha tha, uska favourite toy kho gaya. Teri Ma usko chup karane ki koshish kar rahi hai, lekin woh bas Roary ke liye chillaya ja raha hai," [The little boy who was sitting near us on the flight—his favorite toy is lost. Your mother is trying to calm him down, but he's crying non-stop for Roary.]

"Roary?" Shubman repeats blankly, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he processes the name. "Papa, yeh kaun hai aur aap log itna seriously kyun le rahe ho? Ek toy ke liye itna drama?" [Papa, who is this, and why are you taking it so seriously? All this drama for a toy?]

"Puttar ji, woh bacha toh bas bacha hai," [Son, he's just a child.] Lakhwinder replies, his tone calm but carrying a weight of unspoken expectation, as though Shubman should know better.

"Chhoti cheezein badi lagti hain jab aap chhote hote ho. Aur tumhari Ma usse chup karane ki poori koshish kar rahi hai." [Small things seem big when you're little.] And your mother is doing her best to calm him down.] He pauses, as if deliberating for a moment. Then, his tone shifts into a no-nonsense directive.

"Acha, ab mera ek kaam kar. Blossom shop yaad hai? Wahi jahan se tune Vamika ke liye gift liya tha? Waisi hi dukan airport ke dusri side pe bhi hai. Ishan aur Abhay ko le ja, aur wahan se ek plushie leke aa." [Now listen, do me a favor. Remember Blossom shop? The one where you got that gift for Vamika? There's a similar store on the other side of the airport. Take Ishan and Abhay and get a plushie from there.]

Shubman's jaw tightens as he listens, his irritation bubbling just under the surface. "Papa, seriously?" [Papa, seriously?] he mutters, throwing a glance at the rearview mirror where Ishan and Abhishek are already leaning forward, grinning like they've just heard the most entertaining thing of the day.

"Main kyun jaoon? Aap wahan staff se baat kar rahe ho na, toh unse bolna na ki woh dhoondhein. Main yahaan se kaise plushie lekar jaaun?" [Why should I go? You're already talking to the staff, so just tell them to search. How am I supposed to bring a plushie from here?]

"Shubman," Lakhwinder's voice grows sharper, cutting through his son's protests. "Main tujhe bol raha hoon kyunki Ma aur main yahan busy hain. Toh ab jo bola hai woh kar." [Shubman, I'm telling you because your mother and I are busy here. So just do what I said.]

His tone softens slightly, though the authority remains. "Aur sun, jab tu dukan jaaye, toh kuch aisa le aana jo usko khushi de sake. Uska Roary nahi milega, par naye toy se woh shayad samajh jaaye." [And listen, when you go to the store, pick something that will make him happy. He might not get his Roary back, but maybe a new toy will help him understand.]

There's a moment of silence, punctuated only by the low hum of traffic and Shubman's exasperated sigh. He knows there's no point arguing when his father uses that tone, the one that brooks no opposition.

"Theek hai, Papa," [Fine, Papa.] he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "Main dhoondh leta hoon. Ishan aur Abhishek ko bolta hoon." [I'll find it. I'll tell Ishan and Abhishek.]

The line clicks off, and Shubman tosses the phone onto the passenger seat with a frustrated huff. "Bas ek toy ke liye mujhe shopping karne bhej rahe hain," [They're sending me shopping for a toy.] he mutters under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What's the drama now?" [What's the drama now?] Ishan asks from the backseat, his grin wide and his tone far too amused. "Toy kaunse bache ke liye chahiye? Aur tujhe shopping kyun karna pad raha hai?" [Who's the kid that needs a toy? And why are you the one going shopping?]

"Papa ka order hai," [It's Papa's order.] Shubman replies curtly, flicking on his turn signal as he pulls into a less congested lane.

"Unhone bola ki airport ke dusri side pe Blossom ki koi dukan hai, aur mujhe wahan se ek plushie leke jaana hai." [He said there's a Blossom store on the other side of the airport, and I need to get a plushie from there.]

He glances at Ishan through the rearview mirror, his expression flat. "Aur tum dono ko saath leke jaana pad raha hai." [And apparently, I need to take you two with me.]

Ishan, ever the opportunist when it comes to teasing Shubman, leans forward from the backseat with a grin that could rival a mischievous child's.

