Ahmedabad stood unnaturally still in the heavy afternoon heat. Outside, the sunlight lay harsh and blinding across the quiet roads, the dry warmth of late afternoon pressing down over the city like a weight. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of a hawker drifted through the stillness before fading away again. Even the trees outside Maheshwari House seemed motionless beneath the sun, their shadows stretched long and silent across the compound walls.
Inside the white bungalow, however, the stillness felt entirely different.
Not peaceful. Not calm. Broken.
The large living room that had once hosted family dinners, Diwali celebrations and lazy Sunday conversations now looked like the aftermath of a storm no one had seen coming. Papers still lay scattered across the marble floor. One photograph remained half-crumpled near the center table. A glass of water someone had poured earlier sat untouched, condensation long faded from its surface.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticked steadily through the suffocating silence, each sound seeming unnaturally loud now.
Nobody in the room appeared the same anymore.
Jaiprakash sat heavily on the sofa, staring somewhere ahead without truly seeing anything. His chest felt unbearably heavy, as though decades of memories had suddenly become impossible to carry.
This was the house where he and Devika had once dreamed of growing old together. The house they had built brick by brick after years of hard work. The house where his daughter had laughed as a child. The house where Alok had first entered shyly as a son-in-law. The house where Sameer had once run through the corridors calling out for his nanu. The house where Rohan and Deepika had woven dreams.
And somewhere along the way… he had failed all of them.
His fingers tightened weakly over the head of his walking stick. He kept replaying everything in his mind now – the subtle manipulations he had ignored, the emotional distance between Sameer and the rest of the family, Vishakha’s bitterness, Vivek’s greed, the illnesses, the lies, the fear inside his own home that he had mistaken for normal family tension.
How blind had he been?
And perhaps the cruelest realization of all was this – the one child who had received the least love inside this family had still done the most to protect it. His eyes slowly moved toward Sameer.
The boy he had once failed to understand completely.
The boy who had walked out of this house years ago with silent wounds nobody had bothered to notice properly.
The boy who still returned every single time this family needed him.
Jaiprakash felt something inside him finally break under the weight of that realization. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded exhausted. Much older than before.
“Main…” He paused briefly, gathering himself. “Main ab tum dono ke saath iss ghar mein nahi reh sakta.”
The words landed quietly. But their impact shook the room all over again.
Vishakha looked up immediately, stunned. “Papa…”
But Jaiprakash raised a trembling hand, stopping her before she could continue. “Nahi,” he said softly. “Bahot bol liya hum sabne aaj.”
His eyes slowly moved across the room, toward Vivek, then Vishakha.
“Maine zindagi bhar iss ghar ko bachane ki koshish ki,” he continued tiredly. “Par ab lagta hai… ghar toh bahot pehle toot gaya tha. Hume pata hi nahi chala.”
The grief in his voice felt almost unbearable. Then after a long silence, he said quietly,
“Do din.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Do din mein tum dono apna samaan lekar yeh ghar chhodke chale jao.”
Deepika’s breath caught softly. Rohan closed his eyes briefly. Even Aman straightened slightly at the finality in Jaiprakash’s tone.
“Tab tak,” Jaiprakash continued, “main Sameer aur Naina ke saath rahunga.”
The statement visibly shook Vishakha more than anything else had so far. Because perhaps for the first time in her life, her father had chosen someone else over her openly.
Vivek, however, did not argue. He looked strangely emptied now, as though the energy required to defend himself had finally run out completely. After a few long seconds, he simply nodded once.
“Theek hai,” he said quietly.
The surrender in his voice made the room ache in an entirely different way. Slowly he turned toward Rohan and Deepika then. Instinctively. Like a father still trying to hold onto something before it disappeared entirely.
“Rohan…” he began weakly. “Deepika… main…”
But both of them stepped back almost at the same time. Not dramatically. Not angrily. Just instinctively.
As though they still couldn’t bear closeness right now. The movement visibly shattered something inside Vivek.
And before the silence could become even more painful, Sameer quietly stepped forward. Not aggressively. Not possessively. Simply enough to place himself slightly between Vivek and the younger two siblings.
His expression remained calm, though exhaustion sat heavily beneath it now.
“Mr. Somani…” he said softly.
Vivek looked at him immediately. For a second, neither spoke. Perhaps because both of them now knew that the relationship between them had suddenly become far more complicated than hatred.
Sameer finally continued quietly, “Main samajh sakta hun ke aapko sab theek karne ka mann ho raha hai.” His eyes briefly moved toward Rohan and Deepika. “Lekin ghaav bahot gehra hai.”
The truth of it settled painfully across the room.
“Aapko unhe time dena hoga,” Sameer said gently. “Aur usse bhi zyada… yeh decide karne dena hoga ke woh aapse kis tarah ka rishta rakhna chahte hai.”
Vivek lowered his eyes slowly after that. And for perhaps the first time in years, he did not argue.
The silence that followed felt unbearably heavy now that the final decision had finally been spoken aloud. No one seemed to know what remained to be said after this. Years of manipulation, resentment and buried fractures had finally reached a point from where there was no returning to what they once were.
Across the room, Deepika stood motionless for several long seconds, her face pale from crying, her eyes fixed somewhere near the floor as though her mind still hadn’t fully caught up with everything that had happened inside these walls in the last hour. The strength with which she had confronted her mother earlier now seemed to have drained away completely, leaving behind only exhaustion and hurt too deep for someone her age to process properly.
Then slowly, almost instinctively, her eyes searched for Naina.
And the moment Naina took a step toward her, something inside Deepika finally broke completely.
She crossed the distance in hurried uneven steps before throwing her arms tightly around her bhabhi.
“Bhabhi…” The word dissolved into a sob halfway through. “Mujhe yahan se le chaliye…” she whispered brokenly. “Please…”
The plea seemed to crack through whatever little composure still remained in the room. Naina immediately wrapped her arms around the younger girl without hesitation, one hand moving gently over Deepika’s hair while the other steadied her trembling shoulders. Her own eyes filled again, but her voice remained soft and steady.
“Shh…” she murmured quietly. “Bas… hum ghar jaa rahe hai.”
Ghar.
The word settled strangely inside the room. Because perhaps for the first time in her life, Deepika no longer associated that word with Maheshwari House.
Rohan turned his face away sharply, wiping at his eyes before anyone could properly notice. Aman exhaled slowly beside him, jaw tightening faintly at the sight of Deepika clinging to Naina as though the older woman was now the only safe thing left in her world.
Sameer stood still for a moment watching them both, something painfully protective tightening in his chest again.
Meanwhile Jaiprakash slowly pushed himself upright with the support of his walking stick. The exhaustion in his body looked heavier now, as though the confrontation had aged him years within a single afternoon. But before leaving, he turned quietly toward the hallway.
“Ramdhari,” he called softly.
Almost immediately, Ramdhari appeared from near the kitchen corridor, his anxious eyes moving quickly across the devastated room before settling respectfully on Jaiprakash.
“Ji bade sahab…”
Jaiprakash looked at the middle aged man for a long moment. Perhaps because among all the people in this house, Ramdhari had remained loyal silently while everyone else failed to notice what was happening around them.
His voice softened faintly.
“Do din mein hum wapas aayenge,” he said quietly. “Tab tak ghar ka dhyan rakhna.”
Ramdhari’s eyes moistened immediately. He nodded once, unable to trust himself enough to speak.
Then after a brief hesitation, Jaiprakash added quietly, “Aur… apna bhi.”
The older servant lowered his head quickly after that, emotions visible even through the restraint.
One by one, the others slowly began moving toward the door. Nobody looked back at Vishakha or Vivek again. Not because forgiveness had happened… but because exhaustion had finally overtaken anger now.
