Love Me Tonight
Chapter 36: Last Move

The conference room did not empty immediately. For a few seconds after Sameer’s final words, no one moved. The silence lingered – not uncertain like before, but settled. Heavy. Conclusive.

Then, slowly, chairs shifted. A file closed. A pen was set down.

The small, ordinary sounds of movement returned… but they did not restore normalcy. If anything, they only made the shift more visible.

Because nothing in that room was the same anymore.

Vivek Somani remained standing. Exactly where he had been. The torn pieces of paper still lay scattered near his feet – some crumpled, some flattened under shoes, some caught in the faint movement of air from the overhead fan. Useless now. Meaningless. Much like the authority he had held onto for so long. No one looked at him directly. Not out of respect. But because there was nothing left to acknowledge.

 

Jaiprakash rose first. Slowly. Without hurry. For a moment, he rested his palm against the table, his gaze moving across the room – not searching, not questioning… just taking in what had unfolded. Then he turned. And walked out.

Rohan followed. He did not look toward Vivek. Not this time.

Aman gathered his files next – precise, efficient, as always. He closed his folder, aligned the documents inside, and stood, his movements controlled, his expression unreadable.

But his eyes flickered once – briefly – toward Sameer. A silent check. A confirmation. Sameer gave the slightest nod. They walked out together.Side by side.

Behind them, the room emptied. One by one. Until only two people remained.

Vivek. And Mr. Desai

And the quiet that refused to leave them.

For the first time in years, there was no next step forming in Vivek’s mind. No quick recovery. No alternate move. No one to direct. No one to blame. Only the echo of everything that had just been stripped away.

Outside, the office had already begun to react. It wasn’t loud. There were no open discussions. No direct questions. But the shift had spread.

Conversations paused when someone walked by. Eyes met, and then quickly looked away.

Files that had once been pushed aside were now being reopened. Not out of instruction. But out of instinct. Something had broken. And something else – quieter, steadier – was beginning to take its place.

In the HR cabin, a drawer that had remained closed for months was opened. A file was pulled out. Then another. Names. Dates. Notes that had once been marked “to be reviewed later.”

Later had arrived.

Across the floor, an employee who had once lowered his voice while speaking now stood a little straighter.

A conversation that would have been cut short yesterday… was allowed to finish today.

No announcements had been made. No orders given. And yet… The change was unmistakable. Power had shifted. And for the first time in a long time, people could feel it.

 

At the Maheshwari bungalow, the stillness had not lifted. If anything, it had deepened. Vishakha stood by the window, her arms crossed lightly, her gaze fixed outside – but not really seeing anything. She had been waiting.

For a call. For an update. For confirmation that things were under control.

The silence had given her none of it. And Vishakha was not someone who trusted silence. Her fingers tightened slightly against her arm. A thought forming. Sharpening.

“Sameer…” she murmured under her breath.

 

The stillness of the bungalow shattered with the sharp, relentless ringing of the doorbell. It didn’t pause between rings, didn’t soften – it came again and again, urgent, insistent, almost desperate.

Vishakha frowned, irritation flashing across her face as she walked toward the door. “Kaun hai iss waqt…” She muttered, pulling it open mid-sentence.

And then she stopped. Vivek stood there.

His shirt was creased, collar open, hair disheveled, as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly. But it wasn’t his appearance that held her attention… it was his face. There was something missing from it. No anger. No control. No arrogance.

Just… disarray.

“Vivek?” her tone shifted instantly, confusion replacing annoyance. “Yeh kya haal bana rakha hai tumne…”

“Sab khatam ho gaya.”

The words came out abruptly, cutting through everything else. For a moment, they didn’t make sense.

“What?” she frowned, stepping aside as he walked in without waiting. “Kya bol rahe ho tum?”

He didn’t sit. Didn’t slow down. He paced a few steps into the room, dragging a hand through his hair, his breathing uneven.

“Sab pata chal gaya… sab…” he said, his voice breaking in places where it never had before.

Something in her posture changed. “Clearly bolo, Vivek.”

And he did. Not in order, not cleanly, but everything came out. The meeting. Sameer. Aman. The files. The consignment. The fraud. The shares.

Vishakha didn’t interrupt. She just stood there, listening, her expression hardening gradually as the pieces began to align. Until…

“Rohan aur Deepika ne… apne shares de diye usko.”

For a second, the words didn’t register. Then they did.

“What?” she said, sharply. Her gaze snapped to him. “Kya kaha tumne.”

“Unhone… apne shares…”

He didn’t get to finish. Her hand slammed down on the console beside her, the sound cracking through the room.

“They did what?”

The control slipped completely now. Her breathing quickened, anger rising fast and unfiltered.

“Unhone apne shares de diye?” she repeated, disbelief turning into fury. “Usko?”

Sameer.

She let out a short, bitter laugh. “After everything? Hamare sab samjhane ke baad bhi?” Her eyes darkened. “Main bewakuf samajhti thi unhe… simple… lekin itne bhi…”

She stopped herself, but the damage was already there. Vivek stepped forward, agitation building again. “Tum samajh nahi rahi ho… sab plan karke kiya hai usne. Sab kuch. Pehle se…”

“Of course kiya hoga!” she snapped immediately.

Her gaze locked onto him, sharp now. “Tum kya kar rahe the?”

The question landed harder than anything else.

He faltered. “Main…”

“Woh Thailand ka supplier?” she pressed, stepping closer. “Documents check kiye bina pura payment kar diya, woh bhi advance me?” Her voice rose with each word. “Phir jhooth? Fake accident? Tumhe laga yeh sab kab tak chalta?”

Vivek’s frustration flared again, defensive and desperate. “Tum meri galti pe kyun aa rahi ho? Situation handle kar raha tha main…”

“Handle?” she laughed, harsh and cutting. “Tumne sab barbaad kar diya.”

“Maine?” His voice became louder, “maine sab barbad kiya? Bhulo mat Vishakha ke tum bhi mere saath thi. Tumko sab pata tha… Hamesha.”

Silence fell between them, heavy and immediate.

Then she spoke again, more controlled now, but no less sharp. “Phir?”

He hesitated. That was enough.

Her eyes narrowed. “Phir kya hua?”

“Aman…” Vivek began slowly, his voice dropping. “Jab main nikal raha tha…” She didn’t move. “…usne mujhe roka.”

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath.

“Ek resignation letter tha…” he continued, the words coming faster now. “Aur uske phone pe… police ready thi.” Now she stilled completely. “On call,” he added. “Bas signal ka wait…”

“And?” she asked quietly.

“…maine sign kar diya.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and irreversible. For a few seconds, Vishakha didn’t react. Then she turned away and walked toward the window, stopping in front of her reflection.

“Tumne sign kar diya…” she repeated slowly, as if forcing herself to accept it.

Her fingers curled into a fist at her side.

Years of control – over the house, over her father, over the flow of money – tightened and then slipped in her mind all at once. Because this wasn’t just about Vivek. This was about losing hold. Her thoughts didn’t go to the boardroom. They went elsewhere.

To her father.

To the routines she controlled.

To the medicines she managed.

To the quiet ways she had learned to influence what needed to be influenced.

A thought formed – sharp, instinctive, unsettling.

If control had slipped there… it could still be held here.

Behind her, Vivek was still speaking, his voice strained. “…sab usne plan kiya tha… mujhe fasaya…”

“Bas.”

The word cut cleanly through him. He stopped. She turned back slowly. Her face had changed. The anger was still there, but it had settled into something colder, something more dangerous.

“Ab rona-dhona band karo,” she said, her voice low and controlled. “Jo ho gaya, ho gaya.” She held his gaze, steady now. “Lekin ek baat yaad rakhna…” she said slowly, each word deliberate.

“Yeh khatam nahi hua hai… Abhi nahi.”

But the certainty in her voice wasn’t complete. Because somewhere beneath the anger, beneath the instinct to regain control, a crack had already formed. And she knew it. Even if she refused to admit it.

 

While plans and calculations spiraled through Vishakha’s mind, another board – one on which moves had already been unfolding quietly, far beyond her awareness – was beginning to come into focus.

This was the board Sameer found the hardest to play on.

Because here, detachment failed him.

Vivek Somani had never mattered to him personally. If not for Rohan and Deepika, Sameer would have sent the man to jail without hesitation, and perhaps even taken a grim satisfaction in watching it happen. But this… this was different. The opposing player on this side of the board was his own mother. And no matter how composed he appeared on the outside, this was the one battle where keeping emotion away from strategy became difficult.

After Vivek had finally left the office, they had spent the next couple of hours securing everything they could – files, statements, approvals, financial records, vendor trails. One by one, documents were locked away, copies prepared, evidence separated carefully into folders for legal review. Mr. Desai had been terminated immediately, along with five others against whom they already had substantial proof. More names would surface eventually. Sameer knew that.

Maheshwari Industries needed a thorough clean-up.

Not just financially. Systemically.

But that would take time.

For now, all of them were simply exhausted. The adrenaline that had carried the day was beginning to ebb, leaving behind fatigue, heaviness, and the dull ache of an emotionally draining victory. None of them had eaten properly since morning, and when Aman finally glanced at the clock on the wall, it was already past three.

Sameer locked the last file into the cabinet and exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Baaki ka Monday dekhenge,” he said quietly. “Filhaal ghar chalte hai.”

Rohan looked up immediately, surprise flickering across his face. “Par abhi toh sirf teen baj rahe hai.”

Sameer nodded lightly. “Jaanta hun,” he replied. “Lekin subah se hum log isi mein lage hue hai. Kisine kuch khaya bhi nahi hai…”

His gaze shifted briefly toward Jaiprakash.

“Nanu ki tabiyat kharab ho jayegi.”

The older man snorted softly, though the tiredness beneath it was visible now that the tension had settled. “Meri tabiyat ko kuch nahi hoga,” he muttered, attempting his usual authority. But even he looked drained – the deep lines around his eyes were more pronounced, his shoulders slightly heavier than they had been in the morning.

And perhaps because Sameer noticed it too clearly… his expression softened. A quiet stillness settled over the conference room after that. The urgency that had driven all of them through the day was finally beginning to fade, leaving behind exhaustion that now seemed to seep into their bones. One by one, they started to get up, collect their things, and instructions were given for the cabin to stay locked and untouched till Monday morning.

By the time they finally stepped out of Maheshwari Industries, the office itself seemed altered somehow. The corridors were quieter than usual, conversations softer, movements more restrained. Employees who crossed their path greeted them respectfully, but there was caution in their eyes too – as though everyone instinctively understood that something irreversible had happened inside those conference room walls.

The late afternoon heat pressed heavily against the city as they walked toward the car. Aman took the driver’s seat without discussion. Sameer slid into the passenger side while Jaiprakash and Rohan settled in the back. For the first few minutes, no one spoke. The fatigue was too deep now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Outside, Ahmedabad drifted past in slow-moving frames – gulmohar trees blazing orange-red in the sunlight, scooters weaving through traffic, street vendors lazily waving hand fans over their carts. Normally, Rohan would have commented on something. Aman would have responded dryly. Nanu would have inevitably inserted an opinion.

Today, silence stayed.

Only once did Jaiprakash mutter under his breath, almost to himself, “Mujhe abhi bhi yakeen nahi ho raha…”

Sameer’s gaze remained fixed outside the window. “Mujhe bhi nahi,” he admitted quietly. But unlike Nanu, his disbelief wasn’t about the fraud or the money. It was about his mother. About how far things had gone while he had stayed away convincing himself distance was easier.

No one continued the conversation after that. They were all too tired to reopen the wounds of the day.

 

Meanwhile, Naina had already picked Deepika up from college exactly as she and Sameer had planned in the morning. One look at Deepika’s face when she got into the car had told her enough. The younger girl had remained quieter than usual throughout the drive back, and Naina hadn’t pushed. Instead, she had simply brought her home, made her drink a full glass of water despite the protests, and then quietly moved into the kitchen with Sarla Kaki.

So when the men finally entered Ellisbridge bungalow, tiredness trailing behind them like a shadow, the house welcomed them not with questions – but with food.

The cool scent of chaas tempered with roasted jeera drifted through the dining area, along with the warm, savory aroma of vegetable cheela crisping lightly on the tawa. Beside it sat bowls of black chana chaat mixed with onions, tomatoes, coriander, lemon, and green chilies. Simple food. Filling food. The kind meant to ground people after a difficult day.

No one had the energy for formalities anymore. After washing up and changing into more comfortable clothes, they gathered around the dining table almost wordlessly. Aman ate with the quiet efficiency of someone who had ignored hunger for too long. Rohan looked ready to fall asleep between bites. Even Jaiprakash, despite his insistence earlier that nothing was wrong with his health, drank nearly two full glasses of buttermilk without pause.

Sameer barely realized how hungry he had been until Naina slid another cheela onto his plate before he could refuse. He looked up at her instinctively.

“Bas,” he muttered weakly.

“Bilkul nahi,” she replied firmly. “Subah se sirf coffee peeke reh rahe honge.”

A faint smile tugged at Aman’s mouth. Rohan outright snorted into his chaas. Sameer sighed dramatically, but obediently tore another piece of cheela anyway. For a little while, the heaviness eased. Not vanished. Just… softened around the edges.

By the time the late meal ended, the exhaustion had fully caught up with all of them. The clock had already crossed four-thirty, and the warm afternoon breeze drifting through the open windows only made the fatigue heavier.

