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"Who's this kid calling you Papa?" Mom shoots me a tense look.
"My daughter," I start off calmly, "Adya Adwait Scindia. Your granddaughter."
I've kept this truth from my parents for a whopping four years, and there are a handful of reasons why. First off, things were just too chaotic to even think about dropping a bombshell on them. They were in the hospital, our family business was going down the drain, and to top it all off, Adya was away in her hometown. The timing couldn't have been worse if it tried.
Then, when I finally managed to bring Adya back into the picture, a whole new scenario with Preeta unfolded, throwing another wrench into the works. Introducing Adya into that mess was just asking for trouble, especially considering how they reacted to Preeta.
But now, with Adya right there in front of them, it feels like a sign.
"What the hell are you even talking about, Adwait? How can you have a daughter this old? Since when? Why weren't we told? What's going on?" Mom practically explodes.
I'm about to speak when Mom's eyes widen as if a light bulb just flickered on in her mind. "You and Niharika have adopted her, didn't you?" she blurts out, the pieces of the puzzle seeming to fall into place for her. "You've been married for almost four years, so a child can't be this old. But why? Is it because she can't get pregnant or something?"
"Mom, seriously, this has nothing to do with Niharika. She's not her mother. Let's not bring her into this, and for heaven's sake, let's not start blurting out nonsense about whether she can get pregnant or not," I grumble, thoroughly unimpressed.
"Adwait, who's her mother then?" Mom shoots a quick glance at Adya before turning her attention back to me.
I don't dignify that question with an answer. It's best if Adya herself provides the response.
"Little one," I beckon my daughter who's absorbed in her surroundings, lips puckered in curiosity. She instantly snaps her attention to my call. "Tell your mother's name?"
Confusion momentarily flickers across her face at the unexpected question, but she parts her lips to respond. "Nitya Mathur."
I plant a soft kiss on Adya's cheek, and her smile blossoms with innocent delight.
I face my mother. Her gaze lingers for a few tense moments, mulling over the weight of Adya's words. Then, like a light bulb flickering on, realization dawns in her eyes, morphing into fear and dread. Maybe she still clings to memories of Nitya—how could she not? I made damn sure my parents would never forget the woman for whom their son still walks this earth.
"That girl you dated back in college? Was she pregnant?" Mom's voice trembles, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "And why didn't you tell us about it?"
"Mom, stop assuming things on your own," I mutter, frustration seeping into my words. "You really think I would have gotten her pregnant... and," I pause, gathering my words carefully, "even if that were the case, do you really think I'd just bail on her like that? Never. Not even if everything was on the line."
