The Malhotra Mansion stood loud and proud in the rich neighbourhoods of Juhu. Garlands were strung at the doorways, lights were hung up everywhere, and the massive gate of the mansion was open to welcome the arrival of influential guests. Fairy lights were draped across balconies, glowing warm gold against the darkening Mumbai sky.
The lawn glittered with lanterns, and flowers were arranged with meticulous excess. A mix of Bollywood and classical music swelled and softened in practised waves. In Akshay's bedroom, he flung his black suit on and practised his tie. His phone, which sat on his dresser, buzzed loudly.
Jeevika: AKSHUU!!! Can't wait to see you tonight ❤️
He simply rolled his eyes and liked the message with a thumbs up👍as he made his way downstairs.
Meanwhile, in the adjacent bedroom, Shriya stood in front of the mirror fixing the pleats of her saree.
The deep emerald green silk was laced with gold zari. The pallu was wide and heavy, shimmering like liquid gold, and the border gleamed with a richness that demanded attention.
The matching sleeveless green blouse was sleeveless and tailored to hug her form, highlighting the gentle curve of her shoulders and arms, giving her a poised yet effortless elegance.
The neckline dipped modestly but artfully. The back of the blouse was open, and loose doree strings hung loose.
She gently touched the mangalsutra, hugging her neck and fixed it, smiling in the mirror. This would be her first real Malhotra party as their daughter-in-law.
She reached behind herself, fingers brushing the doree ties. The strings slid away from her grasp, and a small, frustrated sound escaped her.
Veer walked in from the bathroom at that moment, fixing his blazer. His eyes fell on her back, and he quickly looked away in respect.
The mirror showed it all: the way his gaze had already accidentally caught on the open back of her blouse, the way his Adam's apple bobbed once, hard, as he looked down at the ground.
"Aap..." she said softly, still facing the mirror. "Doree thoda— " ( Can you?)
He swallowed. "Ji."
He came closer. Each step shrank the space until the air itself felt warm, thick with sandalwood and her floral perfume.
"Main... haath lagaun?" he asked. ( Can I touch?)
She nodded, barely.
His fingers brushed the first string. Where he felt the warmth of her skin.
He froze, then resumed, slower now. He looped the first doree, tying it carefully. His knuckles grazed her back accidentally. She inhaled sharply at the touch.
"Shriya ji," he murmured, voice suddenly rougher. "Agar—"
"Nahi," she said quickly. "Theek hai." ( No, it's okay)
He pulled the strings together, gently, experimentally. The silk tightened against her spine. His fingers lingered at the small of her back, longer than necessary, like they were memorising her heat.
His thumb brushed her skin as he adjusted the bow, slow and deliberately.
The room felt very quiet.
Veer's voice came low. "Zyada tight toh nahi?" ( Is it too tight?)
She shook her head, unable to trust her voice.
He let his fingers rest there—still holding the strings—before finally letting go, like release took effort.
"Ho gaya," he said. ( it's done)
Both of them looked in the mirror shyly.
Their eyes met in the glass.
She smiled first, softly, hesitantly. He came after, softer, unguarded, as if he'd forgotten how to put his usual restraint back on. The emerald silk glowed between them, gold catching the light, but it was the way they fit in the frame together that made her heart stutter.
Veer cleared his throat, failing to look away. "Lagta hai... ghar bhi aaj thoda zyada chamak raha hai." ( Looks like the house is glowing today)
She let out a breathy laugh, surprised at herself. "Shayad sirf sheeshe ka kasoor hai." ( Maybe it's because of the mirror)
"Shayad," he said—though his eyes said otherwise.
For a fleeting moment, his hand lifted, hovering near her waist in the mirror's reflection, unsure, respectful, aching. She didn't move away.
Her eyes flicked to his hands, still suspended between them, unsure where to go now. Then to his face. His ears were red. Properly red.
" umm.. Veer ji..?" she asked.
" main kaisi lag rahi.. Matlab theek? Aapne kuch bola nahi," she asked, a little hurt. ( How am I looking? Okay? You didn't say anything?)
"Haan.. Matlab..- you look like mine... I mean, fine!" he stuttered, corrected himself.
Veer's brain short-circuited the moment the words left his mouth.
Fine.
Why did he say, " Fine "?
Shriya stopped for half a second, then she nodded once politely and turned away.
"Oh," she said lightly, too lightly. "Just fine."
She took two steps toward the door.
Veer panicked.
"Arre—ruk—Shriya ji—" He reached out without thinking and caught the end of her pallu between his fingers. Just the fabric, silk sliding warm under his thumb.
The room went quiet except for the faint music drifting up from downstairs and the soft clink of bangles as she turned back slowly.
He let go of the pallu immediately, as if it burned. "I'm sorry," he blurted. "Woh—main—"
He swallowed.
"Main nervous ho jaata hoon," he admitted, voice lower now. "Jab aap aise khadi hoti ho na... toh words galat nikal jaate hain." ( I get nervous.. when you stand like this.. the words don't escape my mouth)
His chest tightened.
"Shriya. ji.." he started, then stopped, exhaling softly through his nose. He scratched the back of his neck, visibly flustered. "Main isliye chup tha kyunki... mujhe samajh hi nahi aa raha tha kya bolun." ( I'm quiet because.. I don't know what to say)
Her brows knit together. "Matlab?"
He took a step closer, instinctive, careful. Close enough that his voice dropped without effort.
"Jab aap poochti ho na 'theek lag rahi hoon?'" he said quietly, "toh mujhe lagta hai jaise main jhooth bolunga agar sirf 'theek' kahun." ( When you ask, " do I look okay?" I feel as if I'm lying if I just say you look good)
Her breath caught.
He gestured vaguely, helpless. "Aap... bohot sundar lag rahi ho. Par sirf aaj nahi. Aaj bas—" He faltered, searching. "—thoda zyada chamak rahi ho." ( You look very beautiful. But not just today... you're glowing more than usual)
He sucked in a breath, bracing himself, " Aap Khoobsurat lagti ho. . More beautiful than beauty itself. Beauty is something you admire and move on from." He paused, fingers curling slightly at his side. "But when I look at you, it doesn't feel distant. It feels close and familiar. Like something that belongs in the room with me. So no, you're not just beautiful. You're more than that. It would take me lifetimes to just describe the mere essence of your beauty. When I look at you, I cannot just admire you and move on."
"Sach?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
He nodded, continuing, "Because something in me refuses to move."
He swallowed, the words no longer rehearsed, just... spilling.
"When I look at you, I want to stay. I want to sit in that moment and understand it—understand you. Your silences, the way your eyes soften before you smile, the way you think before you speak, as if every word deserves respect." His lips curved faintly, almost shyly. "Even now, standing here, I feel like if I look away, I'll miss something important."