Naina noticed it first. Aman sitting up a little straight, as if about to say something. Sameer’s hand inching towards his mobile, and Rohan’s shoulder slumping on realizing that the day wasn’t over yet.

“Bas,” she announced decisively before anyone could restart the discussion. “Abhi koi office ki baat nahi hogi.”

Rohan blinked. “Par…”

“Par-var kuch nahi,” she cut him off immediately. “Sab log soenge.”

“Naina…” Sameer began mildly.

She turned toward him with narrowed eyes. “Aap bhi.”

Aman looked down instantly, very wisely choosing not to involve himself. Deepika nearly hid a smile behind her glass. Even Jaiprakash looked suspiciously entertained.

Naina folded her arms. “Shaam ko uthke jitni marzi discussion kar lena. Abhi sabke dimaag aur body dono ko break chahiye.”

There was enough firmness in her tone that no one argued further. One by one, they dispersed quietly toward their rooms.

Sameer followed Naina to their room more slowly than usual, fatigue finally settling deep into his muscles now that the day had ended. The moment the bedroom door closed behind them, he exhaled heavily and sat down at the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

 

Then Naina walked over and stood in front of him quietly. Her fingers moved automatically to loosen the top buttons of his soft olive green shirt, before smoothing her hand against his shoulder.

“Bahot mushkil tha?” she asked softly.

Sameer let out a humorless breath of laughter. “Office wala part easy tha.”

His eyes lifted toward her then. Tired. Honest.

“Mummy wala…” he shook his head faintly, “…woh difficult hai.”

Something flickered across Naina’s face at that. Sympathy. Concern. Perhaps even worry for what still remained ahead of them.

She moved closer without another word, gently threading her fingers through his hair.

“Abhi mat socho,” she murmured. “Thodi der ke liye bas rest karo.”

Sameer looked at her for a moment longer before finally giving in, his body leaning forward instinctively until his forehead rested lightly against her stomach. The gesture was unconscious. Seeking comfort without asking for it. Naina’s hand stilled briefly against his hair before softening further. And for the first time since morning, Sameer allowed himself to stop holding everything together.

 

Sameer woke a couple of hours later, faintly disoriented at first, surprised to realize that he had actually fallen asleep. The exhaustion of the day must have dragged him under far more quickly than he had realized. For a few moments, he simply lay there quietly, letting his mind catch up. The room was washed in the mellow gold of late afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains, the soft hum of the ceiling fan filling the stillness. The last thing he remembered was Naina standing in front of him while he sat at the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped loosely around her hips, his forehead resting against her stomach as she ran her fingers through his hair.

But now he was lying properly on the bed. And Naina was asleep beside him.

A faint smile touched his lips immediately on noticing the position they were in. Somewhere during those missing hours, she had clearly lain down beside him and deliberately pulled his arm under her head before falling asleep herself, as though quietly claiming him even in sleep. His hand was trapped beneath her cheek now, slightly numb, but he found he didn’t mind it at all.

If anything, it warmed something deep inside him.

His gaze lingered on her face for a long moment – the relaxed expression, the softened lines around her eyes, the complete absence of the guarded tension that had once seemed permanently woven into her.

And suddenly, almost without meaning to, his thoughts drifted backward.

He had always believed that the day Naina truly opened up to him… the day she finally shared the wounds she carried so fiercely inside herself… something between them would change. Not instantly perhaps, not magically. But fundamentally. He had felt it instinctively from the very beginning – that her fear was never really of him. It was of safety itself. Of comfort. Of happiness that could be snatched away without warning.

And now, lying beside her, watching her sleep so peacefully with her head resting trustingly on his arm, Sameer realized he had been right.

Ever since that night in Kolkata, after she had finally spoken about her past, she had changed slowly but unmistakably. Earlier, she had always seemed slightly braced for impact – flustered by affection, anxious during moments of peace, almost suspicious of joy itself. It was as though some part of her constantly waited for life to punish her for being happy.

But now… Now she laughed more freely. She argued with him without fear. Teased him. Clung to him half-asleep. Flirted shamelessly enough to leave him choking on his lunch in the office. And perhaps what affected him most deeply was how naturally she had begun reaching for him – not just emotionally, but physically too.

Earlier, even the smallest intimacy from her side had come wrapped in hesitation and embarrassment, as though she constantly second-guessed her own desires. But lately… she had started initiating affection on her own. Small kisses stolen unexpectedly. Fingers slipping into his hair while he worked. Curling into his arms at night without waiting for him to pull her close. And sometimes… even looking at him in ways that made it very clear she wanted far more than innocent closeness.

The memory of the previous night flickered through his mind, making warmth spread slowly across his chest. Because it wasn’t merely passion that had changed between them. It was trust. She no longer loved him like someone afraid of losing everything. She loved him like someone who had finally started believing she was allowed to keep it. And somewhere along the way, without either of them fully realizing it… they had stopped merely trying to make the relationship work. They had begun building a life together instead.

 

Naina woke a few minutes later, stirring softly against him before her eyes fluttered open. For a brief moment, she simply blinked up at him sleepily, as though piecing together where they were and how they had ended up like this. Then recognition settled, followed almost immediately by a small smile that seemed to melt across her face the instant she saw him looking at her already awake.

“Kab uthe?” she whispered, her voice still warm with sleep.

“Thodi der pehle,” Sameer murmured.

She hummed softly and shifted closer on instinct, the movement trapping his arm even more firmly beneath her head. Neither complained. Instead, Naina lifted one hand lazily and brushed her fingers across his cheek, smoothing over the faint stubble there.

Sameer caught her wrist gently before she could pull away and turned his head to press a lingering kiss against the inside of her palm.

Her smile deepened immediately.

And perhaps because she was still only half-awake, her usual awareness and shyness had not fully returned yet. She leaned forward slowly and pressed a small soft kiss near the corner of his mouth before settling back against the pillow again.

It wasn’t passionate. Wasn’t teasing like the previous night either. Just quiet affection. The kind that reached him far deeper than grand gestures ever could.

Sameer’s arm slid automatically around her waist, drawing her closer until she was nearly tucked against his chest. He rested his forehead briefly against hers, exhaling slowly as the warmth of her surrounded him. For a few peaceful moments, neither spoke. The room remained wrapped in that drowsy late-afternoon stillness where time itself seemed slower somehow.

Then faint sounds drifted in from outside. Footsteps moving through the corridor. Someone laughing in the living room – Rohan most likely.

The clinking of steel utensils from the kitchen followed soon after, accompanied by Sarla Kaki’s unmistakable voice calling instructions to Mukesh Kaka in rapid Gujarati. Somewhere farther away, Aman’s deeper voice responded to something Jaiprakash had said, followed by Nanu’s grumbling retort.

Life had started moving again outside their room.

Naina smiled faintly at the familiar sounds, but made no move to get up. Instead she burrowed a little closer, her cheek resting lightly against Sameer’s shoulder.

“Sab uth gaye,” she murmured reluctantly.

“Hmm.”

“Hume bhi uthna chahiye.”

Sameer tightened his arm around her slightly. “Bilkul nahi.”

She let out a sleepy laugh. “Tum hi bol rahe the Nanu ki tabiyat kharab ho jayegi time pe khaya nahi toh.”

Sameer sighed dramatically, though his eyes remained warm. “Meri bhi toh ho sakti hai.”

Naina lifted her head immediately, concern appearing on her face so quickly that he couldn’t stop himself from laughing softly.

“Arre…” he brushed his nose lightly against hers, “meri tabiyat sirf tab kharab hoti hai jab tum door jaati ho.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly despite how accustomed she had become to his flirting lately. Still… she didn’t look away this time. And before either of them could say anything further, there was a loud knock on the door followed immediately by Rohan’s voice –

“Bhabhiiii! Chai ban gayi!”

Naina startled slightly while Sameer closed his eyes in resignation. Outside, Rohan continued cheerfully, completely unaware of the timing he had ruined.

“Aur Aman bhai bol rahe hai agar aap dono paanch minute me nahi aaye toh woh aap dono ka nashta bhi kha lenge!”

Sameer muttered under his breath, “Gaddar.”

Naina burst into helpless laughter against his shoulder.

 

By the time Sameer and Naina stepped out of the room, Sarla Kaki had already arranged fresh plates on the dining table. Two big serving bowls held neatly cut pale-yellow cubes lightly tempered with mustard seeds and sesame, the aroma warm and savory rather than sweet.

Aman paused mid-step, eyeing the dish suspiciously. “Yeh kya hai?”

“Dudhi na muthiya,” Sarla Kaki replied cheerfully, setting down a bowl of green chutney beside it.

Aman blinked. “Kya?”

Naina laughed softly as she pulled out a chair. “Lauki,” she translated. “Gujarati mein lauki ko dudhi bolte hai.”

Deepika added helpfully, “Aur muthiya matlab steamed cake jaisa.”

Sameer looked even more doubtful now. “Lauki ka… cake?”

Nanu chuckled immediately while Rohan grinned openly. “Bhai, aapne kabhi muthiya nahi khaye?”

Sameer shook his head as he sat down beside Naina. “Nahi. Main Ahmedabad mein sirf do saal raha hun. I am sure aisi bahot cheezein hai jo maine kabhi nahi khai.”

Nanu nodded in agreement. “Haan… aur yeh hamare ghar pe bhi kabhi nahi bana. Ramdhari ko aata bhi nahi hoga shayad.”

Naina picked up the serving spoon and placed a generous helping onto Sameer’s plate before he could protest. “Koi baat nahi,” she said lightly. “Agar tumhe pasand aaya toh main Sarla Kaki se recipe le lungi.”

Sameer’s eyes lifted toward her almost instantly, warmth flickering across his tired face. It was such a small thing. So ordinary. And yet… it affected him every single time.

Before Naina had come into his life, food had never really mattered to him beyond necessity. He had never spoken about preferences, never cared enough to mention favorite dishes or dislikes. But once she had started asking, truly asking, she had remembered everything. The things he liked. The foods that comforted him after difficult days. The dishes he ate more quietly because they reminded him of childhood.

And somehow, without making it obvious, she always ensured those things appeared before him exactly when he needed them most. Today was no different.

The muthiya turned out soft, savory, and unexpectedly delicious once dipped into the spicy green chutney. Even Aman, after initial suspicion, ended up reaching for a second helping while insisting he still didn’t trust the concept of lauki becoming cake.

The lightness helped. Not enough to erase the heaviness of the day – but enough to soften its edges for a while.

After tea and snacks, everyone gradually shifted into the living room. The late evening light filtered softly through the windows while the ceiling fan hummed steadily overhead. For a little while, the conversation drifted aimlessly – small comments, half-hearted teasing, tired observations.

But inevitably, it circled back toward the problem waiting for them tomorrow.

Deepika, curled quietly at one end of the sofa, bit at her nails anxiously. “Aaj hum ghar nahi gaye…” she said softly. “Mummy samajh gayi hogi ke hum Sameer bhaiya ke saath hai.”

Rohan nodded grimly from the armchair opposite. “Haan… aur aaj koi phone ya message bhi nahi aaya. Papa ne shares wali baat bhi bata di hogi.”

“Dekhte hai kal kya bolti hai,” Nanu muttered, his expression darkening. “Mujhe dekhna hai woh kaunsa bahana bana sakti hai. Jo usne kiya hai usko kaise sahi thehrayegi.”

 

Sameer sat quietly beside Naina on the sofa, one arm wrapped around her almost unconsciously now, though he held her a little closer than usual today – as if grounding himself through her presence. For a brief moment, awareness flickered through her at how many people surrounded them, how openly he was seeking comfort from her despite it all. But the tiredness in him, the quiet heaviness she could feel beneath his calm exterior, overrode her hesitation almost immediately. Instead, she relaxed against his side, letting him hold her however he needed, understanding without words just how emotionally draining this day had been for him.

 

Across from them, Aman frowned deeply while going through the stack of hospital records spread before him. Suddenly his expression shifted completely – disbelief giving way to visible anger.

“Saat baar?” he said sharply, looking up. “Tum pichle paanch saal mein saat baar hospital gaye ho severe allergic reactions ke liye?”

Rohan glanced instinctively toward Sameer before lowering his eyes and giving a short nod.

Aman stared at the file again, visibly disturbed. “This is not good.”

He immediately reached for Deepika’s records next, flipping through them rapidly.

Sameer tilted his head slightly. “Kya hua, Aman?”

Aman looked up at him, still clearly unsettled. “SJM… yeh…” He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it. Itni baar reactions hue… kabhi bhi kuch serious ho sakta tha. Koi complication… time pe hospital naa pahoch pana…”

Sameer nodded quietly. “Jaanta hun. Isiliye jitni baar hua utni baar I tried… sab records rakhe.”

“And doctors…” Aman added, scanning the papers again. “Peechle do-teen saal ke almost har case mein senior specialists involved hai. Aise doctors jinse appointment lena easy nahi hota…”

His eyes narrowed slightly as realization settled.

“Yeh aapne arrange karwaya tha, right?”

Silence fell for a moment.

Rohan looked up immediately. So did Deepika. Even Jaiprakash’s expression shifted faintly in surprise.

All except Naina. She simply smiled softly beside Sameer, her fingers absently stroking the arm wrapped around her waist.

“Sameer ko apne bhai aur behen ki chinta thi,” she said gently. “Unse jo ban pada, unhone kiya.”

