Unexpected Comfort. 

Unexpected Comfort. 

There were people who protected you so softly that the tenderness itself became overwhelming. Radhika had no choice but to admit it in her case. 

Moments like these made it dangerously easy to forget she had once been terrified of this family.

Beneath the table, Radhika suddenly felt her hand being squeezed gently. Looking sideways, she found Sabba nodding reassuringly at her, silently letting her know she was there.

It had been like this for the past six months. Sabba—quietly defending her whenever she could. Not that Radhika always needed someone to defend her. Yet… it felt comforting to know she was cared for. Loved, even. She didn’t know how to respond to such effortless warmth yet.

“Behave, Fatima. You do not say such things,” Neelam aunty reprimanded firmly, her voice carrying enough authority to silence the table instantly.

Then her expression softened as she looked toward Radhika, offering a small yet encouraging smile.

“Gudiya, I apologize for my sister’s rude behavior. Now eat properly, hm?” Throwing one last warning glare toward Fatima, she sighed before turning toward Shaurya again.

“Come here, my little chimpuk. I’ll feed you myself.”

Without giving Radhika any room to protest further, she gently scooped Shaurya into her arms and began feeding him herself.

A small smile found its way onto Radhika’s lips.

Somehow, the heaviness inside her no longer felt quite as unbearable. Little by little, the sharp edges inside her had begun softening around them.

A small smile found its way onto her lips. Sometimes their kindness overwhelmed her more than the cruelty ever had.

Who would have thought she would ever find such kind-hearted people in her life? No wonder Neelam aunty had once been her mother’s closest friend, Radhika thought quietly to herself.

Though, the personalities of the two sisters were entirely different from one another. 

Strange how two people raised by the same love could turn out so different from one another.

One softened by pain. The other—hardened by it.

Neelam’s kindness had always been large enough to make space for everyone. Perhaps that was why this family felt so confusing to her sometimes—there was cruelty, yes, but there was warmth too. 

“That explains it,” Sabba had once sighed gloomily when Radhika had asked about the difference in their names. “Fatima had no one except Neelam Maa. They were orphans.” Then, shaking her head dramatically, she had added, “And might I add—Maa adopted a complete nightmare for the rest of us too.”

Fatima’s bitterness suddenly seemed less random after hearing that story. That had earned laughter from everyone around them at the time though. 

“You already know how kind Maa is,” Sabba had continued afterward with a helpless smile. “So she took her in without thinking twice.”

And that was how the difference in their names had come to make sense to Radhika.

“Thank you, Aunty.”

“There’s no need for that, beta. Go on and finish your meal before it turns cold.”

Radhika nodded quietly, her heart softening at the kindness in Neelam’s voice.

Neelam aunty’s motherly nature always managed to astound Radhika.

In many ways, she reminded her painfully of her late mother. The resemblance hurt sometimes more than it comforted her. Sometimes, when Neelam smiled softly at her like this, Radhika could almost see glimpses of her own Maa in her.

Perhaps that was why being around Neelam felt so safe to her. It had been a long time since someone had cared for her this gently. The warmth she received here still felt unfamiliar to her heart. But it was no longer uncomfortable. 

After that, they continued eating in a comfortable silence. The clinking of cutlery was the only sound between them. Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence anymore.

Words no longer seemed necessary.

The silence that followed was no longer awkward, but warm and familiar, though. 

After that, they continued eating in silence, saying nothing more. The quiet between them no longer felt empty. Instead, it carried a strange sort of comfort.

For once, the quiet felt enough.

The stillness between them felt gentle rather than heavy.

Once they finished their meals, they quietly stood to retire to their rooms.

“Do you require help changing his diaper, gudiya?”

“No, aunty. I’ll be totally fine,” Radhika replied with a smile.

She nodded, smiling back at her.

“Tell me if you need any help, will you?”

“I will, aunty. For sure.”

“You better,” she joked. “I’ll be off now.”

Radhika nodded, grateful. The concern in her voice warmed something inside her chest.

Before leaving, she lightly patted her shoulder with quiet affection.

Once she was gone, the room fell silent again. Yet somehow, the silence no longer felt lonely.

Radhika looked down at the baby in her arms and let out a soft breath.

The warmth of the conversation lingered even after she was gone. She had nearly forgotten what motherly affection sounded like.

The warmth in her voice stirred an ache Radhika usually tried not to acknowledge. It had been a long time since kindness had felt this genuine to her.

She was one rare woman. Neelam aunty. She reminded Radhika so much of her mother that, for a moment, she felt the kind of love she had been deprived of for far too long. Swallowing the tight knot of emotions in her throat, she blinked repeatedly, trying to pull herself out of her spiraling thoughts.

Scooping Shaur into her arms, she stood to go change his diaper.

“Sabba, can you please come with me?” she asked softly, looking at Sabba with a question. 

Sabba nodded eagerly, and the two left shortly after. Sabba hurried beside her with tiny eager steps.

Her fingers tightened slightly around Shaur. She quickly lowered her gaze before her emotions became too obvious. A faint sting gathered behind her eyes, but she blinked it away.

“It’s okay,” she murmured to herself, even though a part of her still ached for the warmth she once had. 

The corridor was quieter now, lit only by the soft yellow glow of the night lamps. Their footsteps echoed faintly through the otherwise silent house.

On the way, Sabba glanced at her before speaking.

“Like I said… don’t mind Fatima’s words.” A deep sigh escaped her. “She does that to everyone she thinks is beneath her. Humiliating people makes her feel superior.”

Radhika merely nodded, lost in thought. Her chest tightened every time she recalled the way Fatima had looked at her.

There had been something deeply personal in Fatima’s eyes, and that was what unsettled her the most.

The bitterness in Fatima’s behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed, she felt it. It was impossible to miss. It wasn’t difficult to understand that much even for her if she was being honest with herself. Fatima’s hostility had been obvious from the very beginning.

What Radhika couldn’t understand, however, was why. Yet what troubled her wasn’t the humiliation. It was the hatred behind it. Why did the woman seem to despise her so intensely?

She searched her mind for an answer, only to find nothing. That confusion unsettled her more than the hatred itself.

She didn’t understand where it came from in the first place. And somehow, not knowing disturbed her far more deeply.

Sabba stopped midway before turning toward her.

“Some people simply cannot tolerate kindness being shown to someone they dislike.”

Her tone carried an unusual firmness.

“The moment Fatima dislikes someone, she makes sure they feel it,” she continued after a brief pause. “Her words always carry poison whenever she looks at people she considers unworthy.”

A hint of irritation crossed Sabba’s face.

“What I’m trying to say is—don’t let her words get to you. Taking them to heart will only hurt you in the end.”

Her expression softened slightly afterward.

“Not everyone in this house thinks the way she does.”

Radhika nodded faintly, even if the sting of those words still lingered inside her.

Sabba looked genuinely apologetic, almost embarrassed by Fatima’s behavior herself.

Somehow, Sabba’s reassurance only made the hostility feel more real. It felt as though Fatima had judged her long before even knowing her.

Radhika lowered her gaze, quietly absorbing every word.

Silence stretched between them for a few moments afterward.

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