Aarohi sat in the cozy living room, the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the lace curtains. Her five-year-old daughter, Ruhi, nestled in her lap, looked up with curious eyes. Today was the day Aarohi had decided to tell Ruhi about her father, Neil.
“Ruhi, there’s something very special I want to tell you,” Aarohi began, her voice soft but steady. She brushed a stray lock of hair from Ruhi’s forehead, her heart swelling with both love and sadness.
“Is it a story, Mama?” Ruhi asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Yes, my love, it’s a story. A very important one about your father.”
At the mention of Neil, Abhimanyu, glanced up from the book he was pretending to read. Manjari, sat by the window, her knitting needles pausing mid-stitch. Both had been hesitant about this moment, fearing it would bring more pain than comfort. But Aarohi knew it was time.
“Your father, Neil, was a wonderful man,” Aarohi began, her voice filled with warmth. “He was so excited when he found out you were coming. He would talk to you every night, even when you were still in my tummy. He would say, ‘I can’t wait to meet you, my little princess. We’re going to have so much fun together!’”
Ruhi giggled, imagining her father talking to her before she was born.
Aarohi’s eyes glistened with tears as memories flooded back. She remembered how Neil’s eyes sparkled with joy when they first saw the ultrasound image. “He would talk to you and tell you stories. He even sang lullabies to my tummy, hoping you would recognize his voice when you were born.”
Ruhi’s eyes widened with wonder. “Really, Mama? Do I look like Papa?”
“Yes, you do,” Aarohi said, her voice choked with emotion. “You have his eyes, his laughter, and his love for life. He would have been so proud of you.”
Manjari’s eyes filled with tears. She had been afraid that talking about Neil would reopen old wounds, but hearing Aarohi’s words, she felt a sense of peace. Abhimanyu put his book aside and moved closer, placing a comforting hand on Aarohi’s shoulder.
“We wanted to protect you, Ruhi,” Abhimanyu said softly. “We didn’t want you to feel sad about not having your father around. But your mother is right. You deserve to know what a wonderful man he was.”
Aarohi nodded, squeezing Abhimanyu’s hand gratefully. “Neil’s love surrounds you, Ruhi. Even though he’s not here with us, his spirit is always with you. And it’s important for you to know how much he loved you, even before you were born.”
Ruhi looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, “Mama, where is Papa now?”
Aarohi took a deep breath, preparing herself for this delicate part of the conversation. “Ruhi, your Papa is in heaven. He’s become a star, shining down on us every night. Whenever you see the stars in the sky, know that one of them is your Papa, watching over you and loving you.”
Ruhi’s eyes filled with wonder as she processed this information. “So, Papa is a star?”
“Yes, my love,” Aarohi said, tears welling up in her eyes. “He’s a star, and he’s always with you.”
Aarohi’s mind drifted back to the day Neil had painted the nursery. He had insisted on doing it himself, choosing a soft, calming blue. She remembered his joyful laughter as he struggled to put together the crib, refusing any help. “He spent hours assembling your crib, and even though he wasn’t very good at it, he wanted to make sure it was perfect for you.”
She paused, her voice catching in her throat as she recalled the day that shattered their dreams. “Neil... Neil passed away when I was just two months pregnant with you, Ruhi. It was a terrible accident, and he was taken from us too soon.”
Ruhi looked up at her mother with wide, empathetic eyes. “Papa didn’t get to meet me?”
Aarohi shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No, my love, he didn’t. But he loved you so much, even before you were born. He was so excited to be your papa.”
Ruhi hugged her mother tightly. “Thank you for telling me about Papa. I love him too, even though I never met him.”
Aarohi kissed the top of Ruhi’s head, her heart lighter than it had been in years. “And he loves you, my darling. Always remember that.”
That night, after dinner, Aarohi took Ruhi to her room and showed her a framed photo of Neil that she kept on her bedside table. “This is your Papa,” she said, placing the photo in Ruhi’s hands.
Ruhi held the photo close, studying Neil’s face. “Hi, Papa. I love you,” she whispered, her voice filled with innocence and love.
Aarohi tucked Ruhi into bed and turned off the lights, leaving a soft nightlight on. Before leaving the room, she watched as Ruhi clutched the photo to her chest, her eyes already beginning to close.
“Good night, Papa,” Ruhi murmured sleepily. “I love you.”
Aarohi felt tears well up in her eyes as she closed the door gently. She knew that Neil’s spirit was indeed shining down on them, and that his love would continue to guide and protect their precious daughter.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, the family sat together, united in their love for Neil and for each other. They shared stories, laughed, and felt a deep sense of peace knowing that Neil’s spirit lived on in Ruhi, the little girl who carried his legacy of love and joy.
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