Aarav Banerjee is a mystery wrapped in silence. He speaks only when necessary, yet when he does, everyone listens. He's not popular, but everyone knows him. He's just joined junior college, though not very thrilled about it. He's not quiet, just car...
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I step into our apartment, expecting Aastha to be in the kitchen cooking, Coco playfully circling her with his tail wagging, and Rishit glued to Chhota Bheem.
But instead, the living room is dark and silent. I chuckle softly as I close the door behind me.
I knew she'd want to do something special for our second wedding anniversary, just didn't know what.
Rishit is the newest, tiniest member of our little family. The four year old boy was one of a hundred kids at the orphanage where my wife volunteers as a psychologist. She felt an instant, unspoken connection with him.
A year after our wedding, she asked if I wanted a child. Then she told me about Rishit, how his father abandoned him at the orphanage after his mother died during childbirth.
But Rishit is more than his past. He's a genius, with painting skills that could surely beat picasso soon. He's the sweetest boy, but sometimes a little smartass just like Aastha which means I have to handle both their 'I'm right, you're wrong' attitudes.
But the day he chose us to be his mom and dad? That day changed everything. Suddenly, I found myself craving toddler tantrums and the fierce mother-son duo teaming up against me.
The lights flicker on, and I blink as my eyes adjust to the brightness.
Our walls are covered with family photos, torans adorned with sketches and paintings of us.
My breath catches. My heart feels like it might leap out of my chest.
"Happy aversary, Papa!" Rishit yells.
"Anniversary," Aastha corrects, grinning.
I drop to the floor, unable to stand any longer.
I laugh, trying to hide the struggle to hold back tears.
She walks over, sits beside me, and hugs me.
I hug her back immediately, knowing the mama's boy will leap into her arms any second.
I pull Rishit onto my lap, smiling, then draw Aastha closer by her waist.
"You love making me cry, don't you, Aastha?"
"Guilty as charged. You told me a decade ago you never had family photos after your mom and Pihu's death. I don't know why I didn't do this sooner, why I didn't fill our empty walls with memories before."
"Yeah. I guess I got so used to the empty walls that I forgot what it felt like. Thank you for this, Jaan. You fill the voids inside me every time you do things like this. You heal parts of me I didn't even realize were still broken and-"