As Sameer stepped outside beside Naina, his hand instinctively moved toward the small of her back protectively. Deepika remained close to her bhabhi while Rohan quietly stayed near Jaiprakash, as though afraid the older man might collapse if left unsupported for even a moment. Aman followed silently behind them all.
Behind them, Maheshwari House remained standing exactly as it always had – white walls, quiet balconies, sunlight falling across the courtyard. And yet somehow… it no longer felt like the same house anymore.
The drive back to Ellisbridge passed in near silence. Ahmedabad’s late afternoon traffic moved around them as usual – rickshaws weaving through lanes, bikes cutting past signals, vendors calling out near roadside stalls – but inside the two cars, it felt as though the world had become muted somehow.
Deepika remained pressed quietly against Naina’s side in the backseat, fingers still clutching the edge of her pallu occasionally as though reassuring herself that she was truly there. Rohan drove the second car carefully, one eye repeatedly drifting toward Jaiprakash in the rearview mirror. The older man had barely spoken since leaving Maheshwari House, his exhaustion visible even in the way he sat.
Sameer too remained unusually quiet beside Aman. His gaze stayed fixed outside the window most of the drive, though every now and then it drifted instinctively toward Naina. Toward her stomach. Toward the faint signs of stress still lingering on her face after the confrontation.
By the time they finally reached the Ellisbridge bungalow, the afternoon sun had softened slightly, long shadows stretching across the compound. The moment they entered inside, Sarla Kaki emerged hurriedly from the kitchen, wiping her hands on the edge of her saree. Relief crossed her face at seeing all of them return safely, but it faded almost immediately when she noticed their expressions.
“Arre baap re…” she murmured softly. “Kisine kuch khaya bhi hai ya nahi?”
Nobody answered properly. And perhaps because they all suddenly realized how emotionally exhausted they were, the thought of food itself felt impossible.
“Bhukh nahi hai,” Rohan said quietly.
“Haan Kaki… baad mein,” Aman added tiredly. Even Deepika shook her head faintly.
Sameer rubbed a hand over his face before saying softly, “Aap log kha lijiye… mujhe nahi chahiye abhi.”
Sarla Kaki looked at all of them one by one, her expression growing more disapproving with each refusal. Then finally her eyes landed on Naina.
“Naina dikri?”
Naina opened her mouth to say she wasn’t hungry either, but before she could speak, Sarla Kaki folded her arms firmly.
“Nahi,” she declared immediately. “Tumhe toh khaana hi padega.”
Naina blinked slightly. “Kaki…”
“Bilkul nahi,” Sarla Kaki cut her off. “Tumhari haalat mein khaali pet rehna mana hai.” The older woman’s eyes then moved meaningfully toward the rest of them. “Aur aap sab bhi,” she added, voice softening now, “kyunki yeh tab tak kuch nahi khayegi jab tak iska parivaar bhooka baithega.”
The statement quietly dissolved whatever resistance remained. Naina looked away faintly, embarrassed because everyone instantly knew it was true. Sameer’s exhausted eyes softened slightly at the words while Deepika instinctively tightened her hold around Naina’s arm.
Aman finally sighed in surrender. “Theek hai Kaki,” he muttered softly. “Lagao khaana.”
One by one, the others followed without argument after that. Not because hunger had returned… but because Sarla Kaki had somehow reminded them of something important – despite everything that had shattered today, they were still together.
A little while later, all of them sat around the dining table quietly while Sarla Kaki and Ramdhari served lunch.
The meal was painfully simple compared to the emotional storm they had just survived – soft rotis brushed lightly with ghee, green moong curry fragrant with garlic tempering, bhindi sabji cooked crisp with onions and spices, along with cool chaas poured into steel glasses.
Normally Aman would have complained dramatically about “healthy Gujarati food.” Deepika would have laughed. Rohan would have stolen bhindi from someone else’s plate. Naina would have fussed over whether Sameer had eaten enough.
Today none of that happened. For several minutes, the only sounds at the table were the faint clink of steel utensils and the ceiling fan whirring overhead. And yet… strangely enough… the simple warmth of home-cooked food slowly began easing some of the heaviness pressing against all of them. Not enough to heal. But enough to breathe.
After lunch, the bungalow slowly began falling quiet. Not naturally. Not peacefully. But with the heavy silence of people who had reached the edge of emotional exhaustion and no longer possessed the energy to continue speaking.
One by one, they drifted away from the living room almost wordlessly, each carrying their own grief, shock and thoughts into separate corners of the house.
Outside, the Ahmedabad afternoon had begun softening toward evening. The fierce sunlight no longer burned white against the windows, instead turning mellow and golden across the Ellisbridge lanes. Somewhere nearby, the faint sound of temple bells floated through the stillness before dissolving again into the quiet.
Inside the bungalow, however, rest remained elusive.
Jaiprakash sat alone in the bedroom Naina had prepared for him earlier that week, the old wooden rocking chair near the window creaking faintly every now and then as he moved back and forth slowly. His walking stick rested beside him untouched. From the open curtains, sunlight filtered weakly across the room, falling over his tired face and silver hair.
But his eyes remained distant. Not seeing the room. Not seeing the garden outside. Only memories.
Devika arranging fresh flowers near the mandir every morning. Little Vishakha running barefoot through Maheshwari House. Alok smiling shyly during family dinners. Sameer sitting quietly with books far beyond his age. Rohan clinging to his leg as a child. Deepika running excitedly through the corridors during Diwali celebrations.
A family that had once looked complete from outside.
And yet somewhere beneath that completeness, cracks had already begun forming silently.
Across the hallway, Rohan lay spread-eagled across the bed in his room, one arm thrown over his eyes as though shutting out the world physically might somehow quieten his thoughts too. But every time he closed his eyes, memories kept returning in cruel fragments – hospital corridors, Sameer’s distant presence through the years, his mother’s tears, his father’s helpless face from earlier today.
For the first time in his life, he truly understood how dangerous blind trust could become inside families.
And perhaps even more painfully… how much of an elder brother Sameer had quietly been all these years without asking for recognition in return.
In another room, Deepika sat curled tightly near the headboard with her old soft toy pressed unconsciously against her chest – the same faded stuffed rabbit she had slept with since childhood. Her swollen eyes remained fixed on nothing in particular while thoughts tangled painfully inside her head.
Every version of “mother” she had grown up believing in seemed shattered now. And yet, despite everything, her heart still hurt. Because love did not disappear as quickly as trust did.
Now and then she found herself replaying small childhood moments desperately, trying to determine which ones had been real. Which smiles had been genuine. Which affection had not carried hidden conditions beneath it.
Eventually her thoughts drifted toward Naina instead. Toward the softness in her bhabhi’s voice, the warmth of her embrace earlier, the instinctive safety she felt beside her. And slowly, without even realizing it, Deepika fell asleep still clutching the soft toy tightly against herself.
Meanwhile Aman sat alone at the small desk in his room, a new laptop open before him, sleeves rolled up despite the exhaustion clearly visible on his face. Among all of them, perhaps he alone understood fully that emotional collapse did not stop practical consequences from arriving.
Today’s battle had ended. But the next one had already begun.
His eyes moved across emails, pending legal documentation, internal audit notes and security instructions for the company. There were still loose ends everywhere – financial clean-up, shareholder management, internal restructuring, employee reactions, legal safeguards, media containment.
And beyond all of that… there was her.
Aman’s fingers stilled briefly over the keyboard.
Until now, everything else had consumed their attention so completely that they had barely been able to focus on the situation quietly building in the background. But soon… very soon… they would have to step onto another board entirely.
And this game would be far more dangerous than the ones they had played so far.
Because this time, it was not merely money, power or reputation at stake.
This time, someone’s life, dignity and future stood balanced on every move they made.
One mistake… and the people standing on this side of the board would be the ones destroyed.
And that could not be allowed to happen.
