London.
The city that had once witnessed the beginning of their unusual journey welcomed them back with its familiar grey skies, magnificent architecture, and restless rhythm.
But this time, something was different.
They had returned to London so that Alankrita could complete her final year at university. It was a practical decision, one that would allow her to continue her education without compromising her responsibilities.
Their residence was magnificent, overlooking the Thames. Every comfort imaginable was available. The Moretti household had ensured that Alankrita lacked nothing.
Yet, despite the luxury surrounding her, something was missing.
Something she couldn't explain to anyone.
Something she couldn't buy.
Companionship.
She had a husband now.
She had a son.
She had a family.
And yet, increasingly, she felt alone.
Her mornings followed a predictable routine.
She would wake up early, prepare herself for university, spend a little time with Raghuveer, and then leave for her classes.
Arjun would usually be at home with their son.
Initially, she had been delighted by this arrangement.
She was happy that Raghuveer had his father beside him. She was happy that Arjun wanted to spend time with him. She was happy that her son would never have to experience the absence she had once feared for him.
But gradually...
Something began to hurt.
Arjun had become inseparable from Raghuveer.
Whenever Alankrita returned from university, she would often find the two of them together.
Sometimes, they would be playing.
Sometimes, Raghuveer would be sleeping against Arjun's chest.
Sometimes, Arjun would be preparing something in the kitchen while keeping the little boy close to him.
And sometimes...
They wouldn't even be home.
Because Arjun had begun taking Raghuveer along whenever he travelled for international cooking competitions.
Paris.
Rome.
Barcelona.
Tokyo.
Wherever his culinary career took him, the little prince accompanied him.
Arjun refused to leave him behind whenever possible.
He carried him in his arms while moving around professional kitchens, keeping him safely away from the cooking stations. During breaks, he would sit with him, feed him, play with him, and make him laugh.
The world had begun recognising them as an inseparable duo.
The celebrated chef and his little prince.
Photographs of Damiano Moretti holding Raghuveer appeared across social media.
The powerful chef who commanded professional kitchens around the world became a completely different person whenever the little boy was around.
He would smile.
He would laugh.
He would patiently entertain every little demand.
And Raghuveer adored every second of it.
Alankrita loved seeing those photographs.
She genuinely did.
Whenever she saw her son smiling in Arjun's arms, her heart filled with happiness.
She would save the pictures.
Sometimes, she would enlarge them and look at Raghuveer's little face for several minutes.
My baby is so happy.
That thought always brought a smile to her lips.
But after the smile...
Came the silence.
She would look at the photographs again.
There would be Arjun holding Raghuveer.
There would be Raghuveer laughing at something Arjun had said.
There would be the two of them travelling, exploring new places, experiencing things together.
And there would be no Alankrita.
She wasn't angry that they enjoyed spending time together.
She wasn't jealous of her son's happiness.
She was simply...
Lonely.
Deeply, painfully lonely.
She had once dreamed of having a family.
A husband who would ask about her day.
Someone who would notice when she was tired.
Someone who would sit beside her after university and listen to her talk about her classes.
Someone who would remember the little things that mattered to her.
She had a husband who loved their son beyond measure.
But sometimes, she wondered whether he remembered that he had a wife too.
Whenever Arjun and Raghuveer travelled, the apartment became unbearably quiet.
Alankrita would return from university, open the door, and instinctively look around.
"Raghuveer?"
Silence.
She would walk toward his little room.
His toys would be scattered around.
His tiny clothes would be arranged neatly.
His favourite blanket would be folded on the bed.
Everything would be there.
Except him.
And Arjun.
She would sit on the edge of the little boy's bed and pick up one of his toys.
Sometimes, she would press it against her chest.
Sometimes, she would call Arjun just to hear their voices.
When they answered, Raghuveer's excited babbling would immediately brighten her mood.
She would ask about his meals.
Whether he had slept properly.
Whether he had been playing.
