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I turn to look at Veer’s sleeping form in his crib, my heart clenching painfully. I know his routine so well—how he sometimes wakes up in the night, how he won’t settle again until I hold him close, his tiny body curled against mine. The mother in me screams not to leave, to stay close to my baby. But I can’t stay here, not with Vishnu and his suffocating demands closing in on me.

I force myself to walk out, closing the door behind me with a soft click that somehow feels final. In the hallway, I lean against the wall, my legs suddenly giving way beneath me. Vishnu’s way of handling this situation—this bulldozing of my choices, this assumption of control—terrifies me. He’s always been a force of nature, but now that force is directed at reshaping my entire life without any regard for my choices.

Standing alone in the darkness of my apartment, I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold together the pieces that feel like they’re breaking apart. How am I supposed to get out of this? How can I protect my independence without compromising Veer’s future? The questions swirl in my mind like a storm, but no answers come. Because maybe, deep down, I know there aren’t any easy answers when it comes to Vishnu Pratap Walia and the complicated web of love, duty, and pain that binds us together.

CHAPTER 14

SIMRAN

I jolt awake on the living room couch, my heart racing, even before my groggy mind fully registers the reason. Leila, startled by my sudden movement, gives me an annoyed glance before curling back into her spot. That’s when I hear it—the soft, familiar whimper that could wake me from the deepest sleep. Veer. Before I can think, my feet are already moving, driven by a mother’s instinct straight toward those faint cries of distress. I push open the door to my bedroom—the one currently occupied by Vishnu and Veer and see my baby stirring in his crib, his tiny fists balled tightly as he stubbornly fights the lull of sleep. The sound even wakes Vishnu, who’s blinking awake, moving to sit up. But I’m faster—perhaps because I’ve done this hundreds of times before, perhaps because my body is attuned to every sound and movement Veer makes.

I reach the crib first and lift Veer into my arms with practiced ease. His little body immediately curves into mine, seeking the comfort he’s known since his first ever breath.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, cradling him to my chest, stroking his back softly.

This is what I’ve feared—the late-night cries when he needs his mother’s touch to calm down. Veer’s face nuzzles against me, his breathing softening as he lets out another sleepy whimper. Instead of returning to the bed where Vishnu now sits fully awake, I move to the two-seater sofa in the corner. It is just enough for us, so I take a seat there and let him snuggle into my warmth.

I settle Veer in my lap, his soft whimpers fading as he snuggles closer, seeking what only I can give him in moments like these. Wrapping my shawl over my chest, I adjust Veer, allowing him to nurse, not caring that Vishnu is watching. At this moment, nothing matters but Veer. I adjust my top, exposing myself partially to nurse him, the shawl draped carefully to maintain some semblance of modesty. Veer latches on instantly, his tiny hands sinking into my skin, his breathing slowly becoming steady with each suckle. My son’s soft, familiar suckling calms my racing thoughts as I hold him protectively against me.

I look up and catch Vishnu’s gaze across the room. His dark and brooding eyes are glued to us, intense and unreadable, while mine are filled with resentment and disappointment as I recall the marriage arrangement he proposed to me a while before.

The silence between us is heavy. It speaks of too much—our broken past, the hurt between us, the relentless pull we still feel for each other despite everything. And, of course, the anger simmering beneath it all.

Vishnu shifts slightly as if realising he’s intruding on something intimate, but he doesn’t look away. I steal a glance at him and see it—admiration, guilt, and something deeper. A flicker of vulnerability crosses his face, something I’ve rarely seen. Perhaps he’s realising, like me, that being Veer’s father means more than just being there—it means giving space, respect, and support.

Veer’s whimpers gradually fade, and his body relaxes as I hold him close. This is what matters, I tell myself. This is what’s real—not the complicated mess that’s between his father and me, not the impending forced marriage hanging over my head like a sword. Just this—my baby, safe in my arms. Veer slowly begins to drift off to sleep, his tiny body relaxed and content, his face now resting against my breast.

I’m so lost in these thoughts and in soothing Veer that I don’t notice Vishnu until he’s right in front of us. Before I can react, his arms slip under me, lifting me effortlessly, with Veer still nestled against my chest. My body tenses in surprise and protest, but I hold still, not wanting to disturb Veer, who’s finally asleep.

“What… what are you doing?” I hiss under my breath, trying not to disturb Veer, but Vishnu ignores my protests as he carries us both to the bed. The gesture is both tender and presumptuous, just like everything else about him. I want to be angry, want to resist, but I’m acutely aware of the precious cargo in my arms—my baby.