His gaze lifted to hers in the mirror, steady, sincere.
"Beauty fades from memory," he said. "But you don't. You linger. In rooms, in thoughts, in the spaces between breaths." he paused.
"That's why I say it would take me lifetimes. Not to praise you, but to know you. And even then, I don't think I'd be done."
Shriya looked shyly at the ground, fumbling with her pallu, her cheeks blooming red at his words.
He chuckled, noticing her fluster, adding "Haan. Aur—" He hesitated, then added, honest to a fault, "—thoda darr bhi lag raha hai."
She blinked. "Darr?"
He smiled sheepishly. "Sab dekhenge. Aur mujhe... mujhe aadat nahi hai ki meri wife itni—" He stopped himself, ears reddening. "—itni sabki nazar mein ho." ( Everyone will see. And I'm not used to... the fact that my wife will be in everyone's view.
She giggled softly, and he watched it like it was a gift meant only for him.
"Thank you," she said, quieter now.
He nodded, relief easing his shoulders.
From the hallway, Smita called Veer's name again, louder this time.
"Chalein?" he asked.
"Ji," she said, smiling to herself.
Then suddenly, he frowned as if remembering something.
" Shriya ji.... aap ne kajal nahi lagayi?"
" Oh.. bhool gayi mein!" she said softly
" ek minute..." he said, opening the drawer and rummaging through it.
He found the small dabi of kajal ( small container), and gently smudged some on his finger.
" kya main.. aapko laga sakta hoon?" he asked softly. (Can I.. put some on you?)
She smiled, blushing.
Gently, he took his ring finger and smudged the kajal right on her water line. Accentuating her
golden chocolately irises.
Then he gently turned her towards the mirror, "Kaise lag raha hai?" (How does it look?)
"Bahut acha", she giggled. ( Perfect)
Then he took the same ring finger and smudged the kajal right behind her ear, smiling.
" nazar na lage meri biwi ko kisi ki" ( no evil eye better fall on my wife)
He offered her his hand tentatively.
She slipped her hand into his.
The silk whispered as they walked out together, the doree resting in criss-cross against her back—tied securely, but felt, every step of the way.
Outside the Malhotra Mansion, the auto rickshaw halted to a stop when Nimmi, Mishti, and Pihu stepped out. Nimmi was the first to step out.
She wore a deep pink silk saree, the kind that caught the light with every movement, its border embroidered with antique gold thread. Her light pink blouse was sleeveless, high-necked, with a low neckline —very Nimmi maasi. A silver bindi sat small on her forehead. Gold bangles chimed softly as she adjusted the pallu over her shoulder, surveying the mansion with a satisfied hum. Her greyish-black hair was curled into voluminous waves.
" Yeh Ameer log bhi na.. har weekend nayi nayi party," she muttered. ( These rich people, every weekend, thye throw a party)
"Koi baat naat nahi itne acche kapde pade hai closet mein, bahane toh milne chahiye pehne ko"
( No problem, such great clothes are lying in my closet. At least I should have excuses to wear them)
Mishti walked along with her, Pihu clutching her hand tightly.
She was dressed in a navy blue chiffon saree, the fabric falling in gentle layers around her. The pallu was draped carefully over one shoulder, held in place by a safety pin. Her hair was left open, straight and glossy, parted slightly to the side. Her makeup was done perfectly; nude lip liner accentuated her plump pink lips, a smoky eye that made her doe eyes pop, and pink cream blush that made her light tan brown skin glow.
Her fingers tightened instinctively around the small hand in hers.
Pihu nearly tripped, immediately fascinated by the lights.
She wore a tiny peach lehenga, the skirt puffed out like a cupcake, paired with a short choli dotted with mirror work. Her hair was tied into two neat pigtails, secured with white ribbons that bounced as she moved. Little silver anklets jingled at her ankles as she spun once, eyes wide.
Nimmi leaned down, adjusting Pihu's dupatta, which immediately slipped again. "Arre meri rajkumari, sambhaal ke. Andar jaake bhagna nahi."
Pihu nodded very seriously. "Main sirf thoda sa bhagungi."
"Maa, eta bari-ta eto boro... amar putuler barir moto!" she yelled, running.
(This house is so big,... like my dollhouse."!)
Mishti didn't laugh.
Her gaze was fixed on the gate.
The Malhotra name was etched into the metal in clean, sharp letters.
Her throat tightened.
Nimmi straightened, eyes softening as she reached out, squeezing Mishti's arm. "Saans le," she said quietly. "Smita ne bulaya hai. Hum koi chori karke nahi aaye."
( Take a breath, Smita invited us, we haven't stolen anything)
Mishti exhaled, a little shaky. "Pata hai. Bas..." She hesitated. "...itne saalon baad."
( I know, but... after so many years)
Nimmi followed her gaze, instantly understanding who she was thinking about. "Akshay ke baare mein mat soch abhi," she said firmly. "Aaj sirf party hai. Aur tu mehmaan hai."
( Don't think about Akshay. Today is just a party. And you're a guest)
Pihu tugged at Mishti's anarkali. "Mumma, party mein cake hoga na?" ( Mumma, the party will have cake, no)
Mishti crouched down, forcing a smile, brushing Pihu's cheek with her thumb. "Hoga. Aur agar nahi hua na—" she lowered her voice conspiratorially "—toh hum khud mangwa lenge."
Pihu gasped. "Sachi?"
"Muchi," she responded.
The gates opened slowly with a soft creak.
Warm light spilt out brighter now. Voices clearer. The party was fully alive inside.
Mishti adjusted her dupatta once more, straightened her shoulders, and took another breath.
She tightened her grip on Pihu's hand.
"Chalein?" Nimmi asked gently.
Mishti nodded.
"Chalein."
And together, the three of them stepped forward, into light, into noise, into a past that didn't yet know it was about to collide with the present.
Akshay stood with a plate in one hand, half-eaten paneer kebab cooling near his thumb.
Kabir leaned into his shoulder. "Bhai, tu party host hai ya bouncer?"
( Are you a host or a bouncer?)
Akshay didn't look away from the crowd. "Donon." ( Both)
Aarav snorted, adjusting his blazer. "Isliye sab seedha ho ke khade hain. Inspector saab ki nazar lag jaati hai." ( Thats' why everyone's standing so straight.)
Akshay finally glanced at them. "Tum log thoda kam bakwaas kar sakte ho kya?"
Kabir grinned. "Nahi."
A waiter passed. Akshay handed over the plate without thinking.
Aarav nodded toward the gate. "Abhi kaha hai? Late ho raha hai." ( Where's Abhi? He's late?)
"Woh aayega," Akshay said. "Night mein. Nimmi maasi ko bola hai usne."
