His Replaced Bride

🍼 The Softest Father of All

The first night home was a mix of joy, exhaustion, and panic.

The bags lay unpacked. Flowers were everywhere. The cradle had been placed in their room beside Dakshita’s side of the bed, but by the time night fell… it was clear no one was sleeping.

Especially not baby Arhaan.

Waaaah!

Akshit sat upright immediately, bumping his head on the headboard.

Dakshita groaned, half-asleep. “Your son… is loud.”

Akshit was already up.

He walked over, gently picked up the baby with the kind of reverence one might use while handling moonlight, and began pacing the room slowly.

“Shhh, Arhaan,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Papa’s here.”

Waaaah!

He paused. “Okay… Papa’s here and slightly nervous.”

---

5 minutes later...

Dakshita tried to sit up. “Let me—”

“No,” Akshit said softly, already holding Arhaan against his chest. “You need rest.”

He placed a soft cloth on his shoulder and gently patted the baby’s back, walking rhythmically in slow steps, murmuring things like:

“I promise I’ll never miss your parent-teacher meetings.”

“We’ll learn to whistle together.”

“Your mum loves gol gappe, don’t be surprised if you crave them someday.”

Somewhere in the middle of that, Arhaan let out a tiny burp.

Akshit blinked.

“…Did I just do that?”

Dakshita peeked from the bed, smiling. “You just burped a human, Akshit.”

He looked ridiculously proud. “I think I’m gifted.”

---

The next day, Akshit insisted on doing everything.

Diaper? He watched four tutorials and used three wipes per step.

Bottle? Perfect temperature every time.

Cradle lullabies? He downloaded a “soft rain and flute” playlist and sat beside Arhaan’s cradle, sketching in his book as he hummed softly.

One time, Arhaan yawned while Akshit was talking to him, and Akshit immediately whispered:

“I know. I’m boring. I’ll be more exciting once you learn chess.”

---

That afternoon, Nandini watched from the doorway as her son—once so reserved and unsure—was now holding a fragile little life with such care it made her eyes sting.

“You know,” she told Dakshita quietly, “I always wondered how he’d be as a father.”

Dakshita smiled, watching her husband rock their baby to sleep with soft hums and slow pacing.

“And now?” she asked.

“I think,” Nandini whispered, “he was made for it.”

---

That evening, as the house quieted and the baby finally fell asleep, Akshit came back to bed.

Dakshita pulled him close, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You’re a natural,” she murmured.

He smiled. “No. I’m just… in love. With both of you.”

She whispered against his chest, “I think he already knows you’re his safe space.”

Akshit wrapped his arms around her.

“No,” he said softly. “You are. I just want to be what he finds when he follows the warmth of your love.”

---

And in the gentle hush of that moment, one thing was clear:

Akshit wasn’t just a good father.

He was the kind of father who would never stop learning, listening, and loving.

Even if it meant staying up all night, humming lullabies he didn’t know…
Because his heart now beat in a cradle beside their bed.