Chapter 1 : Daddy Duties

6 Years Later

Delhi

Inside the hospital, Ishaan was practically sprinting down the busy corridor, his lab coat billowing behind him. Suddenly, his new trainee assistant doctor stepped into his path, clipboard in hand.

"Dr. Ishaan! A patient is here specifically to see you," she announced, trying to keep up with his frantic pace.

Ishaan didn't stop, merely looking over his shoulder. "Dr. Swati, if it isn't an absolute emergency, please take the patient yourself. I'm sure by now you are more than capable of handling a consultation all by yourself. I have to be on time somewhere; I cannot be late!"

Dr. Swati jogged a few paces to match his stride, her brow furrowing in disbelief. "Dr. Ishaan, what on earth is so important that you are willing to risk leaving your patients behind? They are kids, after all!"

Ishaan paused for a fraction of a second at the exit doors, a brilliant, knowing grin breaking across his face. "That, Dr. Swati, is for me to know and for you to find out."

Without losing another moment, Ishaan rushed outside, pushing through the glass doors into the bright afternoon sun and leaving a clear instruction behind him: "Handle the patients yourself, you've got this!"

Dr. Swati stood frozen for a moment, staring at the empty doorway. She let out a long, defeated sigh, shaking her head. "Ahh... what a strange, unpredictable person he is, this Dr. Ishaan."

*

At the school premises, Ishaan managed to arrive just in the nick of time, merging into the sea of anxious parents who had gathered to pick up their children.

Amidst the lively, chaotic crowd of kids rushing out of the gates, a familiar six-year-old girl walked through.

She looked noticeably sad, her small face clouded with a quiet melancholy as she waved back at him, when he did so.

As she approached her dad, she raised her hands high up, holding out her heavy lunchbag for him and then her bag. Ishaan smiled gently and took it from her without a word.

The little girl then looked up at him, making a subtle, pleading hand gesture, asking him to lift her up and carry her.

Sensing something was wrong, Ishaan tilted his chin up in a silent, questioning gesture, as if to ask, "What happened? Want to talk about it?"

The little girl slowly shook her head in a quiet, stubborn 'no,' refusing to give anything away just yet. Respecting her silence, Ishaan gently guided her to the parked car, opened the door, and took her inside, ready to figure out what was troubling his little princess.

*

It was dinner time at Ishaan's ancestral home in Delhi. Around the dining table—which doubled as the heart of the house—Ishaan, his father, and his little daughter were gathered for their evening meal.

"Dad, your favorite fish. Go for it," Ishaan said warmly, walking out of the kitchen with the steaming platter and setting it down before taking his seat.

Ishaan's dad Inder smiled, looking up at him. "Thank you, son."

While the two men began to eat, Ishaan's daughter was completely disconnected from the meal. She was busy staring intensely at her plate, absentmindedly tracing lines and playing with her fork. Noticing her unusually quiet demeanor, Ishaan's dad nudged his son with a look, making a subtle hand gesture that clearly translated to: Check on her.

Ishaan, while munching on his meal, turned his attention to his daughter. A knowing smile played on his lips. "Are you making a drawing on your plate, sweetie? That usually means something is up."

His expression softened into earnest fatherly love as he leaned in. "What happened to my princess, Mahi?"

Mahi stopped twirling her fork, her expression deadpan. "In my class, there is a boy named Varun."

The moment she uttered those words, Ishaan froze mid-bite, completely taken aback. A sudden wave of protective, possessive fatherly panic washed over him. Right on cue, as if sensing the sudden spike in the room's tension, their family dog, Pluto, let out a sharp bark.

Ishaan instantly looked over at his father, his voice dropping into an anxious, low whisper. "Dad, is this the age to be talking about a boy?!"

Meanwhile, completely unfazed by her father's minor existential crisis, Mahi turned to their house pet. "Sit properly, Pluto... good boy," she commanded softly.

Inder broke into a silent, amused grin, frantically waving his hands at Ishaan, gesturing for him to calm down and just let the child finish.

Ishaan cleared his throat, trying to mask his curiosity and panic as he turned back to his daughter. "Varun?"

"I don't know which school he transferred from," Mahi sighed, resuming her restless playing with the fork. "But ever since the last exams, he has been coming first."

