Chapter 19 : Moving in with the Khannas

As Roshni,Siddharth moved into the outhouse with their toddler twins and they got the movers and packers to shift their belongings along with Maan's who followed them behind .Maan received a call from Ishaan

"Hello, Ishaan? ...Yeah. Oh... right now?" Maan’s expression shifted from surprise to a heavy, focused gravity. "Okay. I’ll come over to your place with my bags directly. Bye."

He disconnected the call, staring at the screen. Roshni, always perceptive, wiped her hands on a towel and walked over. "Maan? What happened? Who was that?"

"It was Ishaan," Maan said, his voice quiet. "He said I should stay at his place for the duration of the pregnancy. He thinks it’s better if I’m under the same roof as Maysha. That way, I can actually take care of her and the twins."

"So, you’re going?" Roshni asked, searching his eyes.

"Bhabhi, I have to," Maan replied firmly. "I have to fulfill my responsibilities. I want to be a father... I want to prove to Maysha that I can be the man she and the babies deserve."

Roshni placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I’m so glad to see this change in you, Maan. I deleted that video because I had to, and I’ll never feel guilty about stopping you from making a mistake you couldn't come back from. But I’m proud of you for taking this step to earn back what you lost."

Maan looked down, a shadow of shame crossing his face. "For a moment, I did feel betrayed when I found out you deleted it. But then the realization hit me. In my blind vengeance against Maira, I almost ruined her sister’s life. Actually, I have ruined it. Bhabhi, I should be the one asking for your forgiveness. You had to feel ashamed in front of Maira because of my actions."

"Maan," Roshni said softly, "I forgave you the moment you decided to stand up for those babies. Didn’t I tell you? One day, you’d be the one eager to take up fatherly duties."

Maan let out a short, teary laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Haha, true. Who would have thought? The Great Maan Singh Khu—" he stopped abruptly. The name Khurana felt like a lead weight, one he no longer had the right to carry. "I mean... who would have thought Maan would be so desperate to prove his worth as a father?"

Roshni’s smile turned meaningful. "Well, you’re stepping into a father’s shoes whether you’re ready or not. But Maan, listen to me. It’s not just about proving you’re 'father material.' I want you to prove to Maysha that you can be husband material. She doesn’t just need a provider for her babies; she needs a partner, a lover. I know you’re drawn to her, but look past the outer beauty. Fall for her soul, Maan. In the long run, it’s not the face that keeps a marriage standing—it’s the heart that acts as the foundation."

Just then, Siddharth walked over, dusting off his hands after finishing the heavy lifting. "What’s this about outer beauty and inner beauty? Can someone let me in on the secret?"

Maan chuckled, looking at his brother with newfound respect. "Nothing much, Bhaiya. Just that Bhabhi was giving me love lessons. As a student who still has a lot to learn about matters of the heart, I’m just soaking in the wisdom of my 'Love Guru.'"

"Acha? Nice," Siddharth grinned, clapping Maan on the shoulder. "And Janab, when are you going to shift your things into the outhouse with us?"

"Bhai, I won't be shifting in just yet," Maan said, picking up his suitcase. "The next time I move back in with you both, it will be because I won over our family’s future daughter-in-law and our kids... if I’m lucky enough to win her heart."

"Wah!" Siddharth laughed. "My brother is a fast learner, Roshni. He’s picked up your lessons quickly."

Maan smiled, though his heart was racing with the weight of the task ahead. "Bye, Bhaiya. I’ll take your leave."

"Bye... and all the best, Maan," Siddharth called out. Roshni gave him a final, encouraging nod.

Maan leaves with taking his belongings in his suitcase. Maan turned away from the outhouse and he got into his car and proceeded towards Ishaan-Maira's duplex apartment.

*

Maan dragged his two suitcases across the polished marble of the lobby, the wheels echoing against the high ceilings. He reached the elevator bank and jabbed the button with a heavy sigh. A second later, another hand reached out and pressed the button again.