"Shubhi," [Shubhi,] he says, dragging out the nickname in a singsong tone that he knows Shubman hates. "Mujhe bhi ek plushie leke de na. Jo mera mood theek kare jab tu mujhe apne ghusse waale looks deta hai." [Get me a plushie too. Something that will fix my mood whenever you give me those angry looks.]

Shubman's grip on the steering wheel tightens even further, his knuckles stark white against the black leather as he exhales sharply through his nose. His patience, already running on fumes, is now teetering dangerously close to empty.

"Ishu, main tujhe chamat maroonga," [Ishu, I will slap you.] he mutters, his voice low but carrying a warning edge so sharp it could cut steel—an edge only siblings and close friends truly understand.

He casts a glare through the rearview mirror, his raised eyebrows a silent challenge daring Ishan to push him further. "Aur plushie ko lekar tere sir pe patak doonga. Samjha?" [And then I'll hit your head with that plushie. Got it?]

Ishan, of course, doesn't back down. He never does. Instead, he breaks into a wide, mischievous grin that only infuriates Shubman further.

"Toh pink plushie confirm hai, na?" [So the pink plushie is confirmed, right?] he quips, completely ignoring the very real threat in Shubman's tone. "Main abhi se soch raha hoon, uska naam kya rakhoon. Fluffy? Ya Pinky?" [I'm already thinking about what to name it. Fluffy? Or Pinky?]

He tilts his head thoughtfully, as though this is the most important decision he's faced all day.

Shubman narrows his eyes, shooting Ishan a glare so sharp that it could've knocked the grin right off anyone else's face. But Ishan remains as unaffected as ever, his grin widening as he leans back in his seat, clearly enjoying himself.

Just as Abhishek opens his mouth—no doubt to add fuel to the fire—Shubman shifts his glare to him with laser precision. "Aur tune Ishu ko kuch bola na," [And if you say anything to Ishu,]

Shubman warns, his tone dripping with quiet menace, "toh tujhe gadi se nikal doonga." [I'll throw you out of the car.] His eyes flick briefly from the road to the rearview mirror, his jaw clenched tight. "Aur ek plushie kya, ek biscuit bhi nahi milega." [And forget about a plushie—you won't even get a biscuit.]

Abhishek's mouth falls open in exaggerated disbelief, his hand clutching his chest as if Shubman's words physically wounded him. "Arre, yeh kya baat hui, bhai?" [Hey, what's this, bhai?] he exclaims, his tone a perfect mix of drama and indignation.

"Main toh bas ek innocent bystander hoon, aur mujhe biscuit tak deny kar rahe ho? Yeh toh bohot galat baat hai!" [I'm just an innocent bystander, and you're denying me even a biscuit? This is so unfair!]

Ishan, never one to let an opportunity for mischief slip by, immediately joins in, leaning forward with mock offense written all over his face.

"Haan, haan, Abhi bilkul sahi keh raha hai!" [Yeah, yeah, Abhi is absolutely right!] he says, nodding furiously for emphasis. "Itni insult toh hum cricket ground par doosre team ke players ki bhi nahi karte jitni tu hamari kar raha hai, Shubhi." [We don't even insult opposing team players on the cricket ground as much as you insult us, Shubhi.]

Shubman's grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he groans loudly, tilting his head back briefly as if praying for divine intervention. "Tum dono bas chup reh sakte ho kya?" [Can you two just shut up for once?] he snaps, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

"Mujhe lagta hai ki tumhari bakwas sunke mera blood pressure badhne laga hai." [I think listening to your nonsense is making my blood pressure rise.]

Abhishek leans back dramatically in his seat, crossing his arms and pouting like a scolded child. "Dekha, Ishu? Main toh bas ek biscuit ke liye negotiation kar raha tha, aur yeh toh hume villain banake chod raha hai." [See, Ishu? I was just negotiating for a biscuit, and he's turning us into villains.]

Ishan snickers, giving Abhishek a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Kya karein, bro? Shubhi ko toh lagta hai ki hum bas uski zindagi aur complicate karne aaye hain." [What can we do, bro? Shubhi thinks we're here just to make his life more complicated.] He pauses, his grin turning sly. "Aur, well... woh galat bhi nahi hai." [And, well... he's not wrong.]

