Mihir's POV

After the texts.

She hadn't cried for almost ten minutes.

That scared me more.

Aayat sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on her knees, both hands wrapped tightly around her phone. Her eyes weren't really seeing the room.

They were somewhere else.

A prison cell in Russia.

A man behind iron bars.

A father she had found...

only to lose again.

I poured her a glass of water and held it out.

She took it absentmindedly.

Didn't drink.

Just stared at the surface.

"...Mihir?"

I looked up.

"Hm?"

"What if..."

Her voice cracked.

"What if they move him?"

Silence.

"What if before I can go back..."

"...they hide him?"

She finally looked at me.

For the first time since I'd reached New York...

I didn't see Asia's most powerful businesswoman.

I saw a frightened daughter.

"What if I never find him again?"

The question wasn't dramatic.

It was genuine.

Raw.

I sat beside her.

"They won't."

"You don't know that."

"I don't."

I admitted.

"But panicking won't help us."

She shook her head immediately.

"You don't understand."

"They hid him for twenty-one years."

"They erased dad from history."

"They erased his music."

"They erased his identity."

"What if they erase him again?"

Her breathing had become uneven.

"What if when I reach Russia..."

"...he's gone?"

She looked at me desperately.

"What if they transfer him?"

"What if they kill him?"

"What if..."

"Aayat."

"No, listen."

She grabbed my hand before I could stop her.

"What if they know I know?"

"What if those messages mean they've already started?"

"What if Kathyani is in danger too?"

"What if..."

I gently covered her hand with mine.

"Aayat."

She stopped.

Barely.

"What do we do?"

The question came so quietly...

it hurt.

"What do we do now?"

I held her gaze.

"We think."

She laughed bitterly.

"I can't."

"I know."

"My head won't stop."

"I know."

"I keep seeing him."

Her eyes filled again.

"He kept telling me to leave."

"He kept saying I shouldn't be there."

"He knew."

"He knew I'd be in danger."

Fresh tears escaped.

"And I left him there."

"You didn't know."

"I still left."

"You couldn't have stayed."

"What if I should have?"

"No."

"What if he thought..."

Her voice broke completely.

"...what if he thinks I believed he was a murderer?"

I didn't answer immediately.

Because I knew no reassurance would erase that guilt.

Instead, I asked quietly,

"When you were there..."

"Did he ask you to hate him?"

She frowned.

"No."

"Did he defend himself?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"Did he blame you?"

Another shake.

"No."

"He kept apologising."

I nodded slowly.

"Exactly."

She stared at me.

"If what Kathyani told you is true..."

"Then your father has spent twenty-one years protecting you."

"He won't spend one second blaming you."

"But I accused him."

"You accused the man everyone told you he was."

I squeezed her hand.

"Not the man he actually is."

She closed her eyes.

"I still hurt him."

"Perhaps."

I answered honestly.

"But I think..."

I paused.

"...meeting you probably gave him something he hasn't had in twenty-one years."

She looked at me.

"Hope."

Silence settled between us.

Then another question.

"...How fast can we get back to Russia?"

"As fast as necessary."

"Tomorrow?"

"If that's what needs to happen."

"What about permissions?"

"I'll arrange them."

"The prison?"

"I'll arrange that too."

"The embassy?"

"I'll speak to them."

She searched my face.

"You can do that?"

"Yes."

"And if they refuse?"

"I'll find another way."

She nodded.

Only to ask again,

"What if they don't let me see him?"

"We'll appeal."

"What if that takes months?"

"Then we'll keep appealing."

"What if they deny everything?"

"We gather evidence."

"What if someone destroys the evidence?"

"We look for more."

"What if..."

She stopped herself.

I smiled faintly.

"You've asked me fourteen 'what ifs' in the last five minutes."

"I know."

"I can't stop."

"I know."

She looked down at our joined hands.

"I'm scared."

The admission was almost inaudible.

Not of herself.

Not of the threats.

Of losing him again.

I shifted closer.

"So am I."

Her head snapped up.

"You are?"

"I'm scared..."

I said quietly,

"...that you'll keep imagining every worst possibility until none of them leave room for the truth."

A faint silence followed.

I continued,

"Right now..."

"Your father is alive."

"You have seen him."

"You have spoken to him."

"Those are facts."

"The rest..."

I brushed away another tear.

"...are fears."

She inhaled shakily.

"What if the fears become facts?"

"Then we'll face them."

"We?"

I looked at her as though there had never been another answer.

"We."

She held my gaze for a long moment.

Then whispered,

"You won't leave?"

The question surprised me.

Not because she asked it.

Because she sounded like she expected the answer to be yes.

I reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"No."

"Even if this becomes dangerous?"

"No."

"Even if it turns into a legal battle?"

"No."

"Even if it takes years?"

I smiled softly.

"I flew across continents because you didn't answer your phone."

"What makes you think I'd leave now?"

For the first time since she'd walked into the suite...

the corners of her lips trembled into the smallest smile.

It lasted barely a second.

But it was enough.

Enough to tell me she hadn't completely given up hope.

And tonight...

hope was the one thing we couldn't afford to lose.

The questions stopped.

Not because she had found peace.

Because exhaustion had finally caught up with her.

She sat curled into the corner of the sofa, a blanket loosely wrapped around her shoulders, her father's letter still clutched in one hand.

I looked up from my laptop.

"Aayat."

No response.

She was staring blankly at the city outside.

"...Aayat."

She blinked slowly.

"Hm?"

"You should try to sleep."

She gave a tired smile.

"I don't think my mind knows how."

I didn't argue.

There was no point.

Instead, I returned to the screen.

The suite fell into silence.

Except...

my keyboard.

The occasional vibration of my phone.

The low hum of Manhattan beyond the glass.

⸻

Three hours later.

2:18 AM.

Coffee had long gone cold beside me.

Half the room was covered with files.

I had spoken to the Indian Embassy.

Requested every legal document related to Prisoner Number 704.

Asked my office to discreetly collect everything available on Devang Kapoor's case.

Nothing official.

Nothing that could alert the wrong people.

Just information.

Then another call.

"Sir."

"I need every public record involving Devang Kapoor from twenty-one years ago."

"The originals."

"Not newspaper summaries."

"Police records."

"Court filings."

"Travel manifests."

"Everything."

"Yes, sir."

"And..."

I paused.

"Find me every person who investigated that case."

"Alive or retired."

"It'll take time."

"I know."

"I don't care how long."

"I care how accurate."

The call ended.

Another began.

Russia.

A legal contact.

Then an international investigator.

Then someone in cyber forensics.

By the time I closed my laptop...

it was almost four.

I leaned back.

Finally allowing myself one deep breath.

Only then...

did I notice the silence.

Complete silence.

I turned.

Aayat was asleep.

Not on the bed.

Still on the sofa.

The blanket had slipped to her waist.

Her head rested awkwardly against the armrest.

One hand still loosely held the old envelope.

Even in sleep...

her brows remained faintly drawn together.

As though her heart refused to forget.

I stood quietly.

Walked over.

The letter had almost slipped from her fingers.

Carefully...

I eased it free.

She stirred.

"...Dad..."

The whisper was barely audible.

My chest tightened.

She wasn't dreaming peacefully.

She was searching.

Even in sleep.

I folded the letter carefully and placed it safely inside the file on the coffee table.

Then crouched beside her.

A loose strand of hair had fallen across her face.

I smiled despite myself.

"You really don't make anything easy..."

I murmured.

Gently...

I tucked the strand behind her ear.

It stayed exactly two seconds.

Before falling right back.

A tiny laugh escaped me.

"So stubborn."

Always.

Even her hair seemed determined to prove a point.

I slipped one arm beneath her knees.

The other around her back.

Slowly...

I lifted her.

She instinctively leaned closer, her cheek resting against my chest.

Without waking.

As though somewhere...

she already trusted I wouldn't let her fall.

I carried her into the bedroom.

The city lights spilled softly across the room.

I laid her carefully on the bed.

Pulled the duvet over her.

She shifted slightly, searching for warmth before settling again.

I stood there for a long moment.

Simply looking at her.

People knew Aayat Raghuvanshi as relentless.

Untouchable.

Brilliant.

They wrote articles about her discipline.

Her ruthlessness in boardrooms.

Her impossible standards.

None of them had seen this.

The woman who had cried herself to sleep because all she wanted...

was her father.

I reached out once more.

Brushed another stray lock away from her forehead.

"You've carried too much for too long."

I whispered.

"So for tonight..."

"...let me carry what I can."

She sighed softly in her sleep.

The tension on her face eased, just a little.

A faint smile found my lips.

"You know..."

I said quietly, knowing she couldn't hear me,

"...you terrify half the business world."

"You argue with presidents."

"You make billionaires nervous."

"And yet..."

I looked at her sleeping face.

"...the bravest thing you've done was allow yourself to cry."

My gaze lingered for another moment.

"I wish you could see yourself the way others do."

A pause.

"No..."

I corrected myself softly.

"...the way I do."

My voice dropped to almost a whisper.

"So impossibly strong..."

"...and somehow still so gentle."

I shook my head with the smallest smile.

