MILES APART

☸1☸

Now here comes the hardest part. My baby took no pleasure in changing clothes. She despised it completely.
And so when her mumma asked her so, showing her new clothes, she snuggled closer to me, hiding her head in my neck.

"Baby.. we'll go out, there'll be lots of people..", she tried to grab her interest but in vain.
"Mahira!", She tried to sound stern that only led to her tightening the hold on my neck.

Bela looked tired. She was unusually late today. Her work was taking a toll on her. What do you expect while working as a PA of a multi billionaire.

Her eyes were drooping and this has continued from last ten days.
I wanted to ask her if she wants a coffee or may be some hand remedy. Scratch that, I was no one to know if she's fine or not.

Realizing no way, I decided to help her by persuading our little brat to wear clothes. May be that would make her work a bit easier.

"Mahira...wear them. Be a good girl.... c'mon", I tried to pull her apart from me, and forcefully made her sit on the crib.
And that was when she burst crying.
And believe me, when she cries, the walls of my penthouse seem to collapse!

Her mother took it as an opportunity and made her wear the clothes. Because no matter what, she'll cry.
Seeing her diaper absent, I went in to grab one.
When I came out, Mahira was already dressed.
I kept the diaper to where they were and Bela picked it up, making her wear it.

Once the clothes were changed, it was time to stop her crying because once started, it would take her centuries to smile again.
"Mahira! Baby look at dadda....say one, two, three....!", As I said this, she started crying even louder.
"Mahira... you learnt counting....ohh! Okay teach mumma!", And there she goes, even louder only if that was possible.
We tried to stop her but it was of no help.

Whenever she cried this way, we had just one way and that was breastfeeding.
And I saw Bela preparing for that.

She tried to search for the shirt, she wears while breastfeeding her. But I think she forgot it to bring today.
That was one of my shirts, I gave her when Mahira was just born.

Seeing her muttering under her breath about how she forgot to bring her shirt, I drifted to Mahira and mine room.
Grabbing a clean shirt, that had all it's buttons intact, I went downstairs to find her trying to calm Mahira.

I approached them, without sparing a glance at my daughter's mother.
Offering my hands to take my daughter, I handed her the shirt, which she took hesitantly.
"Come baby.... we'll do jumping jumping...!", I tried to shake her up and down, but damn my genes.

My daughter was as stubborn as me. Or we can say, mine and her mother's genes together produced the eighth wonder of this world.

By the corner of my eyes, I saw Bela taking off her top and slip.
I tried to avoid looking at her, because no matter what, I still get attracted to what I see.
Even after almost eighteen months.

She then wore the shirt and came to me.
I handed Mahira to her and she sat on the couch, making Mahira's face aligned with her breast.

Her milk acted like a mouth shutter to Mahira, because as soon as she received the milk in her mouth, she calmed down.

It is because of this habit of hers, that I avoid being a strict parent in Bela's absence.
Neither I had breasts, nor milk!
Who would dare to mess with my daughter in her mother's absence, atleast not me.

She kept on rocking Mahira in her arms, and in no time, Mahira was stiffeling a yawn.
She'll be soon asleep.

I forwarded towards the wedding cards kept on the table and picked mine.