Not after everything they already knew.
Not after the information they had quietly gathered over the past few days.
Not after seeing firsthand how easily powerful families sacrificed people in the name of status, control and business alliances.
Aman leaned back slowly in his chair, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.
This next fight would not be as straightforward as today’s confrontation had been. There would be no scattered papers, emotional confessions or obvious mistakes waiting to expose themselves this time. The people they were dealing with now operated differently – politically, socially, carefully.
And the man playing on the opposite side… A faint coldness crossed Aman’s face. That man was dangerous in ways Vivek Somani never had been.
He made another note quietly before closing one of the files on his screen. Somewhere deep down, even he knew this was no longer merely professional for him. Somewhere between protecting Sameer, worrying for Naina and watching Rohan and Deepika unravel today, this family had quietly become important to him too.
And in the master bedroom downstairs, Sameer and Naina existed in a silence very different from the others. The curtains had been drawn halfway, allowing the mellow gold of late afternoon sunlight to spill softly across the room. The air-conditioner hummed quietly in the background, blending with the faint sounds of the city outside.
Naina lay propped against the headboard, one leg stretched across Sameer’s lap while he sat beside her near the foot of the bed, slowly massaging her swollen feet with patient careful hands despite the exhaustion weighing visibly on his own body.
At first she had protested immediately. “Sameer, rehne do…”
But he had refused to listen. Quietly pulling her feet into his lap anyway, as though taking care of her was the only thing grounding him right now.
Now neither of them spoke much. His fingers moved slowly over her ankle and heel, occasionally pressing gently at places he knew hurt more these days because of the pregnancy. Every now and then his thumb would absentmindedly stroke the side of her foot, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Naina watched him silently for a long moment. He looked exhausted. Not physically alone… emotionally. As though years of tightly controlled emotions had finally cracked open somewhere inside him today, and now he no longer knew how to gather them back neatly into place again.
Her heart ached looking at him.
Today, for the first time, she had truly witnessed the depth of the wound Vishakha Somani had left inside her son. Before this, Naina had understood it intellectually. She had known the facts, heard the stories, seen glimpses of the loneliness Sameer carried.
But hearing those words spoken aloud inside Maheshwari House… seeing the way he had still looked at his mother not with hatred, but grief… That pain felt far deeper than she had imagined.
She extended her hand toward him silently, asking him to come closer without a single word. Sameer acquiesced immediately. Gently placing her leg back onto the bed, he shifted upward beside her until his head rested near her shoulder. Almost instinctively, Naina’s fingers slipped into his hair, stroking through the soft strands slowly and soothingly.
Sameer closed his eyes briefly at the touch. And somewhere deep inside, he too was struggling against thoughts he had spent years learning to suppress.
The confrontation was over.
The truth was out.
Nanu knew everything.
Rohan and Deepika knew everything.
Vishakha and Vivek had lost control.
By all practical definitions, he had won. And yet victory felt strangely hollow today.
Because no matter how successful he became, no matter how many people loved him now, some part of the fifteen-year-old boy inside him still could not understand what he had done so wrong that his own mother had wished he had never been born.
His hands sought hers at the thought. And somewhere beneath that pain lingered another realization now – one he had not expected to affect him this deeply.
All these years, he had believed Vivek Somani had never wanted him either. That the distance, the hostel, the indifference had been mutual decisions. But today he had learned otherwise.
Once… long ago… Vivek Somani had actually been willing to accept him. To raise him alongside Rohan.
Just like Vishakha had accepted Rohan after their marriage. Sameer didn’t know why that truth hurt so much now. Perhaps because it showed him a possibility he had never even allowed himself to imagine. A life where maybe he had not grown up feeling unwanted inside his own family. But Vishakha had destroyed that possibility too before it could ever exist.
A faint tired smile crossed his face then. How strange life was. The man he had spent years believing hated him had perhaps once been willing to become his father.
Immediately Naina noticed the change in his expression. Without a word, she shifted closer toward him, one hand slipping gently beneath his chin until he looked up at her.
There was no fear in her eyes. No pity either. Only love. Steady and unwavering.
And suddenly Sameer realized something quietly terrifying and beautiful all at once… For years he had survived by carrying everything alone. But somewhere along the way, Naina had become the one person beside whom he no longer wanted to pretend he was unbreakable.
His gaze dropped instinctively toward her stomach then. Toward their child.
The future still frightened him sometimes. The thought of becoming a parent after growing up with so much emotional damage terrified him in ways he rarely admitted aloud. What if he unknowingly repeated old wounds? What if anger, distance or loneliness found its way into his child’s life too?
But then Naina’s fingers tightened quietly around his. And the fear eased. Because unlike the family he had grown up inside… this child would never question whether they were loved.
Sameer woke up sometime around five-thirty in the evening. For a few moments he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling. The exhaustion that had dragged him into sleep earlier had mostly faded, but he still didn’t feel truly rested. It felt as though his body had recovered, but his mind was still trying to process everything that had happened over the last few days.
Beside him, Naina was awake too. She had shifted closer sometime during their nap, her head resting lightly against his shoulder while one hand remained possessively tangled with his. The sight brought a faint smile to his face.
“Chai?” she asked softly when she noticed him awake.
Sameer nodded. Neither of them rushed to get up. For another minute or two they simply lay there quietly, enjoying the rare peace before reality inevitably returned.
Eventually they made their way to the living room where the rest of the household was slowly reassembling as well. The atmosphere felt noticeably different from the afternoon. The pain was still there. The uncertainty remained. Nothing had truly been resolved yet. But the rawness had softened slightly. The shock had begun settling into something more manageable.
Healing, after all, rarely arrived through grand gestures. More often, it began with ordinary conversations.
Sarla Kaki soon appeared carrying a large tray laden with tea, biscuits and small bowls of chevdo. The familiar aroma of ginger and cardamom filled the room almost immediately.
This time nobody refused.
They settled into various corners of the living room with their cups, and slowly, cautiously, conversation returned. It was Deepika who unknowingly started it. Naina asked about her college, and soon the younger girl found herself talking about assignments, practical submissions and the exams she would need to prepare for over the next few months.
The topic was refreshingly normal. For the first time that day, people smiled without forcing it.
Rohan complained that she still left most of her projects until the last minute. Deepika retaliated by reminding everyone of his own legendary procrastination habits. Even Jaiprakash’s lips twitched faintly at their bickering.
From there the conversation drifted naturally toward work. Aman and Sameer began discussing what needed immediate attention at Maheshwari Industries over the next week. Internal communications. Staff morale. Vendor conversations. Shareholder concerns. The clean-up was far from complete, but for the first time it felt manageable.
They had a plan now. Plans were easier to deal with than uncertainty.
At some point, the discussion drifted away from business entirely. Someone mentioned sightseeing, and Deepika immediately began listing places she wanted to visit in and around the city.
Naina smiled faintly at that.
“It’s so strange,” she admitted, “main Ahmedabad mein hi badi hui hun… aur phir bhi maine inmein se aadhe se zyada jagah kabhi properly nahi dekhi.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Aisa kaise?” Deepika asked immediately.
Naina shrugged lightly. “Bas… ghar waalo ko lagta tha ladkiyon ko zyada ghoomna nahi chahiye. Aur phir…” she smiled faintly, “…main toh bin maa ki bachchi thi na. Mere papa ko bhi meri kuch padi nahi thi. Hamesha yahi sunne ko milta tha ke mujhe aur bhi sambhal ke rehna chahiye. Zyada azaadi mil gai toh bigad jaungi.”
The casualness with which she said it somehow made the statement sadder. Sameer’s expression immediately darkened. Even now, after knowing her entire story, there were moments when he wanted to march back into her childhood and personally argue with every adult who had failed her.
“Amazing logic,” Aman muttered dryly.