"You'll probably wake up tomorrow and try to carry this alone again."

"But you won't."

"Not anymore."

Another silence settled.

I reached for the bedside lamp.

Then stopped.

One last look.

"I don't know when it happened."

I admitted to the sleeping woman.

"Somewhere between our arguments..."

"...your impossible schedules..."

"...and you pretending coffee counts as dinner..."

"I forgot how to keep my distance."

The confession hung quietly in the room.

No audience.

No expectations.

Only the woman who would never hear it.

He smiled to himself.

"Sleep, Aayat."

"Tomorrow..."

"We bring your father home."

I switched off the bedside lamp.

Only the city lights remained.

For a moment...

I simply stood there.

Watching her.

Making sure she was truly asleep.

Then I quietly walked back into the living room.

My laptop still lay open.

Unread emails.

Case files.

Maps.

A dozen names written across my notebook.

I stared at the screen.

But my mind wasn't there anymore.

It drifted back...

To yesterday.

⸻

Thirty-six hours earlier.

Mumbai.

8:12 AM.

I dialed Aayat's number.

The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.

I frowned.

Probably a meeting.

I sent a message instead.

Call me when you're free.

No reply.

⸻

9:47 AM.

Another call.

Unavailable.

⸻

11:15 AM.

I called her secretary.

"Good morning, sir."

"Where's Mrs. Raghuvanshi?"

A pause.

"Ma'am left early this morning."

"Where?"

"...Russia."

My pen stopped moving.

"...Russia?"

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"Her flight departed about three hours ago."

"And no one informed me?"

There was an awkward silence.

"She instructed us not to disturb anyone unless absolutely necessary."

I closed my eyes briefly.

"Did she say why?"

"No, sir."

"How long is she staying?"

"We're... not sure."

The call ended.

I looked at my phone again.

Still no message.

Nothing.

⸻

By evening...

I had called fifteen times.

No answer.

I told myself not to overreact.

She was busy.

Travelling.

Investigating.

She would call back.

She always replied.

Eventually.

⸻

The next morning...

She still hadn't.

Something felt wrong.

Not because she was independent.

She was.

Not because she travelled alone.

She always had.

But because...

Aayat never disappeared.

She informed people.

Left schedules.

Shared emergency contacts.

She planned everything.

Silence...

was unlike her.

I called again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

The robotic voice had started to memorize me.

⸻

By afternoon...

I stopped pretending I was calm.

I called her international number.

No response.

Work phone.

Nothing.

Satellite phone.

Nothing.

I called the pilot.

No answer.

Her security head.

No answer.

Hotel.

No confirmation.

My office had never seen me pace before.

That day...

they did.

Raghav entered cautiously.

"Sir?"

"Find her."

"We're trying."

"Try harder."

He nodded immediately.

No questions.

⸻

By evening...

I was no longer sitting behind my desk.

I was standing beside the window.

Phone in my hand.

Calling again.

And again.

And again.

Each unanswered call made the silence louder.

Ridiculous.

I had handled riots.

Natural disasters.

Political crises.

Yet one woman refusing to answer her phone...

had reduced me to checking it every thirty seconds.

I almost laughed at myself.

Almost.

⸻

Late that night...

Raghav walked in again.

"We've confirmed she crossed into Russia safely."

I looked up instantly.

"Where is she now?"

"We're still tracking."

"Still?"

"They're being... discreet."

I knew what that meant.

Someone had intentionally kept the itinerary quiet.

My jaw tightened.

"Book me on the first flight."

"Sir?"

"The first."

"But tomorrow's cabinet meeting..."

"Can survive without me."

He stared.

Probably because I had never postponed official work.

Not once.

Until then.

⸻

On the flight...

I barely touched the food.

Barely slept.

Every hour...

I called again.

Knowing she wouldn't answer.

Still...

I called.

Hope isn't logical.

It doesn't care about probability.

⸻

When I finally learned she had returned to Manhattan...

Relief hit first.

Then irritation.

Then relief again.

I had reached the hotel almost an hour before she did.

The receptionist had offered coffee.

I refused.

Then accepted.

Then forgot to drink it.

I kept looking at the elevator.

Every time it opened...

it wasn't her.

Until finally...

The doors slid apart.

She stepped out.

Tired.

Lost.

Alive.

I don't remember crossing the room.

I only remember thinking...

Thank God.

Everything else...

The frustration.

The lecture.

The four hundred and seventy missed calls.

That had all come later.

Because before I was angry...

I had been terrified.

⸻

Back in the present...

I looked toward the bedroom.

The door remained slightly open.

She was still asleep.

Safe.

I finally allowed myself to exhale.