The simplicity of the statement somehow made it land even harder. Because suddenly, several things from the past began rearranging themselves differently inside Rohan’s mind.

Earlier, he had understood that Sameer worried for them – otherwise he would never have kept hospital records or quietly followed up about their treatments. But this… this went far beyond ordinary concern. Senior specialists. Emergency coordination. Carefully arranged appointments without ever taking credit for it.

That wasn’t obligation. That wasn’t distant responsibility either. It looked dangerously close to love.

Rohan’s throat tightened unexpectedly at the realization. Because maybe… his brother had never hated them at all. Perhaps the truth had always been the exact opposite. Rohan stared at him for a long moment, visibly struggling to reconcile this version of Sameer with the image he had carried for years. When he finally spoke, the words came out unevenly.

“Bhai… aap…?”

Beside him, Deepika had straightened completely now, her eyes wide as memory after memory seemed to rearrange itself inside her head.

“Iska matlab…” she said slowly, almost in disbelief, “jab main abhi hospital mein thi… aur achanak doctors change ho gaye the…” Her gaze fixed fully on him. “Woh aap the?”

Sameer exhaled quietly, leaning back against the sofa as though the entire discussion felt far less dramatic to him than it clearly did to everyone else.

“I tried,” he admitted simply. Then, noticing the astonishment still lingering on both their faces, he frowned faintly. “Itna chaunk kyun rahe ho isme?”

His arm tightened around Naina unconsciously before he continued more quietly, “Tum dono ko hospital mein aise hi bina help ke thodi na chhod deta.”

The statement was so matter-of-fact that for a second, nobody responded. To Sameer, it genuinely seemed obvious. Natural. Necessary.As though there had never been any possibility of him doing otherwise.

Rohan swallowed hard. “Par…” he began weakly, “aap toh…”

He stopped.

Because suddenly he didn’t know how to complete the sentence anymore.

Aap toh humse door the?

Aap toh humse nafrat karte the?

Aap toh kabhi care nahi karte the?

None of it fit anymore.

 

Sameer seemed to understand anyway. A faint tiredness crossed his face as he rubbed a hand over his jaw before speaking again.

“Rohan… hum dono bachche the jab yeh sab shuru hua,” he said quietly. “Tum mujhse bhi chote the… aur Deepika…” His gaze flickered briefly toward her, softening slightly. “Woh toh bahot baad mein iss duniya mein aai.”

For a moment he fell silent, as though trying to arrange thoughts he had never really spoken aloud before.

“Jab main chota tha tab main bhi bahot naadaan tha,” he admitted slowly. “Mummy ki problem samajh nahi aati thi… toh maine tumhe hi apna problem bana liya.”

Rohan’s eyes lowered immediately.

“Phir jab Deepika aai…” Sameer continued more quietly, “…mujhe laga ke ab main uss parivaar ka hissa kabhi ban hi nahi sakta.”

A faint humorless smile crossed his face.

“Toh distance maintain karna easy lagta tha.”

Naina’s fingers tightened gently over his arm.

Sameer glanced at her briefly before continuing, his voice calmer now, but heavier somehow. “Lekin… ehsaas toh tha ke main galat kar raha hun. Tum dono se baat nahi karna, completely alag rehna…” He shook his head faintly. “Bas uss waqt meri khud ki life mein itni problems chal rahi thi ke door rehna hi sahi laga.”

A pause followed.

“Dur se hi jitna ho saka… utna karta raha.”

His gaze drifted toward the hospital records scattered on the table.

“Naina ke aane ke baad…” he admitted softly, “…thodi himmat hui.”

The room remained completely silent now. Even Aman, who usually interrupted somewhere with a practical observation or dry remark, said nothing.

Sameer exhaled slowly. “I…” For the first time since morning, uncertainty flickered briefly across his face. “I am sorry.”

The apology settled heavily in the room. Because nobody there had ever expected Sameer Maheshwari to apologize for anything. And yet here he was – quietly accepting blame for wounds created years ago, even while everyone around him was slowly realizing just how much he had cared all along.

Deepika’s eyes had already filled by then. She quickly looked down, pretending to fix the edge of her skirt.

Rohan simply stared at his brother.

Not with fear. Not with distance. Not even with the awe that Sameer unintentionally inspired in most people.

But with something far simpler. Something he had perhaps wanted for years without realizing it. Belonging.

And across the room, Jaiprakash felt something twist painfully inside his chest. For years he had believed the distance between the brothers was born out of resentment. That Sameer had willingly cut himself away from the family. But now, sitting there and listening to him speak so quietly about isolation, guilt, and silent concern, Nanu suddenly saw how much of it had happened under his own roof without him truly understanding it.

His eldest grandson had spent years loving from a distance because somewhere along the way he had convinced himself he no longer belonged close.

And Jaiprakash had failed to notice it. The realization left behind a dull ache of regret.

Before the silence could deepen further into emotions too heavy for any of them to handle, Aman cleared his throat softly, steering the conversation back toward practical matters – as he often did whenever things threatened to overwhelm Sameer emotionally.

“SJM…” he began carefully, glancing toward the files again, “I think it would be better agar Rohan aur Deepika dono ka proper full body check-up ho jaye.”

Rohan blinked. “Check-up?”

Aman nodded. “Itni baar severe allergic reactions hue hai. Repeated exposure body pe effect karta hai. Better safe than sorry.”

Then after a brief pause, he added more carefully, “Aur… sir. Mera matlab… aapke Nanaji ka bhi.”

Jaiprakash looked up immediately, confusion overtaking his tired expression. “Mera kyun?”

The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly at the question. Sameer’s expression stilled almost instantly, the softness from moments ago disappearing beneath something heavier. For a second, nobody spoke.

Then, at the faint nod Sameer gave him, Aman reached for another file lying beside him and handed it quietly to Jaiprakash.

“Yeh…” Aman said slowly, “do din pehle breakfast aur lunch ke food samples ke lab reports hai.”

Nanu frowned faintly as he opened the file. But the further his eyes moved down the pages, the deeper the lines on his forehead became.

Across the room, Rohan had straightened completely now. Deepika looked uncertainly between Aman and Sameer, her fingers tightening nervously over each other.

And then Rohan whispered, almost unwilling to believe the words himself,

“Sach mein… mumma ne…?”

Sameer nodded slowly, his chest tightening at the visible disbelief on his brother’s face.

“Haan,” he said quietly. “Uss din unke khaane mein milaya tha. Unke special halwai wale aloo… jo khane ka unka itna man tha.”

A brief pause followed before he added more grimly,

“Aur… jo lunch office mein bheja tha.”

Nanu’s hand trembled suddenly. The file slipped from his fingers onto the coffee table with a dull sound.

“Mere saath bhi…” he whispered, staring blankly ahead. “Lekin… kya? Kaise? Mujhe toh koi allergy nahi hai.”

Aman answered gently this time, conscious of the older man’s shock.

“Lab reports mein traces mile hai ek sedative compound ke,” he explained carefully. “Individually quantity dangerous nahi thi… lekin regular exposure aur aapki existing medicines ke saath combine hoke aapki health steadily deteriorate kar sakti thi.”

The words settled heavily across the room.

Sameer closed his eyes briefly before speaking again. When he did, his voice carried the weary understanding of someone who knew exactly how his mother’s mind worked.

“Jab aap sab Mumbai mein the tabhi yeh plan soch liya hoga unhone,” he said quietly. “Deepika ko hum le gaye… warna shayad iss baar bhi usko hi target banati.”

Deepika visibly flinched at that.

“But…” Sameer continued slowly, “unko lag gaya hoga ke aap sabka mere saath rehna iss baat ka proof hai ke main interfere kar raha hun.”

His jaw tightened faintly.

“Itne saalon se jo rishte… jo business… jo ghar…” he said, each word measured now, “…unhone mujhse door rakha hai… unko laga hoga ke main woh sab unke control se wapas le lunga.”

A bitter humorless smile crossed his face.

“Aur ab main bachcha bhi nahi hun ke woh mujhe rok sake.”

Silence filled the room again.

“I have the power to do what I want now,” Sameer continued calmly, though the quiet anger beneath it was unmistakable. “Aur agar control completely apne haath mein rakhna ho…” His gaze shifted briefly toward Jaiprakash. “…toh sirf ghar nahi, office pe bhi control chahiye hota.”

 

“Ghar aur relationships pe toh woh Rohan aur Deepika ko emotionally use karke influence kar sakti thi,” he said quietly. “Lekin office…” A pause. “Office pe control sirf Nanu ko hata ke hi mil sakta tha.”

The implications landed slowly. Horribly.

“Socho…” Sameer said softly now, almost as though forcing himself to say the thought aloud. “Agar Nanu itne weak ho jaate ke properly uth-baith bhi nahi paate… toh majboori mein unko saare decisions Vivek Somani pe chhodne padte.” His eyes shifted briefly toward Rohan. “Kyuki Rohan abhi bhi business mein relatively naya hai.”

The room fell deathly quiet after that.

Naina sat completely still beside Sameer, her fingers tightening unconsciously around his arm. By now she had heard countless things about Vishakha Somani – her treatment of Sameer, the abortion, the manipulation, what she had done to Rohan and Deepika. And yet somehow… the reality still managed to shock her every single time.

Because this wasn’t just cruelty anymore. This was calculation.

Cold, patient calculation wrapped carefully inside the appearance of concern and family.

The thought of someone slowly harming their own father while serving him food made something inside her recoil. And suddenly, images surfaced unbidden – Vishakha fussing over meals, insisting on medicines, acting worried about Nanu’s health in front of others. The performance of care. Naina felt nauseous thinking about it.

Across the room, Deepika’s eyes had filled completely. She looked devastated in a way that went far beyond ordinary heartbreak. For years, despite everything, some part of her had fiercely believed that her mother loved all of them – even Sameer bhaiya – in her own complicated way. But listening to this now… realizing how easily Vishakha could have targeted even Nanaji… something inside Deepika seemed to crack quietly.

Rohan looked no better. Shock had long faded from his face, replaced instead by something rawer.

Betrayal. Disgust. Guilt.

Because suddenly he understood why Sameer had looked at Vishakha the way he did all these years. Why there had always been distance. Why trust had never existed. And perhaps the worst part of all was realizing that Sameer had carried this understanding alone for years while everyone else had continued believing he was merely arrogant, detached, difficult.

Jaiprakash sat motionless in the middle of it all. Older. Tired. Broken in a way none of them had seen before. Because business betrayal was one thing. But this… This was his own daughter.

Sameer took the lead this time, just as he had done in so many difficult situations throughout his life. Gently disentangling himself from Naina, he moved forward and crouched in front of his grandfather.

“Nanu…” he said quietly, “I am so sorry aapko yeh sab sunna pad raha hai.”

The older man looked up slowly.

“Yaqeen maaniye,” Sameer continued, his voice steady despite the heaviness in it, “agar baat yahan tak nahi pahochti toh main kabhi apne dimag mein chal rahe shaq aapke saamne nahi rakhta.”

A faint tired smile crossed his face, though there was no real humor in it.

“Maine toh bahot pehle maan liya tha ke Vishakha Somani ki zindagi mein meri koi jagah nahi hai.”

The use of the full name made something twist painfully inside Jaiprakash’s chest.

“Lekin phir bhi…” Sameer added after a brief pause, “unhone mujhe janam diya hai. Woh aapki beti hai. Rohan aur Deepika ki maa hai…”

His eyes lowered for a second before he admitted softly,

“Isi naate main chup rehta. Kuch zaroorat padne pe parivaar ki madad bhi karta.”

Nanu looked at him with open disbelief at the last line. Not because he thought Sameer was lying – but because suddenly, painfully, he was beginning to realize how much his eldest grandson had quietly done without expectation, acknowledgment, or even basic affection in return.

And perhaps Sameer noticed the disbelief too. Before the silence could become uncomfortable, Naina spoke gently from the sofa.

“Sameer sach keh rahe hai.” Everyone’s attention shifted toward her. “Maine ek baar inse bahot pehle pucha tha,” she continued softly, “ke agar kabhi zaroorat padhi toh kya woh apni maa aur Mr. Somani ki help karenge…” A faint memory flickered across her face. “Inhone mujhe tab bhi yahi kaha tha…” Her eyes moved toward Sameer briefly before returning to Nanu. “‘Bhale baat nahi hoti… lekin hain toh parivaar hi. Zaroorat padne pe help karne mein kya problem hai.’”

The room fell silent again after that. Because suddenly, several moments from the past began rearranging themselves differently inside everyone’s minds.

The financial help Vivek Somani had occasionally received during difficult phases in the business. The sudden problem-solving that had appeared from nowhere. The influential contacts quietly leveraged at the right time. Even the hospital arrangements for Rohan and Deepika.

It had all come from the same person. The very person they had believed to be detached from the family. Jaiprakash looked at Sameer for a long moment, his eyes growing suspiciously bright now.

“Tum…” he said slowly, his voice roughening slightly, “tum bilkul apne papa pe gaye ho.”

Sameer froze. So did the room. Because Jaiprakash rarely spoke about Alok Maheshwari anymore.

Nanu swallowed hard before continuing quietly, “Alok bhi aisa hi tha. Dil mein kitna bhi dard ho… parivaar ka saath nahi chhodta tha. Isiliye maine use apne beti ke liye chuna tha.”

