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“Daadi?” Vikram smiles, breaking the kiss as if it's perfectly normal for his grandmother to walk in on us like this.
“I...” Daadi pauses, taking in my flushed face as I turn around. Realizing she's interrupted a private moment, she quickly apologizes. “I am... so sorry... I'll come back later.”
“No,” I stop her, flustered. “Daadi, we weren't... I mean, we... we were just talking...”
“Arguing,” Vikram interjects with a grin. “Which later turned romantic and kissy...”
“Vikram!” I scold him, trying to hide my deepening blush. “Daadi, he's lying.”
Vikram reaches us, purposely giving me a tight hug from behind. “Don't believe her, Daadi. She's not what she seems.”
I shrug his arms off, my face burning. “I'm not what I seem? How dare you say that?” I playfully hit his chest, struggling to contain my embarrassment.
“Alright, you two,” Daadi chuckles. “Continue your 'arguments.' I came to tell you that I have plans with my new friends today. So don't include me in your plans. Enjoy your day together.”
I sigh, asking, “You're going out?”
“Yes, I won't be back until late evening,” she replies.
Vikram starts to offer, “I'll arrange a car for you,” but Daadi stops him.
“Vanraj has already done that. I can't believe he's showing some interest in my comfort and care,” she says, looking pleased.
As Vikram and I exchange confused glances, Daadi winks at us and hurries back to her room. I shut the door, turning to face Vikram again.
“Strange,” he mutters.
“You think there's a hidden motive behind your father's actions?” I ask, curious.
He rubs his palms over his face, considering. “It's hard to read what's going on in his mind sometimes. But if he's genuinely taking up his responsibilities, I'm happy.”
“So am I,” I smile back, feeling a glimmer of hope for our complex family dynamics.
VIKRAM
As promised, we spend half of the day in my playroom, where I teach Maahi a few games on my Xbox. She’s excited to play, and we enjoy that time in our own private bubble without any interruptions. Jack had told us that Mom and Dad left in the morning after Daadi went to see her friend, so it’s just the two of us in the house. I help Maahi make some sandwiches while she cooks pasta for us. It’s a light meal, just what we need. Maahi shows me her Instagram profile, and I’m awed by her photos. My wife has a huge fan following and a few virtual friends she chats with sometimes.
“I haven’t posted in a while,” she mentions, leaning her head on my shoulder as we sit on the couch, checking out her social media profile.
“Why?”
“Got busier ever since you came to Ratna Mahal,” she teases, and I decide to change that a bit.
“How about we take a selfie now and give your followers a quick teaser of your present life?”
Her eyes sparkle with delight.
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you don’t think straight when I’m around,” I reply with a grin.
“Enough of boosting your ego.” She punches my chest softly and takes her phone. “Ready to pose?”
I always am. I wouldn’t miss any chance to show the world that Maahi is my wife and what she means to me. She moves back, her back touching my chest, testing the camera angle on her phone. I quickly wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her cheek from behind. She giggles and unknowingly clicks that picture.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper, admiring it on her phone.
“Too intimate, don’t you think?”