She finally looked up, her big eyes locking onto her father with pure, burning competitive frustration. "He beat me by just one percent!"

The heavy, possessive knot in Ishaan's chest instantly dissolved. He let out a silent smirk, turning a smug look toward his father. "And what all were you thinking, Dad?" he teased, effortlessly shifting the blame of the romantic assumption onto the grandfather.

Inder gave him an incredulous, well-played look, knowing exactly how his son had twisted the situation. Shaking his head, the grandfather turned his attention to his granddaughter, his voice gentle. "Mahi, it's okay, beta."

"How can it be okay, Daadu?" Mahi asked, her tone deeply offended.

Ishaan shook his head, continuing to munch on his dinner. "It's just one percent, Mahi."

"One percent, Papa!" Mahi exclaimed, her voice rising in dramatic, six-year-old despair. "With that one percent, my entire reputation is ruined! How can you say it's just one percent?"

Seeing his granddaughter's genuine distress, Inder placed a comforting hand on the table. "Mahi, always remember... it isn’t the goal that matters, but the journey should be amazing. It's not the final result, but the experience that is important. Success and failure, it is all in God’s hands."

Mahi stared at her grandfather for a long moment, completely unswayed by the grand, philosophical wisdom. With a huff of pure, dramatic determination, she stood up, picked up her plate, and marched straight into the kitchen.

Once the kitchen door swung shut, Ishaan leaned across the table, whispering to his father in a deeply amused, critical tone. "Dad... is that seriously what you say to a six-year-old girl to motivate her? Deep spiritual philosophy?"

Without breaking his stride, his father calmly took another bite of his fish, a sly smile gracing his face. "Says the father... who instantly assumed his six-year-old daughter had a boyfriend."

Ishaan opened his mouth to counter, but the words died in his throat. Slumping back into his chair, he took a quiet bite of his food, completely defeated by his father's flawless logic.

*

Inside Mahi's room, their house pet, Pluto, was lounging comfortably on the sofa, his eyes tracking the cozy scene unfolding on the bed. Mahi was tucked under the covers, looking expectantly at her father. Ishaan was resting against the headboard, a copy of A Little Princess cradled in his hands.

Mahi nudged his arm eagerly. "Today, which story, Papa?"

"Just like always—a brand new one," Ishaan replied, looking down at her with a warm smile.

"Fine, let’s go!" Mahi chirped, settling deeper into her pillows.

Ishaan opened the book, his voice taking on a classic, storytelling cadence. "Once upon a time, there was a king..."

"Wait!" Mahi interrupted, raising a small hand. "Whom should I imagine as the king?"

Ishaan chuckled, tapping his chest with the corner of the book. "Who else? Me."

Mahi thought about it for a split second, tapping her chin before happily nodding. "Okay, okay! Continue."

Ishaan turned the page, continuing to read. "And the king had a beautiful daughter named... Tara."

Mahi bounced on the mattress, her eyes lighting up with pure excitement. "That’s me! Me!"

"Obviously," Ishaan smiled, tapping her nose gently.

He cleared his throat to resume. "One day, the king, the minister, and his commander..."

"Wait, Papa..." Mahi chimed in again.

Ishaan playfully closed his eyes, a defeated smile on his lips. "Okay, I got it. Let me guess..."

"Daadu is the minister, and Rudra uncle is the commander, okay?"

"Okay, okay. Continue... continue!" Mahi urged, giggling at her own cast assembly.

Ishaan shook his head fondly and continued the tale. "So, they all went out..."

As the minutes bled into an hour, the room fell into a rhythmic, peaceful quiet. Ishaan’s voice carried the narrative through mystical lands while Mahi’s imagination ran wild, painting every vibrant detail in her mind. Finally, Ishaan reached the final page and read the closing words: "...and that is how Princess Tara found the magic wand, and saved the King and his kingdom."

Mahi blinked, looking thoroughly unsatisfied. "That’s it?"

"Hmm... that’s it."

Mahi leaned forward, her expression shifting into a curious, lingering pout. "In this story as well, there is no mention of Mama."

The air in the room suddenly grew heavy. Ishaan’s gaze flickered away, looking around the room as he struggled to find an answer he simply could not give. The easy warmth vanished from his face. Avoiding her eyes, he quietly got up from the bed.

"She isn't in this one," he said shortly.