Something shifted across Sameer’s face at those words. Very faint. Very brief. But enough for Naina to notice. Because for all his confidence, control, and emotional restraint… somewhere deep inside, Sameer had always longed to hear that maybe he resembled his father in ways that mattered.

Nanu reached forward suddenly and placed a trembling hand against Sameer’s cheek.

“Hum sabne tumhe bahot galat samjha, beta,” he whispered. “Bahot saalon tak.”

Sameer’s throat tightened unexpectedly. Instinctively, he held his grandfather’s wrist lightly, lowering his gaze for a moment as though uncomfortable receiving emotions this openly.

“Nanu…” he said softly, almost helplessly, “aapne kuch galat nahi kiya.”

But this time, nobody in the room believed him.

 

Naina shifted slightly, one hand moving instinctively to rub over her stomach. “Sarla Kaki…” she called softly, “sabke liye thoda paani le aaiye na. Aur mujhe imli bhi chahiye.”

The sudden normalcy of the request broke through the suffocating heaviness in the room just enough to let everyone breathe again. Sameer let out a soft huff of laughter under his breath, mentally thanking his wife for sensing exactly when things needed redirecting.

Taking a steadying breath, he moved back to sit beside her once more. This time, his shoulder remained lightly pressed against hers as though grounding himself there before speaking again.

“Hum sab aise past ko leke emotional ho jayenge toh nahi chalega,” he said quietly. “Jaise humne aaj office mein Vivek Somani ke saath deal kiya… waise hi kal bhi karna hoga.”

His expression hardened slightly as the conversation returned to practical matters.

“Mrs. Somani ne Rohan aur Deepika ke saath jo kiya… uska koi solid evidence nahi hai hamare paas,” he admitted. “Lekin yeh…” His gaze shifted toward the lab reports lying on the table. “…jo unhone Nanu ke saath karne ki koshish ki, uska proof hai.”

A brief pause followed.

“We just need to decide how to handle it.”

Rohan frowned slightly. “Sirf yeh test reports se kaise prove hoga, bhai?” he asked. “Woh bol sakti hai na ke unhone nahi kiya.”

Sameer shook his head calmly. “Hum unko jail nahi bhej rahe,” he replied. “Yeh saboot unko confront karne ke liye enough hai.”

Aman, who had been sitting quietly till now, spoke up evenly, “Jail bhejna ho… toh uska bhi saboot hai.”

Sameer turned toward him immediately, brows drawing together. “Kya?”

Aman reached for another folder. “Photographs,” he informed. “Maine Ramdhari ko jo camera dilwaya tha… usse usne davai ki sheeshi ki photos le rakhi hai. Jis drawer mein Mrs. Somani ne chupaya tha uska bhi.”

The room stilled again.

“Aur,” Aman continued, opening the file, “uss davai ke sample reports bhi aa gaye hai. Same compound hai jo Nanaji ke food samples mein mila.”

Jaiprakash looked genuinely stunned now. “Ramdhari?”

Sameer nodded quietly. “Haan. Uss ghar mein kya chal raha hai uski khabar hume Ramdhari hi deta hai.”

Deepika looked shocked, but Rohan merely lowered his eyes briefly, unsurprised now that things were finally being said aloud. He had already known for some time that Ramdhari quietly worked with Sameer behind the scenes.

“Rohan aur Deepika ke khaane pe nazar rakhne ka kaam bhi usko diya tha maine,” Sameer continued. “Lekin uss din…”

His jaw tightened faintly as the memory resurfaced.

“Subah breakfast table pe usne aapke dish ki taraf ishara kiya.”

Nanu looked up sharply.

“Pehle toh mujhe bhi yaqeen nahi hua,” Sameer admitted quietly. “Mujhe laga shayad maine galat samjha.” A faint humorless smile crossed his face. “Lekin phir usne dobara wahi ishara kiya.”

Jaiprakash slowly leaned back, remembering. “Uss din…” he murmured, “hum nikal rahe the tab woh ijazat maangne aaya tha ke bacha hua khana mandir ke paas gareebo mein baat de.”

“Haan,” Aman replied immediately. “Actually usne aapko parosa gaya khana alag nikaal ke mere bheje hue aadmi ko de diya tha. Mandir ke paas hi.” Then he added more quietly, “Aur sirf jo khana safe tha wahi gareebo mein baata.”

Deepika visibly shivered at the implication.

Sameer continued calmly, “Office mein uss din barfi bhi usne isiliye bheji thi… taaki main samajh jaun ke woh khana nahi khana.”

Nanu looked stunned all over again. “Toh tumhe tabhi pata chal gaya tha?”

“Pata tha kuch gadbad hai khane me,” Sameer corrected quietly. “Proof nahi tha.”

Rohan spoke up this time, helping connect the remaining pieces for Deepika and Nanu.

“Aur raat ko laddoo isiliye serve hue kyunki sab safe tha,” he explained. “Jab hum dinner kar rahe the tab maine bhai ko phone lagaya hua tha… taaki woh dining table pe ho rahi baate sun sake.”

Deepika looked between the brothers in astonishment now. “Aur interrogation?” she asked slowly. “Woh bhi plan tha?”

Aman outright grinned at that. “Pure strategy.”

Rohan groaned softly. “Mujhe sach mein paseene aa gaye the.”

That finally earned a faint smile from Sameer.

“Tumhare expressions kaafi convincing the,” Aman added helpfully.

Rohan glared at him while everyone else looked mildly amused for the first time in a long while.

Then Aman leaned forward again, returning to the point. “SJM jaante the ke Vishakha Somani ko sabse zyada control chahiye,” he explained. “Aur Vivek Somani already pressure mein galtiyaan kar rahe the.”

Rohan nodded slowly, now fully understanding the psychology behind the plan they had executed together.

“Bhai ka maanna tha,” he said quietly, “ke agar office mein mujhpe pressure banega toh papa ghar jaake mummy ko sab batayenge.”

“And mummy ko lagega,” Aman continued smoothly, “…ke SJM ka target sirf Vivek Somani nahi, Rohan bhi hai.”

Rohan added softly, “Unko lagega ke bhai company pe control lene ke liye mujhe aur papa dono ko side kar denge.”

A pause followed.

“Iss situation mein sirf Nanaji hi kuch kar sakte the,” he continued. “Bhai pe pressure bana sakte the. Aur mummy ko pata tha…” His voice lowered slightly. “…ke Nanaji mujhe protect karne ke liye kuch bhi karenge.”

The horrifying logic settled across the room slowly.

“So…” Deepika whispered, finally understanding. “Mumma ne decide kiya ke filhaal Nanaji ko safe rakhna zaroori hai.”

Aman leaned back at last, looking deeply satisfied with how perfectly the strategy had unfolded.

“Aur uss raat…” he said with unmistakable pride, “…jab Ramdhari ne dinner mein laddoo serve kiye…” His eyes shifted toward Sameer. “We knew.” A brief pause followed. “Ke SJM ka plan kaam kar gaya.”

 

Jaiprakash remained silent for a long while after that, trying to absorb everything he had just learned. The sheer amount of planning left him shaken – not only by how far Sameer’s suspicions had gone, but by how meticulously Aman had managed to execute every step quietly in the background. At some point, without him even realizing it, the two young men had built an entire invisible system around the family – protecting, monitoring, planning, intercepting danger before it could fully unfold. And he… had known none of it.

Finally, he spoke, his voice tired but firm. “Unko wahan se jaana hoga.” Everyone looked toward him immediately. “Agar Vishakha aur Vivek uss ghar mein rehte hai,” he continued slowly, “toh main wahan nahi rahunga.” His jaw tightened faintly. “Aur naa hi Rohan aur Deepika ko rehne dunga.”

Sameer exhaled quietly, having expected this the moment the truth came out. “Nanu…” he began carefully, “main bhi wahi chahta hun. Lekin…” He paused briefly, choosing his words with difficulty. “Hum yeh bhool nahi sakte ke woh dono Rohan aur Deepika ke parents hai.”

The statement left behind an uncomfortable silence. Then unexpectedly, Deepika was the first to break it. “Main Nanaji ke saath rehna chahti hun.” Her voice was soft, but steady enough that everyone heard the certainty in it. After a brief hesitation, she added even more quietly, “Sameer bhaiya ke saath bhi.”

Something lurched painfully inside Sameer’s chest at those words. This girl – his little sister – whom he had barely even spoken to properly until a week ago… wanted to leave her parents and live with him instead. The thought felt almost unreal. Not because he didn’t want it. But because some part of him still struggled to believe he could be wanted this naturally by his own family. His gaze shifted instinctively toward Rohan then, wondering silently what he would say. But Rohan remained thoughtful and unusually quiet for a few moments, his elbows resting against his knees as he stared down at his clasped hands.

Aman was the one who finally spoke first instead. “Waise…” he said casually, glancing around the Ellisbridge bungalow, “…yeh ghar bhi toh hai.”

Naina blinked immediately. “Kya matlab?”

Then realization hit her. Her eyes widened as she turned sharply toward Sameer. “Yeh ghar toh bas thode din ke liye book kiya hua hai na?”

Sameer merely shrugged lightly, far too calmly for the magnitude of what he was implying. “Tumhe pasand aaya tha yeh ghar.”

Naina stared at him in disbelief. “Sameer!” Her voice rose instantly, almost scandalized. “Mujhe pasand aaya iska matlab yeh thodi na hai ke tum usse kharid loge!”

Aman coughed suspiciously into his fist to hide what looked very much like amusement. Sameer, meanwhile, looked entirely unrepentant.

“Main kharid sakta hun,” he pointed out simply. Then after a brief pause, he added more quietly, “Aur… maine socha agar Nanu, Rohan aur Deepika ko zaroorat pade toh…”

The sentence remained unfinished. It didn’t need completion. Rohan looked up at him then, a strange sad smile touching his face. “Bhai sahi soch rahe hai,” he admitted softly. “Mujhe nahi lagta ke kal ke baad koi bhi aisa scenario hoga jahan main aur Deepika mummy-papa ke saath normally reh sake.”

Deepika lowered her eyes immediately after that, blinking rapidly. Jaiprakash nodded grimly, the reality of it settling deeper now. Then his gaze shifted toward Aman. “Lawyer ka intezaam ho sakta hai, beta?”

Aman nodded instantly. “Haan. Lekin kyun?”

Nanu leaned back slowly against the sofa, looking older than he had even a few hours ago. “Main apni will badalna chahta hun,” he said quietly. The room stilled. “Pehle…” he continued slowly, “…Sameer, Rohan aur Deepika ke saath-saath maine kuch hissa Vishakha ka bhi rakha tha.” A faint bitterness entered his expression. “Yeh sochke ke mere jaane ke baad… uske budhape ka sahara hoga.” His voice faltered briefly before hardening again. “Lekin ab…”

He stopped. Because suddenly even he couldn’t find the words for the grief of realizing that the daughter he had spent years protecting… had slowly begun viewing him as an obstacle instead.

 

Aman stood up almost immediately after that, slipping back into efficiency the way he always did once a task had been decided. If the will needed to be changed, it had to happen tonight itself. By tomorrow morning, it needed to be signed, witnessed, stamped – every loophole sealed before they stepped into Maheshwari House again.

There could be no room left for surprises anymore.

He moved aside to make the necessary calls while the others remained seated in the living room, exhaustion and tension still hanging heavily in the air. After a brief but focused conversation with the lawyer – who assured him he would arrive within the hour – Aman returned and dropped back into his chair.

“Kal kaise kar rahe hai sab?” he asked practically. “Kab jaana hai? Kaun-kaun jayega?”

Sameer answered immediately, already having thought it through.

“Gyarah baje niklenge,” he said calmly. “Thoda wait karne do unko.” Then after a brief pause, “Tum, main, Rohan aur Nanu.”

Deepika frowned instantly. “Main kyun nahi?”

“Aur main?” Naina added at almost the same time. “Mera naam kyun nahi liya?”

Sameer exhaled slowly, already anticipating this conversation.

“Naina…” He rubbed a tired hand across his forehead before speaking carefully. “Wahan ka mahol theek nahi hoga.” He stopped himself midway through saying Mummy, correcting almost immediately. “Vishakha Somani…” he said instead, his voice flattening slightly, “…jaanti hai shabdo se chot kaise pahochani hai.” His gaze shifted toward her fully now. “Main nahi chahta ke unka gussa… unki nafrat… tumpe aaye.”

Naina didn’t even hesitate. “Mujhe farq nahi padta.”The firmness in her tone made him look at her properly. “Office ka sab tumne akele handle kiya, maine kuch nahi kaha,” she continued quietly. “Lekin wahan… tum akele nahi jaoge.”

A brief pause followed before she added even more softly, but with unmistakable determination, “Yeh mujhe manzoor nahi.”

Deepika immediately leaned forward too. “Main bhi jaungi,” she declared. Then turning toward Jaiprakash almost pleadingly, “Nanaji, please bhaiya ko kahiye na.”

Nanu hesitated briefly before speaking carefully, “Beta… shayad Deepika ko bhi aana chahiye.”

Sameer shook his head almost instantly. “Woh bachchi hai.”

“I am eighteen,” Deepika protested indignantly. “Aap iss umar mein Mumbai mein akele reh rahe the… aur phir London chale gaye the.”

The words landed harder than she intended. Sameer visibly flinched at the memory.

And Rohan, understanding the shift in him almost instinctively now, straightened immediately. “Deepika… bas.”