( He'll come at night. )
Kabir raised an eyebrow. "Party miss karega?"
"Uska mood ka koi guarantee nahi hota," Akshay said. "Aur waise bhi, woh jab aata hai na—entry maar ke hi karta hai."
Aarav laughed. "True. Last time usne DJ se mic cheen liya tha."
"Woh drunk tha," Akshay said automatically.
Kabir tilted his head. "Tu usse defend kar raha hai?"
Then Aarav nudged his shoulder, "Aur woh tumhaari mangetaar woh nahi aa rahi hai?"
Akshay glared at him, " Please woh meri mangetar nahi hai, maine baar baar mana kiya hai mummy papa ko, lekin woh aur uski family meri piche hi padti rehti hai"
( She't not my fiance and I have refused mom and dad so many times, still her family and her are always after me.)
Kabir laughed, " Par bhai... I don't understand why you don't like her. I mean, she's popular, influential, and pretty nice.
Akshay scoffed, " Nice? yea right! Woh bahut saari cheezein hai, lekin nice is not one of them"
(She's many things but nice is not one of them)
Someone clapped Akshay on the back. "Oye Malhotra!"
He turned, instinct already straightening his posture.
"Arre relax," the man laughed. "Smita aunty bula rahi hain. Kuch guests aaye hain." ( Smita aunty is calling, some guests are here)
Akshay nodded once. "Aa raha hoon." ( I'm coming)
Kabir leaned close. "Guests ya rishta?"
Akshay elbowed him lightly. "Chup."
Mishti stood right beside Nimmi nervously.
The saree caught the light as she shifted her weight, fabric gliding over her hip. She was smiling at something Nimmi said, lips curving softly, eyes lowered. When she suddenly caught sight of him.
Across the space, a man stood half-turned, laughing. The black suit was regal and luxurious on him. Fabric pulled where his arm bent, the seam biting in. His hand closed around a small glass.
The man shifted his weight, and the lights caught the side of his face. A thin line near the brow, pale under the glare.
The last time she had seen that face, it was only a little bit taller than her. Always taller than her. Sweat-dark hair curling into his eyes. A school bench groaned when he leaned back, wood complaining under his weight. Chalk dust on his sleeve. Fingers always warm, always faintly damp, always lending her a pen. His cheeks had been chubbier, and the nicknames other kids used to tease him with were " Laddoo" and " Motu".
He chuckled again, throat exposed, where his adam's apple bobbed. The sound rolled out of him, fuller, heavier. It landed somewhere behind her ribs and stayed.
Then he turned, the glass paused midway to his mouth. His eyes flashed forest green, sharp and familiar, catching and holding. His gaze crossed the lawn and fixed on her face.
Everything else kept moving around them.
Mishti felt heat climb her neck. Her posture straightened immediately. Her other hand rose, then stalled at her chest, fingers curling into the edge of her dupatta. She became aware of her breathing, the way it scraped. She fumbled around with her hair, preparing for any anger from him.
He lowered his glass onto the bar and stepped away.
Mishti stood frozen where she was.
Her mind threw up fragments, quick and bright: a packet of chips crushed in a backpack pocket, crumbs everywhere; a bicycle wobbling under too much weight, chain clanking; his laugh when the tire slipped and he landed hard, grass stains blooming across his knees.
The man stopped in front of her.
Then he eyed her up and down, his green eyes piercing into her doe ones.
" Tum idhar kaise? Itne salon baad," he asked sternly, his tone betraying nothing.
( You here? after so many years?)
Mishti froze, stuttering, " Woh main..."
Then he took 3 steps closer to her, his hands hovering in the air as if he couldn't believe she was right in front of him.
Then he tested the word softly.
"Meri Sakhi."
The word slid into her as it had always done. Her lips parted. Nothing came.
She tried to speak, but no sound escaped her.
Then he lifted his hand and flicked her forehead with his hand.
"Aise kaun khada hota hai," he said. "Jaise principal ne aapko office bula liya ho?"
( Who stands like this. As if I called you over to the principal's office.
The sound that left her broke apart halfway. Her shoulders shook once, and before she could even react, he stepped in and wrapped his arms around her, into a warm brotherly hug.
The impact knocked the breath from her chest. Fabric pressed against her cheek, rough where the stitching ran. His chest moved under her face. Solid. Warm. Her hands clenched in his shirt, nails catching, slipping, catching again.
His palm settled between her shoulder blades. Broad. Steady. He held her there.
Her breath came in jerks, and her tears began soaking into the cloth. The music kept going. But for now, it was just Akshay and Mishti, - 2 best friends separated by fate.
His chin dipped, resting briefly against the top of her head.
"Bas," he murmured, voice low, almost embarrassed by the tremor in it. "Bas. Rone ka time baad mein lena Sakhi." ( Enough, don't cry, cry later meri sakhi)
She let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob, wet and broken. Her forehead pressed harder into his chest, as if she could crawl back into the years they'd lost and hide there.
"You idiot," she whispered, voice muffled. "You don't get to say that."
Her shoulders shook again. His hand moved in slow, grounding circles against her back. Same rhythm as always. Counted. Reliable.
After a long moment, he pulled back just enough to look at her face.
Her eyes were red, lashes clumped with tears, nose flushed. But it was still her.. Still the girl who used to climb mango trees with his help, and who used to physically fight with all the boys and girls who would make fun of him back when he was chubbier.
His mouth tilted into a smile that didn't quite settle. "London wali Mishti," he said, like he was testing a myth. "Dekho toh. Bilkul badi ho gayi."
She scoffed weakly. "Jaise tum bohot chhote reh gaye ho." ( As if you're still small)
"Saali," he muttered. "Ek message toh kar sakti thi. Ek line. 'Zinda hoon.'" ( You could have sent one message, 1 line " I'm alive")
Her throat tightened; she wanted to tell him why, but just met his eyes, held them for half a second longer than comfortable, and looked away.
"I thought you'd be angry."
"Angry?" he repeated quietly. "Mishti, main har saal tumhare birthday pe phone uthata tha. Har saal. Sirf dekhne ke liye... shayad iss baar." ( Mishti, I called every year on your birthday.. just to see if maybe you'd pick up?)
"I didn't know how to come back," she said, the truth slipping out before she could dress it up. "Sab kuch... bohot alag ho gaya."
"Tum bhi," he said gently. ( you did too)
For a second, they just stood there, staring at each other as if either blinked, the other would vanish again.
Then he clicked his tongue, teasing, "Waise," he said, "tum abhi bhi waise hi roti ho. Naak pehle laal hoti hai." ( but, you still cry the same. Your nose still gets red)
She let out a watery laugh, swatting his arm. "Chup karo." ( shut up)
He smiled—fully this time—but his eyes were shiny and watery.