Shubman lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he pulls into the airport's parking area. The low rumble of the car engine dies out as he shifts into park, and for a moment, silence fills the vehicle. But it doesn't last.

Ishan clears his throat loudly, his tone far too innocent to be genuine. "Shubhi, ek baat bolun?" [Shubhi, can I say something?] he starts, his voice laced with feigned hesitation.

"Jab hum Blossom shop se plushie laane jaayenge na, toh wahan se ek stress ball bhi le lena apne liye. Tujhe shayad zarurat padegi." [When we go to Blossom shop to get the plushie, you should also get a stress ball for yourself. You might need it.]

Abhishek bursts out laughing, slapping his knee while Shubman groans again, this time burying his face in his hand. "Mujhe tum dono ki zarurat nahi thi. Main khud chala jaata," [I didn't need you two.] he mutters, his voice muffled but dripping with regret.

"Tum log bas gaadi se utro aur mujhe shanti do." [I could've gone myself. Just get out of the car and give me some peace.]

The two exchange a conspiratorial grin as they hop out of the car, their playful banter continuing as they head toward the airport entrance. Shubman trails behind, rubbing his temples as if trying to physically push the headache out of his skull.

For a fleeting moment, he thinks about just staying in the car, locking himself inside, and pretending this errand doesn't exist. But, of course, that's not an option—not with his father's tone still ringing in his ears.

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Siya leans back against the cushioned airport seat, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the past hour. The hum of the airport buzzes around her—announcements echoing overhead, the steady shuffle of passengers, and the occasional clatter of luggage wheels against the floor.

But none of it registers. Her attention is solely on the small, warm body curled up on her chest. Rudra's soft, even breaths tickle the fabric of her shirt as he sleeps, his earlier meltdown having drained him completely.

Siya's arms wrap around him instinctively, holding him close. His cheeks, still faintly blotchy from crying, are pressed against her shoulder, and his tiny fingers clutch the edge of her scarf as though it's a lifeline.

The sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so trusting—only tightens the knot in her chest.

Her mind replays the meltdown in endless loops: Rudra's tears, his desperate cries for Roary, the helpless look in his eyes that seemed to scream, Why can't you fix this, Mama?

Each memory gnaws at her confidence, chipping away at the fragile wall she's built around her self-doubt.

Why couldn't I fix it?

She exhales shakily, her grip on Rudra tightening. She whispers to herself, her voice barely audible. "Ek chhoti cheez bhi sambhal nahi paaye unke liye." [I couldn't even manage one small thing for him.]

Beside her, Keart sits quietly, her hands resting neatly on her lap, the light tinkling of her bangles barely audible over the surrounding noise.

She's been watching Siya for a while now, her kind, observant eyes catching every flicker of guilt on the younger woman's face. Keart doesn't speak immediately; she waits, giving Siya the space to process her thoughts.

Finally, when the silence between them begins to weigh too heavily, Keart shifts slightly, her voice soft but steady. "Beta," [My dear,] she begins gently, her tone carrying the warmth of a hug. "Tum apne aap se itna naraz kyun ho?" [why are you so upset with yourself?]

Siya blinks, startled by the question. She glances at Keart, her eyes momentarily wide before lowering back to Rudra's sleeping form. "Hume lagta hai... hum achhi maa nahi hai," [I feel like... I'm not a good mother.] she admits, her voice trembling slightly.

"Woh humse kuch chhota sa expect karte hai, aur hum woh bhi nahi kar paate. Dekhiye na, unka Roary kho gaya aur hum unka dukh kam bhi nahi kar paayi." [He expects such small things from me, and even then, I can't manage. Just look at today—his Roary is lost, and I couldn't even ease his sadness.]

Keart tilts her head, her expression softening as she watches Siya. She lets out a thoughtful hum, adjusting her dupatta as she speaks. "Beta, ek baat bataun?" [My dear, can I tell you something?] she says, her voice gentle but firm.

"Bacchon ka dukh kam karna hamesha possible nahi hota. Par unke saath rehna, unka dukh share karna—woh bahut badi baat hoti hai. Aur tumne woh kiya hai." [It's not always possible to take away a child's sadness. But being there with them, sharing their sadness—that's a big thing. And you've done that.]

