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"Why, Adwait? Is it my fault you didn't come back after four years of us being apart? What's the reason?" Nitya presses, her thumb gently grazing his cheek, urging him to open up.
I swallow hard the bile in my throat which is thick and acrid, like something foul that refuses to be purged. Confession isn't his fear; no, what I had done wasn't driven by greed or cowardice. It was all for her—her happiness. But, the real terror is her reaction. She might despise me for concealing this truth for so long, and the prospect of facing that hatred is something I would do anything to avoid.
"This reason is—" I begin, but a scream pierces the air as well stab through my heart.
Adya writhes violently in my arms, screaming and crying. Though she's asleep, her reaction is fierce and unsettling.
"You a-re a bad un-cle. Papa w-ill bea-t you," she sobs, flailing her hands as if to shoo away an unseen threat.
"Little one," I murmur, pressing my forehead against her tiny, trembling one, swaying her gently from side to side. "Open your eyes. Nobody's here; you're safe, baby. Look at Papa." I caress her head to ease the terror that haunts her even in sleep.
"Give her to me," Nitya says softly, taking Adya from my arms. She wraps her in the cocoon of her blazer, gently humming a lullaby to soothe her.
I quickly join in, pulling Nitya by the waist, and we both hold Adya between us. We shower her with tender kisses and whisper gentle words surrounding her like a protective shield.
Eventually, she begins to calm as her thrashing subside and she sinks deeper into the folds of sleep. Soft, rhythmic snores soon reach our ears.
"Mr. Scindia," I blink away the haunting memories of the incident and shift my focus to the doctor as he takes his seat. "Here is the report." He hands me the file, the papers rustling as they pass from his hands to mine.
"How are the reports, doctor?" my eyes darting across the reports like a detective in a thriller but some of it sails right over my head.
"Everything's absolutely fine. Your daughter is healthy, and the reports show no issues," he smiles, making me breathe a sigh of relief.
"Thanks so much," I push up from the seat with a creak. Our hands met in a brief, firm shake.
Emerging from the cabin, I immediately set about sending a message to Samar. Adya's school hours would wrap up in an hour, and I'd be cutting it too close to get there myself.
I tap out a terse note: Fetch little one from school. And no matter how hard she begs, don't give in to buying her chocolates or any other junk food.
I know Samar's soft spot for her all too well—one word from Adya and he'd be bending like a willow in the wind.
A minute later, my phone buzzes with Samar's response. A heart-eye emoji for fetching Adya and a middle finger for the no-food edict.