Whether Arjun had taken him outside.
Arjun would answer casually, sometimes laughing at something Raghuveer was doing.
And she would smile.
"Take care of him."
"I will, Alankrita."
"Don't let him skip his food."
"I know, sweetheart."
Then the call would end.
She would look at her phone.
And the apartment would become silent again.
She never complained.
She never asked him to stop travelling with their son.
She never wanted to become the reason Raghuveer lost the happiness he had found.
But behind closed doors...
She cried.
Quietly.
Into her pillow.
On some nights, she would look at her wedding ring and wonder whether this was what marriage was supposed to feel like.
She had spent so many years alone that she had imagined marriage would finally mean having someone beside her.
Instead...
She was alone again.
Only this time, she had a husband.
And somehow, that made the loneliness hurt even more.
The Birthday She Wanted to Remember
Then came her birthday.
Alankrita turned eighteen.
For most people, birthdays were ordinary celebrations.
A cake.
A few presents.
Family gathered around a table.
But for Alankrita, the day carried a different meaning.
She hadn't celebrated her birthday properly since she was sixteen.
That year had changed her life forever.
At seventeen, she had been a mother.
She had experienced pregnancy, childbirth, sleepless nights, and responsibilities that would have overwhelmed many adults.
She had grown up too quickly.
Her childhood had disappeared into hospital corridors, university applications, medical appointments, and the endless demands of motherhood.
But this year...
For the first time in a long time...
She wanted to celebrate.
Not as Raghuveer's mother.
Not as a student.
Not as someone who had to be strong.
Just as Alankrita.
A wife.
A young woman.
Someone whose birthday deserved to be remembered.
And she wanted to celebrate it with her husband.
That morning, she picked up her phone and sent Arjun a message.
Please come home early today. I've prepared something special.
She stared at the message for a moment before sending it.
She didn't explicitly remind him that it was her birthday.
Somewhere in her heart, she wanted him to remember.
She wanted him to surprise her.
She wanted him to walk through the door, smile, and wish her.
Perhaps even hold her and tell her that he hadn't forgotten.
It was a small wish.
A very small one.
But for someone who had spent years asking for nothing...
It meant everything.
She spent the afternoon preparing dinner.
Not an elaborate Italian meal.
She wanted to cook the food she had grown up eating.
The dishes that reminded her of home.
She carefully prepared the recipes she loved, remembering the flavours of her childhood.
Every ingredient was chosen with affection.
Every dish was prepared patiently.
She arranged the dining table beautifully.
Three places.
One for Arjun.
One for herself.
And one for their little Raghuveer.
She placed his high chair between them.
She imagined the three of them sitting together.
Arjun teasing her about the food.
Raghuveer making a mess.
The two of them laughing.
Perhaps Arjun would feed her a bite.
Perhaps he would hold her hand across the table.
Perhaps, just for one evening, she wouldn't feel like an outsider in her own marriage.
She went to her room and dressed carefully.
She chose a beautiful silk saree.
She arranged her hair and wore her favourite jewellery.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
A soft smile appeared.
For once...
She wanted to feel beautiful for someone.
Not because she needed validation.
But because she wanted her husband to look at her and see his wife.
His birthday girl.
His Alankrita.
Evening arrived.
She lit the candles.
The food was ready.
The table was set.
She checked her phone.
No reply.
She waited.
Perhaps he was driving.
Perhaps he was busy with work.
Perhaps he hadn't seen the message.
She called him.
No answer.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
She sent another message.
Arjun, when are you coming?
Unread.
She looked at the clock.
The candles slowly burned.
The food began losing its warmth.
And Alankrita continued waiting.
She didn't know that the man she was waiting for was spending the evening enjoying a boys' day out with Raghuveer.
She didn't know that her little prince was laughing happily somewhere with his father.
And she certainly didn't know that the simple birthday she had prepared with so much love...
Was slowly becoming another night she would remember for all the wrong reasons.