34—Belonging. 

34—Belonging. 

“Love is choosing your own executioner.”

 –Saumya Tripathi. 

“Lost in thoughts again?”

Maybe she was.

Because sitting here, in the middle of this family, still felt unbelievably unreal to her.

She would have never imagined herself sitting here—right in the center of the family. Ironically, ten months ago, the only thing she had desperately wanted was to escape this place. This house. This family. And yet, here she was now. Sitting among them no longer felt frightening.

It felt strange. Unfamiliar. Almost unreal. As though life had quietly twisted itself into something she had never once expected for herself. 

Her mind still struggled to fully grasp the weight of it though. How terrifyingly fast everything had changed. How dangerously easy it had become to stay. The thought should have unsettled her more than it did. Instead, all it left behind was a strange ache in her chest.

The same walls that had once made her feel trapped now carried a warmth she didn’t know how to reject. And perhaps that was what frightened her the most—not the family itself, but how easily her heart had begun making space for them. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped feeling like a stranger here. Without realizing it, she had begun belonging.

A part of her still felt guilty for finding comfort in the very place she had once prayed to escape from.

“You’ve gone quiet again.” The words pulled her out of her thoughts for a moment. 

“Oh, no. Not at all.”

And now?

Even now, she still couldn’t fully comprehend the emotions she had been carrying within herself for the past six months so restlessly. At times, it all felt too unreal—almost like denying the truth itself.

Had someone else told her this story, she would have doubted it too. That was how unbelievable the entire situation felt to her.

“No, don’t do that, Shaur!” She scolded gently at Shaurya’s ridiculous antics as he tossed food around with his tiny, chubby hands across the table and laughed.

“Are you having fun, huh?”

“Yepppp!”

Saying that, he burst into another fit of laughter. His laughter echoed across the table so freely that it softened every heart around him. He was already one and a half years old now.

Time truly had a cruel habit of flying too fast around the people one loved most.

Had someone else told her this story, she would have doubted it too. Because somewhere along the way, the place she had once feared had begun feeling dangerously close to home.

Perhaps people did not notice the exact moment they began calling a place home.

Taking a napkin, she gently wiped his face clean, getting rid of the food smeared all over his cheeks and near his eyes.

“Who’s being the naughty boy now?”

“No!” he replied immediately, making her smile.

“Do you want me to feed you?”

“No! Appe!”

That meant he wanted to eat by himself.

Accepting his tiny command, she let him continue eating on his own, a small smile lingering on her lips.

“Look at my little man. He’s become so independent now!”

Sabba’s comment earned soft laughter from everyone around the table. His laughter had somehow become the heartbeat of the house.

He was an incredibly energetic child. 

It had already been three months since he had started picking up words, and she still remembered how happy she had been when he suddenly began walking a few months ago after endlessly crawling around the house. His growth had been remarkable. Sometimes she caught herself staring at him in disbelief, wondering when he had grown this much. Every milestone of his carried both joy and the quiet ache of time passing too quickly.

From speaking little words to running around restlessly while playing, every small change in him filled her heart with quiet happiness.

Time truly seemed to pass in the blink of an eye around children.

“Shaur, no…!”

In response, he let out one of his lazy little giggles at her visibly annoyed expression.

“Oh ho…” she whispered under her breath, unable to stop herself from smiling.

Frowning, she pried the tiny food grains out of his small fists, completely ignoring the dramatic pout now displayed on his face along with those huge, watery eyes already brimming with tears.

“You aren’t hungry anymore, are you?” she asked knowingly. “You’re just playing with the food now, hm?”

Still frowning, he shook his head before nodding immediately afterward, confusing even himself in the process.

She sighed softly.

Oh, not that look again. He already knew exactly how to weaponize those tear-filled eyes. He was becoming more mischievous with each passing day. And unfortunately for her, she was already beginning to lose against them.

Suddenly, someone snorted loudly at the scene unfolding before them, instantly drawing the attention of every woman seated around the dining table. The moment they looked at his offended little face, several of them had to bite back their laughter. One look at Shaurya’s deeply offended expression was enough to send the entire table into laughter.

Meanwhile, the little culprit only pouted harder, clearly unconvinced he had done anything wrong. Watching him sulk so seriously over something so small made her heart melt despite herself.

Another voice cut through the haze of her thoughts, dragging her attention back to the present.

“Of course! Why not?” Fatima smiled sweetly, her dimples appearing effortlessly. “Poor people don’t get food like this every day, after all. So don’t waste it, my sweet little monster.”

The words were directed at the child. But they struck her instead. It was definitely a jab. A subtle jab wrapped beneath sweetness.

Her smile faltered almost instantly. Her fingers tightened quietly around the spoon resting in her hand. Some wounds never truly disappeared; they only learned how to stay silent.

Looking down, she tried to hide the sting blooming quietly inside her chest. Her lashes fluttered rapidly, holding back the tears threatening to gather in her eyes.

Maybe Fatima had not meant it that way. Or maybe she had. She could no longer tell. Moments like these reminded her how difficult it still was to fully belong.

She glanced briefly at Sabba, warmth and embarrassment mixing painfully within her chest. Forcing a small smile onto her face, she attempted to recover from the awkwardness, though the heaviness within her remained.

Just as she parted her lips to apologize, Sabba—who sat beside her—spoke up smoothly.

“Just like all of us sitting at this table, hm?” She replied with one of her deceptively sweet smiles. “Don’t you think so, Fatima dear?” Then, as though suddenly remembering herself, she gasped softly. “Oh, look at me forgetting my manners. We shouldn’t talk while eating.”

Because beneath the sweetness of those words lay a clear attempt to humiliate Radhika, and Sabba understood that perfectly.

For a fleeting second, even Fatima’s smile seemed strained.

Turning toward Neelam with an easy grin, she added lightly, “Shall we begin, Neelam Maa?”

The topic changed instantly.

But not before Fatima caught the sharp glares directed at her from across the table.

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