One Month Later

It had been a month since the wedding, and life in the Malhotra mansion had quietly settled into a rhythm. What once felt a little awkward between Aanya and Raghav had slowly found its pace—woven together by the tiny heartbeat of the house, Akira.

Every morning, Aanya woke up early. Her first ritual was making coffee for Raghav, juice for his mother, and a warm bottle of milk for Akira. By the time Raghav had his coffee in hand and Akira in his lap, Aanya would spread out her yoga mat near the balcony. Some days, Akira tried to join her, crawling onto the mat, clapping or attempting to mimic her postures in her little gibberish way. Her antics always left Aanya giggling and Raghav shaking his head in silent amusement.

Once Raghav left for the gym, Aanya would bathe Akira, wrap her in soft towels, and get her dressed in fresh clothes. Only after Akira was ready would she get dressed herself. By the time she came downstairs with the baby in her arms, Raghav was back—fresh, in crisp formals for office. Aanya would hand Akira to his mother and move to the dining room, helping the staff set the breakfast table.

Their mornings became a quiet family routine. Raghav sipping his juice, his mother keeping Akira busy with toys, while Aanya ensured everyone had what they needed. Soon after, his assistant would arrive, briefcase in hand. Before leaving, Raghav would bend to kiss Akira’s tiny head, touch his mother’s feet, and give Aanya a silent nod. Not words, not gestures of affection—but respect.

The rest of Aanya’s day revolved around home and Akira. She supervised the staff while preparing lunch for Raghav, carefully packing it and sending it through the driver. She cut fresh fruits for Akira, poured her juice, and set cartoons on the television, smiling as the little girl babbled happily while sipping from her bottle. Sitting beside her mother-in-law, Aanya shared her fruits, and together they often laughed at Akira’s nonstop chatter.

Afternoons were quieter. Once Akira fell asleep, Aanya would finally have lunch herself and rest for a while. By the time the baby woke, Aanya was ready with her cereal bowl, feeding her patiently as Akira made a mess with her tiny fists.

Evenings were special. Aanya always took Akira to the garden, holding her hands gently as she tried to walk. The first wobbly steps, the laughter when she fell into her lap, the excited claps when she managed a few steps—these moments filled the garden with life. Afterward, they would come inside, where Aanya boiled milk for Akira and brewed tea for her mother-in-law.

Dinner preparations kept her busy. By the time the dishes were ready, Raghav had returned from the office, freshened up, and joined them in the hall. With the news murmuring softly from the television, Akira would crawl—between his legs until he picked her up, tossing her gently in the air and making her squeal with delight.

Dinner was always eaten together. Aanya seated quietly, ensuring everyone was served, while Raghav discussed his day in short sentences, his mother occasionally joining in. But the true highlight of the night came after dinner. Raghav had started a habit—something no one expected from him. Almost every night, he took Aanya and Akira out on a drive. Sometimes around Marine Drive, sometimes through quieter roads. No loud music, no words, just the three of them watching the night lights of Mumbai together.

By the time they returned home, Akira would be half asleep in Aanya’s arms. They would place her gently in her crib, and soon after, the house would fall into silence again.

And just like that, day after day, their lives began to weave into one another. Not through romance or passion—but through shared duties, quiet gestures, and the laughter of a little girl who unknowingly held them together.

Raghav’s Reflection

The soft hum of the AC filled his cabin as Raghav leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the papers on his desk. His mind wasn’t on contracts or meetings today—it was elsewhere. On Aanya. On Akira. On the strange rhythm of life that had silently settled into his home.

It had only been a month since the marriage, yet Aanya had blended into their lives as though she was always meant to be there. Every morning when he left for the office, he found her effortlessly balancing her new duties—her respect toward his mother, her quiet care for him, and most of all, her boundless affection for Akira. That little girl, who once refused to stay with anyone but him, now clung to Aanya with her tiny fists and sleepy smiles.

Next month Akira would turn one. A year since she came into his life. A year since he lost Tanvi.

His chest tightened at the memory. His marriage with Tanvi had never been a love story—it wasn’t even an arranged match in the truest sense. It was a business deal. At that time, he was young, grieving his father’s sudden death, thrown into the battlefield of competitors waiting to see Malhotra Group fall. The proposal from Tanvi’s powerful family had been a lifeline. He had agreed—with conditions that benefited both sides. On paper, it was perfect. For the business, yes. For the marriage… never.