Maan, looking toward the directory on the wall, snapped without turning around. "I have already pressed the lift button. Have patie—"

The words died in his throat as he turned to catch a glimpse of the man standing beside him. He froze. It was Ayush, gripping the handles of his own two suitcases, looking just as out of place as Maan felt.

"If it isn't for the Star Cricket player himself," Maan’s voice dropped into a familiar, jagged sarcasm. He scanned Ayush from head to toe, noting the luggage. "I thought I’d only be getting to see your not-so-happening face during non-match days or practice off-sets. I figured we’d be swapping clinic duties at most... I didn’t think you would show up to be lodging in with us."

"Why? A problem?" Ayush countered, his jaw tightening. "I chose to stay with my baby's mother during the pregnancy to take care of her. Is that a concept you’re struggling with?"

"My baby's mother," Maan corrected him sharply, his eyes narrowing. "And I’m just trying to understand the logistics, Ayush. You have a massive house with parents who are—miraculously—supportive of Maysha carrying a Khurana heir along with yours. Why are you squeezing into a duplex? Also, won’t this commute kill your practice? The cricket center is two hours from here."

Ayush didn't flinch. He leaned back against the marble pillar, crossing his arms. "There is no practice, Maan. I’ve officially stepped away. I’m not going for the IPL. I’m staying right here."

Maan blinked, genuinely stunned for a heartbeat. The smirk vanished, replaced by a momentary look of disbelief before his mask of indifference slid back into place. "Oh, look at you. The martyr of the pitch. Did you think that would win you extra points? Because 'The Retired Athlete' is a much more compelling story than 'The Disinherited Sinner.'"

"ENOUGH!"

The sharp, rhythmic click of heels on the lobby floor silenced them instantly. Maysha approached, her face pale with exhaustion but her eyes burning with a formidable authority. Shayaan was right behind her, visibly struggling as he balanced three of her suitcases at once.

"Shayaan," Maysha said, her eyes never leaving the two men. "Take the luggage inside. Get everything settled in the guest rooms. I need a word with these two... outside."

"But Maysha, the bags—" Ayush started, gesturing toward the heavy suitcases they were still holding.

"Now, Ayush," she said, her voice a sharp, clinical warning that left no room for debate.

She turned on her heel and headed toward the building's private garden area, her posture straight and uncompromising. Maan and Ayush exchanged one last look of mutual irritation before trailing behind her like two schoolboys called to the principal's office, leaving their suitcases—and their egos—waiting in the lobby.

*

Maysha, Maan, and Ayush reached the building’s grand garden area. The air was cool, but the tension between the two men was still simmering. Maysha sat on the canopy bench, leaning back as she looked up at the two giants standing before her, looking more like brawling boys than men.

"You both want to become fathers, yet you’re fighting like toddlers in the lobby?" she scoffed, her voice cutting through the quiet of the garden. "And you’re here to fulfill fatherly duties? Really?"

She took a breath, her voice dropping into a low, steady tone that commanded absolute silence. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask either of you to take care of me. You both volunteered—and let’s be honest, Maan, you were pushed until you had no choice. And I certainly don't want to be a charity case to either of you to take care of us" She placed a hand protectively over her stomach.

She continued, "If you’re treating this pregnancy like a school project where you’re competing for 'Grade A' in Fatherhood, then you can both leave."

"Maysha, we just want to help—" Ayush tried to intervene.

"These are your kids, for God's sake!" she snapped. "If either of you wants to back out, do it now. I won't feel bad. I can take care of my babies with my family. I don’t need two men bickering over who is 'sacrificing' more as if I’m a prize to be won."

Maan looked away, his jaw tightening so hard a muscle pulsed in his cheek. "I know how this ends, Maysha. I’m the 'bad guy' who filmed a tape. Ayush is the 'hero' who gave up a trophy. You’ll ultimately choose him. Since I’m the villain here, the question of me staying is pointless, isn’t it?"

