JI HUZOORI | ✔

EPILOGUE~2.0 (Part-2)

He trudged up the stairs, exhaustion weighing on every step.

Finally, he reached his bedroom door and pushed it open with a gentle creak, unsure of what to expect. But what he found inside instantly washed away his fatigue, replacing it with a surge of tenderness.

The world outside was still cloaked in darkness, but a soft, ambient glow from a nearby streetlight seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle illumination over his room.

A soft, tender smile played on his lips as he caught sight of his wife and their six-month-old daughter, nestled together beneath a warm, cocoon-like blanket on the bed.

Latching the door, he took cautious steps towards his desk to keep his bag and other belongings there.

Then he drew closer to the bed, the room's faint glow and the dim blue lights lit near the night stands revealed the heart-warming details. Manjiri with her long hair gathered in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, just as it was when he left, held their precious daughter close to her chest. Her peaceful visage was framed by the gentle glow, her eyes closed, and her lips curved into the softest of smiles, though tired.

And then, the object of his unwavering affection, their six-month-old daughter, nestled securely in the curve of her mother's arm. Her miniature fingers, barely bigger than petals, clutched at a tuft of her mother's hair that had escaped the bun.

It was a small, intimate detail that spoke volumes about their connection, a delicate thread binding them together. Her that habit mirrored his own habits. He had done that countless times in the past.

Much like her father, his daughter adored Manjiri's hair as well.

The tress of hair that his daughter clutched in her tiny hand was a testament to that connection, a symbol of his and her shared affection for the woman they both cherished.

And it wasn't just the hair. His daughter despite being her mother's physical twin, her behaviour, her habit of holding onto her mother's clothes and hair while sleeping, was a mirror image of his own tendencies. Shaurya couldn't help but smile. It was a heart-warming realization that his daughter managed to express her father's endearing quirks and tendencies in her own unique way despite physically resembling to her mother.

His daughter's another hand was grasping the neckline of Manjiri's loose, partially unbuttoned top - evidence of the recent midnight feed. Their daughter was still in the aftermath of her midnight feed. Her tiny mouth, seeking comfort, found solace in her mother's clothing, her lips brushing against the fabric.

Those subtle signs were impossible to miss. The fabric of her Manjiri's top, once pristine, now bore the gentle marks of their daughter's affection, dampened by the traces of her saliva. It was a visual testament to the intimacy and love that filled their nights, as their baby sought not just nourishment but also the warmth and closeness that only her mother could provide.

Shaurya's smile was one of adoration and contentment as he watched that heart opening moment.

His daughter's rhythmic, nasal breaths hinted at the struggle she faced with a clogged nose, a challenge the couple had been dealing with from last night. His medical instincts surged, but for now, he simply revelled in the sight of his small world, quietly thankful for these precious moments amidst the daily chaos of his profession.