As Vishnu lays us down, I realise he’s giving me space—perhaps the first genuine gesture of understanding between us. The shawl is still draped protectively, and Veer continues to sleep soundly, his breath soft and steady against my skin.

Vishnu then adjusts the duvet around us both carefully. And then, without a word, he turns and walks out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The sound of his footsteps fades in a few seconds. I release a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, unsure how to feel about what just happened. This man. One minute, he’s storming in with all his pent-up rage, and the next, he’s the silent protector. After all the fight he put up to sleep in my room, close to Veer, I can’t believe he just walked away. Was it a peace offering? A submission? Or is it just another way of showing he knows what’s best for all of us?

And amidst all these questions, there is one which disturbs me the most.Did I... want him to stay?I don’t want to think about it because I don’t want my heart to win over my mind. From the moment Vishnu has come into my life, no other man has ever intrigued me so much, and none have held this strange, magnetic pull over me. It was because of this very pull that I didn’t hesitate even for a second to surrender myself completely to Vishnu that night eighteen months ago. And ever since then, I have been longing for him even more than I could ever admit to myself. But since I couldn’t prepare myself to tell him about Veer, and also because he was miles away from me, I could keep my heart and mind in check. But now that he’s back, that control is slipping away fast... too fast.

But with all the unresolved issues between us, including the sudden marriage plans he brought up today, I don’t think fanning the flames of those burning desires within me is the right thing to do.

Veer’s tiny whimper pulls me back from these spiralling thoughts, and I turn my attention to him, drawing him closer to me on the bed. There’s only one fear that worries me. To what extent would Vishnu go to claim me as his legally wedded wife before the world for Veer’s sake? Would he really disregard my consent? Would I be forced to make this sacrifice to protect my son’s name and dignity? This is exactly what I feared—that Vishnu, in his single-minded determination to right the wrongs of the past, would take matters into his own hands now that he knows we have a child together out of wedlock.

So the moral of the story is—’No matter how far you run, you can’t run faster than fate itself.’

VISHNU

Next Morning

I sit in the apartment across from Simran’s, gripping my mug tightly, but the tea does nothing to quiet the storm brewing inside me. Every second of last night’s confrontation with Simran replays in my mind, especially the defiance in her eyes when she refused to marry me. The memory of her disinterest and the way she recoiled at my proposal still stings. But I’m done giving her a choice in this matter. Our wedding is inevitable—be it with or without her consent. This is no longer just about us; it’s about Veer, and I won’t let even Simran deny our son the right to carry the Walia name.

As I take another sip, my mind then wanders to the events that transpired after our heated exchange. How Veer's cries had drawn Simran back to the bedroom, her maternal instincts overriding her desire to keep her distance from me. Then, my thoughts drift to that moment—Simran breastfeeding Veer. I wasn’t prepared for it.She didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter. She was a mother first, everything else was secondary. She held him as though the rest of the world ceased to exist, her body moving instinctively to calm our son.Her entire universe had narrowed down to this tiny human dependent entirely on her. And when she pulled the shawl over herself, there was something so pure of the gesture—modest yet utterly fearless. I felt a storm of emotions hit me. She didn’t care that I was there. She didn’t shy away or hesitate in my presence. She simply did what Veer needed, with a love so wholesome it took my breath away. At that moment, she wasn’t just Simran—she washismother, fiercely protective and utterly unapologetic in her love.

I stayed still, unable to look away. The softness in her face as she stroked Veer’s hair, the way her lips moved in hushed whispers to calm him—it was a side of her I hadn’t fully understood before. I was struck by the intimacy of the moment. It was so pure, so raw, so beautiful. At that moment, I wasn't the man she resented for forcing her into this marriage. I was just a father, quietly watching the mother of our child lovingly feeding our son. But guilt followed quickly. I realized I should have left the room, given her space, respected the intimacy of the moment. Yet, I stayed, awed by the magic of the moment, feeling more connected to her and Veer than I ever had before.

That had been a turning point. In that moment, my stubbornness to share this room with them had crumbled, and I retreated to the guest room, leaving them in peace, giving them the space they needed.

But my body still tingles with the memory of carrying Simran’s slight form in my arms while putting her to bed. It brought back every vivid detail of our single night together, the night that resulted in our son’s conception. That night, when my usually rigid control had shattered, when every rational thought had fled in the face of our primal desires.