Shadows Of The Stumps

Wait, But Who's Going To Let You Fall?

Hardik’s house was alive with warmth, the kind of bustling love that didn’t give anyone room to sulk or retreat. The moment Meera and Arjun stepped in, the scent of home-cooked food, laughter, and the patter of tiny feet wrapped around them like a blanket.

“Meemu!” little Vayu squealed, barreling straight into Meera’s knees before she could even take her shoes off. Meera nearly stumbled, but his tiny arms clutching her legs steadied her. Behind him, Kabir toddled uncertainly, his two-year-old determination making him waddle faster until Arjun scooped him up mid-run.

“Arre wah, superstar entry!” Arjun grinned, lifting Kabir high in the air, making the toddler giggle uncontrollably. “Kya khaya tumne? Full-on power!”

Pankhuri emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, her smile glowing. “Finally!. And look at you two, standing all stiff as if we’ll ask you to give a speech.”

Meera rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. Before she could respond, Pankhuri pulled her into a tight hug, the kind that lasted longer than necessary, as though silently reminding her she was safe. Krunal followed, slapping Arjun’s back before pulling him into an embrace as well.

Their mother appeared next, her dupatta fluttering as she hurried to the door. “Meera beta, Arjun beta—bas, sit down. You both look tired. Sit, eat, drink, everything is ready.” She fussed over them instantly, tugging at Meera’s hand and pressing Arjun down on the sofa as if they were children again.

The kids quickly climbed onto Meera, Vayu hugging her tightly while Kabir, still in Arjun’s lap, stretched his little arms toward her too. Meera laughed softly, reaching over to hold both, her awkwardness easing with every giggle that escaped the boys.

“Dekha?” Hardik teased, leaning against the wall, arms folded. “Two minutes in this house and they’ve forgotten all about me. Now they have found new heroes.”

“Obviously,” Pankhuri smirked, setting a plate of samosas on the table. “You’re just the clown of the house. They know who gives the best hugs.”

“Clown?” Hardik gasped, mock-offended, but his mother swatted him lightly with her pallu. “Enough. Let them eat. Arjun, beta, tumhari pasand ki kheer banayi hai maine. And Meera, your aloo parathas—just the way you like them.”

Meera blinked, caught between shyness and the sudden wave of affection. “Aunty, itni zarurat—”

“Chup,” she interrupted firmly. “Here, love is zarurat. You’ll both learn to accept it without question.”

Arjun and Meera exchanged a quick glance, their awkwardness colliding with the undeniable comfort of being smothered like this. Arjun gave the smallest shrug, the ghost of a smile tugging his lips, while Meera bit back a laugh as Vayu stuffed a piece of paratha into her mouth with great seriousness.

“You’re spoiling them,” Krunal muttered fondly, shaking his head. “One week here and they’ll forget what discipline even means.”

Hardik grinned. “Good. That’s the plan.”

And so it went—plates filled, laughter spilling across the room.

______________

On one such morning which had started with sunshine and the usual chaos of the house—the kids tumbling around, Pankhuri fussing about breakfast, their mother insisting Arjun and Meera eat more. But by afternoon, the air shifted.

Meera’s physiotherapy session that day had been particularly brutal. The exercises felt like knives tearing into her muscles, the weight of each stretch dragging her back into flashes of the battlefield. By the time she returned to her room, her forehead was damp, her breathing shallow, and every nerve screamed in protest. She wanted nothing more than to curl up quietly and disappear into sleep.