Deepika looked genuinely horrified. “Matlab aap Ahmedabad mein rehke bhi properly ghoomi nahi?”
Naina shook her head. “Kankaria gayi thi ek-do baar school picnic mein. Bas.”
This time even Rohan looked offended. “Nahi bhabhi, yeh toh galat baat hai.”
The resulting discussion immediately shifted toward creating a list of places they would take her over the next few weeks.
“Sabarmati Ashram,” Jaiprakash supplied first.
“Haan,” Sameer agreed. “Aur Teen Darwaza. Purane sheher ki taraf bhi chalenge.”
“Law Garden bhi,” Deepika added.
“Law Garden toh pakka,” Rohan nodded.
Aman listened with growing interest.
“Main isse pehle teen baat aaya hun Ahmedabad,” he admitted. “Lekin airport, hotel, suppliers ke offices aur kaarkhane ke alawa aur kuch nahi dekha.”
The entire table stared at him. “Yeh bhi galat baat hai,” Deepika declared immediately.
Even Jaiprakash chuckled. Soon the list began growing rapidly.
“Thol Bird Sanctuary,” Sameer suggested. “Subah-subah jayenge. Season sahi hua toh flamingos bhi mil jayenge.”
“Rani ki Vav,” Aman added. “Uski photos dekhi hai maine. Bahot sundar lagta hai.”
“Modhera Sun Temple,” Sameer agreed. “Wahan bhi chalenge. Thoda drive hai, lekin worth it hai.”
Deepika immediately volunteered herself for every outing. “Aur shopping?” she asked hopefully.
“Sabse pehle shopping,” Naina corrected with a laugh.
The conversation continued building momentum until Sameer suddenly said, “School bhi ek baar dekhne chalenge.”
For a moment the room fell quiet. Naina’s smile disappeared almost immediately. “Nahi.”
The response came far too quickly. Everyone looked at her. She lowered her eyes slightly. “Papa abhi bhi wahin kaam karte hai.”
The lightness around the table faded a little. Sameer instantly regretted bringing it up. But before he could say anything, Jaiprakash spoke. “Chutti ke din chal jayenge.”
Naina blinked. “Kaise?”
The older man looked mildly amused. “School band hoga.”
“Nahi… mera matlab…” She looked genuinely confused. “Hum andar kaise jayenge?”
Jaiprakash raised an eyebrow. “Trustee hun.”
The entire table burst out laughing. Even Sameer couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “Itna toh kar hi sakta hun,” Jaiprakash added with mock dignity.
For the first time that day, the laughter came easily. Not forced. Not fragile. Real.
And sitting around the dining table, arguing about sightseeing plans, old schools and holiday schedules, all of them slowly found themselves talking about the future instead of the past. It wasn’t healing yet. Not completely. The wounds were still there. The grief was still there. But somewhere between the tea, the laughter and the ridiculous argument about who would plan the Ahmedabad itinerary, the first tiny signs of healing had quietly begun to appear.
By the time dinner arrived, the heaviness inside the bungalow had eased enough that laughter no longer felt out of place. Dinner itself had been specifically requested by Naina. Or rather, demanded.
Sarla Kaki had rolled her eyes affectionately when the menu was announced, but nobody had objected. Not when the food began arriving one dish after another, filling the dining room with familiar aromas that seemed capable of healing wounds all by themselves.
The table was soon covered with simple, comforting Gujarati food.
Fresh rotis wrapped in cloth to keep them warm.
Tuver-aloo-baingan sabji cooked in the traditional style, fragrant and rich, the vegetables slow-cooked until they had absorbed all the spices beautifully.
A large bowl of steaming khichdi.
Gujarati kadhi – sweet, tangy and comforting in a way only homemade kadhi could be.
Alongside them sat baskets of roasted khichiya papad, a jar of athanu, and freshly cut cucumber, tomato and onion salad.
This time, nobody needed convincing to eat. In fact, before Naina could even reach for the tuver, Sameer had already scooped an extra helping onto her plate. She looked at him knowingly. He merely shrugged.
“Pasand hai na tumhe,” he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Across the table, Deepika immediately noticed.
“Bhaiya…” she complained dramatically. “Sirf bhabhi ko serve karoge?.”
Sameer looked completely unrepentant. “Haan, bilkul.”
The response earned a round of laughter. A few minutes later, while everyone was busy talking, Naina tore off a small piece of roti, scooped a bit of sabji and held it out toward Sameer without warning.
He blinked in surprise. For a moment he simply stared at her. Then, noticing the expectant look on her face, he obediently leaned forward and accepted the bite.
The reaction around the table was immediate. Rohan groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Ab romance bhi dekhna padega hume.”
Deepika giggled. Even Jaiprakash smiled into his food.
Aman piped up immediately, “tum logo ne kuch dekha hi kaha ab tak. Dekha toh maine tha…”
For the first time all day, Sameer looked almost embarrassed. Naturally everyone asked, but Aman didn’t open his mouth and Sameer was extremely grateful for that.
The conversation flowed naturally after that. Nothing earth-shattering. Nothing dramatic. And perhaps that was exactly why it mattered so much. Because after a day spent watching a family break apart, they were unknowingly doing something equally important now. They were creating new memories. Quieter ones. Kinder ones. The kind built around shared meals, laughter, teasing and small acts of affection. The kind that slowly stitched broken people back together.
The week that followed settled into a rhythm none of them had expected when they first arrived in Ahmedabad. The problems hadn’t disappeared. Maheshwari House still existed. Vishakha and Vivek still existed. Legal paperwork, board resolutions and difficult conversations still waited for them every morning. And yet, life had quietly begun moving forward. The days acquired a structure of their own.
Most mornings started early. After breakfast, Sameer, Rohan, Aman and Jaiprakash would leave for Maheshwari Industries. The company was stable again, but stability and recovery were two different things. There were financial controls to strengthen, pending decisions to finalize and dozens of smaller issues that inevitably surfaced whenever an organization emerged from a crisis.
Rohan spent most of his time at the office too now. The carefree young man who had once treated work as something that happened around him seemed to be disappearing little by little. In his place was someone more thoughtful. More observant. Someone who had finally understood that one day, responsibility would sit on his shoulders too.
The week wasn’t entirely free of difficult moments either. True to his word, Jaiprakash returned to Maheshwari House two days later. Sameer accompanied him. The visit was brief. Neither of them wanted another confrontation. But both felt the need to see things through to the end. By then, most of the packing had already been completed. The servants moved about quietly while Vivek and Vishakha gathered the last of their belongings. Whatever arguments had existed between husband and wife seemed to have vanished beneath the weight of what they had lost.
The exchange itself remained civil. Painfully so. No shouting. No accusations. No attempts at reconciliation. Just the uncomfortable reality of a chapter closing.
And when he and Sameer left Maheshwari House that afternoon, neither man looked back. For Jaiprakash, it felt like losing a daughter. For Sameer, it felt like burying a hope he had stopped believing in years ago. Neither spoke much on the drive back to Ellisbridge. Neither needed to.
Meanwhile, Deepika’s college continued as though nothing extraordinary had happened. Every morning she left with her books and assignments. Every evening she returned with stories about professors, practical submissions and friends who somehow managed to create drama even during ordinary lectures.
The normalcy helped. Perhaps all of them needed it.
And then there were the evenings.
The evenings belonged entirely to Ahmedabad. Refusing to let either Aman or Rohan spend their free time driving everyone around, Sameer had quietly arranged two drivers for their remaining stay in Ahmedabad. The result was that every evening, shortly after tea, the entire household would pile into the cars and disappear somewhere.
Ahmedabad unfolded before them slowly. Not the Ahmedabad of guidebooks. But each of their Ahmedabad. The city they had lived in. Everyone except Aman.