Siya shakes her head, a humorless laugh escaping her. "Lekin kya faayda? Woh ro rahe the, aur hum bas yahan baithe rahe, kuch nahi kar paaye." [But what's the use? He was crying, and I just sat here, unable to do anything.]

Her voice breaks slightly as she continues, her eyes fixed on Rudra's face. "Woh humse pure answers chahte hai. Lekin humare paas kabhi pure answers hote hi nahi." [He looks to me for all the answers. But I never have them.]

Keart leans closer, placing a reassuring hand on Siya's arm. Her touch is light but grounding, and when Siya looks up, she's met with an expression so full of understanding that it makes her throat tighten.

"Tumhare answers kabhi pure hone ki zarurat nahi hai, beta," [Your answers don't need to be perfect, my dear.] Keart says softly. "Tumhare pyar ke saath jo answers aate hain, wahi unke liye kaafi hain. Rudra ka rona band karana tumhari zimmedaari nahi thi. Uska yeh maanna ki tum uske saath ho, woh tumhare sabse badi zimmedaari thi. Aur woh tumne poore dil se nibhayi hai." [The ones that come with your love are enough for him. It wasn't your responsibility to stop his tears. It was your responsibility to make him feel that you're there for him. And you've done that with all your heart.]

Siya blinks rapidly, her vision blurring slightly as tears threaten to spill. She swallows hard, her gaze darting between Rudra and Keart. "Par kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki hum akele hai, aur sab kuch humare hi kandhon par hai," [But sometimes I feel like I'm alone, and everything is on my shoulders.] she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.

Keart's hand squeezes her arm gently. "Aur woh sabse badi maa hone ki pehchaan hai, beta," [And that's the mark of being a mother, my dear.] she says, her voice filled with quiet strength.

"Ek maa apne aapko hamesha akela samajhti hai, lekin asal mein, woh apne bache ka poora aasman hoti hai. Tum bhi Rudra ke liye wahi ho." [A mother always feels like she's alone, but in truth, she's her child's entire sky. You are that for Rudra too.]

Keart's words hang in the air, their warmth settling over Siya like a soft blanket on a cold day.

Before she can respond, Lakhwinder strides back toward them, his steps deliberate but unhurried, his hands clasped behind his back.

His face is calm, but there's a subtle pride in his eyes as he glances at Rudra, still fast asleep on Siya's chest. He adjusts his glasses slightly, giving Keart a brief nod before his gaze shifts to Siya.

"Haan, bilkul sahi kaha hai Keart ji ne," [Yes, Keart ji is absolutely right.] he says, his tone firm but kind. "Maa ka kaam sirf problem solve karna nahi hota, beta. Maa toh bache ka sabse bada sukoon hoti hai. Aur woh sukoon tum Rudra ke liye ho. Woh tumhare saath hai, tumhare paas sona chahta hai—yeh hi toh proof hai ki tum apni zimmedaari kaise nibha rahi ho." [A mother's job isn't just to solve problems, beta. A mother is her child's biggest comfort. And you are that for Rudra. He's with you, he wants to sleep in your arms—that's enough proof of how well you're fulfilling your responsibility.]

Siya looks up at him, surprised by his words. There's no judgment in his tone, only a gentle reassurance that makes her feel seen, understood.

"Par kabhi lagta hai, hum galti kar rahe hai," [Yes, Keart ji is absolutely right.] she admits, her voice hesitant, as though saying it aloud might make it more real. "Unka meltdown hua, aur hum bas... helpless feel kar rahi thi." [He had a meltdown, and I just... felt helpless.]

Lakhwinder lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he takes a seat beside Keart. "Beta, bache ke sau prakar ke meltdowns hote hain," [My dear, there are hundred kinds of meltdowns of children.] he says, leaning forward slightly as if sharing a secret.

"Aur har maa-baap kabhi na kabhi beysahara mehsoos karte hain. Mujhe yaad hai, mera beta jab chhota tha, toh cricket ka bat uska sab kuch tha. Ek din bat gum gaya, aur usne poore ghar ko sir pe utha liya tha. Woh toh tab chup hua jab humne ek naya bat laake diya." [And every parent feels helpless at some point. I remember when my son was little, his cricket bat was his whole world. One day, it got misplaced, and he turned the entire house upside down. He only calmed down when we got him a new bat.]

