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His chuckle warms the line.

“More than I miss her? Not possible. But as you already know, bringing her to Austria with me wasn’t possible. The kind of critical mission I’m handling for my organisation... I don’t want her around.”

“Of course,” I say, understanding completely. “I know why you don’t want her nearby. It’s not just about security—after all, who better than you to keep her safe? You’re concerned because she’s your biggest distraction, and you won’t be able to leave her and do your James Bond thing.”

Ayaan laughs out loud.

“Vishnu, I bet you—get married to Simran and you’ll experience this yourself. A wife is a husband’s biggest and sweetest distraction, and you’re going to join this club very soon. Even though I know it’s hard to break your focus, I’m willing to bet Simran is already giving you a hard time there.”

I can’t help but silently agree. Since I’ve been here, it’s been impossible to think of anything or anyone but her. She’s taken over my thoughts, my actions, my very being.

“But coming back to the favour you need, I must say, watching you tackle diapers and midnight feeds might just be worth flying back early for.”

I let out a chuckle. This conversation with Ayaan is just what I need to lift my mood.

“I’ll send you the sketch of the joker mask,” I reply, steering the conversation back to business. “I’m looking forward to your thoughts on it.”

“Got it. See you back in India,” Ayaan says warmly.

I end the call and keep driving through the night. Who would have thought that Ayaan, once my toughest rival, would become such a trusted ally? Life has a way of bringing the most unexpected people into your corner. First Ayaan and his friends and family, then Simran, and now Veer—my family keeps growing in ways I never imagined. But with that growth comes new vulnerabilities, new fears, and new responsibilities.

As the city lights blur past me, one name echoes in my mind: Zane. Suddenly, the letter ‘Z’ on the cap worn by the man who delivered the paint-stained scarf to Simran’s boutique flashes through my mind. My eyes widen as my mind races. Could it be him? Every crime has a motive, and Zane had proposed to Simran, only to be rejected. Could that rejection have turned into something more sinister? The possibility churns in my gut, and I know I can’t afford to ignore it.

I grab my phone and dial Abhay, knowing he’s still driving Simran home.

“Dig into Zane Miller,” I say the moment he picks up. “Every detail you can uncover—I need it in 48 hours.”

Abhay doesn’t hesitate. “You think it’s him?”

I smirk at his sharp intuition.

“Let’s just say my instincts are rarely wrong when it comes to protecting my family. But I need proof to wipe him from Simran’s life for good.”

He exhales sharply. “If it’s not him, you’ll have to answer to her. You know how much she trusts him.”

His words hit their mark, but I push the thought aside.

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, just focus on the task.”

“Fine,” Abhay mutters. “Consider it done.”

I end the call, my resolve sharpening. Zane may or may not be the man behind the mask, but one thing is certain—he’s not staying off my radar. If he’s a threat, I’ll find him. And when I do, there will be no second chances.

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

Simran’s Apartment

When I arrive home, Claire informs me that Veer is already asleep in the nursery. Although I’m happy that my son is peacefully asleep, I just hate it when I miss this simple joy of putting him to sleep myself. I could have done that if I hadn’t followed Simran to her dinner meeting with Zane, but I don’t regret that decision even a single bit.

I walk further and then I hear it—her muffled voice drifting from the bedroom, a mix of frustration and muttering that immediately pulls me in her direction. Curious, I walk toward the half-open door, my footsteps silent against the floor. As I near, her voice becomes clearer, her words tumbling out in a stream of annoyed blabbering.

I stand silently, rooted to the spot, watching her private performance with growing fascination. She’s pacing the room, a vision of chaos and elegance. She mumbles something under her breath and tosses her shimmery jacket onto the bed with dramatic flair.

“Impossible man!” she huffs, yanking off one earring. “He just doesn’t get it. Everything has to be his way or the highway!” The second earring joins its mate on the dressing table with a small clatter. “And that possessive streak of his! As if I can’t handle my own meetings!”

I lean against the doorframe, folding my arms across my chest, amused despite myself. I shake my head. She has no idea I’m here, too caught up in her animated monologue to notice my presence.

“I mean, seriously,” she grumbles, kicking off one stiletto and then the other, balancing herself on one foot while doing so. “What does he know about compromise?”