Raghav asked Aanya to get ready till then he will order breakfast nodding at him soon Aanya disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the suite, while Raghav stretched out on the bed with Akira on his stomach. The little girl’s curls bounced as she babbled in her sweet gibberish, tiny hands waving in the air to emphasize whatever important story she was trying to tell.

Raghav tilted his head, nodding seriously as though he truly understood. “Ohh really, princess? And then what happened?” he asked, his deep voice filled with warmth. Akira clapped and squealed, continuing her tale with even more excitement.

When Aanya stepped out, her hair damp and cascading over her shoulders, the soft fabric of her pastel maxi dress brushing against her ankles, she froze for a moment. The sight before her—Raghav giving undivided attention to their daughter’s nonsense talk—made her heart flutter in a way she didn’t want to admit.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and teased, “Look at you two… so serious as if you really understand her. Both nautankis.”

Raghav chuckled, kissing Akira’s tiny palm before carefully shifting her aside. Rising from the bed, he walked toward Aanya, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You called me nautanki, hmm?” he murmured, stopping just behind her.

Before she could respond, he bent slightly, repeating softly near her ear, “Nautanki, haan?” His voice carried a playful edge but the closeness made Aanya freeze. She turned halfway to protest, only to find her face inches from his. Her breath caught, her lips parting unconsciously.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop—the child’s babble fading into the background, the morning light spilling across the room. Raghav leaned closer, his gaze fixed on her, and Aanya’s eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the moment.

And then—ding-dong.

The sudden chime of the doorbell snapped the fragile silence. Both jerked back, startled, their eyes avoiding each other as if caught doing something forbidden.

Raghav cleared his throat, muttering a low, “Sorry…” before striding toward the door. Aanya, flustered, hurriedly picked up Akira’s dress from the suitcase, pressing it to her chest as if it could hide her racing heartbeat.

“Breakfast is here,” Raghav called out a moment later. She emerged with Akira in her arms, forcing a calm smile. They sat together, sharing croissants, fresh fruit, and coffee. Akira made a mess with a strawberry, earning soft laughter from both parents, easing the awkwardness that lingered.

Once done, Raghav excused himself for a shower. Aanya used the time to dress Akira in a little yellow frock, sliding matching clips into her hair. By the time Raghav returned—sharp in a crisp shirt and dark trousers—both mother and daughter were ready, waiting by the window where the morning sun spilled across their faces.

Raghav paused, watching them quietly. His world, he realized, looked nothing like it did a year ago. And yet, it felt more complete than ever.

Dressed and ready, they came down from the suite into the grand reception area. The marble floor gleamed under the afternoon sun streaming through tall glass doors. As Akira began to stir in Raghav’s arms, she suddenly squealed, wriggling to get down. stretching her tiny arms toward the floor.

Raghav sighed but gently placed her on her feet, immediately following close behind, his hand hovering, ready to scoop her up if she stumbled. Akira marched forward in her little yellow frock, her curls bouncing with every step, squealing with delight at her own freedom.

Aanya, walking a step behind, couldn’t help smiling at the sight. Quietly, she took out her phone, snapping a picture of the tall, composed Raghav trailing after their toddling daughter like a shadow. She bit back a laugh—it was a memory she knew she’d cherish.

Soon, Raghav’s assistant came over. “Sir, the car is ready.”

They stepped outside into the golden Milan afternoon, sliding into the sleek black car waiting for them. Their first stop was a sightseeing spot—the historic piazza, bustling with tourists, pigeons fluttering above, and the distant sound of a violin playing. Akira clapped her hands in excitement at the sight of pigeons and squealed as one hopped close to her shoes. Aanya and Raghav took turns holding her while also managing to click a few family pictures—Aanya caught one where Raghav held Akira high in the air, her laughter frozen in time against the stunning backdrop of the old cathedral.

After strolling around, they wandered into a nearby local market. The streets were lively, full of colorful stalls selling handmade jewelry, scarves, and fresh gelato. Aanya picked up a small bracelet for Akira, sliding it on her tiny wrist, while Raghav bargained effortlessly with a vendor for a silk scarf Aanya had been eyeing, though she protested.

By afternoon, they found themselves at a cozy café tucked into a corner street, sunlight spilling across the cobblestone outside. They chose a table by the window. The waiter, a cheerful young man, came to greet them warmly.

