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Story: The Deceit

Imagine me playing peek-a-boo!

Veer’s giggles fill the cabin, and we are both lost in the simple joys of the game. Simran joins us a while later, her hair slightly mussed from sleep, but she still somehow manages to look gorgeous. She watches me play with Veer, her lips twitching, as though she wants to smile but is holding back.

Just then, the plane jolts with turbulence, and Veer whimpers in discomfort. Without thinking, Simran and I both reach for him, our hands brushing in the process. These small moments remind me that despite everything, we’re a family.

The last few hours of the flight pass in a blur of feedings, diaper changes, and quiet moments with Veer. By the time we land in Mumbai, I’m more than ready to meet my family. We step off the jet, with Veer sleeping in my arms. Simran is equally tired, the jet lag clearly taking a toll on her. She glances at me, her eyes lingering for a moment with worry and nervousness before she looks away. I know she is anxious about facing my family—especially Meher and Devika. So, I squeeze her hand, silently assuring her that no matter what, she doesn’t have to face anything alone. I’m with her. And I’ll always be.

CHAPTER 28

SIMRAN

My heart pounds against my ribcage as our car approaches the Walia Mansion in the dying light of the evening. I smooth down my embroidered salwar suit—one of my own designs that I changed into before landing. The soft fabric, though, offers little comfort against my mounting anxiety. As the new bride, the new bahu of the renowned Walia family, I know what’s expected. No casual pants for this moment. Devika and Meher have drilled into me countless times in the past that the Walias are sticklers for tradition. And I didn’t want to look out of place in front of a family so rooted in traditions.

The car slows to a stop, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. My nervousness is written all over my face. I swallow hard, adjusting my dupatta, but before I can lose myself in my thoughts, Vishnu’s hand slips over mine.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs, his deep voice pulling my gaze to him.

I can only manage a nervous nod, my throat too tight for words. He lifts my hand and brushes a kiss over my fingers. Although I’m still angry at him for what he did with Zane back in New York, this little gesture brings me some calm. I give him a smile and then step out of the car.

Vishnu cradles a dozing Veer in his arms as we step out. Veer stirs but doesn’t fuss, his tiny head turning around to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. His sleepy confusion is almost endearing.

“This is your papa’s home, Veer,” Vishnu says to him. “Your real home.”

Veer responds with a drowsy smile before laying his head on Vishnu’s shoulder, clearly exhausted. Servants quickly rush out to unload our luggage, but I barely register their movements. My attention is fixed on the mansion before me. Its entire exterior is glowing with decorative lights, twinkling like stars across the evening sky. My breath hitches as I take in the celebratory atmosphere.

I hadn’t expected this at all. After everything I’ve done—hiding Veer from this family, from Vishnu—I never imagined they’d all welcome me with such grandeur. But then again, I know this isn’t for me. This is for Vishnu, the pride of the Walias, and Veer, the grandson they’ve only just found.

The other thing that catches my eye is the overwhelming security presence around. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Armed guards patrol the perimeter, their faces stern and vigilant. Also, police vehicles line the street, and I spot several plainclothes security personnel trying to blend in with the gathering crowd of servants and staff. This isn’t just a home; it’s a fortress safeguarding the Chief Minister of the state.

“Is it always like this?” I ask Vishnu, gesturing at the heavy security presence.

“Of course,” he replies, his voice matter-of-fact. “After Dad’s promotion from Deputy CM to Chief Minister, security had to be increased. And now, with me stepping in as party president, it’s going to get even tighter.”

He glances at me, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

My stomach churns at the implications. I remember Meher and Devika’s endless complaints about having to pre-plan everything, even simple salon visits, with Vishnu overseeing all security arrangements back then. Now, it’ll be even more restrictive.

I’ve never lived with such constraints—I’ve always been free, independent. The thought of losing that freedom makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. But I push the thought aside as we approach the main entrance.

My feet feel heavier with each step. The massive wooden doors swing open, and there they are—the entire Walia clan. At the forefront stands Pratap Walia, his presence commanding on his home turf, and next to him is his nephew, Aksh. Seeing them, my usual confidence deserts me completely. This is it—I officially step into the Walia Mansion as part of the family, not just as a guest.

The joy on Pratap Walia’s face is unmistakable as he steps forward and pulls Vishnu into a proud, affectionate hug. His gaze then shifts to Veer, who is nestled in Vishnu’s arms, his bright, curious eyes taking in the new surroundings.

“Veer,” he calls gently, his voice full of love. To my surprise—and relief—Veer gurgles in recognition, his little face lighting up as he leans toward his grandfather with tiny outstretched arms. The sight makes my heart swell with warmth.

“He remembers me!” Pratap Walia exclaims, his grin widening as he takes Veer into his arms. “My grandson knows his daadu.”

Veer grips the edge of his kurta tightly, babbling in his baby language as if he’s trying to converse with his daadu. Pratap Walia’s face softens even more as he gently bounces Veer in his arms.

Aksh steps forward, ruffling Veer’s soft hair with a chuckle.

“Of course, he remembers, uncle. He’s a Walia, after all—sharp and quick, just like the rest of us.”

Vishnu lets out a low laugh as Aksh pulls him in for a firm hug, their bond evident by their smile and the playful slaps on the back. I stand a step behind, watching the ease and love in their interactions, feeling both comforted and slightly overwhelmed.

Pratap Walia, who’s lovingly watching the brothers, turns his attention back to Veer. “You’re going to have a great time here, little one. Your daadu will spoil you more than anyone else.”

Veer squeals happily in response, his tiny hand patting his grandfather’s cheek.

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