Semua Bab Tangled In Scales: Bab 51 - Bab 60

For a while, life settled.Ashwin went back to work. The twins started kindergarten. Ishaan continued working at the auto shop.And little by little, they wove Imara into their world.Adopting her was the next step.The story they gave the cops was simple—they had found Imara on their way to another town, a child abandoned, lost.Of course, the officers weren’t convinced.One of them, a bored-looking man with a coffee cup in hand, arched a brow. “First the twins, now this?” He gave Ishaan and Ashwin a pointed look. “You guys planning to start an orphanage?”The other cop, however, was too busy cooing at Imara, wide-eyed as he took in her goddess-like features.“Look at her,” the officer murmured. “She’s like a tiny moon deity.”Imara, ever the charmer, merely tilted her head, blinking innocently before flashing a sweet, sharp-toothed smile.Ashwin held his breath, but the officer simply sighed.

Dinner was quiet that night.The clinking of silverware against plates was the only sound that filled the dining room. The twins, usually full of chatter, only spoke when necessary, their little voices subdued. They weren't old enough to understand everything, but they knew enough. Naga children were perceptive, attuned to shifts in energy, and right now, the air was thick with something bitter and unspoken.When they finished eating, they quickly excused themselves, hurrying off to their bedroom without their usual bedtime protests. Even Imara, usually the most demanding, barely whined when Ashwin placed her in her crib.Ashwin barely noticed the quiet. His mind was too full, drowning in the weight of his own thoughts. He cleared the table in silence, pointedly ignoring the way Ishaan lingered in the kitchen, his silvery gaze heavy on him. The tension between them was suffocating, pressing into Ashwin's lungs until every breath felt like a battle.

The house was quiet, the early morning light filtering through the curtains as Ashwin sat in the kitchen, feeding Imara. The twins were still asleep upstairs, leaving the kitchen unusually peaceful, just the soft clinking of utensils and Imara’s tiny hums filling the space.She was perched on the counter, swinging her chubby legs back and forth, happily munching on small pieces of diced fruits accompanied by a bowl of milky oatmeal. Her green eyes—so much like Ashwin’s—sparkled as she kicked her feet, her little hands grasping at the next bite Ashwin offered.Still dressed in his oversized sleep shirt from the night before, Ashwin’s boxers barely peeked out beneath the hem, his bare legs cold against the tile. He rubbed a tired hand over his face before picking up a napkin to wipe a bit of fruit juice from Imara’s chin.The sound of footsteps padding into the kitchen made him glance up.Ishaan walked in, yawning, his muscular frame only clad in a

This was the first time Ashwin would be entering Hayden’s space since he had gone missing.He wasn’t supposed to be here.The apartment had been under strict lockdown, sealed off by police tape and guarded by officers for weeks. It was an active investigation—one that had yielded no real answers. Ashwin had been forced to stand on the sidelines, waiting for news that never came. No updates. No leads. Just silence.But he couldn't wait anymore.He had spent too many nights lying awake, wondering what had happened to Hayden. Too many days fighting the unbearable ache of his absence. He needed to be here—to breathe in his presence, to grasp at anything that might tell him where Hayden had gone.Or who had taken him.His fingers trembled slightly as he turned the knob. The lock had already been broken during the initial search, and the door creaked open with a quiet groan. He hesitated at the threshold, his heart thudding in his ches

Ashwin stood behind the café counter, wiping down the smooth surface with slow, methodical movements. His fitted t-shirt clung to him in all the right places, hugging the lean muscle of his torso, but what really drew his attention was the way the fabric dragged over his chest—specifically against his nipples, still sensitive from Imara’s latching. Every brush of the material sent a dull ache through him, a sensation that lingered longer than he liked.He exhaled through his nose, trying to ignore it as he focused on the steady hum of the café. The air buzzed with conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filling the space. It was busy, like always—customers chatting over steaming cups, the rhythmic hiss of the espresso machine blending into the background noise. The familiar routine grounded him, offering a welcome distraction from his own body’s unexpected changes.Don’t ever speak of Ohas again.Ishaan’s voic