Echos of the past

The school was abuzz with activity. The open courtyard had been transformed into a bustling medical camp, with clusters of doctors stationed at various points conducting routine check-ups for groups of students. The sound of laughter and chatter mixed with the occasional murmur of medical instructions created an oddly comforting yet chaotic atmosphere.

Abhimanyu sat at one of the desks, his stethoscope slung loosely around his neck, fingers drumming anxiously against the wooden table. His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain it could drown out the noise around him. He had seen their photos countless times in the past few days, memorized every little detail of their faces, but today was the day. Today, he would finally see them in person. His children—Abhir and Aaira—though, in this world, they were known as Mayank and Mahi.

He adjusted his seating slightly, positioning himself in a way that ensured he'd see them the moment they entered. A nurse approached him with a clipboard, but he barely registered her words. His focus was elsewhere, his mind consumed by the weight of this moment.

One by one, groups of children from different classes were brought forward for their check-ups. Abhimanyu did his best to maintain his composure, but every passing moment made his anticipation grow. Finally, the nurse announced, "Next group—Mayank and Mahi's class."

Abhimanyu's breath hitched. He quickly glanced toward the door, his eyes scanning the crowd of kids. And then, there they were. Aaira—Mahi—entered first, skipping slightly as she looked around curiously. Her energy was infectious, her bright smile lighting up the room. She was a mirror image of Akshara, from her carefree movements to her animated expressions. Abhir—Mayank—followed close behind, his demeanor calm and composed, with an air of quiet responsibility. His hand rested protectively on his sister's shoulder as if ensuring she wouldn't wander too far.

Abhimanyu's heart felt like it had stopped. They're here. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. The overwhelming urge to hold them, to tell them who he was, was almost unbearable. But he clenched his fists under the table, reminding himself that this moment wasn't about him—it was about them.

Mahi wrinkled her nose as she surveyed the medical equipment at the various tables. "I don't like this place," she muttered, just loud enough for her brother to hear.

"Stop it," Abhir whispered, nudging her gently. "It's just a check-up."

"But I don't want to sit on one of those chairs," she whined softly, her voice carrying a nervous edge.

Abhimanyu's heart clenched. Their hesitance reminded him so much of their mother—Akshara, who had always been wary of hospitals despite her natural empathy. He decided he couldn't let their first interaction be marred by fear or discomfort. Clearing his throat softly, he adjusted his tone to something warm and inviting.

"Hello there," he greeted them with a smile, his voice gentle but steady. "You must be Mahi and Mayank, right?"

Mahi peered up at him, her small fingers still clutching her brother's arm. "How do you know our names?" she asked suspiciously, her big eyes narrowing.

Abhir, ever the cautious one, pulled her a step back. "Our teacher told you, didn't she?" he said, his tone measured but polite. "That's how these things work, Mahi."

Abhimanyu chuckled softly, both at their skepticism and how naturally protective Abhir was of his sister. He's already so much like me...

"You're absolutely right," he said, nodding at Abhir. "Your teacher did tell me. She said I get to meet two very special kids today. Are you ready for your check-up?"

Mahi hesitated, shuffling her feet. "Do you have any needles?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Abhimanyu's smile widened. "No needles today. I promise. Just some simple things—checking your height, listening to your heartbeat. Nothing scary."