"Miss kiya tumhe," he said, simply. ( I missed you)
Her lips trembled. "Maine bhi," she whispered. "Roz."
He didn't hug her again. Instead, he reached out and hooked his little finger around hers casually, boyish, achingly familiar.
"Ab kahin mat jaana," he said. "Kam se kam aaj toh nahi."
( Now don't go anywhere, at least not today!)
She tightened her grip.
"Wada nahi kar sakti," she said softly. "Par... ab bhaag bhi nahi rahi."
Pihu cleared her throat, peeking out from behind Mishti.
" AHEM AHEM! HELLO!! MUJHE BHI koi HUG KARDO!" ( UM HELLO ! SOMEONE HUG ME!)
The sound cut clean through the music drifting from the lawn.
Akshay blinked, mid-sentence, his eyes dropped.
A small girl in a pink lehenga stood behind Mishti's legs, fingers curled tight in the fabric of her saree. Her curly hair was tied into two ponytails. She craned her neck, chin lifted with effort, staring up at him like he was a question she intended to solve.
Mishti stiffened.
Akshay straightened instinctively, the way he did when faced with something unfamiliar and suddenly important.
"Yes?" he said, automatically formal, as if responding to a senior officer.
Pihu frowned. " EXCUSE ME AAP KAUN HO?"
Mishti sucked in a breath. "Akshu..." "Yeh—" She glanced down, then back at him. "Yeh meri beti hai."
His gaze flicked to Mishti's face. Then back to the child. Then to Mishti again, slower this time.
"Beti," he repeated.
Pihu nodded solemnly, stepping out fully now, hands on her hips. "Haan. Main."
Akshay crouched instantly, softening, bringing himself closer to her eye level. His knees protested faintly against the marble.
"Oh," he said, offering his hand.
Mishti rushed in, words tumbling over each other. "She's four. Pihu. Pihu, yeh tumhaare Akshu mamu hai." (This is your uncle)
"Mamu?" Pihu repeated, tilting her head. "Aap mummy ke bhai ho?" ( Are you mom's brother)
Akshay's mouth opened. Closed. "Nahi—" He glanced up at Mishti. She gave him a helpless smile. "I mean—haan. Type ka." ( No.. I mean yes kind of)
Pihu accepted this with a nod. "Okay."
She stepped closer. Her eyes flicked to the badge clipped to his blazer.
"Aap police ho?" she asked.
Akshay's shoulders squared automatically. "Haan."
Pihu leaned back, considering him critically. "Toh phir mujhe jail mat bijwaho, I'm a good girl!"
Mishti choked.
Akshay stared at her. Then, very slowly, his mouth twitched.
He laughed, then rested his forearms on his knees. "Tum yahan kaise aayi ho?"
"Auto mein," Pihu said, as if he were slow. "Nimmi dadi ke saath." ( in the auto with my Nimmi dadi)
"Nimmi—" He paused. "Maasi?"
"Haan!" Pihu brightened. "Unke ghar mein sabse zyada chocolate hoti hai."
" oh toh aapko mera ghar kaise pasand aaya?" he asked.
" yeh aapka ghar hai!!?" she said loudly, causing guests to look around.
He chuckled, "Haan hain".
She giggled, " yeh toh mere dolly ke ghar se bhi jyada bada hai" ( this is bigger than my doll's house)
"That checks out," Akshay muttered. " tumhaari hi beti hai" (she's your daughter only)
He looked at Mishti again.
"Kab se?" he asked, gently. ( since when?)
Mishti shifted her weight. "Chaar saal."
Akshay nodded once, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a wrapped chocolate he must've picked up out of habit.
Pihu eyed it suspiciously. "Mummy, allow karegi?" ( Will mom allow?)
Akshay looked up. "Allow karegi?"
Mishti sighed. "Ek hi." ( only one)
Pihu grinned, snatched it, and immediately began struggling with the wrapper using her teeth.
Akshay rose back to his feet, brushing his palms on his trousers. He leaned closer to Mishti, voice low. "Tumne yeh bhi mujhse chhupa liya." ( you hid this from me)
Her eyes glistened.
Before she could respond, Pihu tugged at his pant leg. "Akshu mamu."
"Yes?" he said instantly.
" mujhe bhook lagi hai, mujhe khaana khaane le chalo.. mamu ho na!) (I'm hungry, take me to eat. You're my uncle, right?)
He smiled down at her. "Haan," he said. "Promise."
Mishti watched them, chest tight, breath relieved, as Akshay let the little girl slip her hand into his without hesitation—as it had always belonged there. He lifted her on one hip, smiling, carrying her to the dessert table.
Near the entrance, staff members straightened instinctively. Security stepped aside in crisp, rehearsed unison.
Light spilled outward, catching the marble, the brass inlays, the polished edges of the night.
Suresh Sharma stepped out with his wife, Neelam.
His charcoal bandhgala sat sharp across his shoulders, the tailoring precise, uncompromising. The cufflinks at his wrists—glinted briefly as he adjusted his sleeve. He didn't scan the hall. A half-step behind him. Neelam's wine-colored silk saree flowed with quiet authority, the gold border catching chandelier light in controlled flashes. Every pleat lay exactly where it was meant to. When her eyes met Smita Malhotra's across the space, her smile arrived polished and brief, like a formal acknowledgement had been exchanged.
And then—
Jeevika Sharma stepped inside.
Her ivory lehenga shimmered under the lights, hand-embroidered silver vines threading across the fabric in painstaking detail. The blouse fit with architectural precision, structured yet elegant, the neckline tasteful but commanding. Her hair fell in glossy waves down her back, styled to perfection, catching light with every step she took. Her bangles chimed softly as she adjusted her dupatta, the sound just enough to draw eyes without asking for them.
She took in the room in one slow sweep, then her eyes found what she was here for.
Found him.
Akshay Malhotra.
Her spine straightened by instinct, posture sharpening almost imperceptibly.
Behind her, Madhav Sharma entered as he belonged to an entirely different narrative.
His navy sherwani sat open at the collar, sleeves casually rolled just enough to look deliberate. He adjusted his watch mid-step, already grinning, already relaxed. Unlike the others, he actually looked around,taking in the décor, the crowd, the buzz of the night. He accepted a drink from a passing server with an easy nod, amusement flickering openly across his face.
"Party achhi lag rahi hai," he murmured, half to himself. ( The party seems nice) " I can't wait to meet Veer bhai, Akshay bhai, aur Shriya bhabhi!"
Neelam's head turned sharply.
"Seedhe chalo," she said under her breath, voice smooth but edged.
Madhav's grin only widened as he fell back into step.
Together, the four of them moved through the hall—clean, composed, unmistakable.
Smita Malhotra reached them first, her smile warm, practiced.