Keart laughs softly at the memory, her hand resting lightly on her husband's arm. "Aur yaad hai, usne ek naya bat milte hi kaha tha, 'Ab main sachin banunga,'" [And remember, as soon as he got the new bat, he said, 'Now I'll become Sachin.'] she adds, her tone playful.

"Bachpan ka dukh bada lagta hai, par woh jaldi khatam bhi ho jaata hai, beta. Tum wahi karo jo tum kar rahi ho—bas uske saath raho, uska haath pakdo. Baaki sab theek ho jaayega." [Childhood sadness feels big, but it fades just as quickly, my dear. Just keep doing what you're doing—stay with him, hold his hand. Everything else will fall into place.]

Siya smiles despite herself, a small laugh escaping her lips. The image of a young boy causing chaos over a cricket bat makes her realize that it is exactly something Rudra would do.

"Shayad aap log theek keh rahe hain," [Maybe you're right.] she says softly, looking down at Rudra. "Woh bas chahte hai ki hum unke saath rahein." [He just wants me to be with him.]

"Bilkul," [Exactly.] Lakhwinder says, leaning back in his seat, his hands now resting on his knees. "Aur ek aur baat, beta. Tum ek insaan ho, koi machine nahi. Galtiyan hongi, kabhi kabhi tumhe helpless feel hoga. Lekin Rudra keliye woh moments matter karti hai jahan tum uska dukh share karte ho. Wahi tumhari sabse badi strength hai." [And one more thing, my dear. You're human, not a machine. Mistakes will happen, and sometimes you'll feel helpless. But the moment that matters to Rudra is when you share his sadness. That's your biggest strength.]

Keart nods in agreement, her gaze soft as she looks at Siya. "Aur strength ka ek hissa apni health ka dhyan rakhna bhi hota hai," [And part of strength is taking care of your own health too.] she says, her tone turning gently admonishing.

"Dekh toh, tera itna sona sa, phool jaise chehra kaise murjha gaya hai. Kitni tired lag rahi hai tu. Jaake thoda fresh ho ja, puttar. Tere thakne se Rudra ko bhi lagega ki kuch theek nahi hai." [Just look at your beautiful, flower-like face—how it's wilted. You look so tired, dear. Go and freshen up a bit, puttar. If you're exhausted, even Rudra will feel like something's wrong.]

Siya hesitates, glancing down at Rudra, still sleeping soundly against her. "Par yeh uth gaye toh?" [But what if he wakes up?] she asks, worry flickering in her tone.

"Tu fikar mat karo," [Don't worry about that.] Keart says with a smile, already reaching out to adjust the scarf around Rudra's back. "Yeh dadi ke paas bilkul safe hai. Agar uth gaya toh hum usein chocolate ka promise karke mana lenge." [He's perfectly safe with his dadi. If he wakes up, we'll promise him some chocolate and calm him down.] She winks playfully, earning a small laugh from Siya.

Lakhwinder nods in agreement, his expression warm. "Haan, beta. Tum do minute ke liye apne baare mein bhi soch lo. Jab tak tum khud theek nahi rahogi, tab tak Rudra ke liye theek rehna mushkil hoga." [Yes, dear. Take a couple of minutes to think about yourself too. Until you're okay, it'll be hard to be okay for Rudra.]

Siya hesitates for just a moment longer before finally nodding. "Theek hai," [Okay.] she says softly, standing carefully so as not to disturb Rudra.

She adjusts him gently into Keart's waiting arms, her heart tugging slightly at the sight of how naturally he fits there. "Hum bas do minute mein aate hai." [I'll be back in just two minutes.]

As she walks toward the restroom, Siya takes a deep breath, the weight on her shoulders feeling just a little lighter. For the first time in what feels like hours, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she's not doing so badly after all.

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A bit of a filler chapter, I know, but next chapter mein Rudra and Shubman will meet pakka. Siya and Shubman ke meet up ko abhi shayad teen chapter aur hai.

bowledover18, ogcuphid, Esma_Hiranur_Sultan, dagabaazreee

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

Aur prem so bolo,

Radhe..Radhe 🙏🏻