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“Oh, I’m pretty comfortable here in the winner’s circle,” she retorts, picking Veer up and holding him close. “And face it, Vishnu… you can’t do this without me.”

I know she’s right in more ways than one, but I’ll be damned if I admit it to her. Instead, something darker, more wounded, rises in my chest as I look at her holding our son—the son who was kept from me for so long.

“Maybe I would already know how to do all this if you hadn’t kept him from me all this time.”

I watch as the colour drains from her face, her arms instinctively tightening around Veer. The playful atmosphere evaporates instantly, replaced by a heavy silence that seems to press against my chest. Her eyes, which moments ago, sparkled with laughter, are now shining with unshed tears.

A vindictive part of me takes satisfaction in the sight, even as another part aches at causing her pain. Let her feel a fraction of what I felt, not knowing my own son existed.

I step forward, and for a moment, she clutches Veer closer, as if afraid I’ll snatch him away. But when I reach for him, my movements are gentle, deliberate. I lift him from her unresisting arms. Veer comes to me easily, his little hands immediately reaching for my beard, oblivious to the tension between his parents.

Without another word, I turn and walk out of the room, leaving Simran standing there, alone by the changing table. As I reach the doorway, I hear a small, shaky breath behind me—the sound of someone trying very hard not to cry, but I don’t look back. I can’t. Because if I do, I might say something I’ll regret, or worse, something I actually mean.

Instead, I press a soft kiss to Veer’s forehead as we leave, his innocent warmth both a balm and a bitter reminder of everything I missed. Everything I was denied. Everything I’m now fighting to make up for, one fumbling, desperate moment at a time.

SIMRAN

After Vishnu walks away with Veer, I return to my workplace in the living room. I try to focus on my laptop screen, but my mind keeps drifting. Living under the same roof with Vishnu isn’t going to be just difficult—it’s going to be excruciating. Every glance, every word from him seems designed to flood me with more guilt than I can possibly bear. The way he looks at me now, with that mixture of anger and hurt, tells me that forgiveness isn’t coming anytime soon. If ever.

The only relief in all this is how quickly Veer has taken to Vishnu. A small smile tugs at my lips as I think about it—it almost feels miraculous, really. I remember how he would cry when Sarah tried to hold him, how he turned his face away when Mike attempted to make silly faces at him. Even Julie, who’s been around since before he was born, needed weeks before Veer would let her carry him. He’s always been particular about who he allows into his space, only ever comfortable with me and Claire.

But with Vishnu? It was instant. As if some invisible thread of DNA pulled them together, an unspoken bond between father and son that bypassed all the usual wariness of strangers. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking all at once—beautiful because it’s what Veer deserves, heartbreaking because it reminds me of everything I denied them both.

Hours slip by as I work, trying to wrap up everything I can manage from home. If that masked man isn’t caught soon... I suppress a shudder just thinking about that. How long will Vishnu keep me confined here under his protection? This feels like a gilded cage, and no matter how expensive or well-intentioned it might be, I’ve never been good with cages.

A yawn escapes me as I glance toward the guest room door. Vishnu disappeared in there hours ago, right after Veer fell asleep in his crib in my room. He mentioned having calls to make, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s told his family about us yet. Meher would have certainly called by now if he had, probably to unleash her anger and frustration over my secrecy.

I watch Leila curled up in her usual spot on the couch. When I stand, she cracks open one yellow eye to acknowledge me before snuggling deeper into her cushion. At least someone’s at peace with all these changes.

I head to my bedroom and open the door, careful not to wake Veer, but the scene inside stops me dead in my tracks. Vishnu is arranging my bed—no, not just arranging it, but preparing to sleep in it. He sees me but doesn’t stop what he’s doing, pulling back the duvet on the left side as if he has every right to be here.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, conscious of Veer sleeping peacefully in his crib.

He ignores me, settling onto what he’s apparently decided is now ‘his’ side of the bed. My blood begins to simmer.

“Vishnu, you have been given the guest room. What are you even doing here, on my bed?”

Finally, he responds, his voice tight with barely contained irritation.

“I have no interest in sharing a bed with you. But my son is here... and I’ll sleep in the same room as him. I don’t have to tell you that this was the whole reason why I shifted to this apartment.”

“Yes, I agreed to you shifting here, not to you and me sharing a bed!” My voice rises slightly despite my best efforts to keep it down.

He clenches his jaw, that familiar tension I remember so well creeping into his face before speaking.

“What’s the point in arguing over this? In two weeks, you and I will have to share the bed as it is.”

The words don’t make sense at first.

“Two weeks? What’s happening in two weeks?”

He takes a deep breath, and something in his expression makes my stomach clench.

“In two weeks... you will officially be Mrs. Simran Vishnu Walia. That’s what’s happening—after two weeks, we’re getting married in a courthouse here in New York.”

The world tilts beneath me. My lungs forget how to draw breath.Marriage?Is he serious? He’s planned our wedding without even telling me? Fury rises in my chest, hot and fierce.

“Are you out of your mind? You think you can just decide my life like that without even talking to me? How dare you plan this without letting me know? Without my consent?” I hiss, trying to keep my voice down despite my rage.