"Suresh ji," she said. "Aap log aa gaye."
Suresh inclined his head slightly. "Invitation acchi thi."
Neelam mirrored the gesture. "Aur arrangements bhi."
Jeevika stepped forward then, bangles chiming softly as she reached for Smita's hand.
"Smita aunty," she said, voice sweet, polished. "Aap hamesha sab itna perfect rakhti ho."
Smita's smile tightened—just enough to notice.
"Aaiye," she said. "Sab log aapka intezaar kar rahe hain."
The minute Anita saw them, she broke into an elegant smile. Jeevika smiled back the 2 greeting each other.
" Kitni sundar lag rahi ho tum Jeevika Darling" Anita smiled
"Aap bhi bua ji!" Jeevika replied. " Waise Akshay kaha hai?"
Anita smirked, teasing her, " Ja, andar hi dhund le tere pati ko" ( Go, inside to look for your husband)
From the centre of the room, Jeevika looked again.
Her gaze settled on Akshay once more before she approached him with a big smile.
" Hiii Akshu!! Kaise ho tum?" ( How are you?)
" I'm fine. You?" he asked politely, nodding.
"Aapki naukri kaisi chal rahi hai? You know , shaadi ke baad I can't wait, IPS biwi and all banna.
We'll look so good na?" she asked
Akshay exhaled, " Jeevika maine bahut baar bola hai... I .. I need to leave", he said, walking away.
" Arrey par hamare families toh..." she said but he had left by then.
" yeh Akshay.. humaari taraf dekhta bhi nahi" she muttered angrily.
" Yaar yeh ghar kitna bada hai naa!" Meera exclaimed beside Aaravi as they stepped inside the foyer.
" Isme toh hum cricket khel sakte hain!" (We can play cricket in this house!)
"Ekdum Ekta Kapoor Serial!!" ( Like an Ekta Kapoor Serial)
" Imagine, aise ghar mein bahu ban kar aao?" she asked giggling.
" ekdam ameer bahu banjaogi!
Then she frowned, "Bahu ban ke aayi toh poora ghar saaf karna padega."
Meera waved a hand. "Arre nahi, staff hoga. Full staff."
"Staff bhi confuse ho jaayega," Aaravi said. "Madam left wing mein hai ya right wing?"
Meera snorted. "Intercom lagana padega. 'Hello, main staircase pe hoon.'"
Aaravi exhaled and forced her attention back. "No, Meera. Medal aur certificate. Akshay Malhotra—sir."
" Right, right!" Meera nodded seriously.
Aaravi adjusted her dupatta, fingers brushing against the weight inside her purse. The wooden frame pressed reassuringly against her side.
Bas de ke nikal jaana, she told herself. Five minutes.
She spotted a server passing by and instinctively stepped aside.
A hand touched her arm.
She turned to find Jeevika standing there, smiling politely, eyes scanning Aaravi's simple kurti and flat sandals, and Meera's shirt and pants.
"Tum new ho?" Jeevika asked. "Drinks serve ho rahe hain lawn side pe. Glasses wahan se uthao." ( Please serve the drinks on the lawn, please, and pick up the glasses)
Aaravi blinked.
"Oh—" She hesitated, then nodded quickly. "Ji."
Meera spoke up immediately, " Excuse me... we're not..."
But Aaravi immediately cut, " Yes, of course, we will."
" Arrey pagli, iss bahaane se toh ghar dekhne ko milega aur ameer logon ka expensive khaana bhi khaane milega" Aaravi immediately hushed to Meera as the 2 followed Jeevika toward a table stacked with trays. ( Ugh, crazy, at least with this excuse, we'll get to see the house and eat rich people's food).
Aaravi nearly tilted the tray the moment Jeevika walked off, the glasses clinking in protest.
"Arre— arre— sambhaal," Meera hissed, reaching out instinctively. ( Careful!)
"Tu haath mat laga," Aaravi whispered back urgently. "Gir gaya na toh hum dono jail jayenge."
( Don't touch it... if it falls we'll both go to jail!)
"Jail kyun?"
"Pata nahi. Aise hi. Rich logon ke ghar mein rules alag hote hain." ( I don't know. Rich people have such rules)
They shuffled forward, walking far too carefully for two people pretending to be servers. Aaravi's posture was painfully upright, chin lifted, like she was balancing a book on her head. Meera, on the other hand, kept glancing around openly, eyes darting to the chandeliers, the marble flooring, the massive staircase that looked straight out of a movie set.
Meera leaned in closer. "Sab itne slow kyun baat kar rahe hain? Aur aise humari tarah khi khi khi nahi hasre! " ( Why's everyone talking so slow.. And they don't laugh like we do "khi khi khi")
"Kyuki ameer log chill hote hain," Aaravi whispered. "Volume control hota hai inka. And they laugh like this, " Ha.. Ha. Ha.. "she mocked the laugh politely, enunciating 3 syllables.
Meera nodded solemnly, then immediately forgot herself and tripped slightly over the edge of the rug.
The tray tilted.
Aaravi sucked in a sharp breath. "Meera—"
"I GOT IT," Meera stage-whispered, grabbing the edge just in time.
Unfortunately, she did not get it in time because Aaravi reached out at the same time and the 2 of them tripped, knocking over a very expensive, blue ceramic vase.
Aaravi and Meera straightened instantly, spines ramrod straight, eyes wide.
"HAI RAM," Meera whispered. "Yeh toh—"
" OH GOD OH GOD!! PARVATI MAATA!" Aaravi whined.
" Yaar oh god.. yeh vase to hamare rent se bhi zyaada mehenga hoga!"
Guests nearby turned, gasps echoed around them. Everyone was looking at them wide-eyed.
Meera dropped into a crouch immediately and started collecting the broken pieces like her life depended on it.
Aaravi followed, scooping shards into her dupatta.
"Tu pagal hai?" Meera muttered. "Kapde mein kyun daal rahi hai?" ( Are you mad? Why are you putting it in your clothes?)
"Bag fatt jayegi," Aaravi whispered frantically. ( The bag will rip if I put it there)
A voice spoke behind them.
"Yeh kya ho raha hai?" ( What's happening)
Both of them jumped so hard that Meera nearly dropped the vase pieces again.
A tall man stood a few steps away.
He was wearing a black Crisp kurta. And stood at a perfect posture. His expression was stern and the ends of his black hair were grey.
Vikram Malhotra had arrived.
The lawn seemed to go quieter around him.
Meera swallowed. Hard.
Aaravi's brain short-circuited.
"Ji—" she blurted out. "Cleaning."
Vikram's eyes dropped to the shattered vase pieces, then to Aaravi's dupatta stuffed awkwardly with ceramic.
"That vase," he said calmly, "was imported."
Meera nodded too fast. "Haan ji, dikh raha hai."
