The family sat around the dining table. Abhijeet ji, Veer’s father, occupied the head chair while Veer sat beside him.

Gayatri ji, Veer’s mother, served the food with quiet grace. She then turned to little Krish, the two-year-old boy sitting in his blue high chair, slowly munching his food while his eyes remained fixed on his toy car.

Gayatri ji gently scooped some rice mixed with dal and fed him another spoonful.

Then she spoke, glancing at Veer, “Veer, the girl’s family has agreed. They want you to meet Priya.”

Veer, in the middle of his dinner, paused. His jaw clenched. “Maa, I’ve told you before. We’re enough for Krish. He doesn’t need anyone else.”

Gayatri ji sighed patiently. “I know we’re enough to give him love, care, and protection, Veer. But a mother’s love... it’s something no one else can truly replace. Maybe not now, but one day—when he starts noticing the world around him—he’ll ask. He’ll wonder.”

Abhijeet ji, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke. “Your mother is right, Veer. This isn’t just about Krish. It’s about you too. How long will you keep living like this?”

Veer let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly. He didn’t respond, but his silence was enough.

A silent acceptance.

He knew they wouldn’t stop here.

---

The Next Morning

Veer stood before the mirror, adjusting the strap of his watch. As he glanced at his reflection, he noticed movement behind him—Krish had stirred.

Turning toward the bed, Veer walked over and sat at its edge. Krish rubbed his eyes with his chubby little hands.

As his vision cleared and he saw his father, a wide smile lit up his tiny face. He sat up and threw his arms around Veer’s neck, his small legs dangling across Veer’s lap.

Veer wrapped his arms around his son and softly asked, “Slept well, champ?”

------

The café buzzed with soft chatter and the clinking of cups. Veer sat across from Priya, his posture straight, his expression unreadable—stern and distant.

Priya took a delicate sip of her coffee, then smiled sweetly, her tone light and coaxing. “I love kids, Veer. So, you don’t have to be so tense. I’d treat Krish like my own.”

Veer’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. He rested his elbows on the table and laced his fingers together. His eyes stayed fixed on her, sharp and unblinking.

“I’m not looking for someone who likes children, Priya,” he said, voice low and controlled. “Krish isn’t a side note in my life. He is my life. And I don’t need someone to ‘treat’ him well. I need someone who sees him before they see me.”

Priya’s smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly masked it with a light laugh. “Of course, I understand. That’s exactly what I meant.”

Veer didn’t reply. He simply leaned back, gaze flicking out the window for a moment—already tired of this conversation.

In truth, he hadn’t come here to look for love. He’d come because his parents insisted, because he was too exhausted to argue again.

His phone buzzed. He glanced down.

[A meeting reminder by his Secretary]

Meeting was about 2 hours later.

But right now going to meeting earlier seems good option.

He stood up.

“Thank you for your time, Priya,” he said, polite but firm. “But I have an important meeting .”

Priya blinked. “But… we haven’t even talked properly....”

Without  a response, Veer walked out of the café, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he headed toward his car.

-----------

Night had fallen quietly over the city, the sky painted in deep hues of blue and silver.

A soft breeze drifted through the open balcony, rustling the sheer curtains.

Veer paced slowly, his bare feet sinking slightly into the cool floor tiles. In his arms, Krish slept peacefully, his tiny head nestled against Veer’s shoulder, soft breaths brushing against his father’s neck. One chubby hand clutched the fabric of Veer’s shirt as if in assurance that his safe place was still there.

Veer’s hand gently rubbed Krish’s back in soothing circles, but his mind was far from calm.

His gaze wandered into the distance, city lights twinkling below like silent stars.

But all he could think about was the future that felt more like a trap than a new beginning.

The marriage was fixed.

The girl was chosen.

But his heart remained restless.

He knew—deep down—that anyone agreeing to marry him now wasn’t marrying him.

They were marrying the name.

The reputation.

The Malhotra empire.

The comfort of luxury, the illusion of status.

And above all, they were marrying the idea of being Krish’s mother, not the reality of it.

And that was what gnawed at his soul.

He didn’t want someone who’d smile at Krish only in public.

He didn’t want someone who’d consider his son a duty—a box to tick on the perfect wife checklist.

No.

He wanted a woman who would kneel down to Krish’s level and see the world through his eyes. Who would love him without condition, without effort—naturally, instinctively, fiercely.

Just like a mother would.

And no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise… Priya wasn’t that woman.

Her words were sweet, practiced. Her smile too perfect.

Veer sighed, resting his cheek lightly against Krish’s head.

“How do I give you to someone I don’t trust, champ?” he whispered into the night, voice hoarse.

“How do I put your world in hands that don’t feel like home?”

Krish stirred slightly in his arms, and Veer held him closer, grounding himself in that tiny heartbeat against his chest.