The Rawat mansion had finally settled back into its everyday rhythm after the excitement of Kaushiki’s birthday. The grand decorations were gone, the lights taken down, and the house now breathed in its usual warmth.
In the living room, Anita sat comfortably on the sofa, knitting as the television played a soft background melody. Kushal was buried in the newspaper, occasionally adjusting his glasses and making small comments about the day’s business headlines.
“Yeh log kabhi sudhrenge nahin,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
From the kitchen, the sound of Bhoomi chachi’s laughter floated out as she instructed the household staff. “Arre, namak thoda kam daalna! Kal Ashwin ne hi complain kiya tha ki soup me namak zyada tha!”
Yuvaan walked in with his laptop in hand, trying to juggle between work and Kritika’s reminders. “Yuvaan, tumhe Yuvika ka homework dekhna tha, na?” she reminded firmly.
“Haan, Kritika, dekh raha hoon,” he said, though his eyes were still glued to the screen. Little Yuvika tugged at his arm, “Papa, chhodo na kaam, mujhe drawing karni hai!” He sighed, finally putting the laptop aside and letting her climb into his lap.
Meanwhile, Aakriti was sitting at the dining table, her books open, making quick notes for her research. “Tum sabko lagta hai main bore karti hoon apne medical notes se, par ek din inhi notes ki wajah se tum sab mujhe ‘Doctor Madam’ bulaoge,” she teased.
Ashwin returned from the hospital a little late, his tie loosened, looking tired yet composed. Kaushiki trailed behind him, still carrying her hospital bag. She tossed it on the couch dramatically.
“Bas! Aaj toh meri haddiyan tod di patients ne,” she declared, slumping down beside Anita.
“Arre, tumhari haddiyan tod di ya tumne kisi ki?” Krishav, who had come over in the evening, raised an eyebrow teasingly.
“Very funny,” Kaushiki shot back, grabbing a cushion and throwing it at him.
The room filled with laughter. Anita reached out, patting Kaushiki’s hair fondly. “Bas, drama queen… jao fresh ho jao, khana lagne wala hai.”
Dinner that night was simple but warm. The long dining table buzzed with conversations—Kushal debating politics, Bhoomi cracking jokes, Kaushiki narrating her hospital mishaps, and Yuvika proudly showing her butterfly drawing to everyone. Ashwin sat quietly for most of it, occasionally watching Kaushiki’s animated expressions with a softness he rarely showed in public.
It wasn’t a grand celebration anymore, but the little, ordinary moments stitched together—the teasing, the chatter, the comfort—made the house feel alive, like family always should.
In the living room, Anita sat cross-legged on the sofa, sorting through old family photographs. Bhoomi leaned over her shoulder, teasingly pointing at Ashwin’s awkward teenage picture.
“Yeh dekh, doctor sahab ki hairstyle! Aaj ke strict professor tab kitne seedhe lag rahe the.”
Anita chuckled, hiding the picture from Ashwin as he walked past with a file in hand.
“Aap logon ko koi aur kaam nahin mila?” he muttered, though a faint smirk betrayed him.
Meanwhile, Kaushiki padded into the room in her pajamas, hair tied up messily, still yawning from an unintended nap. She looked at the photos in Bhoomi’s hand and gasped dramatically.
“Mujhe bhi dekhna hai! Ashwin ki embarrassing pictures sabse pehle mujhe dikhni chahiye.”
Ashwin shot her a sharp look. “Kaushiki—”
But she darted across the room, snatched the picture, and giggled so loudly that even Kushal looked up from his newspaper with a raised brow.
“Papa, aapne Ashwin ko aise kyu hairstyle karne diya?” she teased.
“Beta, uss waqt mujhe laga ki yeh khud samajhdaar hai,” Kushal replied dryly, earning laughter from everyone except Ashwin.
In the corner, Yuvika was running around with colored pencils, tugging at Kritika’s sari pallu. “Mamma, mujhe nani ke liye card banana hai.”
Kritika sighed but helped her daughter settle at the table. “Theek hai, par pehle apne crayons spread mat karo floor pe.”
Aakriti came in with her laptop, balancing her work between conversations. “Mujhe lagta hai Kal RMI mein staff meeting lambi hogi,” she muttered. Kaushiki, still laughing, leaned over the couch.
“Perfect! Mujhe wahan Ashwin ke saath zyada time milega.”
Ashwin froze, and everyone’s eyes shifted to him. Kaushiki blinked innocently. “Kya hua? Maine kuch galat bola?”
Bhoomi clapped her hands, breaking the moment. “Bas, ab sab dinner ke liye table pe aajao. Nandini bhi aa rahi hogi abhi.”
The family drifted toward the dining hall. The sound of chairs dragging, dishes clinking, and lighthearted chatter filled the space. It was not a grand occasion, no lights, no cake, no decorations—just warmth, banter, and the comfort of being together under one roof.
And though Kaushiki pretended to complain about everyone teasing her, she secretly cherished the ordinary evening. After all the grandeur of her birthday, this simple, messy, noisy family dinner felt like the real gift.
YOU ARE READING
𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚
Romance"Marry me," he said. And just like that, my life became a rom-com gone wrong. Kaushiki Rajput-clumsy, loud-mouthed, and hopelessly optimistic-never expected her first encounter with Dr. Ashwin Rawat to involve publicly accusing him of child neglect...