Aaravi shot her a look.
Vikram raised an eyebrow. "Tum dono kaun ho?"
Meera panicked first. "Hum— hum—"
"—event management," Aaravi cut in loudly.
Meera stared at her.
Vikram stared harder.
"Event management?" he repeated.
"Haan ji," Aaravi said, nodding confidently despite the sweat forming at her hairline. "Temporary staff."
Vikram's jaw tightened. "Kisne bheja tumhe?"
Aaravi thought fast. Too fast.
"Jeevika ma'am."
Meera squeezed her eyes shut.
Vikram's gaze sharpened. "Jeevika?"
"Haan ji," Aaravi continued, words tumbling out. "Unhone bola tha— drinks serve karna, lawn cover karna, guests ka dhyaan rakhna—"
Vikram looked at the mess again, then back at them.
"How much training di gayi hai tum logon ko?"
Meera nodded earnestly. "Bahut kam."
A long pause.
Vikram sighed through his nose. "Yeh ghar museum nahi hai, lekin iska matlab yeh bhi nahi ke—"
He stopped mid-sentence as Meera tried to stand... and a shard slipped from her hand, skidding across the floor.
The sound echoed.
Vikram pinched the bridge of his nose.
Aaravi reacted instantly, blocking his view with her body.
"Sir, main zimmedari leti hoon," she said quickly. "Payment se cut kar lijiye."
Vikram looked at her sharply. "Payment?"
Meera nodded enthusiastically. "Haan ji, hum khud bhi gareeb log hain."
Aaravi shot her a death glare.
Vikram exhaled slowly, clearly choosing patience.
"Naam?"
"Aaravi," she said immediately.
Meera panicked again. "Main Meera."
Vikram nodded once. "Theek hai. Dono dhyaan se kaam karo. Aur—" ( Ok fine, just be careful next time)
His voice was cut off by a shrill,
"Yeh kya kiya tum dono ne!" Jeevika snapped, heels clicking sharply as she marched forward.
" Ek kaam dhaang se nahi aata!"
Her voice cut through the lawn, loud enough for half the guests to turn again.
Meera flinched.
Aaravi straightened instinctively, shoulders back, even though her hands were shaking slightly around the ceramic shards.
"Ma'am, galti se—" Meera began. ( Maam, it happened by accident!)
"Galti?" Jeevika laughed sharply, the sound hollow and mocking. "Galti toh tab hoti hai jab aadmi capable ho." ( Accident? Accident would be if you guys were capable)
She looked at the broken vase, then back at them, eyes flicking over their clothes with open disdain.
"Tum logon jaise logon ko maine mana kiya tha na andar ghoomne ke liye?" she continued. "Bas drinks uthao, serve karo, aur invisible raho. Itna mushkil hai?" ( I told you guys that you shouldn't go everywhere, just serve drinks, and stay invisible)
Aaravi clenched her jaw.
"Ma'am, hum saaf kar rahe hain," she said evenly.
Jeevika turned to her slowly.
"Tum bol rahi ho?" she asked softly — dangerously.
"Tum jaanti ho yeh vase kitne ka tha?"
She took one step closer, lowering her voice but somehow making it worse.
"Tum log ek cheez notice karti ho?" she said. "Har jagah jahan tum jaati ho, mess hi hota hai. Kyunki tum log... belong hi nahi karti." ( Wherever you guys go, there's a mess. Because you guys don't belong here"
Vikram looked at Jeevika, " Please calm down... Aise nahi bolte beta.. sab dekh rahe hai. It's fine, I've got it handled, don't worry about it"
A few guests exchanged uncomfortable looks.
Aaravi's fingers curled tighter into her dupatta.
"Ma'am," she said quietly, "agar payment se—"
"Payment?" Jeevika scoffed. "Tum logon ko lagta hai yeh koi roadside function hai?"
She laughed again, louder this time. "Yeh Malhotra house hai. Yahan logon ka standard hota hai."
Meera stood up abruptly, eyes blazing. "Humne jaan ke thodi na toda --""
Jeevika rounded on her instantly.
"Tumhe maine permission di bolne ki?" she snapped.
"Tum jaise logon ko thoda gratitude hona chahiye. Free ka khana, free ka kaam, aur phir yeh natak."
"Ma'am," Aaravi said, voice controlled but tight, "aap jo bolegi hum sun lenge. Lekin please—"
"PLEASE?" Jeevika interrupted sharply.
"Tumhe lagta hai, please bolne se sab theek ho jaata hai?" ( You think by saying please everything is fine?)
She gestured toward the broken vase. "Iska damage kaun bharega? Tum?" ( Who will pay for the damage? You)
Her eyes flicked pointedly to Aaravi's simple kurti.
"Ya tumhare gharwale?"
The words landed like a slap.
Aaravi went still.
Vikram Malhotra cleared his throat.
"Jeevika," he said calmly, "bas. Maine dekh liya hai. Handle ho jaayega."
Jeevika turned to him instantly, her tone changing like a switch.
"Uncle, I'm just saying," she said sweetly, "staff thoda carefully choose karna chahiye. Warna guests ke saamne embarrassment hoti hai."
She looked back at Aaravi and Meera, sweetness gone again.
"Ma'am," Aaravi said calmly, "agar embarrassment ki baat ho rahi hai—"
she gestured gently around them, at the staring guests, the broken vase, the raised voices,
"—toh yeh scene aap create kar rahi ho."
Jeevika blinked. "Excuse me?"
Meera jumped in instantly, voice sharp and clear. "Haan, ma'am. Vase toh humse toota—"
she shrugged, exaggerated,
"—par drama toh aap laa rahi ho."
Aaravi shot her an approving look.
"HAAN AUR CLASS AUR AAUKAAT AAP DIKHA RAHI HAI"
Jeevika's face flushed. "Tum dono hadd paar kar rahi ho." ( you guys are crossing limits)
Aaravi tilted her head. "Hadd toh tab hoti hai jab koi apni aukaat se zyada bol raha ho."
Even Vikram stiffened.
Jeevika laughed sharply, but it cracked. "Aukaat?"
She scoffed. "Tum jaise log mujhe aukaat sikhaoge?"
Meera crossed her arms. "Ma'am, aap 'tum jaise log' bol bol ke thak nahi jaati?
Ya yeh aapka favourite hobby hai—poor shaming with a side of superiority?"
Aaravi continued, voice steady but cutting.
"Aur rahi baat belong karne ki—"
she looked Jeevika up and down pointedly,
"—class paison se nahi hoti. Behaviour se hoti hai."
Vikram cleared his throat again, clearly uncomfortable.
Jeevika snapped, "Enough. Tum logon ko sharm nahi aati? Free ka khaana khaake—"
Aaravi interrupted softly, dangerously calm.
