"Maa, why do... I have tyuo Papa? Everyone, only one. Why two for me?" asked the little Abhijeet Rathore Singhal, looking up at his mother as she combed through his hair.

Vikram and Shikha had often pondered over the answer to the inevitable question. Shikha had refused to entertain the option of the young boy addressing Vikram as 'uncle', and she had not forgotten the glistening of his eyes at her vehement dissent to his proposition.

"But it might be difficult for the child to comprehend the situation, Shikha. It might be too much for the child," he said, with knotted eyebrows.

A smile tugged at the corners of her crimson lips, and the gentle breeze caressed her tense features and eased the tension of her muscles.

She placed her twitching fingers over his rigid and rough ones. "Your care and concern for the child makes you worthy of being his or her father, Vikram. I have no doubt about your capabilitis to do justice to that role."

"But the child..."

"Children are quite resilient, Vikram. They have better comprehension than we give them credit for, and if anything, the child will appreciate your presence in their life despite everything," she said, flashing a warm smile at him.

He regarded the benevolence in her eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. Over the months, as her baby bump grew in size, he found attachment for the unborn weaving its way around his heart.

The seed of regard for her happiness had blossomed into a fuzzy warmth which encompassed his form at the thought of holding the little one.

It had often tugged at the strings of his heart the child would consider him as distant family, at best, and a mere acquaintance, at worst. But she had allayed his worries by acknowledging his attachment to the unborn.

Amidst the various cartoons adorning the wall of Abhijeet's bedroom, three pictures hung on the wall. One of them was a picture clicked on his first birthday, where Vikram had lifted him in his arms and Shikha rested her head over her son's head with a resplendent smile stretched over her face.

Her eyes switched from the joyous frame to the garlanded frame of Samar next to it. It had been four years, and yet she could feel the void burning behind her sternum when her eyes met his twinkling ones behind the glass.

"Just like how you want extra chocolates, you wanted extra love before you were born. So, you had two Papa - one who would look over you from above, and the other who would always have your back."

Abhijeet bobbed his head with wide eyes. "Chocolate, I need moreeeee!" said Abhijeet, stretching his arms wide to show how many chocolates he wanted. Shikha chuckled, shaking her head.

"I'll check on your father, or we would be late for the ceremony," she said. She pressed a kiss into his head and ruffled his hair. The annoyed pout made her giggle at her son, and she patted his cheeks before she staged a walkout from the room, closing the door behind her.

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Shikha had always found it surreal to walk into his room and correct herself that it was their room for over a year. She had moved into his room on the insistence of his sister to maintain the facade of normalcy for Abhijeet, but that was far from being the sole reason for shifting into his room.

Their long conversations under the shelter of the majestic trees in the backyard had laid the foundation of an enduring relationship. His gentle massages to her swollen ankles and his concerned arms wounding around to her support her disoriented form had erased the initial discomfort from his touch.

The scarcity of trust and understanding had wedged the gap between them years ago, and over the months, they had fostered a bond of mutual respect and reinforced it with trust. It was not long before tidal waves of passion and desires crashed against their consciousness and completed the picture of marital bliss for the two lost souls.

"Are you sure about this, Shikha? We can stop..."

She cut his sentence off in the middle when she pressed her lips against his. The onslaught of post-pregnancy hormones had done their trick and her muddled mind had given into the darker desires of her heart as she acted on her yesteryear fantasy.

The edges of her lips danced their way towards her ears when she walked into the room.

Vikram stood facing the frame with his mother carrying him in his arms as a toddler. With his palms thrust into his side pockets and his back facing her, there was little for her to see and deduce his state of mind, but it was as clear as the April sky for her.

"She would be proud of you, Vikram."

Vikram turned towards her as Shikha walked towards him and linked her arm through his. She rested her temple against his biceps, and he placed his hand over hers. "I faltered so much and left so many traumatized by the reign. Do you think there's any redemption for that?" he asked.

The streaks of regret were not lost upon her. "I don't know about that, but you ensured the mafia bigwigs are behind the bars. The original reign ended almost a decade ago when you surrendered, and what remained was a law-sanctioned facade to ensure a smooth transition. I think you did well," she said, looking up and locking her warm eyes with his conflicted orbs.

Vikram arched his neck back before he let out an exasperated sigh. "Do I deserve this felicitation? The men working for me had left no stone upturned to instill visceral fear. The very prospect of normalcy for everyone seems bleak."

"Well, you did your best to reverse that, Vikram. Tyranny had always plagued this place, and there would always be someone to occupy the void of power left behind by the previous tyrant. You stopped the cycle of tyranny, and that makes you worthy of that felicitation and more. And Abhi is so proud of you!"

The mention of toddler relaxed the tense muscles under Shikha's fingers, and the response filled her heart with warmth. "It terrifies me to think Abhi might hate me someday when he learns the truth!" said Vikram.

Shikha shook her head and grabbed him by his shoulders. "No way! That boy loves you and adores you. You would always be his hero!"

Her words of reassurance made his eyes glimmer with joy. "And what about you?" he asked in a soft voice. She took a step closer and her hands slid towards his chest. His heart pounded against her palm and made her own heart race.

"I love you, too!"

It had been over three months since she had confessed her feelings to him when he had celebrated his birthday for the first time after his parents' death. Despite many confessions over the months - some frenzy, some heartfelt, and some casual - his heart swelled with ecstasy every time she had uttered those words.

He rested his forehead against hers, and they closed their eyes. The whiff of his musky cologne tantalized her senses, and her floral perfume had muddled his mind. Their racing breaths washed over their faces, and they intertwined their fingers with each other.

"And that's the best felicitation I could ask for, Shikha. I love you!"

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