Winter settled softly over Vyomtara Manor, coating the gardens in a pale silver glow. The triplets were now two years old, and the season seemed to wrap the entire manor in a quiet, warm closeness. Inside, the halls carried the comforting scent of burning wood and the gentle hum of daily life, while the three little stars of the household filled every corner with their tiny footsteps, soft chatter, and endless energy.
Sasi was the first to wake that morning. He stretched his little arms, blinked twice, and whispered, "Maa… cold…" before rubbing his hands together with dramatic seriousness. Elaria laughed warmly and wrapped him in a soft shawl, placing a kiss on his forehead.
Aryan opened his eyes next—calm, steady, and thoughtful. He looked up at his mother as if deciding whether he wished to stay in his dream a little longer or join the waking world.
Aditya, as always, was the last to rise. But once awake, he burst forward like a tiny storm. He sat up, shook his head so hard that his hair flew in all directions, and announced confidently, "I'm hungry!"
Breakfast turned into a soft comedy.
Aditya refused help and held the wooden spoon like a warrior gripping his weapon. He dipped it bravely—and promptly smeared porridge across his entire face. Everyone laughed, even Aryan, who hid his smile behind his hand.
Sasi allowed Elaria to feed him, but every time the spoon touched his lips, he clapped happily, making porridge bounce onto his shawl. Aryan ate quietly and neatly, observing his brothers with gentle amusement.
After breakfast, the boys wandered into the living hall, where their father and grandparents were warming themselves by the hearth. As always, the triplets rushed to their favourite arms—Sasi to Achintya, Aryan to Sarvani, and Aditya to Varesh.
Varesh lifted Aditya high into the air.
"Papa! Higher!" Aditya squealed, fearless and bright.
Sasi snuggled under Achintya's arm and began explaining, in half-formed words, a story about "ducks" and "rain" that existed only in his imagination.
Aryan sat quietly beside Sarvani, letting her brush his hair gently while she hummed an old tune.
Later, the family moved to the sunlit central hall—now the boys' winter playroom. Warm light fell in perfect golden squares across the carpet.
Aditya ran first, jumping straight into a sunlight patch. "My spot!" he declared proudly.
Sasi hopped from one patch to another as if the squares were stepping stones on a river.
Aryan settled calmly in the warmest square, placing his hands on the floor to feel the heat.
Soon they began their beloved game—rolling wool balls.
Aditya sent his ball flying with great force, watching it roll across the hall like a tiny runaway creature.
Sasi chased it with high-pitched laughter, slipping slightly before catching himself.
Aryan stacked the wool balls carefully into a small tower before gently nudging one toward his brothers.
Sasi instantly pretended to be defeated dramatically.
Aditya leapt in front of him, arms wide. "I will save you!" he shouted at absolutely nothing.
The adults watched with soft smiles, hearts soaking in the warmth of the peaceful winter moment.
As the afternoon cooled, the triplets were wrapped in shawls and taken to the balcony. Snowflakes drifted slowly down, landing on their hair and eyelashes.
Aryan watched a snowflake melt in his palm with quiet wonder.
Sasi stuck out his tongue to catch one, giggling when it disappeared.
Aditya reached up boldly as if trying to catch the entire snowcloud.
Evening drew in gently. The boys curled up in their parents' arms before the fireplace, wrapped in soft blankets. The flames crackled softly while Elaria hummed a lullaby.
Sasi fell asleep first, then Aryan.
Aditya fought sleep with all the determination of a tiny warrior—but even he eventually drifted off.
Outside, winter deepened.
Inside Vyomtara Manor, warmth wrapped around every corner.
It was a simple day.
A quiet day.
A day filled with love.
A day that would remain forever in the family's hearts—where the three little heirs of Vyomtara slept peacefully, dreaming their innocent dreams, unaware of the vast destiny gently weaving itself around them.