Maysha stood up, moving with a deliberate slowness until she stepped right into Maan’s personal space, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Bad guys aren't just defined by mean actions out of anger, Maan." She shifted her focus towards Ayush. "Sometimes a 'good person' who chooses his career over his partner is just as selfish . If the world’s sympathy shifts toward a woman over their cricket superstar, then the world can label him just as 'bad' as they label you."her eyes travels towards Maan.

Her eyes narrowing and she continued, ".And you say you are bad, if situations turn bad where-in Ayush might have to choose me or his family reputation, who knows what he’ll choose? "So don't play the 'underdog' card with me Maan." she snapped at him.

Ayush looked like he’d been slapped, but Maysha didn't stop. She turned to include both of them.

"So, stop the war. I want a family for my kids, not a combat zone where they are torn between two fathers. If you both want to be in this journey, I want a truce. Right now. No more 'Project Fatherhood.' Just be men who can stand next to each other as a family without acting like toddlers."

She didn't wait for an answer. She turned and walked toward the lobby, leaving the two "fathers" standing in the silence of the garden, the weight of her worIds far heavier than the suitcases Shayaan had carried upstairs.

*

Maysha pressed the doorbell of the duplex, her eyes briefly skimming the nameplate: Dr. Ishaan & Mrs.Maira Khanna. The door opened almost instantly, as if Maira had been standing right behind it, waiting.

Maira’s face lit up with a hopeful, tentative smile, her lips forming her sister's name, but Maysha didn't even meet her eyes. She walked right past her, the silence between them louder than any greeting.

She walked straight to Ishaan, who was standing with Shayaan in the foyer. A genuine softness returned to her face as she hugged him. "Jeeju... aap ko kya zarurat thi itni takleef uthane ki? (Why did you need to go through all this trouble?)"

"There was no trouble at all, Maysha," Ishaan replied, his voice calm, though his eyes flickered toward his wife standing frozen by the door. "This was necessary. I need to be here to take care of you... and your Di."

At the mention of Maira, the softness in Maysha’s expression vanished, replaced by a tight, hollow smile.

Ishaan noticed the shift immediately and gave a subtle shake of his head toward Shayaan—a silent command not to push her.

"Maysha..." Maira’s voice was a fragile whisper from the doorway, still searching for an acknowledgment that wasn't coming.

"Jeeju, can you please show me my room?" Maysha asked, her back turned to Maira.

Shayaan stepped forward, unable to watch Maira’s heart break in real-time. "Maysha, at least greet Di properly? She’s been waiting—"

"Shayaan, have you put my bags in the room?" Maysha interrupted, her tone sharp. "I’d like to change into something comfortable."

"Maysha..." Shayaan tried again, but she was already moving forward.

Ishaan caught Shayaan’s eye, and gave a subtle shake of his head toward Shayaan—a silent command not to push her and give her space. He led Maysha down the hallway, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in the hall.

Shayaan walked over to Maira, who was still staring at the spot where her sister had stood. "Di, I’m so sorry. Maysha shouldn't have—"

"Shayaan, you don't have to apologize," Maira said, forcing a brave smile that didn't reach her tear-filled eyes. "She’s my sister. I know she’s upset, but how long can she stay angry with me? You’ll see... in a little while, she’ll come running to hug me and everything will be back to normal. She just needs time."

Shayaan looked at her, his heart aching at her denial. "Di..."

Before he could say more, the shadow of two men fell across the threshold.

"And here they arrive," Shayaan noted, his voice turning dry as he looked toward the entrance. "With their bags and their baggage."

Maira turned to see Ayush and Maan standing there, suitcases in hand. The 'Two Fathers' had officially entered the Khanna household, and the 'truce' they had signed in the garden was about to face its first real test.

*

Ishaan led the boys down the hall.. He stopped by the door and swung it open. The room was functional—two beds, two cupboards, and an atmosphere that felt more like a dorm than a guest suite.Before Maan or Ayush could even drop their suitcases, Ishaan pointed out to a large white board that had a time-table written for the week.It was a masterpiece of clinical organization.