The younger girl blinked, finally realizing she had touched something painful. Naina understood too. Quietly, she moved closer to Sameer and linked their fingers together, grounding him silently.

Deepika looked between both brothers uncertainly before speaking softly, “I am sorry bhaiya… aap jo bologe main wahi karungi.”

Sameer shook his head faintly, but for a moment words simply failed him. Because the truth was, he didn’t know how to explain this fear properly. He couldn’t explain what it felt like to stand in front of Vishakha Somani and know exactly how cruel her words could become once she lost control. He already struggled to keep his own emotions contained around her. The thought of Naina or Deepika standing there, within range of that bitterness and venom… made something fiercely protective rise inside him.

Deepika might legally be an adult. But to him she still felt heartbreakingly young.

And Naina…

Naina was his wife. His home. The mother of his child. There was an almost primal instinct inside him to shield them both from even the possibility of harm.

But somehow, sitting there now, he found himself unable to properly explain any of it aloud. The silence stretched until Jaiprakash finally broke it gently. “Humne Sameer pe bharosa kiya hai yeh sab solve karne ke liye,” Nanu said quietly. “Toh hume yeh bharosa kayam bhi rakhna hoga. Agar woh kuch keh raha hai… toh uske peeche koi wajah zaroor hogi.”

Everyone nodded slowly after that. Everyone except Naina.

She didn’t argue immediately. Didn’t push stubbornly either. Instead, she simply rested her hand lightly against Sameer’s leg where it pressed against hers and stroked it gently once.

“Sameer…” she said softly, “main samajh rahi hun tum kya soch rahe ho.”

He turned toward her then, visibly unconvinced that anyone could truly understand the mess of emotions he himself couldn’t properly untangle. But Naina only smiled faintly.

“Deepika tumhari behen hai,” she said gently. “Lekin tumhari life mein abhi-abhi properly aayi hai. Tumhare liye…” her smile softened further, “…she is still a baby.” A reluctant breath escaped him. “Tum usko protect karna chahte ho.”

His throat worked silently.

“Aud main…” she continued more quietly, “…main tumhari biwi hun. Pregnant bhi.” Her fingers tightened lightly around his. “Itni mushkilo ke baad hume yeh rishta mila hai…” she whispered. “Tum mujhe har problem se door rakhna chahte ho.”

Sameer kept staring at her slightly helplessly now, faintly amazed at how easily she had managed to put words to feelings he himself had failed to express.

“Lekin…” Naina continued softly, “tum bhi jaante ho ke yeh mumkin nahi hai.”

The room had gone completely silent again.

“Tum musibat aane pe hume protect kar sakte ho,” she said carefully, “lekin duniya ki har problem humse door nahi rakh sakte.”

Then her gaze shifted briefly toward Deepika.

“Deepika ka haq hai apni mummy se milna. Yeh poochna ke unhone aisa kyun kiya.” A brief pause followed before she added with quiet certainty, “Woh choti hai… lekin kamzor nahi.”

Deepika’s eyes immediately filled again.

“Sabse pehle usine kaha tha ke woh apne mummy-papa ke saath nahi rehna chahti,” Naina continued softly. “Usne yeh decision khud liya.” Her gaze returned to Sameer. “Socho… woh kitni strong hai.”

Sameer swallowed hard. “Okay…” he croaked eventually. “Par tum…”

“Mera bhi haq hai,” Naina interrupted gently. He frowned faintly in confusion. When she spoke again, her voice had softened completely. “Tumpe.”

The single word hit him harder than he expected.

“Mera tumpe haq hai,” she repeated quietly. “Isiliye mujhe tumhare saath jaana hai.”

Sameer’s resolve had already begun melting long before that sentence ended. Hearing her say it so openly – so naturally – made something warm and painfully tender spread through his chest despite all the fear still sitting there.

Still, one last attempt surfaced weakly. “Lekin Naina…” he said softly, “…tum jaanti ho na…”

“Jaanti hun,” she interrupted immediately. “Sab jaanti hun.” Her thumb brushed gently across his knuckles. “Isiliye tumhe wahan akela nahi chhod sakti.” And then, for the first time since the conversation began, there was something almost pleading in her voice. “Please, Sameer…”

He kept looking at her for several long seconds, his heart thudding heavily against his ribs. And then finally… he sighed. A small defeated breath. Before nodding quietly. The fear inside him didn’t disappear. But somewhere beneath it now… relief had begun to settle too.

 

The lawyer arrived a little after nine. By then the atmosphere inside Ellisbridge bungalow had steadied somewhat – not lighter exactly, but calmer in the way people became once decisions had finally been made. Files were brought back out onto the coffee table, discussions resumed in lower, more focused voices, and signatures were placed carefully wherever required. Aman handled most of it with practiced efficiency, cross-checking every clause twice while Sameer sat beside Nanu explaining certain legal implications more patiently than anyone had perhaps ever seen him explain business matters before.

At some point, tea arrived. Then later dinner. No one paid much attention to either.

Plates were filled automatically, food eaten absentmindedly between discussions about legal witnesses, property division, and what exactly tomorrow’s confrontation should achieve. The exhaustion from the day before still lingered heavily over all of them, making everything feel slightly muted around the edges. Even Deepika, who usually commented on everything from too much salt to overcooked rotis, barely seemed aware of what she was eating.

Only Naina noticed when Sameer skipped half his food again. Without a word, she quietly moved part of her own sabzi onto his plate while he argued with Aman over whether additional copies of the reports should be carried separately. Sameer noticed only when he took the next bite. His eyes flickered toward her briefly. She merely raised an eyebrow in silent warning.

He obediently finished the rest after that.

By the time the lawyer finally left, it was close to midnight. The updated will was ready to be stamped first thing in the morning, documents arranged, copies sealed. There was little left to do tonight except wait for the inevitable.

And perhaps because all of them were emotionally and physically drained beyond capacity, sleep came easier than expected.

Morning arrived quieter. Not peaceful exactly. But purposeful.

The house woke slowly to the smell of curry leaves sputtering in hot oil and freshly brewed chai. Sarla Kaki had prepared a light breakfast deliberately – soft poha tempered with peanuts, green chilies, onions and coriander, served with lemon wedges and steaming cups of tea. A separate portion without peanuts had been made for Rohan automatically, placed near him without discussion or reminder.

And perhaps that affected Sameer more than it should have.

Because for years, vigilance around Rohan’s allergies had depended almost entirely on Ramdhari, or him and more recently Naina noticing and intervening quietly in the background. But here… nobody needed prompting. Nobody forgot. The accommodation had happened naturally, instinctively – as though Rohan’s safety was already understood as part of the household itself.

Rohan noticed it too. He didn’t say anything aloud, only looked briefly toward Sarla Kaki before lowering his eyes again. But something about his expression softened faintly after that.

The conversations over breakfast remained sparse. Aman had already gone through the files once more before sitting down. Rohan looked tense despite trying to appear composed. Deepika stayed unusually close to Nanu. And Sameer… seemed calmer than everyone else somehow, though Naina could sense the restraint beneath it.

After breakfast, everyone dispersed quietly to get ready.

Sameer had just finished buttoning his cufflinks when he heard the soft rustle of silk behind him. Turning absentmindedly at first, he froze for half a second on seeing Naina emerge from the washroom.

Then he laughed softly under his breath. Because of course she had done this deliberately.

The vibrant tangerine saree draped around her was impossible to miss – rich silk glowing warmly in the morning light, paired with the antique jewelry Nanu had given her more than a month ago. Jewelry that had once belonged to Nani.

And the saree itself… Sameer recognized it immediately.

He remembered Nanu mentioning in Mumbai, how his wife had especially loved this saree and how special it was. How carefully it had been preserved afterward. How Vishakha was supposed to be the original recipient of it once but somehow had never received it.

And now Naina stood wearing it calmly while adjusting her bangles as though entirely unaware of the political statement she had just made.

Except she absolutely was aware.

Sameer could see it in the tiny spark of satisfaction hiding behind her otherwise innocent expression.

His wife was being petty. Exceptionally petty.

And honestly?

He found it adorable.

Because symbolic as it was for Naina to wear Nani’s saree while stepping into Maheshwari House for the first time – the house that had meant everything to Nanu and Nani – it was also something else entirely.

A quiet declaration.

A reminder that inheritance was not merely about property or control. It was about acceptance. Belonging. Love.

And today, the things Vishakha Somani had always tried to hold onto most tightly were resting effortlessly with the very woman she would least want to see wearing them.

The realization made Sameer shake his head faintly, amusement warming through him despite the tension waiting ahead.

Naina noticed his expression immediately. “Kya?” she asked, trying, and failing, to look innocent. Sameer walked toward her slowly, his gaze moving once more over the vibrant saree, the antique jewelry, and the stubborn little tilt of her chin that gave away exactly how pleased she was with herself. Then he chuckled again, warmth spreading through his otherwise tense expression.

“Mujhe nahi pata tha meri biwi itni shaitaan hai,” he murmured softly.

Naina’s cheeks flushed instantly, but her eyes still sparkled with quiet triumph and anticipation.

Sameer reached for her hand, lifting it slowly before placing a lingering kiss against the back of her palm. Then he leaned closer, brushing another soft kiss against her cheek as he whispered near her ear, “I love you.”

The simple sincerity in his voice made something inside her flutter helplessly. And yet… instead of answering, she only pouted faintly and looked away on purpose. Sameer laughed softly under his breath. Gently cupping her face, he turned her toward him again before dipping lower to capture those pouty lips in a kiss. Naina let out the softest sound against his mouth, her hands rising automatically to curl around him as she kissed him back without hesitation.

The kiss itself remained gentle. Unhurried. But somehow exactly what both of them needed before stepping into the storm waiting outside this room. When Sameer finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against hers. His eyes moved over her face once more, reverent almost.

“You are stunning,” he whispered quietly.

The look in his eyes alone was enough to make her melt against him completely. Naina rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.

“Sameer…” she murmured softly.

He hummed in response, one arm tightening instinctively around her waist.

“Ek baat yaad rakhna aaj…” she said quietly. “Main kuch kahu na kahu… mere liye tum sabse khaas ho.”

Sameer’s hand stilled faintly against her back.

“Mujhe pata hai aaj ka din tumhare liye kitna mushkil hoga,” she continued gently. “Lekin woh aurat kuch bhi kahe… kuch bhi kare…”  Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him properly. “Tumhe apne aap pe kaboo rakhna hoga.”

There was no accusation in her tone. No fear either. Only concern. Faith.

“Mere liye,” she whispered. “Hamare bachche ke liye.”

Her fingers curled softly into the fabric of his shirt.

“Kyunki…” Her voice softened further. “…hamare liye iss duniya mein sirf tum ho.”

Sameer closed his eyes for a brief moment as the words settled somewhere painfully deep inside him. For so many years, he had carried responsibilities like armor – protecting people, handling problems, standing alone because he believed that was simply what he was meant to do. But with Naina… For the first time, someone openly chose him back with the same intensity.

Not his strength. Not his power. Not his ability to fix things.

Him.

The realization tightened something unbearably tender inside his chest.

He lowered his head slowly and pressed a long kiss against her hairline before whispering softly, “Okay, sweetheart.”

 

The drive to Maheshwari House felt strangely quiet despite there being two cars. In the first one, Aman drove while Sameer sat beside him in the front passenger seat, one arm resting against the window while his fingers absently tapped against his knee. Naina sat in the back alone, watching him silently for most of the journey. Every now and then, his eyes lifted toward the rearview mirror instinctively, checking on her without even seeming aware he was doing it.

In the second car, Rohan drove carefully, far slower than usual today. Jaiprakash sat beside him while Deepika occupied the backseat, clutching her dupatta tightly in her lap the closer they got to the house.

Nobody spoke much.

Ahmedabad moved around them in its usual late-morning rhythm – vendors calling out prices, scooters weaving through traffic, gulmohar trees blazing orange-red along the roads. But inside both cars, the atmosphere remained heavy with anticipation.

And then finally… Maheshwari House appeared at the end of the familiar lane.

The large white bungalow stood exactly as it always had – imposing without trying to be, its colonial arches and broad verandahs softened slightly by age and memory. Bougainvillea spilled over one side of the boundary wall in thick pink clusters, while the old neem tree near the gate cast shifting shadows across the driveway.

For a moment, Naina simply looked at it quietly through the car window.

This was the house Sameer had once considered his home. The house from where he would ride his bike to school and back. The house where he had first felt peace. The house where he had finally gotten a room of his own instead of living in a dormitory. The house that had once given him security and safety. The house Nanu had built with years of hard work and love. The house that still carried Nani’s memories in every corner. The house from which Sameer had eventually been forced to walk away because of his own mother. The house Vishakha Somani had controlled for years. The house around which so much pain, bitterness, and power had circled silently.

And now… she was stepping into it for the first time wearing Nani’s saree. The thought made her fingers tighten faintly over the edge of her pallu. Both cars came to a halt almost together.

Sameer stepped out first automatically, immediately turning toward the back door of the car before Naina could properly open it herself. His hand reached out instinctively to steady her as she got down carefully, the protective gesture so natural now that neither of them even seemed conscious of it anymore.

From the second car, Rohan had already moved toward Jaiprakash’s side, helping the older man out slowly while Deepika remained close beside them.