Quietly.

"So this..."

I murmured to the empty room.

"...is what falling for someone feels like."

Not dramatic.

Not sudden.

Just...

calling them hundreds of times because silence had become unbearable.

Crossing continents without being asked.

And finding peace only after seeing them asleep in the next room.

I smiled to myself.

"You're in trouble, Mihir."

Because somewhere along the way...

without noticing...

Aayat Raghuvanshi had become the first person capable of unsettling a man who had once believed nothing in the world could shake him.

I stared at the laptop.

The words on the screen blurred together.

Prison records.

Court archives.

Transfer logs.

I was reading every line...

and understanding none of them.

Because my mind...

completely against my will...

kept returning to one impossible moment.

I leaned back in the chair and shut my eyes.

"...Unbelievable."

She had kissed me.

Mrs. Aayat Raghuvanshi.

The woman who had sat across from me months ago and negotiated our marriage like it was the merger of two multinational companies.

The woman who had looked me in the eye and said,

"This is a contract, Mr. Chief Minister."

"Nothing more."

No expectations.

No romance.

No emotional obligations.

We had shaken hands over clauses.

Confidentiality.

Duration.

Public appearances.

Separate bedrooms.

Professional boundaries.

If anyone had asked me then whether my wife would ever kiss me...

I would've laughed.

Probably asked if they'd hit their head.

And yet...

today...

she had crossed the room...

held my face...

and kissed me.

I covered my face with both hands.

"...God."

Why was I blushing?

I was thirty years old.

The elected Chief Minister of one of India's largest states.

People expected me to negotiate billion-rupee investments.

Handle political crises.

Speak before thousands without a single note.

But one unexpected kiss...

and I had forgotten how breathing worked.

I remembered every second with painful clarity.

The way she'd walked towards me.

Fast.

Determined.

Eyes red from crying.

I'd thought...

She's going to yell at me.

Or explain.

Or maybe ask for help.

Instead...

she had looked so...

frustrated.

Not angry.

Frustrated.

As though there were a thousand emotions trapped inside her and not a single word capable of carrying them.

Relief.

Fear.

Grief.

Guilt.

Exhaustion.

All crashing into each other.

She had opened her mouth twice.

Closed it again.

Then suddenly...

both hands on my face.

And...

kissed me.

I hadn't even reacted.

I had simply...

stopped.

My brain had completely abandoned office.

If someone had asked my name in that moment...

I genuinely wasn't sure I could have answered.

A helpless laugh escaped me.

"...That was the first kiss of the Chief Minister of Maharashtra."

I looked around the empty suite.

"No speeches."

"No ceremonies."

"No violin music."

"No warning."

Just...

complete system failure.

I rubbed the back of my neck, smiling despite myself.

She hadn't planned it.

I knew that much.

Aayat wasn't someone who acted on impulse.

Especially not with affection.

She had been overwhelmed.

She couldn't explain what she felt.

Couldn't thank me.

Couldn't tell me she'd been terrified.

Couldn't tell me how relieved she was that I was there.

So...

instead of words...

she'd kissed me.

The realization made my chest tighten.

It hadn't been romantic.

Not intentionally.

It had simply been...

the only language her heart had left.

And somehow...

that meant even more.

I remembered how she'd looked immediately afterwards.

Almost as surprised as I had been.

As though she'd only realized what she'd done after she'd done it.

Poor woman.

Tomorrow morning...

she was going to remember.

I could already imagine it.

She'd wake up.

Replay everything.

Freeze.

Avoid eye contact.

Probably bury herself in work for twelve straight hours just to escape the embarrassment.

Another laugh escaped me.

"...You're going to pretend it never happened, aren't you?"

I could almost hear her.

"It was an emotional moment."

"Don't misunderstand it."

"Let's remain professional."

I smiled.

She would absolutely say something like that.

And I...

would probably nod like a respectable husband.

While secretly remembering every single second for the rest of my life.

Hopeless.

Completely hopeless.

I glanced towards the half-open bedroom door.

She was sleeping peacefully now.

Curled slightly on one side.

After crying herself empty.

The smile slowly faded from my face.

No...

Today wasn't about me.

It wasn't about a kiss.

Today a little girl had discovered her father had been alive all along.

Everything else...

could wait.

I looked at her sleeping figure one last time before turning back to the laptop.

But just before opening another file...

I couldn't help smiling again.

"...Still..."

I whispered under my breath.

"...my wife kissed me."

And despite every attempt to remain the composed Chief Minister...

the tips of my ears turned red all over again.

The smile disappeared the moment my phone vibrated.

One glance at the screen...

and every trace of amusement was gone.

