The Rose & Her Thorn

The END

"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 know 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 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 an 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.

_______________________________________________

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.