For a brief moment, all six of them stood facing the bungalow together. Then Jaiprakash inhaled deeply and walked ahead first. The others followed. The familiar stone pathway crunched softly beneath their footsteps as they approached the front door. Somewhere inside, faint sounds of utensils echoed from the kitchen area. Otherwise, the house seemed unusually still.

Nanu lifted his hand and pressed the doorbell. The sound rang through the bungalow. A few seconds later, hurried footsteps approached from inside. And then the door opened.

Ramdhari stood there frozen for a second on seeing all of them together. His eyes immediately moved from Jaiprakash… to Sameer… to Naina standing beside him in Nani’s tangerine saree.

Something flickered across his face instantly – shock, relief, and what looked dangerously close to satisfaction.

Then he stepped aside at once, lowering his head respectfully.

“Aayiye…” he said quietly.

And just like that, Nanu led the way inside, past the foyer to the living room. The moment the six of them stepped into Maheshwari House together, something in the atmosphere shifted.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. But like a thread pulled too tight had finally begun to snap.

Vishakha and Vivek were already seated in the living room waiting for them. Or perhaps bracing for them would have been the more accurate word. The curtains had been drawn halfway against the late morning sun, leaving the large room dimmer than usual. The faint smell of incense still lingered somewhere in the background, mixing oddly with the tension that seemed to sit over every surface of the house.

Vivek Somani looked nothing like the man who had once moved through this bungalow with easy authority. Even seated, his discomfort was visible now – the restless shifting, the repeated adjustment of his watch strap, the sheen of sweat near his temple despite the cool air inside the room. His eyes flickered toward Aman first almost instinctively, lingering there for half a second too long, as though expecting him to pull out another file… another proof… another humiliation.

But then his gaze moved toward Sameer. And stopped. Because Sameer Maheshwari no longer looked like someone merely visiting the house. Standing there in his black suit beside Naina, calm and unreadable despite everything that had happened over the last two days, he looked like someone who had returned to claim space that had always been his.

Beside Vivek, Vishakha appeared composed at first glance. Her saree was immaculate, her posture perfectly straight, her chin lifted with practiced dignity. But the illusion weakened the longer one looked at her. Her eyes kept moving rapidly across the group, unable to settle anywhere for more than a moment.

First toward Jaiprakash. Then Aman. Then Naina.

Her gaze lingered there briefly, narrowing almost imperceptibly on the vibrant tangerine saree and the jewelry resting against Naina’s neck. Recognition flashed instantly.

Her mother’s saree. Her mother’s jewelry.

Something ugly flickered across Vishakha’s face before her attention shifted again.

Toward Sameer. And finally… Rohan.

The change in her expression was immediate.

Because if Sameer was the enemy she had expected all along, then Rohan was the betrayal she had never truly prepared herself for.

Her own son.

The one she had spent years guiding, controlling, emotionally binding to herself… was now standing beside Sameer Maheshwari. Worse, Deepika stood there too, close enough to Naina that the alignment inside the room had become painfully obvious.

For one brief second Vishakha’s composure cracked completely. Then suddenly she stood. The movement was so abrupt that even Vivek looked startled. Before anyone could react, she crossed the room quickly and raised her hand.

The slap landed sharply across Rohan’s face. The sound echoed through the living room.

Deepika gasped aloud. Naina stiffened instinctively beside Sameer. Even Jaiprakash flinched slightly at the sheer force behind it.

Rohan’s head turned sideways from the impact, but he didn’t step back. Didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t even touch his cheek immediately. He simply straightened again slowly, jaw tightening once as he looked back at his mother.

And somehow, his silence seemed to infuriate Vishakha even more.

“Tumhari himmat kaise hui?” she snapped, her voice shaking now despite her attempts to control it. “Apne maa-baap ke khilaaf jaake uske saath mil gaye tum?”

Her finger pointed directly toward Sameer.

“Ek baar bhi nahi socha?” she continued harshly. “Humne tumhare liye kya-kya kiya hai?”

Rohan looked at her quietly for a moment, and for the first time since entering the house, there was no visible hesitation left in him. The guilt, the confusion, the desperate need for approval that Vishakha had relied upon for years, all of it seemed exhausted now.

“Mummy…” he said softly, though his voice remained steady enough for everyone to hear clearly, “aapne jo kiya hai… uske baad yeh mat kahiye ke yeh sab hamare liye tha.”

The words landed harder than shouting would have. Vishakha froze for half a second. And in that brief silence, Sameer saw it clearly.

Not anger. Not outrage. Not even fear of exposure.

It was fear of losing control.

Because perhaps for the first time in years, Vishakha Somani was realizing that the hold she had maintained over this family was slipping beyond her reach.

“Kya matlab?” Vishakha asked, her voice much lower now, but no less sharp. “Tumhare papa ne sirf tumhari shaadi tay ki thi… koi bahot bada paap nahi kiya tha. Apne parivaar ki bhalai ke liye tum itna bhi nahi kar sakte the?”

Before Rohan could answer, Jaiprakash let out a harsh derisive snort. “Sirf shaadi?” he repeated bitterly. “Yeh tum bhi bahot achche se jaanti ho, Vishakha, ke woh shaadi kisliye tay ki gai thi.” His tired eyes hardened as he looked directly at her. “Kam se kam ab toh anjaan banne ka natak mat karo.”

For the first time since they had entered the house, Vishakha’s gaze flickered uncertainly. But only for a moment. Almost immediately her expression shifted again, softening artificially as she turned toward her father.

“Papa…” she began in a pleading tone.

“Mat kaho mujhe papa.”

The interruption landed cold and immediate. The room fell still.

Jaiprakash looked older in that moment than any of them had ever seen him. Not physically. Emotionally. Like years of disappointment had finally settled visibly onto his shoulders.

“Maine tum dono pe bharosa karke tumhe iss ghar mein panah di thi,” he said slowly, each word carrying visible hurt beneath it. “Jis company ko maine ek-ek paisa jodke khada kiya… usme faisla lene ka haq diya tha.”

His voice roughened further. “Lekin tum dono ne har kadam pe mujhse sirf jhooth bola.” Vivek lowered his eyes. “Yahan tak ke Delhi wala business kaise dooba…” Jaiprakash continued bitterly, “…woh bhi jhooth tha.”

His gaze shifted sharply toward Rohan then back toward Vishakha.

“Sharam ki baat kar rahi thi na tum?” he asked harshly. “Tum dono ko sharam nahi aayi yeh sab karte hue?”

Vivek visibly flinched. “Galti ho gai…” he muttered weakly, trying to step into the conversation before it spiraled further.

But Jaiprakash cut him off immediately. “Ek baar ho toh usse galti kehte hai.” The older man’s voice rose for the first time. Not loudly – but with enough pain and anger beneath it to silence the room instantly.

“Aur jitna maine dekha…” he continued, shaking his head slowly, “…woh jo hua woh bhi galti nahi thi.”

He pointed toward Vivek with trembling fingers.

“Haan, shayad woh order accept karna galti ho sakta tha. Shayad tumne socha hoga sambhaal loge.” A pause followed. “Lekin jab sambhaal nahi paaye…” his voice broke faintly, “…toh na tumne apni galti maani… na madad maangi.”

The accusation settled heavily across the room.

“Bas ek aisa faisla liya…” Jaiprakash said bitterly, “…jiska nuksaan tumhare company mein kaam karne wale logo ko hua.”

His breathing had grown uneven now. “Tum toh jitna paisa nikaal sake utna leke yahan bhaag aaye…”

He laughed once then – a hollow exhausted sound completely devoid of humor. “Aur yahan bhi…” he whispered, shaking his head slowly, “…yahan bhi tumne wahi kiya.” His gaze moved around the house helplessly. “Ek ke baad ek gunaah karte rahe.”

Then quieter, almost to himself – “Aur main anjaan baitha raha…”

The sentence hurt more than the anger before it. After a moment, Jaiprakash slowly turned toward his daughter again. “Aur tum, Vishakha…”

His voice softened this time, which somehow made it worse. “Tumhe sab pata tha na?” Vishakha’s jaw tightened visibly. “Yeh kaisa pyaar hai tumhara,” he asked quietly, “ke iss aadmi ki koi galti dikhti hi nahi tumhe?”

He gestured sharply toward Vivek now. “Delhi mein… yahan… uske kiye hue har ek gunaah mein tumne uska saath diya.” One by one, the words fell into the room like blows.

“Jhootha accident report.”

“Jhootha FIR.”

“Jhoothe gawaah.”

“Paison ki hera-pheri.”

“Benaami commissions.”

Then finally – “Yeh sab kyun?”

Jaiprakash’s voice cracked completely on the last question. “Kya kami thi tumhari zindagi mein?” he asked helplessly. “Kya kasar baaki rakhi thi maine?”

For a second, something unreadable crossed Vishakha’s face. Then suddenly she laughed. A sharp sarcastic sound that made even Deepika recoil slightly.

“Konsi kasar baaki chhodi aapne meri zindagi barbaad karne mein?” she shot back bitterly. “Jis din aapne meri shaadi uss Alok Maheshwari se tay ki thi… ussi din meri zindagi barbaad kar di thi aapne.”

The room went still again.

“I loved Vivek,” she continued, emotion rising rapidly now. “Aapko pata tha iss baat ka.”

Her eyes had reddened, though whether from anger or old hurt it was impossible to tell anymore.

“Maine kitni baar samjhane ki koshish ki…” she said harshly. “Lekin nahi. Aapko mera dard dikha hi kab?”

Tears flooded Jaiprakash’s eyes almost instantly at the accusation. He stumbled back a step unconsciously. And immediately – almost like instinct – Sameer, Rohan, and Aman moved forward together to steady him. The movement did not go unnoticed by Vishakha. Neither did the fact that her own daughter had rushed toward her grandfather too.

Jaiprakash clutched weakly at Sameer’s arm before looking back at Vishakha with shattered eyes.

“Uss waqt jo faisla maine liya tha…” he said brokenly, “…tumhare bhale ke liye liya tha.” His voice trembled visibly now. “Vivek ke paas kuch nahi tha tab,” he continued helplessly. “Ek naukri tak nahi.” He shook his head slowly. “Usse shaadi karke kahan jaati tum? Kaise rehti? Yeh socha tha tumne?” Pain twisted across his face. “Pyaar se pet bhar jaata tumhara?”

Then after drawing a shaky breath, he asked the question that had clearly been haunting him since yesterday.

“Uss baat ki itni nafrat hai tumhare mann mein…” His voice finally broke completely. “…ke tum mujhse meri zindagi hi cheen lena chahti ho?”

For the first time since the confrontation had begun, genuine shock crossed Vishakha’s face.

Not anger. Not outrage.

Shock.

As though even she had not expected the accusation to be spoken aloud so directly. “What?” she whispered instinctively. Then almost immediately, her expression hardened again, pride and defensiveness rushing back into place.

“Papa, aapko hosh bhi hai aap kya keh rahe hai?” she snapped, her voice rising sharply now. “Main aapki beti hun!”

Her eyes moved frantically across the room as though searching for support somewhere – toward Vivek, toward Deepika, toward anyone who would look uncertain enough for her to regain footing.

“Main aapko nuksaan pahochana chahti thi?” she demanded incredulously. “Aap seriously iss baat pe yaqeen kar rahe hai?”

Then suddenly her gaze landed on Sameer, and the direction of her anger shifted instantly.

“Of course,” she laughed bitterly, though the sound came strained now. “Yeh sab issne kiya hai.” Her finger pointed directly toward him. “Sameer Maheshwari ne.”

The room stiffened faintly at the venom in her tone.

“Bachpan se mujhe neecha dikhane ka koi mauka nahi chhoda isne,” she continued rapidly, emotions beginning to spill over her carefully maintained composure. “Aur ab jab company pe control mil gaya toh mujhe villain bana diya sabke saamne.”

Vivek looked visibly uncomfortable now, but remained silent.

“Kya proof hai tumhare paas?” Vishakha demanded suddenly, turning fully toward Sameer now. “Kis basis pe itna bada ilzaam laga rahe ho?”

Until now, Sameer had remained mostly silent, allowing the emotions in the room to unfold naturally. But at that question, he finally stepped forward.

Slowly. Calmly. And somehow that calmness unsettled the room far more than shouting would have. Aman understood immediately. Without a word, he stepped closer and handed Sameer the file they had brought with them. Sameer opened it quietly before placing the first photograph onto the center table.

“Proof chahiye aapko?” he asked evenly.

Vishakha’s jaw tightened slightly as her eyes dropped toward the photograph. It was the image of the medicine bottle hidden inside the drawer of her dressing table. Before she could react properly, Sameer placed another photograph beside it. Then another. Close-up shots. The drawer. The label on the bottle. The timestamps Ramdhari had carefully captured.

The room had gone completely silent now except for the faint rustle of papers. Then Aman slid the laboratory reports forward.

“Food sample reports,” Sameer said quietly. “Breakfast aur lunch ke.”

Another set of papers followed immediately after.

“Aur yeh…” he continued, his gaze lifting briefly toward her before returning to the documents, “…same sedative compound ka analysis.”

Vishakha’s face had begun losing color now, though she still forced herself to remain standing straight. Beside her, Vivek looked openly pale.

“Compound individually dangerous quantity mein nahi tha,” Sameer continued evenly. “Lekin repeated exposure aur Nanu ki medicines ke saath combine hoke unki health steadily deteriorate kar sakta tha.”

For a brief second, nobody spoke. Then Vishakha suddenly laughed again, sharper this time.