Mahi’s face fell. As Ishaan turned his back to put the book away in the cupboard, she scrambled forward, crawling to the very edge of the mattress closest to where he stood. "You keep doing this always. Do some stories even exist without Mama?"

"There are plenty... like the ones you are reading," Ishaan replied, his voice uncharacteristically stern.

"But I want to read the ones with Mama in it!" Mahi insisted, her small voice hardening with stubborn determination. She crossed her arms tightly. "Otherwise, I won't take my tablets."

Ishaan stopped, turning around to look at his daughter.

Mahi looked right back at him, her eyes glistening. "All my friends ask me about their mothers. You have to tell me now, Papa."

Faced with her raw innocence, Ishaan’s heart ached. He desperately needed a way to defuse the conversation without breaking her spirit. Thinking quickly, he decided to lean on a desperate stall tactic.

"Fine... I will," Ishaan promised.

Mahi’s eyes instantly widened with elation. But before she could celebrate, Ishaan quickly added, "But not right now."

"Then when?!"

Ishaan pulled his chair closer to her bedside and sat down, locking his gaze with hers. "The day you beat Varun and come first in your class. The very moment you do that, I will tell you Mama's story."

Mahi's sorrow vanished, replaced by an excited, competitive spark. She eagerly extended her right hand toward him. "Mother promise?"

Ishaan gently placed his palm over her tiny hand, forcing a reassuring smile. "Promise."

But behind his back, hidden from her sight, his right-hand fingers were tightly crossed. He knew in his heart it was a promise he had no intention of keeping.

Hoping to swiftly transition away from the topic, Ishaan reached for the drawer. "Shall we take our tablets now?"

"Yes," Mahi agreed softly, completely won over.

Ishaan pulled out the neatly organized medicine box. With practiced, careful precision, he dispensed the first pill and handed it to her along with her favorite kid's water bottle. Mahi took a disciplined sip, swallowing the tablet gracefully. Ishaan handed her the second one, which she chased with another small gulp, followed quickly by the final tablet and a last sip of water.

From the corner of the room, Pluto watched the father-daughter duo with quiet, loyal solemnity.

Once the medication was done, Ishaan turned to the bedside and adjusted the dials on the portable oxygen cylinder. He carefully placed the nasal cannula prongs into her nose, ensuring the oxygen flow was smooth and comfortable.

As the gentle hum of the machine filled the background, Mahi looked up at him through the plastic tubing. "Papa... for this birthday, I want a ukulele."

Ishaan smiled tenderly, tucking the heavy bedsheets securely around her shoulders. "For sure you will get one, bacha."

"I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, my princess," Ishaan murmured. He leaned down, pressing a long, loving kiss against her forehead.

"Goodnight," she whispered, her eyelids growing heavy.

"Goodnight."

Ishaan clicked off the main lights, leaving only the soft glow of the nightlight filtering through the room. He gently caressed her hair one last time before quietly stepping out, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him with a soft, heavy click.

*

Ishaan pulled the door shut with a soft, heavy click, but he didn't walk away. Instead, he stood frozen in the dim corridor, slowly placing his flat palm against the cold wood of the door, as if trying to feel his daughter’s presence through the barrier.

"For now, you are managing to narrate stories without her mama," a quiet, weary voice cut through the silence.

Ishaan turned his head slightly. His father, Inder, was sitting on the stairs overlooking Mahi's room, watching his son with heavy, sorrowful eyes.

"But one day, you will have to stop living this lie," Inder continued softly, leaning forward. "Will you be able to tell her the truth when that day comes? Now, even Sujata isn't here to stop you."

"There is still time for that, Papa," Ishaan replied flatly, cutting the conversation short. He dropped his hand from the door and walked over to the kitchen counter to put away the remaining items.

Inder let out a long, heavy sigh. He stood up from the stairs and slowly walked toward his son. "When you aren't around, she keeps asking me. What am I supposed to say to her, Ishaan?" He topped just a few feet away, his voice tightening with urgency.

"Do you even know what the people around us are discussing? Don't be blind to it."

Ishaan didn't look up from the counter. "Papa, since when did you start talking exactly like Maa?"

"Ever since she passed away two years ago," Inder retorted sharply. "But tell me one thing—when bahu was desperately trying to tell her side of the story, you refused to listen. You just blindly assumed whatever your mother said was the absolute truth. And now, suddenly, you are anti-mom?"