Unknown Secure Line.

Only three people in the country had this number.

No one called it unless it mattered.

I stood immediately, walked onto the balcony, and quietly slid the glass door shut behind me.

The cold Manhattan air hit my face.

I answered.

"...Go ahead."

The voice on the other end was low.

"Sir."

"I checked the number that sent the threatening messages to Mrs. Raghuvanshi."

My jaw tightened.

"And?"

"It was routed through six countries."

"Disposable servers."

"Burner device."

"Professionally hidden."

I wasn't surprised.

"So we found nothing."

There was a brief silence.

"...Not exactly, sir."

I stopped pacing.

"What did you find?"

"The sender made one mistake."

My entire attention sharpened.

"He connected for exactly eleven seconds before switching networks."

"Long enough?"

"Yes."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"Location."

"Not the person."

"The device."

"It briefly connected to an older communications tower."

"Where?"

"...Moscow."

Russia.

Again.

My eyes narrowed.

"So the messages originated there."

"We believe so."

I looked through the glass.

Aayat slept peacefully, completely unaware.

My voice became colder.

"Continue."

"We pulled older intelligence records."

"Cross-referenced them with names connected to Devang Kapoor."

Silence.

Then...

"One name appeared repeatedly."

"Tej Kapoor?"

"No, sir."

I frowned.

"Who?"

"A retired Russian investigator."

I waited.

"He handled the original crash investigation twenty-one years ago."

My heartbeat slowed.

"And?"

"He officially retired eighteen years ago."

"But..."

The man hesitated.

"...financial records show large unexplained deposits into accounts belonging to his immediate family."

"How large?"

"Several million dollars."

I became completely still.

"When?"

"The first transfer..."

Paper shuffled on the other end.

"...was made forty-eight hours after the accident."

My expression hardened.

Bribery.

Someone had paid him.

"Source?"

"Layered shell companies."

"Impossible to trace directly."

"Unless..."

"Unless?"

"There was one transfer that wasn't hidden properly."

My grip tightened around the phone.

"It originated from..."

Another pause.

"...Kapoor Holdings."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Kapoor Holdings.

Tej Kapoor's company.

For several long seconds...

I didn't speak.

Finally...

"You're certain?"

"We verified it three times."

"It wasn't enough for court."

"But enough to raise serious suspicion."

I looked back toward the bedroom.

Aayat had spent twenty-one years believing official records.

Those records...

were beginning to crack.

"What else?"

"There is another inconsistency."

"Speak."

"The vehicle."

I frowned.

"What about it?"

"The forensic report claims brake failure."

"Yes."

"But photographs taken before the vehicle was recovered..."

"...show no impact consistent with brake failure."

I closed my eyes briefly.

Meaning...

the report had been altered.

"Can you prove it?"

"Not yet."

"But..."

The voice lowered further.

"We found someone who might."

I stopped pacing.

"Who?"

"The mechanic."

My heart skipped.

"The last mechanic who serviced Devang Kapoor's vehicle before the Russia trip."

"I thought he died."

"So did everyone."

Another pause.

"He's alive."

I stared into the darkness beyond the balcony.

"Where?"

"We've located him."

"He's living under another identity."

My voice became almost dangerous.

"Protect him."

"Immediately."

"No one approaches him."

"No local authorities."

"No unnecessary contact."

"I don't want a single leak."

"Yes, sir."

"If someone has threatened Aayat..."

"They already know she's getting close."

"If they realize we've found a witness..."

"They'll eliminate him."

"We're moving our people now."

The call ended.

I remained standing in the cold for several moments.

Then I slowly looked back through the glass.

She was asleep.

One hand tucked beneath her cheek.

Completely defenseless.

She had no idea...

that the moment she started searching...

someone had begun watching her.

Or that tonight...

the first real crack had appeared in a lie that had survived for twenty-one years.

I looked at my phone once more.

Then quietly dialed another secure number.

It connected on the first ring.

"Sir."

"I want Z-Unit activated."

There was immediate silence.

Even over the phone...

I could feel the shock.

"Sir..."

"Z-Unit hasn't been deployed in years."

"I know."

"Activate them anyway."

A pause.

"Objective, sir?"

My eyes never left the sleeping woman inside.

"No one touches my wife."

"Not while I'm breathing."

6:02 A.M.

Manhattan was only beginning to wake.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the hotel suite in pale gold.

I hadn't slept.

Not even for a minute.

The coffee beside me had long gone cold.

My laptop screen was crowded with files.

Russian court records.

Interpol extracts.

Archived financial statements.

Every loose thread from the last twenty-one years.

One by one...

they had begun connecting.

A secure notification appeared.