Sometimes it was a familiar street where Naina had once cycled as a teenager.
Sometimes it was an old bookstore Rohan used to visit after school.
Sometimes it was simply a drive through neighbourhoods where memories seemed to live around every corner for Nanu.
Sometimes it was a chai tapree or a small restaurant where Sameer had gone with his friends.
For Naina, the experience felt strangely emotional. She had spent most of her life in this city. And yet she was discovering it for the first time.
Growing up, freedom had never really belonged to her. There had always been rules. Restrictions. Warnings.
A motherless girl needed to be careful.
A motherless girl shouldn’t wander around.
A motherless girl shouldn’t be given too much freedom.
What if she developed bad habits?
What if people talked?
What if she forgot her place?
Now, for the first time, she was experiencing the city without any of those invisible chains.
One evening they walked through Law Garden. Another day they spent hours exploring the intricate beauty of Rani ki Vav. A trip to Modhera followed. One early morning at Thol Bird Sanctuary, Deepika became completely obsessed with spotting flamingos while Aman pretended not to care even as he borrowed her binoculars every few minutes.
Watching them all, Jaiprakash often found himself smiling quietly. For the first time in years, he wasn’t seeing a fractured family trying to survive. He was seeing a family being built.
Of course, throughout all of this, Naina’s pregnancy ensured that she remained the center of everyone’s attention. Particularly Sameer’s. The cravings alone were enough to keep the entire household entertained.
One evening she declared that she absolutely needed raw mango sprinkled with salt and chilli. The next morning she couldn’t even bear the sight of it.
A few days later she developed an intense craving for pani-puri from a roadside stall. Sameer refused immediately. The resulting argument lasted nearly forty-five minutes. Naina accused him of being impossible. Sameer accused her of trying to give his child food poisoning. Deepika and Rohan switched sides repeatedly depending on who was winning. Aman wisely remained silent. Eventually Sarla Kaki intervened with homemade pani puri and restored peace to the household. For approximately twenty-four hours.
Then came the mood swings. Some days Naina laughed at everything. Some days she cried at things nobody else could understand. Once she became emotional over a stray puppy. Another time she cried because a vendor had run out of roasted corn. The poor man looked horrified. Sameer immediately bought corn from the next stall and handed it over as though negotiating a diplomatic crisis. The entire family laughed. Which only made Naina cry harder. And then laugh too.
The physical discomforts arrived as well. Her back hurt after longer outings. The growing curve of her stomach made certain positions uncomfortable. Sometimes the waistband of her salwar irritated the sensitive skin around her waist so badly that she spent half the evening absentmindedly adjusting it. Every single time Sameer noticed. Without fail. One evening he disappeared for less than an hour and returned carrying several bags. Inside were soft cotton maternity outfits. Naina stared at them. Then at him. Then at the alarming quantity he had purchased. His only defense was a simple shrug. “They looked comfortable.”
By the end of the week, nobody was even surprised anymore. Because this was simply who Sameer was. He remembered which fruit she liked that day. He remembered when she had taken her vitamins. He remembered whether she had eaten enough protein. He remembered when her feet were swollen. And every night, no matter how tired he was, he still found himself sitting beside her, gently rubbing her ankles while she pretended not to enjoy being fussed over. She never succeeded in fooling anyone. Least of all him.
And perhaps that was the most remarkable thing about that week. Not the sightseeing. Not the food. Not even the progress at Maheshwari Industries. But the fact that somewhere between office meetings, college assignments, evening drives, family dinners and pregnancy cravings, the people inside the Ellisbridge bungalow slowly stopped behaving like individuals recovering from a tragedy. And started behaving like a family. A real one.
For all the changes that week brought into their lives, there was one change Naina hadn’t anticipated at all. The more time she spent with Sameer, the more difficult it became to stay away from him. At first she hadn’t even noticed it consciously. It was hidden in small things.
The way she automatically searched for him the moment she entered a room. The way she felt calmer the instant he returned from the office every evening. The way her hand instinctively reached for his whenever they sat together. Or how, during their outings, she somehow always ended up walking close enough for their shoulders to brush.
Perhaps it was because the past few weeks had been so difficult. Perhaps it was because carrying his child had made her feel connected to him in ways she had never imagined possible. Or perhaps it was simply because she loved him. Whatever the reason, her need for him seemed to be growing with every passing day.
The kisses had become more frequent too. The passionate and deliberate ones. But also the other ones… Just small, everyday kisses that somehow felt far more dangerous. A kiss pressed absentmindedly against her forehead before leaving for work. A kiss against her temple when he thought she was worried. A kiss on her cheek while passing behind her chair. A kiss against her knuckles when nobody was paying attention. And every single one of them seemed to leave her wanting more.
The problem was that Naina herself wasn’t entirely sure what that “more” meant. And that realization was becoming increasingly frustrating. The night in Mumbai had been different. Back then, nothing had required thought. Nothing had required planning. There had been no awkwardness, no hesitation, no need to explain feelings that neither of them had fully understood yet. Everything had simply… happened.
Naturally. Beautifully.
As though the distance between them had finally become impossible to maintain.
But now things were different. Now she actually had to think. And thinking, she was discovering, was far more difficult. Especially when the subject happened to be her husband.
Several times during the week she had decided she would say something. Several times she had lost her courage completely.
Once, during the drive back from Law Garden, she had spent nearly twenty minutes rehearsing a sentence in her head. By the time she had finally gathered enough confidence to speak, Deepika had climbed into the backseat between them, excitedly talking about something she had bought. The opportunity disappeared.
Another night she had convinced herself that she would definitely say something before sleeping. Instead she had ended up asking whether he had remembered to take his vitamins. Even Sameer had looked mildly confused by the question because it was her who needed to take vitamins not him. The memory still made her want to hide her face in embarrassment.
And the worst part was that Sameer remained completely unaware of the battle taking place inside her head. Or perhaps not unaware. Simply… Sameer.
He noticed everything. Her cravings. Her backaches. Her mood swings. The way the waistband of her salwar irritated her skin. The way her feet swelled after longer outings. The fact that she preferred slightly colder water these days. The fact that she was suddenly obsessed with any type of beans starting from tuver to rajma. The fact that she couldn’t sleep comfortably on certain nights. He noticed all of it. Without fail. And then proceeded to do something about it.
Which only made the situation worse. Because every time he tucked a cushion behind her back without being asked, every time he remembered something she herself had forgotten, every time he reached for her hand instinctively, her heart seemed to lose a little more of its ability to behave sensibly.
Sometimes she found herself simply watching him. Watching him argue with Aman. Watching him patiently explain something to Rohan. Watching him carry Deepika’s shopping bags while pretending to be annoyed about it. Watching him discuss business with Nanu. Watching him laugh. Watching him smile. Watching him unconsciously place a protective hand against her back whenever she stood up.
And every single time, the same thought appeared inside her mind.
Mine.
The word should probably have embarrassed her. Instead it filled her with a strange warmth. A happiness so complete that it almost frightened her.
Because for so many years she had belonged nowhere. To no one. And now suddenly she belonged somewhere. With him.
The realization made her blush like a teenager. It also made her increasingly impatient. Because wanting her husband this much was one thing. Finding the courage to tell him was proving to be an entirely different challenge. And much to Naina’s irritation, pregnancy seemed to be making that challenge harder instead of easier.
By Friday afternoon, for the first time since arriving in Ahmedabad, they returned home with something dangerously close to peace. Not because all their problems had been solved. Far from it.
Maheshwari Industries still had a long road ahead. The damage Vivek had caused over the years couldn’t be undone within a few days. There would be audits, restructuring, shareholder management and countless decisions waiting for them in the months ahead.
But the crisis itself was over. The company was stable.