"I am in no mood for this discussion tonight, Papa," Ishaan said, his voice dropping into a stern, defensive whisper. "And just like always, I don't care what people say. My only priority is my daughter."

To avoid his father's piercing gaze, Ishaan began clearing the plates from the dining table, carrying them over to the kitchen sink.

"But she is growing up now, Ishaan," Inder pressed, following him with his eyes. "When she hears the neighborhood gossip with her own ears, you won't be able to just ignore the facts. How will you be answerable to her then?"

Faced with a question he had no defense for, Ishaan abruptly turned around to face his father, shifting the topic entirely to professional territory. "I have spoken to a doctor in Sweden. She is an expert in managing cases of 65 Roses. I've fixed a video appointment with her according to Sweden's time zone—9:30 PM there, which means it will be 2:00 AM in the night for us. Just so you know."

Inder stared at his son, recognizing the defensive wall Ishaan was putting up. Realizing it was useless to push any further tonight, he gave a quiet, defeated nod. "Don't stay up too late," he murmured softly before turning on his heel and heading toward his bedroom.

Left entirely alone in the quiet house, Ishaan stood by the counter, the chaotic storm in his mind finally reflecting in his restless movements. Trying to anchor himself in routine, he pulled out a pad of sticky notes and a pen.

He began neatly writing labels and sticking the paper notes onto packed containers of frozen vegetables, organizing them systematically for the days ahead.

Inside his own room, Inder sat heavily on the edge of his bed. He leaned back against the bedside table, staring blankly at the wall, deeply worried about the intense psychological chaos and unaddressed grief tearing his son apart from the inside out.

Outside in the kitchen, the silence was broken only by the sound of running water. Ishaan stood at the sink, mindfully washing the dinner plates, rinsing them, and stacking them securely on the drying stand.

He threw the trash in the trash can.His need for control spilled over into a frantic cleaning spree; he swept through the hall, ran the vacuum hover across the carpets, and thoroughly wiped down the dining table until it gleamed.

Finally, his movements slowed as he approached the hall stand. He reached out and gently picked up a framed photograph of Mahi from when she was just a healthy, laughing three-year-old. He took a soft cloth, tenderly cleaning the glass face of the frame, his eyes softening with an aching, bittersweet love.

As the clock crept closer to the dead of night, Ishaan poured himself a glass of wine, set the bottle down on the table, and opened his laptop.

At exactly 2:00 AM, the screen lit up with the video call from the specialist in Sweden. With a medical textbook open beside him, a notebook ready, and his wine glass untouched, Ishaan spent the next few hours completely immersed—asking meticulous questions, taking detailed notes, and fighting a solitary battle to save his little princess.

*

Around 4 o'clock in the morning, the soft glow of the nightlight inside Mahi’s room clicked off as she turned on the main lights. Sensing her movement, Pluto instantly got alerted, his ears perking up from the sofa.

Mahi quietly bundled her blanket up in her arms and padded softly out into the dark hallway.

Guided by the dim light of the laptop screen, she spotted her father fast asleep on the living room couch, completely exhausted from his late-night medical call.

Stepping closer on tiptoe, she gently unfolded her blanket and draped it over his shoulders to keep him warm. She then noticed his phone, still gripped loosely in his sleeping hand. With careful, delicate fingers, she slid the device free and placed it silently on the side table. Her task finished, she crawled onto the narrow couch and snuggled up tight against his side, finding her ultimate comfort in her father's warmth.

Two hours later, around 6:00 AM, the soft morning light began to filter through the windows. Inder walked into the living room, a warm, understanding smile touching his face at the sight of the two huddled together.

Moving with practiced gentleness, Inder leaned down and carefully scooped a half-awake Mahi into his arms so she wouldn't disrupt her father's sleep. The slight shift woke Ishaan, his eyes fluttering open as he instinctively reached out for his daughter.

Noticing his son's bloodshot, weary eyes, Inder gave him a reassuring nod, holding Mahi securely against his chest. "Go back to sleep, Ishaan. Rest up easily on the couch, I've got her. I'll take her inside."

Ishaan let out a tired, grateful sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around himself as his father carried a drowsy Mahi back to her bedroom, letting the quiet peace of the early morning wash over the house.