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“Inside that room, my Maa is fighting for her life. I am scared… scared of losing her. And I have every right to feel that fear. I love her. And I will not allow anyone to come between me and her. As a mafia leader, I’ll do whatever it takes, but as a son, I know exactly where my priorities lie. So save your speeches. I understand this situation better than anyone.”

Ravindra, startled and unsettled by his son’s intensity, retreats without another word. He quietly returns to his seat, his pride wounded but his understanding deepened. Vikrant exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before turning his face back toward the window. He resumes watching the operating theater, desperate not to blink or miss even a shadow. Although he cannot see her face, he can see her feet, and for now, that glimpse is enough to reassure him that his Maa is still present.

Meanwhile, somewhere in an isolated, darkened room, Jhankar struggles to open her eyes. Her head throbs with unbearable pain, and even the smallest movement feels like agony. She tries to make sense of her surroundings. There’s barely any light except a faint glow slipping through a small, square window. Her dry lips part slightly, her breathing shallow, but determinedly, she forces herself to sit up, supported by trembling hands.

Though everything around her remains dim, that single square of light falling on the floor feels like a blessing, a fragile glimmer of hope in a place wrapped in silence and shadows. Slowly, she crawls toward it and sits beneath the window, staring atthe patch of light as though it were her only connection to the outside world.

She has no clue how much time has passed. She doesn’t know whether it’s been a day or two, or more. But judging by the sharp slant of golden sunlight now beaming in from the west, she guesses that evening must be near. Her memory is fragmented; she recalls being locked up in this place last night… or maybe the night before. Everything is hazy. She remembers falling unconscious but not waking up until now.

Her thoughts are consumed by her parents. Where are they? Are they safe? The uncertainty gnaws at her heart like a wild animal. But what can she do? There's no one to ask, no one who would answer. So she just sits silently, letting her heart bleed through her tears.

Her mind drifts to happier times, her joyful, laughter-filled family life. She remembers a family that never needed much and found contentment in each other. Why did everything fall apart so suddenly? she wonders bitterly. Vyom, her brother, had never spoken of being in love. Then why did he disappear? She vividly remembers their last conversation; he had sounded upset. But she had brushed it off, thinking he was planning a surprise. Now she regrets that. Now she feels abandoned.

Jhankar’s stomach churns with hunger, but she doesn’t care. Hunger seems irrelevant when her heart is starving for her parents’ safety. She’s angry at her brother, angry at her helplessness, and angry at everything that has brought her here. But who can she complain to? The light outside begins to fade, shadows creeping in. Her heart pounds as fear grips her again. Darkness is coming, and she is terrified of it. She wraps her arms around herself and sits quietly in the growing gloom, trying not to cry but failing miserably.

Back at the hospital, Vikrant continues to stare at Sharda’s motionless form as the doctor speaks beside him.

“It’s evident, sir,” the doctor begins, “that she experienced an intense emotional shock, which triggered a major heart attack. You must understand, women rarely suffer heart attacks unless their emotional threshold is breached. They are far more capable than men at enduring emotional distress. When a woman experiences such severe emotional distress, it indicates that she has endured unbearable pain for an extended period. If we want her to recover properly, it’s crucial to shield her from any further distress for the next three months. Make her happy. Avoid bringing up anything that upset her. Her condition is stable now, and she may regain consciousness by evening. But I strongly advise that her emotional well-being be made your top priority.”

Vikrant listens, unmoving. His eyes remain fixed on Sharda, but his mind is spiraling. His memories flash before him: every time she cradled him when he was afraid, every prayer she whispered for him, every silent sacrifice she made for his future. He nods slowly to the doctor, accepting every word. His resolve is clear. He is ready to do anything for her.

He hasn’t had a drop of water since last night, and now it’s already afternoon. Ravindra notices this. He knows Vikrant’s rigid schedule—meals, routines, everything. But today, his son has abandoned it all for Sharda. Ravindra is concerned. He understands his son’s love but fears that this love could turn into a weakness. He motions to a bodyguard and says,.

“Madam has been shifted to the ward. Bring food for your sir quickly.”

“I don’t want anything.”

Vikrant responds instantly, without even turning his head.

“And I don’t need anything until Maa regains consciousness.”

The bodyguard’s footsteps come to a halt. Ravindra bows his head, defeated, and returns to his bench. There is nothing more he can say. Vikrant, on the other hand, walks inside the ward and takes a seat next to Sharda’s bed. He wants to be the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes.

Late at night, Sharda slowly regains consciousness. Her eyes flutter open with tremendous difficulty. Her vision is blurry, but she sees Vikrant. And for the first time in her life, she would rather not see him. She immediately turns her face away. Vikrant’s heart feels like it’s being stabbed. He quickly grasps her hand and kisses it tenderly, speaking with desperate affection.

“Maa, you know very well, I can endure anything, but not your silence. Not your anger. Tell me what to do. I will do it. Just… don’t turn your face away from me.”

“I am your nanny, Vikrant sir,” she whispers hoarsely. “And I should have stayed that way. I now realize I was never truly your mother. If you had even an ounce of respect for me… you wouldn’t have done this. You wouldn't have ruined an innocent girl's life by forcefully marrying her.”

Vikrant’s grip tightens slightly as pain crosses his face.

“I was blinded by anger. I didn’t know what I was doing. I made a terrible mistake, Maa. But I’m willing to fix it. Please… don’t be angry with me. Please forgive me.”

“You hurt not me, but an innocent girl. Her brother chased your bride. What was her fault? What was the fault of her family? Even the mafia has rules, Vikrant. They don’t punish the innocent. And I believed … truly believed that you wouldn’t either.”

“Alright,” Vikrant says quickly, “you’re worried about her? I won’t harm her. I won’t touch her family. I’ll drop her back home tonight. I swear to you, this ends here.”

Sharda turns to him with tears in her eyes and slaps him hard across the cheek.

“Marriage isn’t a joke!” she cries. “It’s a sacred bond. Do you know what marriage meant to me? Before tragedy shattered my world, my husband and I had a beautiful life. Even now, I live with those memories, that respect. When I first held you in my arms, I saw my future. I gave up everything for you. I’ve never once regretted it, until now. Hearing you speak like this… I feel like I destroyed my life by choosing you.”

Vikrant listens, motionless. Her words strike him like blades, but he knows she has every right to say them. Sharda continues, tears now streaming.

“You didn’t just disrespect a girl; you shattered the meaning of marriage. Your father, Ravindra, still cherishes your mother. He’s never spoken ill of her, even though we both know why she left. Love isn’t about control. It's about responsibility. Marriage is a beautiful bond between two souls. But you turn marriage into punishment. Relationships into toys. And now, you think returning the girl will solve everything? Leave. Just leave. I don't want to see you right now…. Go away.”

Her breathing grows heavier. Vikrant rises quietly, knowing that pushing further might harm her. He walks out, deeply shaken. Sitting outside the ward, Vikrant replays every word she spoke. Her disappointment is like a fire on his soul. He closes his eyes. And for the first time, he thinks not of the mafia or of control but of Jhankar. He still doesn’t know her name and hasn’t even seen her face clearly. But now, her last condition haunts him. He whispers to himself.

“I have to fix everything. No matter what it takes.”