Sameer’s investment had been finalized. Additional capital from carefully selected investors had been secured. The employees who needed to be removed were gone. The remaining workforce had received assurances of stability, salary corrections in the second half of the year and an additional year-end bonus on top of the regular Diwali payout.
The message had been received clearly. Maheshwari Industries wasn’t dying. It was beginning again.
Jaiprakash had resumed his position as Chairman.
Rohan had officially stepped into the role of Vice President, a designation he still seemed mildly terrified by.
And SJM would remain involved as a shareholder and advisor until the transition was complete.
There was work ahead. A lot of work. But for the first time, the future felt manageable. Which was probably why Sameer found himself craving something entirely different that afternoon.
Not strategy. Not meetings. Not responsibility. Just Naina.
It was a little after three in the afternoon when they returned home. The bungalow had fallen into one of those rare pockets of silence that only appeared after hearty lunches. Everyone drifted naturally toward their respective rooms. And Sameer headed straight for his.
The moment he stepped inside, his expression softened. Naina was already asleep. Curled on her side beneath the light cotton sheet, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, looking impossibly peaceful. For a moment he simply stood there watching her.
The past few months had brought so much chaos into their lives that sometimes he still found it difficult to believe this was real. That she was here. That she was his wife. That the child growing inside her belonged to both of them.
The thought settled warmly somewhere inside his chest. Quietly, he changed into a t-shirt and tracks, taking care not to disturb her. Then he slipped beneath the covers beside her. The effect was immediate. Almost instinctive.
Naina shifted toward him in her sleep like a homing pigeon finding its way back.
Sameer smiled. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he tugged her gently closer until she was tucked securely against him. She made a small contented sound without waking, her fingers curling lightly against his chest. The simple trust in that unconscious gesture did something ridiculous to his heart. His chin settled on top of her head. And for the first time all day, he allowed himself to relax completely.
The intention had been simple. A short nap. Tea. Then an evening outing with Nanu to visit their old school. Nothing more.
At least that had been the plan.
When Sameer woke sometime later, sunlight was filtering softly through the curtains, painting the room in warm shades of gold. For several moments he remained suspended between sleep and wakefulness, vaguely aware of something pleasant.
A familiar fragrance. Soft fingers moving lazily across his chest. A gentle pressure near his jaw. And then another. His eyes opened slowly.
Naina was propped up on one elbow beside him. The moment she realized he was awake, she didn’t look even slightly embarrassed. If anything, she looked caught. And entirely unapologetic about it.
Sameer blinked once. Then again. His sleep-heavy brain taking a few seconds to catch up.
“Naina…”
The smile that immediately appeared on her face did absolutely nothing to help him think. During the past week something had changed between them. Nothing dramatic. Nothing either of them had spoken about. And yet the difference was impossible to miss.
Naina seemed drawn toward him in ways she hadn’t been before. The touches came easier. The kisses happened more often. She reached for him without thinking. Sat closer. Held on longer.
And every single time, Sameer found himself wanting exactly the same thing. His arm slipped around her waist automatically, pulling her closer. Instead of settling beside him like she usually would, Naina remained hovering above him, studying his face with an intensity that made him oddly self-conscious.
“Kya hua?” he finally asked.
Her gaze moved deliberately over him. “Aaj garmi zyada hai na?.”
He blinked again, frowning a bit. But nodded in agreement.
A finger moved down the center of his chest. Then she said with complete seriousness, “itni garmi me tumne kuch zyada hi kapde pehne hue hai.”
Sameer stared. The absurdity of the statement struck him so unexpectedly that he actually laughed. A real laugh. The kind that had become increasingly common around her.
“Naina…”
But she merely continued looking at him expectantly. As though her complaint was entirely reasonable. Which, in her mind, it probably was.
After several seconds of what could only be described as a staring contest, Sameer surrendered. Some part of his brain categorized it as another of her pregnancy driven demands, and he had learned enough in these months to obey whatever she said. With a resigned shake of his head, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere near the foot of the bed.
The expression that appeared on Naina’s face afterwards nearly undid him.
Pure satisfaction. Triumph. Delight.
As though she had just won a hard-fought negotiation.
“My God,” he muttered.
Her answering smile was radiant. Then, before he could say anything else, she shifted closer and pressed a lingering kiss against the center of his chest. Directly over his heart.
The laughter vanished from him instantly. Something about the gesture felt unexpectedly intimate. Tender. Almost possessive.
His hand rose automatically, threading through her hair. For several moments neither of them spoke. There was no need. The room remained wrapped in soft afternoon stillness while sunlight drifted lazily across the bed.
Naina’s cheek rested against him. His fingers traced absentminded patterns against her back. And gradually the space between them seemed to disappear altogether. At some point, her hand found his. Without saying anything, she guided it beneath the loose fabric of her kurta until his palm rested against the warm skin of her waist.
Sameer felt his breath catch. Not because of the touch itself. But because she had asked for it. Because she wanted him there. The realization settled somewhere deep inside him. His thumb moved lightly against her skin. The resulting shiver that ran through her made his heartbeat quicken immediately.
“Naina…” he murmured again.
This time the word sounded entirely different. She lifted her head slightly. Their eyes met. And suddenly every thought about school visits, company restructuring and family responsibilities seemed impossibly far away. There was only her. Her flushed cheeks. Her soft smile. The way she kept moving closer without even realizing it. The way she looked at him as though she had forgotten the rest of the world existed.
Sameer kissed her then. Slowly. Unhurriedly. The kind of kiss that wasn’t about urgency but about familiarity. About belonging. About finally finding the person who felt like home. One kiss became another. And then another. The afternoon stretching around them until time itself seemed to lose meaning.
Which was exactly why the sudden knock on the door felt so startling. Both of them froze. A second knock followed almost immediately.
“Bhaiya?”
Deepika’s voice floated cheerfully through the door.
Neither moved. Neither breathed.
“Bhabhi?”
A pause. Then… “Chai almost ready hai! Aur Nanu keh rahe hai sab log jaldi taiyaar ho jao. School jaana hai!”
For one suspended second, Sameer simply stared at the ceiling. Then he dropped his forehead against Naina’s shoulder with a groan. Naina, meanwhile, had completely dissolved into laughter. The sound filled the room.
Warm. Happy. Alive.
Outside, Deepika continued speaking through the closed door, entirely oblivious to the chaos she had interrupted. And despite himself, Sameer found himself laughing too.
By the time they finally managed to leave the bedroom, tea had already been served and consumed, accompanied by considerable teasing from Deepika, who remained blissfully unaware of exactly what she had interrupted earlier.
Now, with the visit to their old school approaching, everyone had retreated to get ready.
Sameer stood before the wardrobe, pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a crisp white shirt while Naina sorted through the growing collection of clothes he had accumulated for her over the past week.
The sight still amused her.
For someone who claimed he knew nothing about shopping, he seemed remarkably capable of filling entire cupboards. Eventually her hand settled on a soft pale-yellow maxi dress. The fabric was light, comfortable and perfectly suited to the warm Ahmedabad evening.
A few minutes later she stood before the mirror fastening her earrings and applying a thin layer of lip gloss. Her eyes lingered on her reflection. The pregnancy was beginning to show more clearly now. Even enough for strangers to immediately notice. Enough that her clothes fit differently. Enough that her body felt different.
For a moment she wondered whether Sameer preferred her dressed up. Or whether he liked her better on the ordinary days when she wandered around in simple salwars with her hair tied carelessly.
The thought had barely crossed her mind when a familiar warmth appeared behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her waist. A broad palm settled instinctively over her stomach. Sameer’s chin came to rest on her shoulder.
Their reflections met in the mirror. “I love you,” he murmured softly. His gaze moved slowly over her. “Bahot khoobsurat lag rahi ho aaj.”
A smile tugged at her lips, though she tried to hide it. “Yeh toh tum hamesha kehte ho,” she complained lightly. “Saree pehnu ya salwar… aur aaj yeh…” She glanced down dramatically. “Gown?”