ENCRYPTED FILE RECEIVED

SOURCE VERIFIED

I opened it immediately.

Inside was a scanned document.

Old.

Worn.

The edges were yellow with age.

The heading made me sit straighter.

Vehicle Inspection Certificate

Russia.

Dated...

Three days before the crash.

I frowned.

The official investigation had stated that Devang Kapoor's SUV had suffered catastrophic brake failure.

That brake failure...

had caused the accident.

I opened the report.

Every component had been inspected.

Engine.

Transmission.

Steering.

Hydraulics.

Brakes.

I reached the final page.

Then...

I froze.

My eyes scanned the paragraph again.

And again.

No.

No...

The report clearly stated...

The braking system has been replaced with a new factory assembly. Vehicle declared roadworthy.

Signed.

Stamped.

Certified.

Three days before the accident.

I leaned forward.

My pulse quickened.

This alone destroyed the prosecution's entire theory.

A brand-new braking system...

couldn't have suddenly failed the way the official report claimed.

Unless...

someone had tampered with it afterwards.

My phone rang before I could think further.

I answered immediately.

"Yes."

"Sir."

My investigator sounded different.

Excited.

"We've confirmed the inspection report."

"It is genuine."

My heartbeat accelerated.

"And?"

"There's more."

"What?"

"We located the original mechanic."

The same mechanic.

Alive.

Protected.

He had spoken.

"He remembered the vehicle."

"After twenty-one years?"

"It wasn't an ordinary customer, sir."

"It belonged to India's biggest singer."

"He remembered."

I stood up.

"What did he say?"

"He serviced the vehicle personally."

"And?"

"He swore..."

The investigator paused.

"...that after the inspection..."

"...someone else collected the SUV."

I frowned.

"Not Devang Kapoor?"

"No."

"Not Mrs. Shruti Kapoor either."

"Then who?"

Silence.

The answer came slowly.

"...Tej Kapoor."

Every muscle in my body locked.

The investigator continued.

"He signed the release documents himself."

I shut my eyes.

This...

this changed everything.

The official narrative claimed Devang had driven away after servicing.

He hadn't.

Tej had taken possession of the vehicle.

Meaning...

he had exclusive access.

Enough time.

Enough opportunity.

Enough control.

My investigator wasn't finished.

"Sir..."

"We recovered something else."

"What?"

"The garage owner never destroyed old surveillance archives."

I stopped breathing.

"Surveillance?"

"Very low quality."

"But recoverable."

My grip tightened around the phone.

"Have you seen it?"

"Yes."

"What does it show?"

"It shows Tej Kapoor entering the service bay."

My heartbeat thundered.

"And leaving..."

The investigator swallowed.

"...alone."

I stared at the screen.

The implications unfolded instantly.

If Tej had taken the SUV...

after it had been certified safe...

then the accident could no longer be blamed on mechanical failure.

Someone...

had interfered with the vehicle afterward.

Someone with motive.

Someone with opportunity.

Someone whose company had already transferred millions to the investigating officer's family.

I slowly sat back down.

No.

This wasn't just suspicion anymore.

This was the beginning of a case.

The investigator spoke again.

"Sir."

"One final thing."

I almost didn't ask.

"What?"

"The mechanic signed a sworn affidavit."

My eyes widened.

"He stated..."

"...under oath..."

"...that he specifically warned Mr. Tej Kapoor not to allow anyone to alter the braking assembly because it had been newly installed."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then...

"He also stated..."

"...that two days later..."

"...Tej Kapoor returned."

I felt my pulse in my throat.

"Why?"

"He requested access to the vehicle."

"For what reason?"

The answer came quietly.

"He claimed he had forgotten some personal belongings inside."

I closed my eyes.

No.

That was the window.

That was when it had happened.

The investigator's voice was almost reverent.

"Sir..."

"This is enough."

"It establishes exclusive possession."

"It contradicts the official investigation."

"It introduces motive."

"It opens the possibility of evidence fabrication."

"It is sufficient to petition for a judicial review."

I looked toward the bedroom.

Aayat was still asleep.

Completely unaware...

that only a few metres away...

the first real proof of her father's innocence lay open on my laptop.

I whispered to myself,

"...We're bringing you home, Mr. Devang Kapoor."

For the first time in twenty-one years...

hope was no longer built on stories.

It was built on evidence.

I closed the encrypted folder and immediately picked up my phone.

One call.

Then another.

Within minutes, three secure lines were active.

"I need the earliest flight to Moscow."

A pause.

"No."

I corrected.

"Not commercial."

"Arrange government clearance."

"We leave within three hours."

The officer on the other end hesitated.

