Page 63

The air stills. His expression shifts from confusion to disbelief, his gaze darting between me and Veer. For a moment, he stands frozen in place. His hands drop to his sides as he stares at Veer, his mind racing to process what I’ve just revealed.

“My… grandson?” he finally manages, his tone rising as shock as the words slip from his lips. “How…? When…?” The questions tumble out in a rush, but I can’t bring myself to answer. The secret I’ve carried alone for the past week is now in the open, and it’s an overwhelming feeling. The truth is finally out.

I step out of the nursery, needing air, needing space. Claire rushes in to check on Veer to ensure the sudden outburst hasn’t disturbed his peaceful sleep.

Behind me, I hear Dad’s footsteps, knowing that the questions are coming—how, why, when. Simran’s secret, my secret, is no longer just ours. It’s the biggest shock for the Walia family. Veer—my son, born out of a passionate night that defied all expectations, a child who represents both my greatest joy and my most profound challenge—is now a reality my family must face.

“Vishnu, wait!” he calls after me, but I don’t stop until we’re back in the living room.

Dad catches up, gripping my arm with a force that makes my muscles tense. “What the hell is going on?” he demands, his voice sharp. “What did you just say?”

I turn to face him. “He is your grandson, Dad. Simran and my son.”

“Simran and your son?” he whispers in disbelief. “How is this possible?” His eyes search mine, confusion etched deep in the lines of his face. “I didn’t even know you two were ever... involved. Why didn’t you tell me?”

A hollow laugh escapes my throat. Where do I even begin? How do I explain something I barely understand myself?

“Simran and I were attracted to each other,” I begin. “I never admitted it openly, even to her. I was too blocked in my head, not wanting any such relationship, never yearned for it...” I pause, remembering how it felt when my walls first started crumbling. “But Simran… she saw through me. Broke all my defences. I tried so hard. I didn’t want to give fire to that spark, but… but it happened.”

The memories of that fateful time flood back, sharp and painful.

“Remember the day when Meher discovered my real identity—that I’m a Walia, your son?” I ask. Dad nods, and I continue. “When she confronted us at the Walia Mansion the day after her wedding, you know how hurt and dejected I was. I needed space, some time to myself. I didn’t even come home that night.”

My hands clench involuntarily as I recall those dark hours.

“I was grieving alone, trying to figure out how to fix things between all of us, how to unite us again as a family. I was licking my own past wounds that had reopened with Meher’s confrontation.”

I turn away, my voice growing softer. “And that same night... I ended up at the same club as Simran, purely by chance.” I pause, trying to control the wave of emotions building inside me. “She was the one who gave me strength not to give up. She… she was my anchor, Dad. Neither of us realised when things took a different turn, and...”

Dad looks away, his eyes shadowed with understanding. I skip the details—he doesn’t need to know every moment of that night.

“After that night… we never saw each other again. Not because I didn’t want to, but because life happened. The threats looming over the Walias and Ayaan’s family demanded all my attention, and I lost track of time. My responsibilities took over everything. And Simran—she flew to New York to chase her dreams. Expanding her business here had always been her goal.”

Bitterness creeps into my voice as I recall the betrayal. “She knew, Dad. She knew she was pregnant, and she didn’t tell me.” My fists clench at my sides, the sting of that truth as fresh as the day I first found out.

I feel his hand on my shoulder, offering support and empathy, but it does little to calm the storm inside me. I turn to face him fully, my jaw tight with tension.

“It was only when her life was in danger here, and she unknowingly confided in Meher that I found out. And I couldn’t stay away. I had to intervene. I came here to help her.” The words tumble out faster now. “For the past eighteen months, I was living with the guilt that I didn’t fight for her... for us. Of not telling her how I felt, even when I wanted to. I was so engrossed in everything else that she and my strong feelings towards her were pushed to the side.”

I run a hand through my hair, frustration evident in every movement.

“So I came here, Dad, and that’s when I found out what she was hiding from me... that she was hiding my son.” The last words come out as barely more than a whisper, heavy with hurt and betrayal. “And I... I didn’t know how to tell you. Or Meher. Or anyone. I’ve been trying to process it myself.”

The silence that follows feels deafening, but in this moment, standing before Dad with my heart laid bare, I feel both stronger and more vulnerable than I ever have before.

“Simran’s deceit has completely shattered me,” I confess, my voice breaking. “Knowing that my son suffered the same fate I did when I was born—of not having his father’s hand over his head, his presence, his protection, his love... it broke something in me. Every child deserves that love, regardless of the relationship between his parents...”

I feel my composure crumbling. “It broke me, Dad. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine my own child would share the same fate as me. It’s like a curse,” I whisper, the word barely escaping my lips.

And then, the tears come—uncontrollable, raw, filled with years of suppressed pain. Dad immediately pulls me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me, stroking my back, giving me the reassurance and comfort I’ve desperately craved my entire life.

“It’s not a curse. You’re not a curse,” he says firmly. “You are the biggest blessing in my life... and so is your son, Vishnu. To you, to me, to all of us.”

He pulls away, gently wiping the tears from my eyes. I know my breakdown is rare—I’m not someone who loses control easily, but letting it all out before Dad feels natural. It feels right.

“Maa had kept my birth a secret from you because of some misunderstanding she had about you,” I continue, my voice gaining strength. “But Simran... she had no reason. She could have told me. We could have handled this differently had she not fled to New York, keeping her pregnancy a secret.”

Anger starts to replace my vulnerability.