"Free ka?"
She laughed once. "Ma'am, hum kaam kar rahe hain. Begging nahi."
Meera nodded vigorously. "Aur khaana free hota toh plate leke bhaag rahe hote. Tray ke saath nahi."
Aaravi added, "Aur vase ka damage—"
she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, tapping rapidly,
"—aap tension mat lo. Agar aap genuinely insaan hoti, toh hum bhi genuinely payment offer kar rahe hote."
Jeevika scoffed. "Tum log afford kar bhi paoge?"
Meera leaned forward. "Ma'am, hum afford kar sakte hain izzat.
Aap ka budget lag raha hai thoda tight uss department mein."
Jeevika's voice went shrill. "Uncle, aap dekh rahe hain yeh kaise baat kar rahi hain?"
Vikram finally stepped fully between them.
"Jeevika," he said firmly, no softness this time,
"bas. Bohot ho gaya."
She stared at him, stunned.
"Vase mera hai," he continued. "Ghar mera hai. Aur decision bhi mera hoga."
He glanced at Aaravi and Meera.
"Galti ho jaati hai. Par kisi ko neecha dikhana—"
His eyes flicked back to Jeevika,
"—yeh acceptable nahi hai."
Jeevika opened her mouth.
Vikram raised a hand. "Enough."
Meera spoke up, " Uncle hum yaha kaam bhi nahi karte, Jeevika just assumed we worked here based on our clothes" ( Uncle, we don't work here)
Jeevika's head snapped toward her.
"Kya bakwaas bol rahi ho?" she scoffed. "Tum dono ko maine khud drinks serve karne bola tha."
Aaravi inhaled once. Steady. Calm. Controlled.
Vikram's gaze moved between them, sharp now.
"Tum log staff nahi ho?"
"No, sir," Aaravi replied immediately.
Meera nodded hard. "Bilkul nahi."
"Phir yahan kyun ho?" Vikram asked.
Aaravi adjusted her dupatta,
"Sir," she said, lowering her voice, "hum yahan kisi function ke liye nahi aaye."
Jeevika rolled her eyes.
"Toh phir picnic manaane?"
Aaravi ignored her.
"Hum yahan Akshay Malhotra se milne aaye hain," she said calmly.
"Private mein."
The name cut through the space like a blade.
Jeevika froze.
"What?" she said sharply.
Meera immediately jumped in, gesturing wildly.
"Haan haan, sirf unhi se. Do minute. Bas do."
Jeevika recovered fast — too fast.
"Akshay?" she laughed, incredulous. "Tum log Akshay se milogi?"
Her eyes flicked over Aaravi, head to toe, slow and deliberate.
"Kis liye?" she asked, voice turning sugary and sharp at the same time.
Aaravi met her gaze without flinching.
"Woh hum yahan sabke saamne discuss nahi kar sakte," she said.
"Personal hai."
Jeevika's smile dropped.
"Personal?" she repeated.
"Tum logon ka Akshay Malhotra se kya personal kaam ho sakta hai?"
Jeevika stepped forward, heels biting into the grass.
"Mujhe batao," she said coldly.
"Tum mere fiancé se akele kyun milna chahti ho?"
There it was.
A hush fell again.
Aaravi blinked. Once.
"Fiancé?" she echoed.
"Yes," Jeevika snapped. "Fiancé."
Meera's eyebrows shot up so fast they almost left her face.
"Ohhh."
Aaravi shot her a warning look, then turned back to Jeevika, expression unreadable.
"Ma'am," she said carefully, "hum yahan kisi ke personal relationship ke baare mein baat karne nahi aaye."
"Phir?" Jeevika challenged. "Kya kaam hai Akshay se?"
Aaravi's fingers tightened around her purse strap.
Aaravi hesitated for half a second — just enough to be human.
"It's something private, I'm sorry," she said.
"By someone he trusted."
Jeevika scoffed loudly.
"Wow. Kitni dramatic kahani hai."
She turned to Vikram.
"Uncle, yeh obvious hai na? Attention chahiye bas."
Meera finally snapped.
"Arre attention hota na toh vase tod ke khadi nahi hoti!" she blurted.
"Stage pe jaa ke speech de rahe hote!"
A couple of guests nearby coughed, trying not to laugh.
At that moment, Akshay turned down the hall, deep in conversation with Mishti, Pihu perched on his hip.
" Kya ho raha hai yaha pe?" he asked angrily. ( What's happening?)
" Haan maine bhi suna, Jeevika aap yeh ladkiyon pi chilla rahi thi", Mishti added.
Jeevika snapped at her, " Tum beech mein mat bolo, khud ki beti sambhaalo" ( Don't talk in between. Handle your own daughter)
Mishti stiffened instantly.
"Excuse me?" she said, voice sharp now.
Akshay's head snapped toward Jeevika.
"Jeevika," he warned, low. "Bas."
But it was already too late.
Because Meera had turned.
And Akshay finally saw her face properly.
Not from the side.
Not mid-chaos.
Not screaming about jail rules.
His eyes shifted.
Slowly.
To Aaravi.
The other menace.
The one who had fake-delivered a baby.
The one who had lied through her teeth without blinking.
Akshay blinked once.
Then again.
"No," he said quietly.
Aaravi looked up at him, already annoyed. "No kya?"
"You," he said, pointing between her and Meera, disbelief creeping into his voice now. "Tum dono—"
Meera squinted at him. "Haan?"
"You were on the road," he said. "In that car."
Aaravi froze.
OH.
Meera's mouth fell open.
"...Oh SHIT."
Aaravi's eyes widened. "WAIT—"
"You broke traffic rules," Akshay continued, tone rising despite himself.
"You faked a medical emergency."
"You invoked—" he paused, incredulous, "—Parvati Maata."
Meera nodded slowly. "In our defence—"
"DON'T," Akshay snapped, then caught himself, inhaling sharply.
He dragged a hand down his face.
"And now," he continued, voice tight, "you are both—"
he gestured vaguely around them, the broken vase, the stunned guests, Jeevika's frozen expression,
"—in my house."
Aaravi swallowed.
"...Your house?"
Dead silence.
Jeevika's head whipped toward Akshay. "What?"
Mishti's eyes flicked between them, confusion blooming. "Akshay?"
Pihu, perched comfortably on Akshay's hip, arms looped around his neck, leaned forward curiously.
"Mamu," she stage-whispered, loud enough for everyone, "yeh didis kaun hai?"
Akshay looked down at her. Then back at Aaravi and Meera.
Like approaching two wild animals.
"You," he said, pointing at Aaravi. "Why are you here?"
Aaravi straightened immediately, offended on instinct.
"We are not criminals, okay?" she snapped.
