Page 180

He nods against my shoulder, and as we break apart, I see the same tears in his eyes that I feel in mine. The medics rush in, but I don’t let go of his hand. Today has taught me once again that family is everything—and I’ll spend every remaining day of my life making sure mine is safe, protected, and always together.

*****************

Walia Mansion – Same night

The mansion feels different tonight—quieter, safer, but still haunted by the day’s trauma. Dad is finally resting in his room after an emotional reunion with the entire family. I saw the relief in their eyes, the exhaustion from the nightmare we barely survived. I can still see Meher’s tearful face as she stubbornly refused to leave his side until he had eaten, her hands trembling as she adjusted his pillows to make him comfortable. It took Dad’s reassurance and Ayaan’s gentle coaxing to finally convince her to go home.

Aksh handled the media outside, giving them just enough information to satisfy their hunger without letting them pry too deep. He told them the truth—Zayed Qureshi, the son of my father’s old political rival, was behind it all. The man who had once tried to kill Dad had left behind a son burning with the same rage and same madness. But tonight, that chapter had finally ended for good.

The headlines are already rolling, but at least that part is taken care of. I make a mental note to call Krish in Canada tomorrow—his relentless pursuit of leads from overseas proved to be invaluable. Meanwhile, Devika has been patiently handling endless calls from relatives and friends, reassuring everyone that Dad is safe and is recovering.

It’s midnight, and I stand in my room, watching Veer sleep peacefully in his cot. His tiny chest rises and falls with each breath, blissfully unaware of the nightmare that had unfolded. My fingers grip the edge of the cot as I remember his terrified face from earlier today. I had never seen such fear in his eyes. The thought of that moment itself cuts deep into my heart. The way he clung to me, the way his wails echoed in my ears—it still haunts me. But he is safe now. I swallow hard, promising silently that he’ll never know such kind of fear again.

Suddenly, soft arms wrap around my waist from behind, comforting me in an instant, bringing warmth where there was only cold fear before.

“He’s okay now.” Simran’s voice wraps around me like a balm.

I exhale deeply, reach for her wrist and pull her around to face me. The moonlight streaming through the window catches the worry lines still etched on her face. Slowly, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face.

“It’s over now,” I whisper softly.

She nods, taking a shaky breath. Her eyes glisten with tears as she speaks.

“I was so scared, Vishnu,” she confesses. “When I heard what happened in Alibaug, I... I blamed myself. I shouldn’t have left Veer for work today. If I had been here, he wouldn’t have gone to Alibaug. He wouldn’t have been caught in the middle of all this…”

I swallow the painful lump in my throat as she continues.

“But then I realised,” she looks up at me, her eyes moist with tears, “he was with you. His father. The man who would move heaven and earth to protect our son.”

A sharp ache pierces through my chest, and I struggle to breathe. My eyes fill with tears as the emotions I’ve held back all day finally overflow. My hands tighten around her face, pulling her closer.

“When I reached there and saw them taking Dad and Veer away... I thought it was all over. I was losing everything, Simran.” I pause, resting my forehead against hers, my fingers trembling against her skin. “They’re part of me. You’re part of me. I can’t live without any of you.”

Simran’s lips quiver as she lifts herself on her toes and presses gentle kisses along my cheek, each one soothing the raw wounds no one else can see.

“You don’t have to,” she whispers against my skin. “Our hearts were already connected, even when life kept us apart. And now...” She pulls back slightly, her eyes locking with mine, filled with unshakable resolve, “You, me, and Veer—we’re inseparable, Vishnu. Nothing can break us apart. Nothing can take away what we’ve built—our little family.”

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Simran shifts slightly in my arms, and I feel her gaze drift to the painting on our bedroom wall.

“You know Vishnu, that is my favourite painting in this room,” she murmurs out of nowhere. “For so long, it was just a painting to me. A beautiful but tragic piece. But now… now I see something more.”

I follow her gaze. That painting has been here for years—a red rose engulfed in flames, and beside it, a single, tiny red bud clings to the same stem, unaffected.

“No matter how many storms come our way, no matter how many flames try to consume us,” she says softly, her eyes locking with mine, “we will always protect our son, our little bud. No matter what burns around us, he will always remain unscathed. Safe. Loved.”

Her words stir something deep within me, and for a moment, everything we’ve endured flashes before my eyes. I exhale slowly, the truth of her analogy sinking in. She’s right. The fire can rage and the world can turn against us, but we will always shield Veer from it all. No storm will touch him because we’ll stand between him and the flames—forever.

I’ve seen this painting a hundred times, admired its intensity, but tonight, as Simran speaks, it takes on a whole new meaning.

It’s no longer just a piece of art—it’s a symbol of our strength, a reminder of everything we’ve gone through and emerged victorious from.

We turn back to watch our son, my arm tight around Simran’s waist. Veer stirs slightly in his sleep, his tiny hand clutching his favourite blanket, his peaceful face the very picture of innocence. Today, I fought like a man possessed to protect him, to ensure he never has to grow up in fear. And I will spend the rest of my life making sure he never does.

The sight of him safe, alongside the warmth of Simran in my arms, begins to heal something that broke inside me today. I finally allow myself to let go of the breath I have been holding for what feels like an eternity.

The war is over.

Zayed Qureshi is finally gone, and with him, the shadow of his father’s vendetta against me has finally ended. The ghosts of the past and the burdens of old sins have been laid to rest. The battle that had loomed over our family for six years has come to an end. But I know better than anyone—peace is never permanent. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges. New enemies will rise. Life will test us again. But tonight, we have won.