They were different people. Their home echoed with arguments, silences heavier than words, and constant battles of pride. Yet, he respected her. Even liked her in moments. She was bold, confident, someone who carried herself with dignity. There was a time he had thought of divorce. But his mother had stopped him, urging him to give it another chance. “Maybe a child will bring stability,” she had said.

And for a while, it had. When Tanvi became pregnant, their fights had lessened. There were even moments when he believed things could change. He remembered the glow on her face, the way she held her stomach as if it was the most precious jewel in the world. He had started hoping.

Then came that night. Tanvi’s brother’s wedding. She was eight months along, insistent on attending despite his protests. Work had tied him to Mumbai, but he had promised to follow later. The rain was relentless that evening. And then… the call. From Tanvi’s phone, but not her voice. Strangers telling him she had met with an accident.

He still remembered the mad rush to the hospital, the sterile smell of antiseptic, the doctor’s grave face. They saved the baby. Tanvi couldn’t be saved.

Akira was placed in his arms, small, fragile, crying for a mother who was no more. And Tanvi’s family, broken in grief, had turned their backs on the child. To them, Akira was not their daughter’s memory, but a cruel reminder of her absence.

That day, something inside him had died too. He had become colder, harder. Except with Akira. For her, he had been both father and mother. She was the only piece of warmth left in his life.

And now… now there was Aanya. He didn’t know what to call what she was building in their lives. It wasn’t love—no, not yet. But there was respect. Understanding. Quiet companionship. Most importantly, Akira’s laughter had returned. She giggled more, clapped more, babbled her gibberish language to Aanya as if she understood every word.

Raghav closed his eyes, whispering a silent prayer.

Tanvi, wherever you are, I hope you see her. She’s growing well. She’s happy. And maybe… maybe I finally did something right by bringing Aanya into our lives.

The dining table was unusually warm that night. Akira sat on her little chair between Aanya and Raghav, clapping her tiny hands every time the spoon touched her lips. Aanya’s heart melted at every giggle. She glanced at Raghav, then at his mother, and with a bright smile said,

“Next month Akira is turning one… it’s her first birthday. We should throw a small theme party. Maybe with balloons, colors, her favorite cartoons—it’ll be fun. What do you think?”

She looked at them with hopeful eyes, already imagining Akira in a cute birthday frock, surrounded by laughter and love.

Raghav’s mother’s smile faltered. For a brief second, silence filled the room before she spoke in a low, almost reluctant voice.

“I don’t think it would be good, beta… that day, last year… we lost Tanvi.”

The name fell heavy on the table. Aanya blinked, confused.

“Tanvi?” she asked gently.

Raghav’s mother lowered her eyes, her fingers tightening around her spoon.

“Raghav’s first wife .”

The words struck Aanya unexpectedly. She forced a small nod, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask more. She didn’t want to. The rest of the dinner passed quietly, only Akira’s innocent babbles filling the silence.

Later, after putting Akira to sleep, Aanya found herself on the balcony. The night breeze tugged at her hair, but her heart felt heavy. She leaned against the railing, her mind repeating the words—Raghav’s first wife. It wasn’t jealousy she felt, but something else. A strange ache, as though she had unknowingly stepped into a part of his life she was never meant to touch.

She sensed his presence before she saw him. Raghav stepped out of the room, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the night air. He didn’t say anything, just sat beside her on the wooden bench. They watched the city lights in silence for a while.

Finally, Aanya broke it, her voice soft.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know Akira’s birthday is also… the same day you lost Tanvi. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Raghav turned his head, his gaze steady but not harsh.

“There’s no need to apologize, Aanya. You didn’t know.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening on the railing. He didn’t add more, and she didn’t push. Both sat quietly, the weight of unspoken words between them.

After some time, Aanya stood, whispered a soft good night, and went inside to lie down beside Akira. Raghav lingered for a moment longer, staring at the stars, before he followed.

Morning at Breakfast Table

The clinking of cutlery filled the otherwise quiet dining hall. Aanya helped Akira settle on her chair with a small bowl of mashed fruits before taking her own seat. Raghav was reading a file, half-focused on breakfast.

Without looking up, he said evenly, “Aanya, after breakfast go for shopping. My secretary will accompany you. Buy dresses for yourself and for Akira.”

