Standing in the dimly lit room, facing Ankita, I took a deep breath.
"Uhmm, honestly, I don't know how to confess to you, Ankita," I said, my heart pounding in my chest.
The room was sparsely decorated with yellow balloons, her favorite color. It a...
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Next day.
I woke up at 6AM in the morning to see my baby is sleeping peacefully. His tiny chest rose and fell rhythmically, his face peaceful, with a slight pout on his lips.
My heart swelled with love as I leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his warm forehead, careful not to wake him and placed some pillows surrounding him as barrier ,ensuring he wouldn’t roll over and went to the bathroom to do my daily morning course.
With a last glance at his sleeping figure, I slipped into the bathroom for my morning routine.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I wrapped a towel around my damp hair, my body dressed only in a blouse and petticoat.
A quick scan of the room reassured me that he was still sound asleep.
Perfect.
Mornings like these gave me the rare opportunity to get some quiet work done.
I began tucking my saree pleats meticulously into my petticoat, smoothing down the fabric until it was neat. As I reached for my comb, my eyes caught on a photo frame on the dressing table—Aditya and I, frozen in time. It was taken on our wedding day.
Aditya had wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting comfortably on my shoulder, his smile wide and genuine.
I smiled, though a tinge of sadness lingered behind it. I traced a finger over his lips in the photo, a quiet whisper leaving my lips, I miss you, Aditya.
After getting ready, I made my way downstairs, the comforting routine of daily life settling around me.
I prepared tea for maa and baba, knowing Aryan preferred coffee in the mornings.
Once the tea was brewing, I walked over to them to take their blessings, bending down to touch their feet. Maa kissed my forehead tenderly, while baba patted my head.
Aryan’s POV:
I made my way downstairs, the familiar smell of tea and freshly prepared breakfast filling the air. Dad was engrossed in his morning paper, a crease of concentration on his forehead, while mumma was jotting down a grocery list, murmuring to herself about the things she needed to restock.
Through the kitchen doorway, I saw Ankita preparing tea, her movements graceful and efficient.
My gaze drifted upstairs, thinking of my little Jaan, who was likely still fast asleep. Without wasting any time, I headed up to check on him.
When I entered his room, there he was, sprawled across the bed, his little fists clutching the blanket. His lips were parted, and a faint smile danced on his face, probably dreaming of something sweet. Seeing him like this made my heart melt every time.
I scooped him up gently, holding him close to my chest as he nestled into me without stirring.
I carried him downstairs, typing something quickly on my laptop with one hand while balancing him securely in the other.