“Yeh sab fake ho sakta hai,” she shot back quickly. “Photos manipulate kiye ja sakte hai.”

Sameer nodded once, as though he had expected exactly that response.

“Haan,” he agreed calmly. “Isiliye humne sirf photographs pe bharosa nahi kiya.”

He pulled another document from the file and placed it beside the reports.

“Independent lab certification.”

Then another.

“Medication purchase records.”

And finally –  “Ramdhari ka statement.”

At the servant’s name, Vishakha visibly stiffened. It was small. Barely noticeable. But everyone in the room saw it. Sameer noticed too.

“You underestimated him,” he said quietly. “Jaise aapne bahot logo ko underestimate kiya.”

The words landed with frightening precision. For the first time since they had entered the house, Vishakha looked genuinely unsettled. Her eyes moved rapidly across the table now – the photographs, the reports, the neatly arranged evidence, every piece fitting together too cleanly to dismiss outright.

And perhaps the most terrifying part of all was that Sameer still wasn’t shouting. Wasn’t insulting her. Wasn’t threatening her. He was simply placing the truth before everyone. One piece at a time. Methodically. Mercilessly.

Vishakha’s carefully crafted control of years finally snapped. With a sharp movement, she swept her hand across the center table, sending photographs and papers scattering onto the floor. The laboratory reports slid beneath the sofa. One photograph spun across the marble tiles before stopping near Deepika’s feet.

“Jhooth hai!” she shouted, breathing unevenly now. “Sab jhooth!”

But Sameer didn’t react to the outburst at all. He merely tilted his head slightly, watching her almost thoughtfully, as though her unraveling had only confirmed something he had known all along.

“Really?” he mused quietly. Then after a brief pause, his gaze sharpened. “Yeh jhooth hai?”

His voice remained calm. Controlled. Which somehow made the next words land even harder. “Toh phir uska kya…” he asked softly, “…jo aapne itne saalo se Rohan aur Deepika ke saath kiya?”

The room fell silent instantly. For a second, Vishakha looked genuinely caught off guard by the direction of the conversation. Then almost immediately she recovered enough to turn defensive again.

“Maine kya kiya hai?” she demanded sharply. “Apne bachcho ko pala hai maine. Unke liye sab kuch kiya hai.”

“Sab kuch?” Sameer repeated quietly. His eyes moved toward Rohan then. “Unke allergy ka pata hote hue bhi baar baar unko woh cheeze khilana jinse unko allegy hai. Yeh bhi unke liye tha?”

Vishakha frowned sharply. “Kya bakwaas kar rahe ho tum?”

Sameer took the next file Aman handed him and opened it quietly. “Yeh saare hospital records hai itne saalo ke,” he said evenly. “Paanch saal mein Rohan saat baar hospital mein admit hua. Kabhi severe, kabhi thoda kam… lekin har baar same problem. Allergic reaction.”

The rustle of paper seemed unnaturally loud inside the silent room.

“Jahan tak mujhe pata hai,” Sameer continued, “Rohan ko sirf peanuts se allergy hai. Aur main uske saath thode time hi sahi, lekin Delhi mein reh chuka hun. Maine dekha hai woh kitna careful hai.” His gaze lifted slowly toward Vishakha. “Phir baar-baar yeh kaise hua?”

Vishakha reacted instantly. “Tum mujhpe yeh ilzaam laga rahe ho ke maine apne bete ko jaan-boojhkar bimar kiya?” she snapped, her voice rising sharply. “Dimag thikane pe hai na tumhara?”

Her breathing had already become uneven again. “Yeh sab coincidence hai,” she continued harshly. “Main kyun apne bete ke saath aisa karungi?”

Sameer remained calm. Almost disturbingly so. “Har baar usi waqt pe bimar padna,” he said quietly, “jab meri life mein kuch important ho raha ho… aur Nanu mere saath rehna chahe.”

He began counting them almost clinically.

“Mera London jaana.”

“Wahan se wapas aana.”

“SJM ka opening.”

Then finally his eyes locked onto hers.

“Coincidence kuch zyada nahi ho gaya, Mrs. Somani?”

Vishakha laughed bitterly again, though the sound trembled this time. “Oh please,” she scoffed. “Jaise tumpe dhyan dene ka waqt hai mere paas. Tum zara bhi important nahi ho meri life mein.”

“Jaanta hun,” Sameer replied softly. The simplicity of the answer made the bitterness in the room deepen further somehow. “Lekin yeh bhi jaanta hun,” he continued evenly, “ke mere aur Nanu ke rishte se aapko dar hai.”

His eyes briefly moved around the house before settling back on her. “Iss ghar se toh mujhe nikaal diya,” he said quietly. “Lekin Nanu se puri tarah alag nahi kar payi.”

A pause followed. “Isiliye baar-baar yeh sab hota raha.”

Then his gaze shifted toward Deepika.

“Jaise iss January mein…” he said, “…jab Nanu Ahmedabad aaye the…”

Deepika straightened slightly. She already understood where this was going.

“…tab Deepika ne strawberry milkshake pee liya.”

For a split second, Vishakha’s eyes flickered away. Small. Fast. But noticeable. “Usne galti se piya tha woh,” she said sharply.

Deepika looked at her mother steadily for a long moment before speaking. “Lekin mummy…” she said slowly, almost too calmly, “…woh milkshake toh aapne mere liye order kiya tha.”

The silence inside the room thickened instantly. Deepika’s expression didn’t carry confusion anymore. Only hurt. And something dangerously close to accusation.

“Phir meri galti kaise hui?” she asked quietly.

Every eye shifted toward Vishakha. For the first time since the confrontation began, she visibly struggled for an answer. “Mera matlab…” she stammered quickly, “…woh dukaan wale ki galti thi.”

This time Rohan spoke up. “Mujhe bhi wahi laga tha,” he admitted quietly. “Isiliye main baad mein shop pe poochne gaya tha.”

A strange heaviness had entered his voice now.

“Itna bada incident tha… obviously sabko yaad hoga.”

He looked directly at Vishakha while continuing.

“Jaante hai wahan se mujhe kya pata chala?”

The pause that followed felt unbearable somehow. And then unexpectedly, Vivek spoke. “Kya?”

His voice came out low. Shaky. Almost uncertain. Sameer’s eyes snapped toward him immediately. For the first time since entering the house, Vivek Somani genuinely looked unaware. Not defensive. Not manipulative. Just… unsettled.

And within seconds, realization settled heavily inside Sameer. He hadn’t known. At least not about this. Meanwhile Rohan continued, his disappointment bleeding through every word now.

“Shop pe mujhe pata chala,” he said slowly, “ke uss din teen milkshake order hue the.”

He swallowed once. “Ek vanilla… Aur do mixed berries.”

His gaze never left his mother’s face. “Allergy ke baare mein…” his voice roughened faintly, “…kuch mention hi nahi hua tha.”

The implication settled across the room with frightening clarity. And suddenly Sameer intervened. “Rohan.” His voice came low and sharp enough to stop him instantly. “Rehne do.”

Rohan turned toward him immediately, confusion flashing across his face. Deepika looked startled too. Even Aman frowned slightly.

But Sameer wasn’t looking at any of them anymore. His eyes remained fixed entirely on Vivek Somani. Because the older man suddenly looked as though he had aged years within seconds. All color drained slowly from his face, leaving behind a sickly pallor as realization began settling piece by piece inside his mind. His breathing turned shallow and uneven, his entire body trembling faintly as though he was trying – and failing – to steady himself against what he had just understood.

Then slowly… almost blindly… he stumbled backward.

The back of his knees hit the sofa and he collapsed onto it heavily, one hand gripping the armrest while the other pressed shakily against his forehead.

For a few unbearable seconds, nobody in the room moved.

Vivek remained slumped there staring somewhere past the center table, but it was obvious he was no longer truly seeing the room in front of him. His mind seemed trapped elsewhere now – replaying years of incidents, hospital visits, sudden illnesses, moments he had dismissed as unfortunate accidents… only for them to rearrange themselves into something far darker.

Vishakha reacted first. Almost immediately, she rushed toward him and crouched beside the sofa, gripping his arm tightly.

“Vivek…” she said quickly, her voice losing some of its sharpness for the first time. “Tum inki baaton mein mat aao. Yeh log hume alag karne ki koshish kar rahe hai.”

But Vivek slowly looked at her then. And the expression in his eyes made something falter inside even Vishakha. Because there was fear there now. And suspicion. “Tumhe pata tha?” he asked hoarsely.

The question landed harder than shouting would have. Vishakha immediately shook her head. “Nahi, Vivek – ”

“Sach bolo.”

This time his voice came sharper. Rougher.

The sudden accusation startled everyone in the room because until now, Vivek had stood beside Vishakha against the rest of the world almost blindly.

But now something had cracked.

“Woh… milkshake…” he whispered unevenly. “Rohan ke attacks…” His eyes widened slightly with every piece connecting inside his head. “Tumne kiya yeh sab? Hamare bachche…”

“Vivek, meri baat suno – ” Vishakha tried again, panic surfacing beneath her composure now. “Maine aisa kuch nahi kiya. Main bas…”

But the explanation refused to form cleanly anymore. Because somewhere deep down, even she knew the truth no longer sounded defensible aloud.

“Bas kya?” Vivek snapped suddenly.

The outburst echoed through the room. Deepika visibly flinched.

“Tum samajhti bhi ho kya keh rahe hai yeh log?” he demanded, pointing shakily toward the files scattered across the floor. “Yeh keh rahe hai tumne apne hi bachcho ko…”

The sentence broke apart in his throat. He couldn’t complete it. And perhaps because he couldn’t… Vishakha finally snapped completely.

“Ha toh?” she shouted suddenly, standing up again.

The room froze.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly now, years of restraint, bitterness, obsession and buried resentment exploding all at once. “Sab kuch meri hi galti hai na?” she laughed harshly. “Tumne kuch nahi kiya. Yeh sab kuch maine tumhara saath dene ke liye toh kiya. Yeh ghar, company… Sab pe tumhara haq ho isiliye kiya yeh sab. Ab tum har cheez ka zimmedar mujhe banaoge? Kabhi socha hai agar main yeh sab nahi karti toh Papa uss Sameer se door hote hi nahi kabhi…”

 

As if saying the name sparked something inside her, abruptly, her gaze locked onto Sameer. And the hatred there was so naked now that even Naina instinctively stiffened beside him.

“Tum!” Vishakha pointed at him furiously. “Har baar tum!”

Her voice cracked under the force of her emotions.

“Meri puri zindagi barbaad kar di tumne!”

Jaiprakash shut his eyes painfully. Rohan looked shaken. Deepika outright stared at her mother in horror now. But Vishakha no longer seemed capable of stopping.

“Jab bhi mujhe laga ke sab thik ho raha hai…” she continued wildly, “…tum wapas aa gaye!”

She laughed bitterly through tears now.

“Pehle Alok Maheshwari…” she spat the name almost angrily. “Phir uska beta!”

Sameer stood perfectly still, but Aman noticed his fingers curling slowly into fists at his sides.

“Tumhe dekhte hi mujhe woh aadmi yaad aa jaata tha!” Vishakha shouted. “Shakal waisi… Harkate waisi… Sabke saamne aisa jatana ka tumko kitni fikar hai sabki… Kitne achche insaan ho tum… Lekin haqeeqat kuch aur hi hai… Madad karne ke bahane aake sab barbaad kar diya tumne… Company se Vivek ko nikal diya. Mere bachcho ke shares cheen liye. Aur ab yahan aaye ho… iss ghar se mujhe nikalne.”

Her breathing had become almost ragged now.

“Main yahan normal zindagi jeene ki koshish kar rahi thi…” she whispered brokenly, “…lekin tum…”

Then suddenly her face twisted with something uglier. Darker.

“Kabhi kabhi toh lagta hai…” she said bitterly, tears streaking down her face now, “…ke mujhe tumse bhi pehle hi chutkaara paa lena chahiye tha.”

The room went dead silent. Vishakha barely seemed aware of what she was saying anymore.

“Jis din pata chala tha ke main pregnant hun…” she continued wildly, “…ussi din sab khatam kar dena chahiye tha.”

Naina’s breath caught sharply. Rohan looked stunned. Deepika went completely pale. Even Vivek stared at his wife as though seeing her properly for the first time.

But Sameer… Sameer didn’t move at all. Because this wasn’t new to him. This wound had existed inside him since he was fifteen years old. The difference was –  today everyone else had heard it too.

In all the chaos that followed, everyone had noticed those two words – tumse bhi.

But nobody seemed capable of recovering enough to question them. Vishakha, meanwhile, looked completely beyond restraint now. Years of bitterness, resentment and buried hatred had exploded into something almost ugly to witness.

“Sab uss aadmi ki wajah se hua!” she shouted wildly. “Thodi ulti kya hui, zabardasti mujhe hospital le gaya tha… aur pregnancy ki khabar uske saamne bata di doctor ne…”

Her eyes locked onto Sameer with frightening venom.

“Kaas uss waqt woh nahi hota wahan… Tumhe bhi khatam kar diya hota,” she spat, her voice shaking violently now, “…toh aaj yeh naubat hi nahi aati!”

The room froze completely.

“Alok ke saath…” she continued bitterly, almost hysterically now, “…uske bachche bhi khatam ho jaate!”