"It contains a calorie-mapped dietary plan, a hydration log, and a routine for Maysha’s prenatal exercises and rest periods. It’s categorized by the hour for the next seven days." Ishaan stated.

He turned to face them, his gaze sharp. "I don’t care how you split the labor, but the tasks must be signed off. You’ll need to coordinate your personal lives around this. Maan, that includes your dance academy and whatever interviews you’re taking to rebuild your life Ayush.

You have free time, but only when the schedule permits."

Ishaan checked his watch, his expression tightening. "It’s almost 12:30 PM. Maysha needs her high-protein lunch followed by her iron-fortified juice. I suggest you get started right away—it's already lunch hour, and I don't tolerate delays when it comes to her health."

He stepped closer, his gaze moving between Maan and Ayush like a challenge. "Be warned: if that tray isn't ready by 2:00 PM, you both will sacrifice your own meal, and I’ll be serving it to Maysha instead. Don't be late. The kitchen is that way."

As Ishaan dispersed, leaving the air heavy with his instructions, Maan stood staring at the whiteboard, his suitcase handle still in his hand. He waited until Ishaan was out of earshot before leaning toward Ayush.

"Yeh Maira ka pati hai ya Dr. Jallad?" Maan muttered, shaking his head. "Aate hi hum dono ko timetable thamma diya." (Is this Maira’s husband or Dr. Executioner? He just arrived and handed us both a timetable.)

Ayush cracked a small smile, dropping his duffel bag onto the nearest bed. "Kisne socha tha, ki ek acha papa banne ke liye bacho ke doctor se seekh leni padegi... But Ishaan Jeeju isn't like that. He’s actually cool." (Who thought that to become a good father, we'd have to take lessons from a pediatrician?)

"Cool?" Maan scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "Bete, tum uski 'white list' pe ho isiliye woh cool lag raha hai tumhein." (Son, you're on his 'white list,' that's why he seems cool to you.)

Maan adjusted his collar, looking toward the hallway where Ishaan had disappeared. "Now that I’m on his black list... every interaction feels like I’m standing at the tip of a knife. He’s not treating us like Maysha's babies fathers, Ayush. He’s treating us like interns who are one mistake away from being fired."

Ayush let out a small, genuine laugh—the first one they’d shared.

*

As Maan and Ayush entered the kitchen, they found Ishaan already there. His tray for Maira was perfectly organized—a balanced medical marvel of a meal. He lifted the tray, his gaze sweeping over the two men with the cool authority of a commanding officer.

"Counter is all yours," Ishaan said, his voice level. "I’ve prepared lunch for us men already. It’s in that handi and casserole. When you finish preparing the meal for Maysha, you two can eat what I’ve made. Cool?"

He didn't wait for a "cool" in return. He turned and headed upstairs, leaving the kitchen to them so they could work without distraction—or perhaps so he wouldn't have to witness the chaos that was about to unfold.

Ayush nudged Maan, nodding toward the hallway. "Your Dr. Jallad is gone. Now we should get ourselves started."

Maan sighed, looking at the pristine kitchen counters. "Thanks for the reminder. I’m still trying to figure out aisa kya healthy doon Maysha ke liye... I wish when Bhabhi was pregnant, I had paid more attention to what she was eating. Roshni Bhabhi was also pregnant with twins, but I was too busy being a brat to notice."

Ayush smirked, leaning against the island. "But your Bhabhi wasn't pregnant with children having two different family genes, right? Mein mummy se poochta hoon.(Will ask Mummy.) She’ll definitely have a recipe that’s nutritious and healthy."

"Oh, mumma ke ladle,(Oh,mama's boy) " Maan mocked, rolling his eyes. "Mumma ke pallu se bahar hatoh (Come out of your mama's shadow) and figure something out yourself. I’m asking AI for a fancy, protein-rich recipe that looks as good as it tastes for my Maysha."

