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The sun peeked through the curtains of the Deewan mansion.

It was unusually quiet — which, in a house now filled with three babies, was never a good sign.

Veeresh turned around in bed.

Poornima wasn’t there.

A note was placed beside him:

> “Good morning, my Don. I’ve gone to the hospital for a short check-up.

The babies are sleeping peacefully. Don’t panic. Handle them for a few hours. Love, Ruby 💋”

Veeresh froze.

The underworld had bowed before his name.

But now… he was left alone with three tiny humans.

He exhaled slowly.

> “Okay, Veeresh. You’ve survived gunfire, betrayal, and ambushes. Three babies? Easy.”

Within five minutes, chaos began.

Aarav started crying first — a deep, determined wail.

Arjun followed, louder, as if competing.

Aaradhya opened her eyes, blinked, and decided she might as well join the concert.

> “Ruby!” Veeresh muttered. “You set me up, didn’t you?”

The guards, standing at the door, peeked in nervously.

> “Sir… do you need assistance?”

> “No! I can handle my kids,” he declared, picking up a bottle like it was a weapon.

But he had no idea which baby was hungry.

He tried giving Aarav the bottle — rejected.

Gave it to Arjun — kicked it away.

Aaradhya took it, sucked for two seconds, then sneezed milk right on his expensive shirt.

The guards tried not to laugh.

> “Sir… should we—”

> “Out! All of you!” Veeresh snapped, trying to maintain his Don persona while juggling three squirming infants.

Moments later, he looked like a soldier after battle — milk-stained, exhausted, one sock missing.

Then came the diaper situation.

He laid Aarav on the bed and opened the diaper cautiously.

> “Okay, just don’t—”

Too late.

The next second, he got hit — straight on his sherwani sleeve.

> “Aarav!” he yelled. “That’s an attack!”

The guards outside burst into laughter.

Finally, he managed to clean them, feed them (somehow), and get them to sleep.

He sat on the couch, completely worn out, with one baby resting on each arm and the third on his chest.

When Poornima returned, she found him like that — hair messy, shirt stained, all three babies sleeping peacefully on him.

She stood at the door, her heart melting.

> “My mighty Don,” she whispered softly, “conquered by diapers and milk bottles.”

Veeresh half-opened one eye.

> “Ruby… next time, leave me a manual.”

She laughed, walking toward him and kissing his forehead.

> “You did perfectly, Veeresh.”

He gave her a tired grin.

> “Never again. Next time, we call backup.”

Poornima chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder.

> “Deal. But admit it—you loved it.”

He looked at the babies, then at her.

> “Yeah,” he murmured, voice soft. “I never thought I could love this much.”

And in that quiet, messy, beautiful moment — the man who once ruled the underworld realized the toughest battle he’d ever fought was fatherhood… and he’d gladly lose it every day.