Sameer’s eyes filled instantly despite how hard he tried to control himself. His jaw tightened sharply, throat working once as though forcing the emotion back down before it could fully surface.

Across the room, Jaiprakash looked so shattered that the walking stick slipped straight from his hands onto the floor with a loud clatter.

Rohan immediately moved to steady him, but even his own legs felt weak now, his face pale with disbelief and horror.

Deepika had instinctively shifted closer to the nearest source of support beside her – which at that moment happened to be Aman. Without hesitation, Aman placed a steadying hand against her shoulder, his own expression darkened with barely controlled disgust.

But it was Naina who reacted first.

Perhaps because she was the only one in that room whose love for Sameer carried no history of guilt, conflict, fear or obligation.

Only love. Fierce and absolute.

And perhaps because as a mother herself now, hearing someone speak so casually about destroying a child had crossed something fundamental inside her.

Before anyone could stop her, Naina stepped forward. And slapped Vishakha Somani across the face.

 

The sound echoed through the living room with stunning clarity. For a second, nobody moved. Nobody even seemed to breathe. Vishakha’s face had turned sideways from the impact, one hand slowly rising toward her cheek as though she herself couldn’t fully process what had just happened.

Because perhaps nobody had ever slapped Vishakha Somani before.

Not Jaiprakash.

Not Vivek.

Not even life itself.

But Naina stood there breathing unevenly now, eyes blazing in a way none of them had ever seen before. The softness that usually defined her had vanished completely.

“How dare you?” Vishakha finally gasped furiously, stepping forward. “Tumhari himmat kaise hui mujhe haath lagane ki?”

Naina didn’t step back.

“Isiliye himmat hui,” she shot back immediately, her voice shaking with fury, “kyunki aap maa kehlaane layak hi nahi hai.”

The words stunned the room into silence all over again.

“Khud ko maa kehti hai aap…” Naina continued, unable to stop now that years of Sameer’s buried pain were standing exposed before her eyes. “Lekin apne kisi bhi bachche se kabhi pyaar kiya hai aapne?”

Vishakha stared at her in disbelief.

“Sameer se itni nafrat…” Naina’s eyes had filled completely now. “Apne dusre bachche ko toh aapne paida hone se pehle hi maar diya.”

Jaiprakash shut his eyes painfully. Deepika outright broke down crying again.

“Aapko apne pati se problem thi?” Naina demanded. “Theek hai. Lekin usme bachcho ki kya galti thi?”

Her voice cracked sharply on the next sentence.

“Sameer ki kya galti thi?”

She pressed one trembling hand protectively over her own stomach now, the emotion turning frighteningly raw.

“Aapke kokh mein pal rahe uss masoom ki kya galti thi?”

For one brief second, Vishakha looked shaken.

Then bitterness twisted across her face again. “Yahi galti thi,” she spat harshly. “Ke woh Alok Maheshwari ke bachche the.”

The sentence hit the room like poison.

Naina stared at her for a second in complete disbelief. Then slowly, heartbreakingly slowly, anger gave way to something closer to disgust.

“Aisa kya kiya tha unhone?” she asked quietly. “Aapse shaadi ki thi?”

Vishakha’s jaw tightened.

“Aapka dhyan rakhte the?” Naina continued. “Zabardasti ki thi shaadi? Ya sharirik sambandh zabardasti banaye the?”

Every question landed harder than the last.

“Ya unki galti bas itni thi…” she whispered bitterly, “…ke woh Vivek Somani nahi the?”

Vivek visibly flinched at the line.

But Naina wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her eyes remained fixed entirely on Vishakha.

“Aapko ehsaas bhi hai,” she continued, voice trembling now, “ke jis insaan se aapko pyaar aur suraksha ki umeed ho… wahi jab chot pahochaye toh kitni takleef hoti hai?”

A faint silence followed.

“Nahi hai na ehsaas?” she asked quietly. “Warna aap kabhi apne kisi bhi bachche ke saath aisa nahi karti.”

Sameer stood frozen beside her now, unable to even breathe properly hearing someone finally speak aloud what he himself had buried for years.

“Pehle jab Sameer ne mujhe bataya tha ke aap unse nafrat karti hai,” Naina continued, tears slipping freely down her face now, “mujhe laga tha unka veham hai.” Her voice softened painfully. “Lekin phir unhone poori baat batai…”

She looked directly at Vishakha. “Pandrah saal ke the woh.” The room went silent again.

“Sirf pandrah saal ke.”

Naina’s voice shook violently now.

“Aapka dil kaise maan gaya yeh kehne ko,” she whispered brokenly, “ke agar aapke pati saath nahi hote… toh aap unhe bhi maar deti?”

Jaiprakash looked utterly destroyed now. Rohan had stopped even trying to hide his tears.

“Uske baad bhi mujhe laga…” Naina continued, “…ke kam se kam Rohan aur Deepika se toh aap pyaar karti hongi.”

Her expression hardened again almost instantly.

“Lekin nahi… Unki zindagi ke saath bhi aap khelti rahi.”

Then finally –  “Kyun?”

The question echoed through the room.

“Paise ke liye?”

“Property ke liye?”

Naina let out a disbelieving laugh through tears.

“Chee…” she whispered. “Aap maa toh kya…” Her eyes moved over Vishakha with open revulsion now. “…aurat kehlaane ke bhi layak nahi hai.”

For a moment Vishakha looked genuinely stunned by the attack. Then almost immediately, she retaliated viciously.

“Aur tum ho?” she snapped bitterly. “Yeh mat samajhna ke mujhe kuch samajh nahi aa raha!”

Her eyes swept over Naina sharply now – from the tangerine saree to the jewelry resting against her neck.

“Tum bhi toh paise ke liye hi Sameer ke gale padi ho!” she spat. “Papa, Rohan, Deepika… sabse itna achcha bartav kar rahi ho…”

Her finger pointed directly toward the saree.

“Yeh saree…” she hissed. “Yeh zevar…” Her voice broke with fury. “Meri maa ke hai.”

A painful silence followed.

“Inpe mera haq hai.”

Then her eyes dropped toward Naina’s stomach.

“And yeh pregnancy?” she laughed bitterly. “Yeh tareeka tha shaadi mein fasane ka?”

Sameer visibly stiffened behind Naina. Aman’s expression darkened instantly.

“Abhi-abhi toh press release mein shaadi ka announcement hua tha,” Vishakha continued viciously, eyes sweeping over Naina with open contempt now. “Aur uske turant baad pregnancy?”

A harsh laugh escaped her lips.

“Kitni purani planning thi yeh?” she mocked cruelly. “Ya phir bachche ka naam leke Sameer Maheshwari ko bandh lene ka tareeka tha?”

Naina’s face paled slightly, but Vishakha kept going relentlessly.

“Waise bhi…” she said slowly, her gaze dropping pointedly toward Naina’s stomach, “…time dekhke toh yeh sab shaadi ke baad ka lagta nahi.”

The implication spread through the room like poison.

“Paanch-chhe mahine toh easily lag rahe hai,” she added coldly. “Kisi aur ke saath kiye giye paap ki nishaani ko mere bete ke gale baandh diya… toh izzat bhi bach gayi aur Maheshwari surname bhi mil gaya.”

Sameer’s entire body went rigid behind Naina. And for the first time since entering the house, Aman actually took a step forward as though physically restraining himself from reacting. But before anyone else could react the most unexpected voice tore through the room.

“Bas!”

This time the roar came from Vivek. He had pushed himself upright completely now, shaking visibly with rage and humiliation.

“Ek shabd aur mat bolna!” he shouted at Vishakha.

Even Vishakha looked startled. But Vivek wasn’t done. For the first time in years, the blind loyalty with which he had defended her seemed shattered completely.

“Tumhe andaaza bhi hai tum kya bol rahi ho?” Vivek shouted, breathing heavily now. “Apni hi bahu pe itna ganda ilzaam?”

Vishakha stared at him in disbelief. “Vivek…”

“Nahi!” he snapped immediately. “Aaj nahi.”

The sheer fury in his voice stunned everyone into silence again.

Yes, Vivek Somani was greedy. He had chased money, influence, power, attention. He had manipulated people, hidden truths, used unethical means whenever it benefited him. But children…

He could not fathom such cruelty toward children.

Perhaps because until this point, every crime had still felt explainable to him somehow. Fraud. Lies. Manipulation. Even hearing about the tampering of Jaiprakash’s food had horrified him, but somewhere he had still tried to see his wife’s desperation behind it. Fear. Pressure. Panic.

But this…

This ugliness that he was now witnessing in his wife… he could no longer explain away.

“Main kabhi soch bhi nahi sakta tha, Vishakha…” he said hoarsely. “Main itne saalo se tumse pyaar karta hun. Tum meri har kamzori jaanti ho… meri har galti tumhe pata hai. Main khud bhi jaanta hun ke shayad main achcha insaan nahi hun…”

His voice broke slightly.

“Lekin yeh…”

He looked toward Rohan and Deepika helplessly.

“Bachcho ki zindagi ke saath aisa khilwaad?”

Then slowly, painfully – “Abortion?”

His eyes moved toward Sameer at last before dropping back to the floor.

“Mujhe kabhi bataya kyun nahi? Woh bachcha bhi hamara hota…” he whispered. “Maine shaadi ke baad bhi kaha tha na… jaise tum Rohan ko apnaneko taiyar ho, main bhi Sameer ko apna lunga.”

A bitter exhausted laugh escaped him.

“Lekin tumne mujhse kaha ke woh bahot bigda hua hai… Rohan pe bura asar padega… isiliye usko hostel bhej dete hai.” The regret in his voice now was impossible to miss. “Maine tab bhi tumpe bharosa kiya.”

The room remained deathly silent after that. Slowly Vivek looked toward his children. Then toward Jaiprakash. Shame seemed to settle visibly across his face with every passing second.

“Papa…” he whispered brokenly. “I am…”

But the apology refused to fully form. Because what apology could possibly cover this?

Jaiprakash himself looked too shattered to respond.

Naina stood frozen beside Sameer now, one trembling hand still pressed protectively over her stomach after the emotional outburst. Her breathing remained uneven, eyes still wet with anger and hurt.

And suddenly, for the first time since entering the house, Sameer moved. Not toward Vishakha. Toward Naina.

He stepped in front of her almost instinctively now, shielding her slightly from the room as though only just realizing how deeply this entire confrontation had affected her. His hand immediately reached for her arm.

“Bas, sweetheart,” he said softly, though his own voice sounded rough now. “Enough.”

The anger drained from Naina’s face almost instantly on hearing him. In its place came exhaustion. Hurt.

But before she could respond, Vishakha laughed bitterly through her tears again.

“Dekha?” she whispered harshly. “Sabko apne side pe kar liya tumne.”

Sameer finally looked at her then. Properly. And for the first time since entering the house, there was visible emotion on his face now. Not rage. Not hatred. Just deep exhausted grief.

“Maine?” he asked quietly. The softness of the question unsettled the room more than shouting would have. “Maine kya liya aapse?” he continued slowly. “Aapne toh bahot pehle decide kar liya tha ke main aapka nahi hun.”

Vishakha’s expression flickered faintly.

“Pandrah saal ka tha main,” Sameer said quietly. “Us umar mein bachche yeh sochte hai ke aaj kya khelenge, kya khayenge… yeh nahi ke unki maa unse pyaar karti hai ya nahi.”

His throat tightened before he forced himself to continue.

“Aur aapne mujhe yeh bata diya…” A faint humorless smile crossed his face. “…ke agar mumkin hota, toh main paida bhi nahi hota.”

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Deepika broke down completely, sobbing openly now. Rohan lowered his head, unable to even look at his brother anymore without guilt clawing through him.

And Jaiprakash… Jaiprakash looked like a man watching the ruins of his own family collapse piece by piece in front of him.

But Sameer remained strangely calm. Almost too calm. “Aapko pata hai sabse ajeeb baat kya hai?” he asked softly.

No one answered.

“Main phir bhi aapse nafrat nahi kar paya.”

That finally broke something in the room completely. Because hatred would have been easier to understand. Easier to survive.

But this…

This was a son who had spent years carrying rejection, humiliation, abandonment and emotional loneliness… and still could not fully stop loving his mother.

“Par aaj…” Sameer continued softly, though his voice carried a finality that unsettled everyone in the room, “…aaj ke liye main aapko kabhi maaf nahi karunga.”

His arm instinctively tightened around Naina.

“Khud ke dil pe lagi chot toh main puri zindagi seh leta,” he said quietly. “Lekin aaj aapne Naina ko chot pahochane ki koshish ki… mere honewale bachche pe sawaal uthaya…”

For the first time since the confrontation began, his eyes finally hardened.

“Uske liye main aapko kabhi maaf nahi karunga.”

Before Vishakha could answer, Vivek spoke quietly from behind her.

“Tum jo saza doge… hume manzoor hai.”

His exhausted eyes moved slowly across the room – toward Naina, toward Rohan and Deepika, and finally toward Jaiprakash.

“Sirf tum nahi…” he whispered brokenly. “Naina… Rohan… Deepika… aur Papa… sabse maafi maangni hai hume.”

Nobody replied. Because some wounds were simply too deep for apologies to reach anymore.

And standing in the middle of Maheshwari House, amidst shattered truths, broken trust and years of buried pain, all of them finally understood the same thing –  this family would never be the same again.

The game that had begun so many years ago had finally reached its last move. ♟️