"Oh, Dancer! Humari (Our) Maysha," Ayush corrected him sharply. "Until Maysha decides who she’s choosing, we both have to tolerate each other."

Maan nodded reluctantly. "Fine... Teek hai... teek hai.(Alright...Alright)"

"And look," Ayush continued, "you might be an 'elite' type of person, but Maysha doesn’t need 'fancy-shancy' food right now. She needs ghar ka khaana (home-cooked meals) —something the babies and their mother will actually enjoy. You stay busy learning from AI; I’m going to YouTube to figure out a solid Dal and Jeera Rice for her."

"Dal and Jeera Rice? Bro, please..." Maan looked horrified. "You’re going to give her something that boring? She needs something sophisticated."

"Sophisticated? She’s hungry, Maan! She doesn't want to look at her food; she wants to eat it."

"She needs a Quinoa and Chickpeas Salad," Maan insisted, his fingers flying across his phone screen. "With a lemon-tahini dressing and pomegranate seeds for antioxidants. It’s colorful, it’s high-protein, and it’s elegant."

"It’s birdseed, Maan! It’s 12:30 PM. We have 45 minutes. You can't satisfy a twin-pregnancy craving with a bowl of expensive pebbles."

The kitchen became a blur of motion. Ayush had a YouTube tutorial playing at full volume, the sound of a pressure cooker whistling competing with the upbeat lo-fi track Maan had put on to "set the creative mood."

Ayush was focused on the soul: Tempering the dal with a generous amount of ghee, cumin, and roasted garlic. He treated the rice like a high-stakes match, ensuring every grain of Jeera was perfectly toasted.

Maan was focused on the science: Toasting quinoa to perfection, dicing cucumbers into precise 5mm cubes, and whisking a dressing that smelled of Mediterranean summers.

With ten minutes left on the clock, they both looked at their respective dishes. The Dal looked warm and inviting; the Quinoa Salad looked like a picture from a luxury lifestyle magazine.

"We can't just give her one," Ayush muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "She'll think one of us is trying harder than the other."

"For once, Cricketer, you've made a valid point," Maan conceded. "We'll do a Fusion Platter. The comfort of the heritage, and the nutrition of the modern world."

They moved with surprising coordination to plate the meal.

On a large, elegant ceramic tray, they placed a small, deep bowl of the steaming Garlic Dal and Jeera Rice.

Right next to it, Maan arranged a vibrant heap of the Quinoa and Chickpea Salad, topped with fresh mint leaves.

Then came the final task: The Iron-Fortified Juice.

Without a word, they divided the labor. Maan peeled the fresh pomegranates (for the iron and the 'fancy' factor), while Ayush juiced the oranges and added a touch of black salt and roasted cumin (for digestion and 'home' flavor). They poured the deep crimson liquid into a tall glass, garnishing it with a single sprig of mint.

"1:15 PM," Maan noted, checking his watch as they stood back. "Exactly 45 minutes. Perfect timing."

"It actually looks... okay," Ayush admitted, adjusting the tray. "Let's see if she prefers the 'Elite' seeds or the 'Boring' Dal."

"Just don't trip on the way up, Ayush. I didn't spend twenty minutes dicing cucumbers for them to end up on the floor."

Together, the two rivals headed upstairs to face Maysha—and her judgment.

*

Maan and Ayush stood before Maysha’s door, the tray balanced between them. They shared a quick, nervous glance before Maan knocked.

"Who is it?" Maysha’s voice drifted from inside.

"Maysha, it’s us," Maan replied, his tone softer than usual.

A small sigh followed, then a quiet, "Come in."

They entered to find her resting against a mountain of pillows, a novel in her lap, looking peaceful in her comfortable loungewear. Ayush stepped forward first. "Maysha, we prepared your lunch. Come, have something to eat."

Maysha nodded and moved to the small table by the balcony. As she sat, they worked like a synchronized team:

Ayush carefully placed the fusion platter before her, and Maan set down the crimson juice with a steady hand.