"Sir... should I inform the Ministry?"

"Not yet."

"The fewer people who know, the better."

"Yes, sir."

I disconnected and dialed another number.

"Ananya."

"Good morning, sir."

"I need the originals."

"The inspection report."

"The mechanic's affidavit."

"The surveillance footage."

"The financial transfers."

"Everything."

"I want certified copies and digital backups."

"They'll be ready before departure."

"And the retired investigating officer?"

A few seconds of keyboard clicks echoed through the speaker.

"We've confirmed the address."

"Still living outside Moscow."

"Small farmhouse."

"Alone."

"Security?"

"None visible."

I looked toward the bedroom.

"Good."

"We'll visit him before anyone else does."

"You believe he'll cooperate, sir?"

I smiled faintly.

"No."

"I believe he'll lie."

Silence.

"But people who've lived with guilt for twenty-one years..."

"...rarely survive the truth looking them in the eye."

"I understand."

The call ended.

I gathered every document into a slim black folder.

If even half of this held up in court...

Devang Kapoor's conviction would begin to collapse.

Not today.

Not immediately.

But it would crack.

And once it cracked...

everything buried beneath it would surface.

⸻

A soft voice interrupted my thoughts.

"...Mihir?"

I looked up.

Aayat stood in the bedroom doorway.

She looked exhausted.

Her hair was slightly messy from sleep.

She was still wearing the oversized white shirt she'd fallen asleep in.

For a second...

she simply watched me.

Then her eyes moved to the untouched coffee.

The open laptop.

The stack of files.

And finally...

to my face.

"...You haven't slept."

"I did."

She folded her arms.

"Liar."

"I managed a little."

"Mihir."

"I'm fine."

She walked closer until she was standing beside my chair.

Without asking...

she reached up and lightly touched the skin beneath my eyes.

Dark circles.

She sighed.

"You worked all night."

"I found something."

Her expression changed immediately.

"What?"

I turned the laptop toward her.

She skimmed the first page.

Then the second.

Then the mechanic's affidavit.

Her breathing slowed.

"What..."

She looked at me.

"...is this?"

"The beginning."

I replied quietly.

"The official accident theory is falling apart."

She looked down again.

"The brakes..."

"They were replaced three days before the crash."

I nodded.

"The vehicle was declared perfectly roadworthy."

Her eyes widened.

"Then..."

"The brake failure report couldn't have been genuine."

"Exactly."

She turned another page.

"Tej collected the vehicle?"

"Personally."

Her fingers tightened around the paper.

"And he returned two days later..."

"...asking for access."

Neither of us spoke.

She slowly closed the folder.

Then looked at me.

"We're going to Russia."

It wasn't a question.

I nodded once.

"The flight leaves in a few hours."

She inhaled deeply.

"The officer."

"The one who led the investigation."

"I've found him."

A dangerous calm settled over her face.

The tears from last night...

were gone.

In their place...

stood Aayat Raghuvanshi.

The businesswoman who had built empires.

She picked up the folder.

"I'm speaking to him."

"I expected you would."

"He'll deny everything."

"Probably."

"He'll lie."

"Almost certainly."

A faint smile touched my lips.

"So..."

She looked directly into my eyes.

"...I'll make sure lying becomes the worst decision of his life."

There was no rage in her voice.

Only absolute certainty.

She began pacing.

"If he accepted money..."

"I'll expose every account."

"If he falsified evidence..."

"I'll have international investigators reopen every file."

"If he thinks retirement protects him..."

A humorless smile crossed her face.

"...he's about to discover how expensive the truth can become."

I watched her quietly.

She stopped near the window.

Looking out at Manhattan.

"When I meet him..."

She spoke without turning around.

"I'm not asking twice."

Silence.

"If he tells the truth..."

"I'll make sure the court hears it."

She finally turned back.

"But if he lies..."

Her eyes were ice-cold.

"...I'll drag every hidden secret into daylight."

For the first time...

I almost felt sorry for the retired officer.

Almost.

Because I had seen Aayat negotiate with billion-dollar corporations.

I'd watched hardened industrialists leave boardrooms questioning their own decisions.

A corrupt investigator...

stood no chance.

I walked over to her.

"We'll do this properly."

She looked at me.

"No threats we can't legally stand behind."

"No mistakes."

"No giving Tej's lawyers an opening."

She held my gaze for a long moment.

Then slowly nodded.

"Fine."

Her fingers tightened around the folder.

"But one thing is non-negotiable."

"What?"

Aayat's voice dropped to a whisper.

"This time..."

"...no one buries my father again."

I met her eyes.

"They won't."