Before Raghav could even open the menu, Akira bounced excitedly in her chair, clapping and squealing at the stranger. The waiter crouched slightly, flashing her a wide smile and said, “Ciao, bella!” before heading off to place their order.

Raghav’s jaw tightened almost instantly. He stared after the waiter, visibly unimpressed.

Aanya caught the look and burst out laughing. “Oh my God, are you actually jealous?” she teased, leaning forward.

“It’s not funny,” Raghav muttered, crossing his arms. “She’s my daughter. How can she give so much attention to someone else?”

Aanya chuckled, wiping her eyes from laughter. “She’s a girl, Raghav. Of course she’ll appreciate handsome men.”

Raghav whipped his head toward her, scandalized. “Handsome? That guy?!” His horrified expression had Aanya laughing all over again.

“Yes,” she nodded dramatically, “and you better get used to it. Because when she grows up, she’s going to notice boys.”

“Not happening,” Raghav said firmly, glaring as if the waiter might still be listening. “I’ll make sure no boy comes within ten feet of my princess.”

“Typical father,” Aanya muttered, rolling her eyes but smiling at his stubbornness.

Their food arrived soon after, and between bites of pasta and risotto, Aanya patiently fed Akira spoonful of soft mashed potatoes. The toddler was more interested in playing with the spoon than eating, smearing a bit on her cheek. Raghav leaned across to wipe it, muttering about how messy “his girls” were, which earned him a sharp nudge from Aanya under the table.

By the time they left the café, it was already late afternoon. They strolled back to the car, Akira yawning sleepily against Aanya’s shoulder.

“Rest for a while once we’re back,” Raghav reminded softly as the car pulled away. “We have dinner tonight with my business partners, and it’ll be a long evening.”

Aanya nodded. The clock ticked past four as Milan’s streets blurred past the window, the golden light of evening settling in.

By the time they reached the hotel, Akira had already fallen fast asleep in the car. Raghav carefully picked her up in his arms, balancing her against his chest, while stepping aside to open the door for Aanya. As she climbed out, his eyes flicked down briefly—catching the way her heels dug into her skin, a faint redness showing near her ankle. His brows furrowed.

Upstairs in their suite, he gently settled Akira into the middle of the bed, adjusting the pillows around her. Then turning back to Aanya, he said softly, “You should lie down too, get some rest.”

Aanya shook her head. “No, I’ll just arrange our things first. I haven’t even put our outfits in the cupboard yet… and I need to take out something for Akira to wear for tonight.”

Without a word, Raghav disappeared into the washroom and returned a minute later, holding out a small tube of antiseptic cream. He handed it to her, his voice firm but laced with concern. “For the shoe bite. Apply it before it gets worse. And next time, if you’re not comfortable, don’t wear heels. There’s no need to strain yourself.”

Aanya smiled faintly, trying to brush it off. “It’s normal, I can manage.”

He didn’t press further, simply gave her one last look before stepping into the adjoining room where his laptop and files were already waiting.

While Raghav sank into work, Aanya busied herself, arranging clothes neatly into the cupboard, setting aside Akira’s tiny frocks and pajamas with careful hands. Time slipped by, and by six in the evening, Akira stirred awake. Instead of her usual giggles, she was cranky—crying in hiccupped sobs that grew louder by the minute.

Aanya quickly scooped her up, swaying gently, whispering into her ear. “Shh, baby, don’t cry… your throat will hurt, sweetheart…” Her voice cracked slightly as she rubbed Akira’s back, trying everything from humming lullabies to patting her softly, but the little one refused to calm down.

From the next room, Raghav’s meeting was interrupted by the sound. He appeared in the doorway just in time to see Aanya’s eyes turn moist, her cheek pressed against Akira’s as she tried to soothe her.

Without a word, he stepped forward, scooped Akira into his arms, and walked out, her cries muffled against his chest.

Aanya remained frozen, her arms empty. She blinked back the sting in her eyes, lowering herself onto the bed. She knew Raghav hadn’t meant to dismiss her, but the way he had silently taken Akira left her heart heavy, as if her efforts hadn’t been enough.

She sat there quietly, hands resting on her lap, listening to the faint sound of Akira’s cries softening somewhere beyond the door. A knot formed in her throat—was she really becoming a part of Akira’s world, or would she always remain an outsider when it came to moments like these?