A beautiful wedding turns to a disaster when the younger brother of the groom elopes with the bride's sister on the eve of the marriage. Two families are left humiliated, and hurt!
The boy he raised as his own betrayed his trust and never looked bac...
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Nothing was worse than feeling like an outsider in your own home. Maahir was experiencing the same pain. Everything in the house was just as he left it behind. Everything in his room had remained untouched. They had not even changed the wallpaper. It was like those two years never happened, but he could feel the pinch of two years. What made the house a home was the people who lived there. They were yet to even acknowledge his presence.
His mother had been in the kitchen when he walked in. He waited for her to come out, to look at him, to at least yell at him for what he had done, but she had not come. She made it a point to stay in the kitchen till he walked away. Her coldness cut him deep. He would have taken the anger gladly; her silence was the worst punishment for him. His bhaiya had dropped him at the house and walked away as if it did not matter.
He wished Manny was home. He had tried to call him several times, but the boy had not taken his calls. He could give anything for a welcoming smile. Pari gave out a loud wail. Maahir rushed to her side. She always woke up hungry. The nanny had gone out an hour ago. He was alone with Pari. He picked her up carefully. His hand protested, but he could not bear to see Pari cry.
"Hey princess, bhook lage hai na? Do minute de bas, main tera cerelac bana deta hoon. okay?"
Pari gave him a soulful look. Maahir placed a warm kiss on her forehead. She had calmed down the second he had picked her up. Mahir picked up the cereal box and walked with her to the kitchen. he needed hot water to prepare the baby food.
There was no one in the kitchen. Maahir sighed. He was clueless around the kitchen. he never had to cook. He knew the basics, but cooking was not for him. he realized it much early. Pari tugged at his shirt. She was hungry, and she made it known. He had placed an order for a highchair. It would be delivered a few hours later. Till then he just had to make do with what he got. He placed the baby down gently. She gave out a wail of protest.
"Kuch der Pari, bas do minute okay? Main ek baar yeh prepare kar doon phir godi???"
Pari continued to cry. Mahir did not know what to do. He was about to pick her up again when a pair of gentle arms reached for the baby and picked her up. Maahir could not look up for a second. He knew it was his mother. he would never mistake her fragrance. he looked up, their eyes met.
"Kya chaye Mahir?" Her voice was devoid of emotion. Pari stopped crying and looked at her. She had only seen a couple of faces in her short life. every new face intrigued her.
"kaise ho aap mumma?" Maahir forced the words out.
Mitali did not answer. She looked at the baby food box that was placed on the guest table. She could understand what Mahir nodded. She picked up the box and read the contents. What she read did not make her happy. It would fill the baby's stomach, but it would not provide any nutrition. She put the box away. The baby was her granddaughter. No matter how much Mahir and Ira tried to deny their relationships, she could not stop herself from loving the child. The little angel was nested in her arms. She was desperate to pepper her sweet face with kisses. Her first grandchild, she had not realized how much she wanted to be a grandmother until the moment she had seen Pari. All she wanted to do was shower her with love, but she knew her parents did not want her or her family around the child. She needed to respect that. Even if it killed her inside.
