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Author’s POV

The late afternoon sun filtered softly into the living room of the Sharma house. Samaira sat curled up on the sofa, dressed in a simple oversized T-shirt and pyjamas. Her eyes looked a little tired, and there was a visible sulk on her face — the kind that came from a feeling you couldn’t really explain.

Ritika stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a towel. Her eyes immediately landed on the little girl’s quiet frame.

"Sammmy, beta... kuch khaogi? Tumne subah se kuch khaaya hi nahi properly," she asked gently, walking closer.

Samaira shook her head, not looking up. "Nahi mumma… bhukh nahi hai," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Ritika sat beside her and softly caressed her head. She didn’t push her to talk, but her warmth was constant.

Just then, Ahaan entered the room — fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, wearing a white tee and joggers. The moment he saw Samaira’s sulking face, a mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

"Aye madam! Kya hua? Mood off hai ya bas drama chal raha hai?" he teased, plopping down on the opposite couch.

Samaira looked up at him with watery eyes, her lips quivering slightly. "Bhaiya... aap hamesha mazaak kyun karte ho mere saath?"

And just like that, Ahaan’s smile faded. He got up and walked over to her, crouching in front of the sofa.

"Arey... sorry yaar... main bas… I was joking," he said softly, guilt in his eyes now. "Rona mat, please."

Samaira sniffled and looked away.

Ahaan extended his arms dramatically. "Chal,el tight hug and everything will be right!" he declared.

Samaira didn't respond at first, but when Ahaan wrapped his arms around her gently, she couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle through her tears.

"Aap na... pagal ho," she whispered into his shoulder.

Ahaan grinned. "Tumhari smile vaapas aa gayi. Bas... ab ghar ghar lagrha hai."

Ritika, watching them, smiled warmly, her heart full. These were the little moments that made everything feel right.

Rohit was still at practice, unaware of this little scene unfolding at home — but if he saw it, he would’ve smiled with that familiar proud softness in his eyes.

Author’s POV

The clock ticked past 7 PM when the front door finally creaked open.

Rohit Sharma stepped inside, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a towel slung around his neck. Dressed in his practice jersey and track pants, he looked visibly tired — his shoulders heavy from the long hours on the field.

But the moment his eyes landed on Samaira sitting quietly in the living room, his tiredness seemed to dissolve like mist in sunlight.

"Princess," he called softly.

Samaira turned instantly at the sound of his voice. Her eyes lit up, her lips quivered, and without another word, she ran straight into his arms.

Rohit dropped his kitbag and knelt down, catching her mid-run and lifting her effortlessly into his arms — as if it was the most natural place for her to be.

"Papa..." she whispered, hiding her face in his neck, her small arms clutching around his broad shoulders.

Rohit held her close, his large hands gently stroking her back.

"Kya hua meri bacchi ko?" he murmured, sensing the leftover heaviness in her silence.

Samaira didn’t reply — she just hugged tighter.

Ritika, standing near the kitchen doorway, smiled softly, nodding at Ahaan to let the moment stay undisturbed. Ahaan watched too, arms folded, a warm fondness in his eyes for the two people he loved the most.

Rohit slowly sat down on the couch with Samaira still in his lap. She clung to him, like the world had been slightly off until this hug made everything alright again.

"Papa… aap practice krne Gaye the na?" she finally asked, her voice muffled.

"Haan, lekin ab main ghar aa gaya hoon. Ab sab thik hai na?" he said gently, kissing the top of her head.

Samaira nodded into his chest, letting out a deep breath like she’d been holding it in all day.

There was something about a father's arms — a quiet strength, an unspoken promise that no matter what, everything would be okay.

And tonight, wrapped in those arms, Samaira finally felt like she could breathe again.

Author’s POV

Rohit gently pushed open the door to their bedroom, the dim light casting soft shadows across the familiar space. Samaira’s head rested on his shoulder, her arms lazily wrapped around his neck, sleep heavy in her lashes. She hadn’t let go of him even once.

