My Family

Appointment

When Armaan fell asleep that night with Abhira in his arms, he dreamt of his biological mother, the fear he felt when he entered the Poddar House, the cluelessness he felt when he interacted with his new family, and the startling realization that everything changed drastically within minutes. That was the power of death because it left a gaping void, allowing new changes to consume the life one once had.

And Armaan did not deal with change well—an aftermath influenced by his adoption.

Rigid order and routines defined him—well, until Abhira came along. She, with her enthusiasm and bubbly demeanour, had changed everything. One of the first things that drew him towards her was her love for life, her zeal to explore, and her inquisitiveness about everything. She didn't care for order, routines, or restraint; she was authentic and unpredictable, living on her terms, a boon from Akshara's upbringing.

Armaan was jolted awake by the image of his mentor. He could not breathe, the weight of the past few months weighing heavy on him. He peeked down at Abhira, who clung to him, her head buried in his neck. She was heavy asleep, something he was glad for. Armaan caressed her hair, tormented by this news oddly. A few months ago, this was what he and his wife wanted. They wanted a family of their own within a few months of their marriage or some time in the future. But it oddly felt cruel now. The idea of a family felt vacant as he was plagued by the image of himself with a child... alone.

He was scared that Abhira was okay with that image. She had this news for however long she had, and her hesitation in telling him frightened him. Abhira... wanted the baby and loved him or her with everything in her. A mother's love was pure and beautiful but also unyielding. It was repugnant to think about Vidya at this moment, but Armaan could not help himself. The sort of love she had for Rohit was unflinching; it was fierce and resolute.

Armaan knew that Abhira had that same love for their baby. In fact, he was sure that Abhira's maternal instinct and affection were even fiercer than whatever he knew from the bits and pieces he got. That scared Armaan because he knew how serious the complications would be and how much Abhira loved their baby. Even thinking about an uncertain future freaked him out. The dilemma of losing his mother plagued him, and he could not stop thinking of a life without Abhira. Their child without Abhira.

It felt like hell.

Then the alarm on his phone rang, and Armaan realized it was 5:30 a.m. Turning it off swiftly, he whispered to an Abhira who lightly stirred, "So jao, Abhira."

Patting her head lightly, he slowly disentangled himself from her and covered her with the duvet. Abhira was so exhausted that she did not even do her usual protests and just turned to the other side, sleeping peacefully. Armaan, slightly content that she was resting, went inside the washroom to prepare for the day. Clad in a dark blue suit with a white shirt, he was getting breakfast ready when his mother—stepmother—entered the outhouse. That distinction was becoming more transparent to him as the mirage of their family started breaking.

Was it his uncle leaving and joining another firm? Or was it his aunt, who had adored Abhira, becoming so against her? What was it that was threatening to break Armaan's last string of patience? Because this was not new to him. The back and forth, the irritation, the feeling of helplessness, and the conditionality of everything ever given him.

Why was he so resigned when his mother walked inside with a tray and a bright smile instead of becoming that four-year-old boy who yearned for her acceptance?

It was a startling contrast from the desperation he felt a few days ago, months ago.

"Armaan, Abhira ki halat kaisi hain ab?" She asked, and Armaan flinched.