“Maxi dress,” Sameer corrected immediately.
Naina rolled her eyes. He continued without missing a beat.
“Par kuch log gown bhi kehte hai.”
Then his expression softened. “Aur main hamesha kehta hun kyunki tum hamesha khoobsurat lagti ho.” His hand tightened slightly over hers. “Chahe tumne kuch bhi pehna ho.”
The sincerity in his voice made her heart stumble every single time. Sometimes she wondered if he even realized how easily he could undo her. Turning within the circle of his arms, she rose onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss against his lips. It was meant to be brief. It never quite was with them.
By the time she pulled back, his eyes had darkened noticeably. A pleased warmth spread through her chest. “Aaj raat…” she began softly.
The words trailed away. She didn’t know how to finish them. Didn’t need to. Because Sameer understood immediately. His gaze remained fixed on her face for a long moment. Then, very deliberately, he leaned forward and brushed another kiss against her forehead.
Patient. Certain. Entirely too self-controlled.
“I will wait.”
The simple promise sent a blush racing across her cheeks. And judging by the faint smile that appeared on Sameer’s face, he knew it.
Pragati Vidya Ka Mandir looked exactly as it always had. And yet somehow… entirely different. The evening sun painted the cream-coloured buildings in soft shades of gold as the two cars rolled through the familiar gates. The school day had ended hours ago. The usual chaos of students rushing between classes, shouting across corridors and filling the grounds with noise had long disappeared.
Now only silence remained. A peaceful one. The kind that belonged only to schools after hours.
A few dry leaves drifted lazily across the assembly ground. Somewhere in the distance, a gardener watered the flowerbeds lining the pathways. The old banyan tree near the primary section stood exactly where it always had, its enormous branches stretching protectively across a corner of the campus.
For a few moments after stepping out of the car, nobody spoke. The familiar sight seemed to affect everyone differently. The watchman nearly dropped his register upon seeing Jaiprakash unexpectedly arrive. After several hurried greetings and a visible attempt to stand straighter in front of one of the school’s trustees, the gates were opened fully for them.
Slowly, the group began walking. The campus felt smaller now. Not physically. But in the strange way, childhood places always seemed smaller when viewed through adult eyes.
The corridors that had once felt endless now stretched only a short distance ahead.
The classrooms looked compact.
Even the assembly ground appeared less intimidating than it had during school days.
Every step seemed to carry another memory. For Sameer, those memories were overwhelmingly happy ones.
His eyes moved instinctively toward the cricket pitch first. Still there.
The science block. Still there.
The old staircase where he and his friends had once hidden from teachers after skipping classes. Still there.
Even the canteen looked almost unchanged.
A faint smile appeared on his face. This was the place where he had spent some of the happiest years of his life. Before family complications. Before betrayal. Before responsibilities. Back when life had seemed wonderfully simple.
His friends. His sports. His grades. His dreams.
As they walked through the corridors, he could almost hear echoes of old laughter bouncing off the walls. Could almost see younger versions of himself and his friends running through the same hallways. And yet, somewhere amongst those memories, another thought lingered. One that had visited him more often than he liked in recent months.
What if he had paid more attention?
What if he had been a little more mature?
A little less arrogant. A little less concerned with fitting in.
Would he have noticed her?
The quiet girl everyone seemed to take for granted. The one who never hesitated to help others. The one who always carried extra notes because someone inevitably forgot theirs. The one who smiled even when nobody gave her much reason to.
Back then, he had seen Naina. Of course he had. Everybody knew who Naina Agarwal was.
The brilliant girl. The topper. The teacher’s favourite. But he had never really looked at her. Not the way he wished he had now.
The thought made his eyes drift instinctively toward her. She was walking ahead with Deepika, her pale-yellow dress moving gently in the evening breeze.
And suddenly he found himself wondering how different life might have been if eighteen-year-old Sameer Maheshwari had possessed even half the wisdom twenty-eight year-old Sameer now carried.
For Naina, however, every corner of the school felt like opening an old diary. The memories came so quickly that she barely knew where to look first.
The primary section.
The classrooms where she had learned her first alphabets.
The courtyard where she and Preeti had played during recess.
The pathway she had cycled down almost every morning for years.
The memories of her sister appeared everywhere.
Two school bags. Two bicycles. Two girls racing each other toward the gates. For years, this school had been their entire world.
And then there was Swati. The best friend who had shared secrets, lunches, exam anxiety and countless dreams.
Naina smiled softly to herself. So much of her childhood lived inside these walls.
They eventually reached the corridor of senior classrooms. Rows of classrooms stood quiet behind closed doors. The fading sunlight filtered through the glass windows, illuminating abandoned blackboards and neatly arranged desks.
Naina slowed unconsciously. How many hours had she spent here?
Studying. Preparing. Competing. Winning. Year after year.
Always first.
Always the topper.
At the time she had told herself it was because she loved learning. And she did. But standing here now, she understood another truth. Somewhere deep inside, a younger version of herself had believed that if she worked hard enough, achieved enough, became exceptional enough… Her father might finally look at her the way he looked at her brother.
With pride. With approval. With love.
The realization no longer hurt the way it once had. Time had dulled those wounds. But the memory still lingered.
Their footsteps eventually carried them toward the library. The moment she stepped inside, Naina stopped. The familiar scent hit her immediately. Old paper. Wood polish. Dusty books that had been read hundreds of times.
For a moment she was sixteen again. Sitting by the far window. Surrounded by textbooks. Pretending to study. And secretly watching a certain boy whenever he happened to enter. A helpless smile curved her lips. Because this was where the memories became dangerous.
The library. The corridors. The assembly ground.
Everywhere she looked, she seemed to find traces of him.
Sameer Maheshwari.
He had arrived in her life like a gust of wind.
Loud. Confident. Carefree.
Everything she wasn’t. And before she had even understood what love meant, she had somehow lost her heart to him. The memory felt almost absurd now. Because even then, she had known it was impossible. She had known people like Sameer belonged to a different world. Whatever foolish dreams she carried were exactly that.
Dreams. Beautiful. Impossible. Temporary.
And yet life had somehow chosen a different ending.
“Naina?”
His voice broke through her thoughts.
She turned. Sameer stood a few feet away, watching her.
The evening sunlight filtering through the library windows fell across his face, illuminating the familiar smile that had once reduced a sixteen-year-old girl to complete stupidity. Her heart responded exactly the same way now. Some things apparently never changed.
Without a word, Sameer crossed the distance between them and took her hand. His fingers intertwined with hers naturally. Comfortably. As though they had always belonged there.
And standing inside the library where she had once hidden impossible dreams between textbooks and unfinished notes, Naina found herself smiling. Because if someone had told sixteen-year-old Naina Sharma that one day Sameer Maheshwari would stand beside her as her husband, holding her hand while their child grew safely beneath her heart… She would have laughed. And then immediately assumed they were making fun of her. Yet somehow life had given her exactly the dream she had never dared hope for. The impossible one.
By the time they stepped out of PVKM, the sun had already disappeared beyond the horizon. The school grounds behind them had begun dissolving into evening shadows, while the city ahead glowed with thousands of scattered lights. A warm breeze carried the scent of dust, flowering trees and distant food stalls through the air. For a few moments, nobody moved toward the cars.
The visit had left all of them thoughtful in different ways. Sameer found himself looking back one last time at the familiar cream-colored buildings. So many memories lived inside those walls. Good ones. Difficult ones. Unexpected ones. And somewhere amongst them all was a sixteen-year-old Naina Sharma quietly carrying dreams she herself had never expected to come true.
Aman’s voice broke the silence. “Chalo. Kahin chai ya coffee peete hai.”