Without a word, he walked straight to the bed and sat down, holding her for a few more seconds as if he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Ritika, already waiting there, pulled back the blanket, her eyes softening at the sight. “She’s really exhausted,” she whispered.

Rohit nodded and slowly lowered Samaira onto the bed. She instinctively curled towards the pillows, her small hand reaching back for him even in her sleep. He bent forward, kissed her forehead gently, and slipped his fingers into hers.

“Sleep, Samuu,” he whispered. “Papa’s right here.”

Ritika smiled faintly and turned to switch off the side lamp, but paused when she noticed something — a tension in his silence. She sat beside him, pulling the blanket over Samaira properly, her voice low.

“You know she was about to cry today?”

Rohit looked up slowly.

“She wasn’t feeling well. A little off all day. She didn’t say much, but I could tell,” Ritika said, brushing Samaira’s hair back softly. “She was a bit irritable… chidchidi si… and when Ahaan teased her a little in the evening, she got teary.”

Rohit’s face dropped, his eyes still on Samaira’s peaceful sleeping face.

“She didn’t cry because he said sorry quickly and hugged her tight. You should’ve seen her… ekdum giggle karne lagi thi uske baad.” Ritika smiled faintly. “But it was close, Rohit. Bohot close.”

He sighed, voice barely audible. “Main ghar par hota toh…”

“You are now,” Ritika said softly, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s all that matters to her.”

Rohit leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving his daughter. “She didn’t want to sleep in her room today. Didn’t even ask for her toys or phone.”

“She doesn’t have a phone,” Ritika reminded him, smiling lightly.

He chuckled. “I know. But still…”

There was a pause. Silence stretched between them like a quiet understanding. Samaira shifted in her sleep, her palm still lightly clutching her father’s fingers.

“She didn’t let go of me even for a second,” Rohit murmured.

Ritika nodded. “Because that’s all she wanted today. Just you.”

He exhaled slowly. “How did I not see it coming?”

“She didn’t say anything,” Ritika whispered. “But I’m her mother… I just felt it. She was a little too quiet today.”

They sat like that for a few minutes. No drama. No noise. Just the quiet hum of love — the kind that wrapped itself around them like a blanket in that dark, safe room.

Ritika finally stood, adjusting the blanket over Samaira once again. “She’ll sleep well now.”

Rohit smiled tiredly, pulling the other side of the blanket over himself as he lay down beside Samaira. “And so will I.”

Ritika turned off the last light and joined them, sliding under the covers. For the first time that day, everything felt okay again. Not perfect. Just… okay. And that was more than enough.

Rohit’s jaw tensed subtly. His eyes flicked to the little girl now lying with her head in Ritika’s lap, eyes still heavy with sleep, hand clutching the hem of her mother’s t-shirt.

“She’s trying too hard to adjust,” Ritika whispered, stroking Samaira’s hair slowly. “Even when she’s upset, she doesn’t say anything… she just stays quiet.”

Rohit didn’t respond right away.

He leaned back on the headboard, staring up at the ceiling for a second, then exhaled slowly. “She’s been calling us Mumma and Papa only since a few days, na…”

“Hmm,” Ritika nodded, voice laced with emotion. “And it’s like… she doesn’t want to do anything wrong. Yesterday, I told her not to sit too long on the floor, she stood up and said sorry — so softly, as if she thought I’d scold her.”

Rohit looked down at Samaira, who had now burrowed herself a little closer into Ritika’s lap, face peaceful again.

“She’s such a little baby, yaar…” he murmured.

“I think she doesn’t know yet that she can cry here and it’s okay,” Ritika whispered, a lump forming in her throat.

Rohit placed his hand gently on Samaira’s head. “She will,” he said. “She’ll know. We’ll make sure of it.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments — just the quiet hum of the morning and the soft breathing of the little girl between them.

Ritika leaned her head on Rohit’s shoulder. “It’s strange… it’s been just a few days, but I already can’t imagine this house without her.”

Rohit smiled faintly, placing a hand over hers. “She’s ours.she always was."