Aanya paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. “Shopping? For what occasion?” she asked softly.

Raghav finally looked up, his expression calm, decisive. “There’s a business party in Italy next month. Since we won’t be celebrating Akira’s birthday here, I’d like to take both of you with me. I always wanted to take Akira on these trips, but earlier she was too small… she hated staying with anyone else. Now she’s grown, and with you around, I know she’ll be fine.” His eyes flickered briefly toward Aanya, a quiet acknowledgment of the trust he had placed in her.

Raghav’s mother set down her cup with a sharp clink. “Italy? On that day?” Her tone carried disapproval. “What about Tanvi’s death anniversary?”

The table stilled. Aanya lowered her gaze, pressing her lips together.

Raghav remained composed. “I’ve already spoken to the family priest. There will be a hawan in the morning and food distribution arranged in Tanvi’s name. We’ll complete all the rituals before leaving in the evening.”

His mother shook her head, displeasure clear in her eyes. “I don’t feel right about this… but if you children think it is fit, then so be it.” She said standing up and leaving for her room.

Aanya quietly fed Akira, her thoughts tangled. She didn’t know if she should feel happy that Raghav wanted her with him, or guilty for being part of something his mother so clearly doesn't want

In Their Room, Before Raghav Leaves for Office

Raghav entered the room briskly, scanning the study table for a file. Aanya, who was folding Akira’s tiny clothes, hesitated before speaking.

“Raghav…” her voice was low, almost uncertain.

He looked up. “Yes?”

“I was thinking…” she avoided his eyes, “maybe you should go alone to Italy. Maa didn’t seem happy with the idea of me and Akira accompanying you. If my presence is making things difficult, then—”

“Sit down, Aanya,” Raghav interrupted gently, picking up his file. He moved closer, pulling a chair opposite her. “It’s not what you think.”

Aanya sat slowly, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her dupatta.

Raghav leaned forward, his voice steady but softer than usual. “The truth is, my mother’s disapproval has nothing to do with you. The real reason is… I plan to celebrate Akira’s birthday in Italy. The business party is just a convenient excuse.”

Aanya’s brows knitted in surprise. “But… why hide it?”

Raghav exhaled deeply, as though pulling out a weight he had carried too long. “When Akira was born, Tanvi died. Her family never forgave me… or her. They refused to even acknowledge Akira as Tanvi’s child. In their eyes, Akira was the reason they lost their daughter.” His jaw tightened briefly before he continued. “This year is Tanvi’s first death anniversary. Maa fears that if we celebrate Akira’s birthday, people—especially Tanvi’s family—will see it as an insult. They’ll say we rejoiced when we should have mourned.”

Aanya’s eyes softened, her heart tightening at his words.

“I too thought like that… till yesterday,” Raghav admitted, his voice low. “But when you said at the table that Akira’s birthday should be celebrated, it struck me. You’re right. My daughter deserves everything. And years later, when she grows up and asks why her first birthday was never celebrated… I don’t want her to feel unloved. I don’t want her to think she was ever less because of the day she was born.”

His gaze locked with hers, unwavering. “That’s why I’ve kept Tanvi’s puja two days earlier. So that on Akira’s day… only she matters.”

For a long moment, silence filled the room. Aanya felt her throat tighten, emotions swirling inside her. She had no words—only a deep respect for the man who, beneath his coldness, was only trying to balance grief and love, past and present.

Aanya’s throat tightened as she looked at him. “I’m… sorry, Raghav,” she said softly. “I misunderstood Maa . I shouldn’t have judged so quickly.”

Raghav shook his head lightly. “There’s no need to be sorry. I understand. And Aanya…” his tone grew warmer, “just like today—you shared what you felt, and we talked it through—I’d like you to keep doing that. In future too. Don’t keep things inside.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes softening. “Alright.” A small pause lingered before she added hesitantly, “But… I’d be more comfortable if you came with us for shopping. Rather than your secretary. I… honestly have zero idea about children’s clothes.”

For the first time that morning, a faint smile tugged at Raghav’s lips. “Fine,” he said with a hint of teasing, “I’ll come. I’ll leave office early today. We’ll shop together… and maybe even have dinner out.”

Aanya looked at him, surprised at the lightness in his voice, and a quiet smile escaped her too. Something about the moment felt… simple, yet unfamiliar. As though their relationship was slowly learning to breathe beyond duty and routine.