[13th February 2025 | Phoenix Courtyard Mall]
The Phoenix Courtyard Mall thrummed with its usual weekday rhythm—heels clicking against marble floors, the soft hum of instrumental music, and the warm scent of roasted coffee beans wafting from the café on the ground floor.
Aria Maheshwari Aria Maheshwari stepped through the glass doors, her navy-blue anarkali swaying with each step. Her hair was twisted into a no-nonsense bun, silver earrings catching flecks of light as she moved. Her hand rested lightly on a stroller shaded with a bunny-print muslin cover. Inside, Navya blinked up at the shifting ceiling lights, eyes hazy from her interrupted nap.
Beside her, Manik Maheshwari strode like he owned the mall, dressed in a white tee layered under a black leather jacket—unzipped and unapologetic—and well-fitted black jeans. He handled Dev's stroller it was a parade float, occasionally dipping down to make exaggerated faces that made the baby hiccup and gurgle.
They were met by the mall manager—prepped and positioned thanks to Vaibhav Maheshwari's ever-efficient contacts. He led them past boutique storefronts and glimmering displays, toward a curated aisle cordoned off for high-end baby products.
"This way, ma'am. We've arranged a private section with our premium nursery collection. Please let us know if you need assistance."
"Thank you," Aria said evenly.
Manik leaned close to the stroller, voice low and full of delight. "Di, I swear—Skittle One and Two are going to be fashion icons by the time they're out of diapers. Forget Paris, we'll start our own label."
Aria didn't dignify that with a full reply—just a side-eye that could curdle milk.
"You promised you'd behave," she muttered.
"I promised not to livestream. I never said I wouldn't shop like an obsessed mamu."
Aria rolled her eyes.
They entered a softly lit display area—bassinets with lace canopies, soft-wrapped bottle warmers, and pastel-hued baby mobiles turning gently overhead.
Aria's fingers trailed over a white crib with a cream canopy. She pressed at the frame, checking the firmness of the base.
She had already texted Vidya to meet her later at the café once they were done. It was part of a larger plan—to slowly bring Vidya closer to the Maheshwari household.
Manik was told they were meeting someone, but not who.
"Manik," Aria said, barely looking up as she adjusted the incline on a baby rocker, "don't forget, we're meeting an acquaintance later."
He groaned playfully. "Let me guess. Another well-meaning auntie desperate to marry off the family disappointment?"
Dev made a hiccup-like squeal as if adding to the commentary.
Manik chuckled. "You get me, don't you, little man?"
Meanwhile—Across the same section—but on the far end—another manager was patiently guiding a customer through baby carrier options.
"Sir, this one has reinforced lumbar support and an adjustable harness. Ideal for first-time papas."
Ahaan Rajvanshi nodded without really listening. Dressed in a navy Henley and beige trousers, he looked more like a man about to face a trial than buy baby gear. He stood stiffly, scanning the walls of folded pastel cloth and soft rattles like they were traps.
He wasn't here by accident.
His grandmother, Kalyani Rajvanshi, had sent him. Her tone had been sweet, but firm.
So here he was.
Awkward. Out of place. And very much not ready for what was coming.
He turned the corner—and stopped short.
Aria.
Her hand resting lightly on the stroller. Manik beside her, grinning like a maniac. Two tiny heads in matching mittens and socks.
Navya. Dev.
Aria turned at the same moment, sensing the shift in air.
Their eyes locked.
The display lights above seemed to dim around the moment. Ahaan stiffened. Aria's fingers curled slightly over Navya's stroller handle.
Manik blinked at the sudden tension. His gaze darted between the two.
The mall managers, misreading the weight in the air as a lovers' spat, excused themselves politely. "Take your time, sirs, ma'am. We'll be nearby if you need anything." And with that, they vanished.
Ahaan cleared his throat, his voice low and careful. "Dadi sent me. She said the estate needs things ready for the twins… when they arrive. I wasn't sure where to begin."
Aria's tone was flat. "And this is where you started?"
"I didn't know you'd be here." He met her eyes again. "But maybe… since we are… we can just get this done together."
A silence stretched.
Public drama was not on Aria's to-do list for today.
With a resigned sigh, she nodded. "Fine. But don't slow me down."
From beside them, Manik watched the exchange. Oh boy.
He looked down at the babies, then up at the two people who—had once loved each other, had children together, and were now exes reluctantly forced to co-parent.
Right. This is tragic.
In that moment, something clicked.
This was his moment. The stars had aligned. The strollers were rolling. The tragic exes were in the same aisle, surrounded by overpriced cribs and baby bottles.
And I, Manik Maheshwari, am the Cupid this mess needs.
I believe in love. I believe in patch-ups. I believe that if Dev and Navya are the result of this angsty rom-com, then they deserve their happy family ending too.
He clapped his hands lightly, feigning brightness. "Perfect! Since you're here, Jiju… why don't you handle Dev's stroller for a bit?Let Little Skittle get used to his Papa's presence."
He let go before anyone could argue, and Ahaan's hands instinctively reached forward, gripping the stroller bar. The baby inside blinked up at him with bright, curious eyes.
Then—softly, delightedly—Dev giggled.
Ahaan froze.
That simple laugh—it hit something inside Ahaan. A place he hadn't realized was still soft. Still wounded.
God, he thought. How does someone so small make it feel like breathing just got harder?
Aria caught the moment, but didn't comment. She just gently turned Navya's stroller toward the next display—shelves stacked with bottle sterilizers and swaddling kits.
Manik gave a satisfied little nod. Mission: In Progress.
"Now if you'll excuse me," he said dramatically, backing away, "I'll get some air. Let you two browse in peace."
"Manik—" Aria started, but he was already waving and turning away.
"I believe in you both!" he called, with mock solemnity. "Heal your bruised hearts. Patch your tragic love story. Buy matching onesies. Do whatever it takes!"
And then he disappeared into the crowd.
Aria sighed. "Idiot."
Ahaan stood awkwardly, his hands resting lightly on the stroller handle. Dev was still smiling, utterly unaware of the undercurrents.
Aria turned and led Navya toward the next shelf—bottle sterilizers, thermometer kits, swaddles.
They moved slowly, aisle to aisle, never brushing arms, never touching, but orbiting the same center—two tiny lives blinking up at them, babbling between naps.
They debated bib types. Argued softly over bottle brands. Ahaan preferred glass. Aria said silicone was easier. They didn't agree—but they didn't fight either.
The weight of truths unsaid hung between them, but they didn't let it rise.
And through it all, the twins gurgled, blinked, yawned—and unknowingly pulled the two adults closer with every innocent sound.
To the world, it looked like a family out shopping.
To Manik, watching from a café corner, it looked like hope.
To Aria and Ahaan—it was a minefield. Carefully walked.
Held together not by love. Not yet.
But by duty.
And two tiny children who didn't yet know just how complicated the world around them truly was.