Sameer’s lips immediately pinched. “Nahi. Abhi tak safe nahi hai. Ghar hi wapas chalte hai.”
Aman sighed dramatically. “SJM…”
“Main serious hun.”
“So am I.”
He folded his arms.
“Friday shaam ko koi popular jagah gaye toh…”
Aman barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “As if mujhe yeh nahi pata. Main toh Ellisbridge me ek naya cafe khula hai uski baat kar raha hun. Ghar pe Sarla Kaki khana bana rahi hongi. Hamare liye alag se chai bhi banani padegi.”
Then he lowered his voice. “Aur sabse badi baat…” Everyone instinctively leaned closer. “Udhar chaat bhi milta hai.”
Sameer closed his eyes. Immediately. Because he knew exactly what was coming.
And sure enough – “Chaat?”
Naina’s voice carried the exact amount of excitement he had been dreading.
He refused to look at her.
“Sameer…”
Silence.
“Please?”
Nothing.
“Please, please?”
By now everyone else was openly smiling. Sameer finally opened his eyes. “Okay. Chalte hai.” The defeated resignation in his voice immediately triggered laughter from almost everyone present.
Naina, meanwhile, looked thoroughly pleased with herself. The expression alone convinced Sameer he had made a mistake. Twenty minutes later they found themselves seated at the cafe Aman had mentioned.
The place was charming in a way none of them had expected. Nestled on a quieter Ellisbridge lane, it looked almost transported from another country. White ornate wrought-iron chairs surrounded small circular tables draped with red-and-white checkered tablecloths. Tiny glass vases holding fresh daisies sat at the center of each table. Fairy lights had been strung across the outdoor seating area, their warm golden glow beginning to sparkle against the deepening blue evening sky.
Soft instrumental music drifted through the air. It felt relaxed. Comfortable. Almost magical. Especially after the emotional weight of the previous weeks.
The moment the menus arrived, however, all charm and sophistication disappeared. Because Naina had discovered the chaat section. Several minutes were spent debating between bhel puri, sev puri, dahi puri and pani puri. Eventually Sameer ordered all four. The look Naina gave him afterward suggested he had just become her favorite person in the world.
Tea and coffee followed. And somehow the conversation gradually drifted back toward PVKM. Memories surfaced easily now. Stories that had remained buried for years seemed to find their way into the open. Jaiprakash recounted incidents from trustee meetings. Sameer shared stories about school competitions and sports events. Deepika was particularly fascinated by every embarrassing detail she could extract about her brother. The more she learned, the more delighted she became.
The discussion eventually shifted toward school trips. That topic immediately captured Deepika’s attention. “Hamari college plan kar rahi hai picnic next semester me.”
The statement triggered another flood of memories.
“Main toh Nainital me bahot picnic pe gaya hun,” Sameer admitted. “Trekking, camping, day trips… sab.”
Deepika looked scandalized. “Unfair.”
Sameer laughed. “Ahmedabad me bhi gaya tha ek baar.”
“Kahan?” Rohan asked.
“Mount Abu.”
The answer immediately generated interest around the table.
“Eleventh grade.” A smile touched Sameer’s lips. “Overnight trip tha. Kaafi maza aaya tha.”
The memories returned surprisingly clearly. Everyone’s excitement of travelling without their parents. The endless bus ride. The complete lack of sleep. The laughter that seemed to continue well into the night, along with the bonfire.
For a few moments everyone seemed to imagine their own version of the trip. Then Rohan glanced toward Naina. “Aur aap bhabhi?”
The question caught her off guard. She smiled softly. Then shook her head. “Nahi.”
“Nahi matlab?”
“Mujhe jaane nahi diya gaya tha.”
The answer came lightly. Too lightly.
The way people spoke when discussing disappointments they had long ago convinced themselves no longer mattered. Around the table, a brief silence settled.
Deepika frowned. “Why?”
Naina gave a small shrug. The answer was simple. Predictable. Familiar.
“Papa ne mana kar diya tha.”
Nobody asked further. Nobody needed to. They all knew enough about Naina’s childhood now. The conversation resumed after that. At least outwardly.
But Sameer’s attention remained fixed on her. She was smiling. Participating. Listening. Yet he noticed the tiny sadness that had slipped into her eyes. The way her fingers absently played with the spoon. The way the last few bites of bhel puri remained untouched on her plate.
Most people would never have noticed. Sameer did. He always did.
The realization came to him so naturally that he spoke before fully thinking it through. “Tumhe man ho toh hum chal sakte hai.”
The words immediately drew everyone’s attention.
Naina blinked. “Kahan?”
“Mount Abu.”
The spoon stilled in her hand. For a second she simply stared at him. As though she wasn’t entirely sure she had heard correctly. Then the reactions exploded around the table.
“Sach?”
“Weekend pe?”
“Hum sab?”
“Road trip?”
Within seconds the discussion transformed completely. Aman was already thinking through logistics. Rohan was calculating travel time. Deepika looked ready to pack immediately. Even Jaiprakash seemed visibly pleased by the idea.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly, hope began replacing nostalgia.
“Kal subah nikal sakte hai,” Aman suggested.
“Saturday aur Sunday.”
“Sunday raat tak wapas aa jayenge,” Rohan added, “ya Monday subah,”
Deepika countered instantly, “college miss ho jayegi.”
“Ek din,” Aman deadpanned. “Desh barbaad nahi ho jayega.”
The table erupted into laughter once more. Meanwhile, Naina was still looking at Sameer.
A trip she had wanted sixteen years ago.
A memory she had never gotten to create.
A piece of her childhood she had quietly accepted was gone forever.
And now suddenly… It wasn’t.
Sameer reached for the dish in-front of her and stole the last bite of bhel from her plate. Only then did she react. “Sameer!”
He looked entirely unapologetic. “Tum kha nahi rahi thi.”
The protest dissolved into laughter. And as plans began forming around them – hotel bookings, sightseeing spots, which car everyone would take, what time they would leave – Naina found herself smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.
Because perhaps life really did have a strange way of returning things.
Not when you wanted them. Not in the form you expected. But when the time was finally right.
And sitting beneath fairy lights, surrounded by laughter, family and the man she loved, Naina realized that for the first time in a very long while, the future no longer felt like something she needed to survive. It felt like something she couldn’t wait to experience.
Years ago, when he had first learned chess from his father, Jaiprakash had been taught a simple lesson. No matter how badly a game was going, no matter how many pieces had been lost, the game only truly ended when the king fell.
For a long time, he had believed Maheshwari House was the king.
The company. The wealth. The legacy.
But sitting beneath the fairy lights that evening, listening to his grandchildren argue over a weekend trip, he finally realized how wrong he had been.
The king had never been the house.
It had never been the company.
It had never been the money.
The king was the family.
And somehow, despite everything, they were still standing.
The conference room did not empty immediately. For a few seconds after Sameer’s final words,…
Saturday morning arrived gently, as if the city had chosen not to rush into the…
The night before had shifted more than just plans. It had shifted the board. And…
The morning in Ahmedabad had begun like any other - measured, predictable, wrapped in the…
The morning in Ahmedabad carried the quiet shift of seasons. Winter had begun to withdraw,…
The next morning in Alibaug arrived quietly, as though the world itself had decided not…
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For the first time, I hate scrolling down and still instinctively does so because I could not bear the thought that I would not be able to read more. Such Is the power of your story so brilliantly written that I don't want the chapter to end. I was even making scenarios of Naina bumping into Preeti when Law Garden was mentioned or how PVKM could be the place where Naina confesses that she loves Sameer all over again and the story starts again... also you now even added mystery around what Aman is planning and who is the person against they are planning... Manav Bajaj? Naina's family? The one *her mentioned* Is Naina or someone else because why would you hide Naina? Ahh so much suspense. Waiting waiting waiting