Fragile Reunion. 

Fragile Reunion. 

“You deserve worse.” 

Her fingers brushed against his cheek again, as if memorising him all over.

They both knew her sarcasm masked the worry she felt, just as his smile hid the guilt he carried inside. Every time he left, a part of her wondered if he would come back the same—or come back at all. The boy she had once held onto now stood taller, stronger… and far more distant from the life she wished for him. Yet here they were. 

Her gaze lingered on him—taking in every detail, every change.

Her boy.

No… not a boy anymore.

A man.

Stronger. Harder. Changed in ways she didn’t like to think about.

And yet, to her, he was still the same child she had once held close.

Her feet ached as she stood there, watching her boy—no, a man now—standing before her.

Uzair noticed the slight shift in her stance—the way she adjusted her weight—and his smile softened. She couldn’t keep the excitement off her face. It was apparent on her face and Uzair knew it. Because deep down, he felt the same motherly love for her. 

Nor could she ignore the dull ache that came from being apart from him for so long, time and again. It had begun to take its toll on her more than she would ever admit. 

What else could she do but live in the moment? She whispered her thanks to the gods within herself.

He had grown into a man the world feared… but to her, he would always be the boy she had chosen to love. Every time he left, a quiet fear settled in her heart—whether he would return the same…or return at all.

But none of that showed on her face.

Only that familiar warmth.

Only love.

With every mission he took, she was there—praying to every god she knew with all her heart to bring him home safely. Some missions took years, and God knows how she waited through them, breath held, clinging to the hope that it would all end well—that he would return home to her.

And now, here he was, standing before her.

It felt as though a heavy stone had been lifted from her chest, leaving behind a quiet, overwhelming relief.

Her knees nearly gave in, the tension she’d carried for years unraveling all at once.

Blinking her fears away, she gulped and let out a quiet sigh the moment she heard his voice.

“You know how things work, Maa! Leave it, na. Tell me—how are my little champions doing?”

With a playful wink, he reached out and rubbed the small curve of her stomach, just like he used to when he was a child. Neelam flushed a deep red, her cheeks burning.

Her hand instinctively moved over his, as if to protect and cherish at once. Once, those large hands were the same small hands had barely reached her waist—now they carried a quiet certainty she wasn’t ready to question.

Yes—there was a life growing inside her. No, two lives. And he had been the very first to know. In fact, he was the one who had nudged them toward the idea of having children in the first place.

She was already content with him being the first to ever call her “mother.” She loved him as much as his brother—Shreyaanz—or perhaps even more. Maybe it was because he had been the first to reach for her, the first to give her that name, long before she had learned how to carry it. In his voice, in that single word—mother—she had found a place she never knew she needed.

She smiled at the wave of nostalgia.

Yes, she was the wife of Don Shreyaanz, and she had just conceived their first child—only after they felt ready to build a family of their own, with Uzair constantly at their heels, begging for a brother or sister. Never, not once in his life, had he been treated as an outsider.

If anything, he had always belonged too deeply. Sometimes, she wondered if motherhood had truly begun now—or long ago, the first time he had called her Maa.

Apparently, it was the day he first called her “mother”—a truth that had rooted itself so deeply within her, she could never deny it.

Uzair thought the same as he glanced at her with eyes full of devotion. His gaze lingered on her longer than he intended, softening in a way only she had ever managed to draw out of him.

A quiet ache stirred in his chest, one he never quite named—something between gratitude and a love too deep to be simple.

His brother’s wife—his Maa—had always supported and loved him as if he were their first child. Not merely because he was her husband’s brother, but because he had been so little when she married Shreyaanz that she had fallen for him instantly. In a way, he had drawn that care out of her, compelling her to look after him. 

He awakened her motherly instincts.

He had been a bright and unusual child, and she had found a quiet joy in raising him. Over time, she poured her love into him, and in return, he gave her his own just as fully. 

For years, there had never been a sense of absence in their home—it had never truly lacked a child. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children of her own, but she had wanted them only when she was certain Uzair could stand on his own, settled and secure in his life.

There had never been any strain between Neelam and Shreyaanz over it. They had raised Uzair as their own, loving him with the same fullness any parents would give their child.

“Maa?” Uzair called. 

“They’re fine,” she said softly, drawn out of her reverie, a faint smile resting on her lips, replying to his earlier question. “Though the child would be loved a little less—because you will forever be my first child, and my favourite,” Neelam said with a frown, gently rubbing her thumb over his cheek.

“I know. I know, I will always be your favorite,” he teased. There was humor in his voice, but something softer hid beneath it.

She shook her head lightly, a faint smile still lingering on her lips.

Uzair laughed heartily. “Don’t worry, Maa. I’ll make sure my little champions get all the love and support from my side—so he or she never ends up hating me.”

By the end of his sentence, he winked, earning a tight slap on his chest. He clutched his chest dramatically, grinning, as if he had been struck harder than he actually was.

“Never say that! If anything, I’ll teach them to look up to you!” she gushed. “Now go and freshen up—or I won’t make your favourite dishes.”

“And here I thought I’d get some VIP treatment. Some things never change,” he grumbled.

“Did you, by any chance, say something, son?” she asked, a twinkle in her eyes, feigning innocence.

“I was just going, Maa,” he replied with an innocent smile. “I was just thinking how much you love me!”

“As much as I should,” she said, chuckling. “And yes, I do.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.

She shook her head fondly, watching him like she always had.

“I’ll be back.”

She nodded.

With a smile, he turned on his heel and left.

She watched him walk away longer than she meant to, her smile lingering even after he disappeared from sight, as though holding onto the moment just a little more.

“Shall we go prepare the dishes, Maa?” Sabba asked.

“Let’s go before he starts to starve!” Zara joked.

“Let’s go!”

Nodding in agreement, they headed to the kitchen to prepare his favourite dishes—the ones he had loved since childhood.

Their laughter lingered as they disappeared into the kitchen, already slipping into a rhythm they knew by heart.

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