Maysha’s eyes brightened as she looked at the tray. She reached for the Dal and Jeera Rice first. As the first bite hit her palate, a look of pure relief washed over her face—she looked, for a moment, like she had finally come home.

"Dal and Jeera Rice... my comfort food," she whispered. She looked up at Ayush. "You made this, right?"

Ayush beamed, though he tried to stay humble. "Yes... but how did you know?"

"When we were traveling through different countries for your World Cup matches," she reminded him with a small, wistful smile, "you saw how much I craved and missed ghar ka khaana (home-cooked food). This reminds me of my mom."

"I’m glad you liked it, Maysha," Ayush said. Then, noticing Maan’s expression falter—his face becoming small—Ayush gestured toward the other side of the plate. "But Maysha, do try the quinoa salad. I’m sure you’ll like it too."

Maysha turned her attention to the vibrant salad.

She took a tentative bite, chewing slowly as Maan held his breath. Then, she looked at Maan with a genuine, pleased smile.

"It’s amazing, Maan. I’ve never really considered a salad to be an appropriate 'full meal.' But honestly, this has changed my perception. Next time, please do add some chicken or paneer. I think that’s what they call it in Italian, right? A Burrata Bowl, if I’m not mistaken?"

Maan’s eyes brimmed with happy tears—a mix of relief and the sheer joy of being acknowledged by her again. "Yes... yes, it’s called a Burrata Bowl when you add those proteins. I’ll definitely do that next time. I’m so glad you like it."

Maysha then took a long sip of the juice, leaning back as the cool ginger and mint refreshed her. "The juice is perfect too. Refreshing."

For the first time since moving into the duplex, Maan and Ayush looked at each other and shared a look of genuine happiness.It was a shared victory.

*

The evening sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the building’s private garden. Maira sat on a stone bench, her phone pressed to her ear. A few yards away, Maysha was leaning against a pillar, seemingly engrossed in her book, and still maintaining her wall of silence while being around Maira.

"Yes, Mummyji... I’m eating well. Ishaan is very strict about my diet," Maira said, her voice soft and respectful.

On the other end, Sujata’s voice was warm, almost sugary with concern. "Good, Maira. You must stay strong. I’ve been lighting lamps every evening for you and the baby. I hope, Maira, that you have a boy. I pray to God every day that He blesses you with a healthy baby boy."

Maira’s smile faltered. Her hand tightened slightly on her phone. "Baby boy?" she repeated, the words sounding heavy and foreign in her mouth.

In the corner, Maysha’s ears pricked up. She had been intentionally ignoring the chatter, but the change in Maira’s tone caught her attention. She stole a glance at her sister, noticing the way Maira’s shoulders slumped.

"Yes, Mummyji," Maira said, forcing her voice to remain steady. "I hope your prayers are answered. But my only concern is that the baby should be healthy. The gender isn't a problem for Ishaan and me. In fact, Ishaan is actually hoping for a girl. He’s already started looking at girl names."

The warmth in Sujata’s voice chilled instantly. "See, Maira... five years we waited because Ishaan said you both weren't ready. Now that God has finally listened, it must be a son. A daughter won’t carry the Khanna name forward. You can have a girl later, no issue, but since this is your first child after so many years of marriage... my only prayer is for a boy. Anyway, take care, my dear. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye."

The line went dead. Maira stared at the screen for a moment, the weight of the "Khanna Heir" pressing down on her.

She looked up and caught Maysha’s eyes. For a heartbeat, there was a shared understanding—a silent recognition of the unfairness women are forced to carry.

Maysha’s heart twinged. She wanted to walk over, to tell Maira that Sujata’s words didn't matter. But then, the memory of the deleted video and the secrets flashed in her mind. The wall went back up.

Maysha abruptly turned away, masking her concern with a cold expression. She walked over to the garden chairs while she continued to her pregnancy related book.While the men were busy preparing dinner in the apartment.