The next day, Anjali lay on the hospital bed, her lower body aching as the pain from the delivery lingered. She winced slightly as she tried to shift her position, but her gaze softened when it landed on Aryan.
He stood by the window, holding their baby girl with utmost care, as though she were the world's most fragile and precious thing. His eyes sparkled with unspoken emotions, a blend of pride, awe, and tenderness.
"She's so tiny," Aryan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid of disturbing the little one's peaceful sleep.
Anjali managed a small, tired smile. "She's ours," she replied, her voice soft but firm, filled with a love she had never known before.
Aryan turned to her, walking over with slow, measured steps, his attention fully on the baby in his arms. "You were right," he said, his tone filled with reverence.
"This moment—it changes everything."
Anjali felt her heart swell as Aryan carefully placed the baby in her arms. She looked down at the tiny bundle, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced her daughter's delicate features.
"She's the best thing I've ever done," Anjali whispered, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Aryan sat down beside her, gently placing a hand over hers.
"You're the strongest person I know, Anjali. She's lucky to have you as her mother. And I'm lucky to have you both."
"Hhmmm," the sound of the door creaking open echoed through the room as Arushi stepped in.
Clearing her throat dramatically, she announced, "Azeem-o-Shaan Shahensha padhar rahe hain!" She moved aside with a playful bow, revealing Aahan behind her.
He entered the room with a glucose bottle stand in tow, one hand in a cast, and his head wrapped in a bandage. Yet, he carried himself with all the pomp and attitude befitting the name Arushi had just bestowed on him.
Puffing out his chest, he struck a regal pose.
"Sepahi!" he called out, his voice theatrical.
"Jee, Shahensha," Arushi replied, stifling a laugh as she played along.
"Humne suna hai hum Chacha bangye,kaha hai humari bhatiji?" he asked, turning toward Arushi with an air of mock seriousness.
Arushi, standing beside him, exchanged a glance with Anjali and Aryan, who were looking at the duo with judging but amused expressions.
Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the tiny squeak of the baby broke through the room, stealing everyone's attention.
The regal act vanished instantly as Aahan hurried to Anjali, who was holding the baby.
"Aww, meri kuchu-puchu—ouch!" he winced, pulling back as Arushi lightly smacked his fractured arm.
YOU ARE READING
Drenched Heart's || COMPLETED✔️||
Lãng mạn"Drenched Hearts" Anjali, a passionate poetess, and Aryan, the son of a renowned businessman, crossed paths at an art exhibition. Their first encounter was accidental-a splash of ink from Anjali's hand stained Aryan's shirt. But fate had other plans...