"We are innocent. Harmless. Law-abiding—"
Meera coughed loudly.
"—MOSTLY," Aaravi corrected.
Meera jumped in, hands up. "Sir, misunderstanding hai. Big one."
"Misunderstanding?" he echoed.
"You impersonated staff. Broke property. Caused a scene. Again."
Akshay's jaw tightened.
Aaravi spun on him instantly, eyes blazing.
"FIRST OF ALL—" she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass,
"—hum yahan kisi tamaasha karne nahi aaye the. Hum yahan kisi Akshay Malhotra se milne aaye the."
She jabbed a finger toward Jeevika without even looking at her.
"Aur uski fiancé Jeevika ne humse itna tamasha kiya, itni beizzati karwai, jaise hum—"
Akshay turned sharply to Jeevika.
"Jeevika," he said, clipped. "Tumne inhe bataya ki I'm your fiancé?"
Jeevika froze.
"I—Akshay, obviously—"
He sucked in a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair.
"Tumhe samajh nahi aata ki—"
He stopped.
He looked back at Aaravi.
"Wait," he said slowly.
"...Akshay Malhotra?"
Meera's eyes went comically wide.
"Oh my GOD."
She grabbed Aaravi's arm.
"Aaru—" she whisper-yelled, "—YEH WAHI HAI. Akshay Malhotra."
Aaravi blinked.
Then the realization hit her like a truck.
Her mouth fell open.
Then—
She burst out laughing.
Full volume. No shame.
She pointed straight at Jeevika.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA—"
"Oh my god—TUM??" she wheezed.
"TUM toh fiancé bhi nahi ho unki?"
The guests flinched.
Jeevika's face drained of color.
"Matlab," Aaravi continued between laughs, "tumne humari itni beizzati karwai—"
she wiped a tear from her eye,
"—aur khud JHOOTI nikli."
Meera doubled over beside her.
"Damn, girl," she said, shaking her head.
"Stay delusional, I guess."
Jeevika's voice trembled, sharp and furious.
"Akshay, yeh kaun log hain? Tum dekh rahe ho kaise baat kar rahi hain—"
Akshay cut her off without even looking at her.
"Enough."
He turned fully to Aaravi now, expression hard but controlled.
"Tumhe pata hai tum kya kar rahi ho?"
Aaravi's laughter faded instantly.
"Yes," she said, steady now.
"We're trying to talk to you."
"In this way?" he gestured around them.
Meera jumped in fast. "Okay, look—context matters."
Akshay pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tum dono mujhe ek saath bol ke confuse—"
"PLEASE," Aaravi cut in suddenly.
"Please. Bas do minute. Private mein."
Akshay looked at her sharply.
"This is not the time."
"It is," she said quietly. "For us."
Something in her tone shifted.
Meera stepped forward too, uncharacteristically serious.
"Sir—Akshay—" she corrected quickly, "—hum mazaak nahi kar rahe. Jo baat hai na... woh yahan nahi." ( We're not joking, we're serious about talking to you.)
Mishti watched him closely, instinct kicking in.
"Akshay," she said softly, "agar koi personal baat hai, toh jaake baat karo na dono se. Achi ladkiyan lagte hai—" ( Go talk to them, they seem like nice girls.)
Jeevika snapped, "Personal? They're embarrassing you in front of everyone!"
Akshay finally turned to her.
"Jeevika," he said evenly, "tum already kaafi bol chuki ho."
"What is it," he asked, voice low, "that is so important you broke traffic laws, lied to my father, and caused a scene at my house?"
Aaravi swallowed.
Her fingers tightened around her purse strap.
"Because," she said, carefully,
"Hum yahan kisi favour ke liye nahi aaye."
Meera nodded. "Na paison ke liye."
Aaravi met his eyes.
"Hum yahan ek baat lekar aaye hain," she said.
"Jo sirf aapko batayi ja sakti hai."
"Alone."
Silence fell.
Akshay looked from her to Meera.
Then, without warning—
Pihu leaned forward again on his arms.
"Mamu," she whispered loudly, "yeh didis sad lag rahi hai, please bolo unse. "
That did it.
Akshay exhaled slowly.
"Five minutes," he said finally.
"Private."
Jeevika's head snapped up. "Akshay—"
He didn't look at her.
"Garden ke side room mein," he continued, eyes on Aaravi.
"Bas tum dono."
Aaravi nodded immediately. "Thank you."
Meera let out a breath she'd been holding. "God bless Parvati Maata."
Akshay shot her a warning look.
She zipped her lips.
As he turned to lead them away, Jeevika stood frozen, fury and panic mixing in her eyes.
The room they entered smelled of old books and polish.
Aaravi closed the door with shaking hands. The noise of the party dulled to a distant thrum.
She leaned back against the door, chest heaving. "Thank you."
Akshay folded his arms, gazing at both of them. "Tum dono kaun ho?" ( Who are you two?)
She reached into her purse carefully, pulling out the frame and held it with both hands.
"Yeah," she said. "Yeh aapke liye hai." ( This is for you)
He frowned. "Yeh kya hai?"
She turned it toward him.
His breath caught.
The medal . The certificate. The seal. The signature.
His name is from Operation Veer.
His eyes dropped to the bottom of the page.
Rishikesh Patil.
For a moment, the room felt too small.
"Tumhe yeh kahan se mila?" he asked, voice low.
Ayati swallowed. "Main unki beti hoon." ( I'm his daughter)
The words landed softly and wrecked everything.
"My father wanted to give it to you himself," she continued, voice steadier now. "Operation ke baad. Par—"
"Unhone kaha tha," Aaravi added quietly, "ki aap iske haqdar ho." ( He mentioned you deserve this)
Akshay lowered himself into the chair behind him slowly. He stared at the certificate, eyes scanning every detail.
"Sir..." he murmured.
"Unhone kab—" He stopped himself. Inhaled. "Kab diya yeh tumhe?"
"3 days ago, I found it in my father's almirah with a note attached to it", she added.
Akshay finally looked up at her.
"Tumhara naam?" he asked. ( Your name?)
"Aaravi," she said. "Aaravi Patil."
"And main," Meera added gently, stepping forward, "Meera Shergill. Family friend. Practically family."
Akshay nodded once, absorbing it.
" I think he was very proud of you," she said.
Akshay stood abruptly, turning away toward the bookshelf. He rested a hand against it, shoulders tense.
The silence lingered again—until he spoke.
"Tum dono," he said slowly, "mujhe yeh dene ke liye— apni beizzati karwai, trouble li, aur—"
"—vase toda," Meera supplied helpfully.
His mouth twitched despite himself.
"Thank you," he said, sincerely, and took the frame. "Aur... I'm sorry."
"For?"
"Sab ke liye."
She nodded. "Bas yahi dena tha.
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