And for the first time since this nightmare had begun...

we walked toward the future with something stronger than hope.

We walked toward it with proof.

Russia.

The country where everything had started.

The country where Aayat had lost her childhood.

And the country where, twenty-one years later, she was finally going to get the truth.

The private jet landed before noon.

I had barely slept.

Not because of the flight.

Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same things.

The evidence.

The documents.

The hidden records.

The truth that had been buried for decades.

And most importantly...

Aayat.

Sitting beside me silently.

Looking out of the window.

She had barely spoken since we left Manhattan.

I understood why.

Yesterday, she had found out that the man she hated for twenty-one years was actually the father she had been grieving.

No person could process that easily.

I looked at her.

Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the file containing the evidence.

As if someone would take it away if she loosened her grip.

"Aayat."

She didn't look at me.

"Hmm?"

"You need to breathe."

A faint, tired smile appeared on her face.

"You sound like you have been saying that a lot lately."

"Because you keep forgetting to do it."

This time she looked at me.

For a second, the seriousness in her eyes softened.

Then it returned.

"What if we are late?"

The question was barely a whisper.

I knew exactly what she meant.

"What if Tej already moved him?"

"What if he knew?"

"What if before we reach him..."

Her voice shook.

"...he hides him somewhere else?"

I placed the file on the table.

"Aayat."

She looked at me.

"We have evidence now."

"But evidence doesn't change the past."

"No."

I held her gaze.

"But it changes the future."

She remained silent.

"We have proof of manipulation."

"Financial records."

"Old communication logs."

"Documents connecting Tej to the entire setup."

"And the officer who handled the original investigation is ready to talk."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Ready?"

"After my call last night."

A small, almost dangerous look appeared on her face.

"The same officer who helped destroy my father's life?"

I didn't answer immediately.

Because I knew that anger.

I had seen it before.

Aayat was not the kind of person who gave up when someone hurt her.

She became more determined.

"He will tell the truth."

She said it quietly.

Not as a hope.

As a decision.

I nodded.

"He will."

The car waiting outside the airport took us toward the city.

Russia looked beautiful outside the window.

Snow-covered streets.

Old buildings.

A completely ordinary morning.

And yet...

for Aayat, this place carried twenty-one years of pain.

I watched her expression change as we passed certain roads.

Memories she didn't remember completely.

A childhood she barely had.

A family she thought she lost.

After a while, she spoke.

"Mihir."

"Yes?"

"When we meet him..."

I looked at her.

She swallowed.

"What if he doesn't recognize me?"

The question surprised me.

Not because she asked it.

Because of how much it hurt.

I leaned back.

"Aayat."

"He spent twenty-one years protecting you."

"He remembered you when the entire world wanted him forgotten."

I paused.

"He will recognize you."

Her eyes became glassy.

But she quickly looked away.

I pretended not to notice.

Because sometimes people didn't need someone pointing out their pain.

They needed someone to simply stay.

⸻

Russia

The moment the wheels of the aircraft touched the runway, I looked at her.

Aayat.

She was sitting beside me, staring out of the window.

Silent.

Too silent.

Usually, silence from Aayat meant she was thinking.

But this wasn't her normal silence.

This was the kind that came when someone was carrying too much.

Twenty-one years of questions.

Twenty-one years of pain.

And now...

the possibility of finally getting answers.

I watched her fingers tighten around the file resting on her lap.

The evidence.

The proof.

Everything we had spent the night collecting.

Everything that could finally bring Devang Kapoor out of prison.

Everything that could finally expose Tej Kapoor.

"Aayat."

She didn't look away from the window.

"Hmm?"

"We're here."

A small nod.

That's all she gave.

No excitement.

No relief.

Just fear.

I understood.

Because sometimes getting close to the truth was more frightening than not knowing it.

⸻

The car waiting outside the airport took us toward the city.

Russia looked beautiful.

Snow-covered streets.

Old buildings.

People walking normally.

Life continuing as if nothing had happened.

But for Aayat...

this place wasn't just a country.

It was where her life had changed forever.

I noticed the way she looked outside.

Every road.

Every building.

Every passing vehicle.

Like some part of her was searching for memories she had buried.

"You remember something?"

My question was quiet.

She shook her head.

"No."

A pause.

"Maybe."

I looked at her.

She smiled sadly.

"I don't know."

Her fingers moved over the file.

"I was six."

"I remember pieces."

"Cold."

"Someone shouting."

"Papa's voice."

"Then nothing."

I didn't say anything.

Because there was nothing I could say that would fix twenty-one years.

So I did what I had been doing since I came into her life.

I stayed.

⸻

The first thing we needed was the officer.

The man who had handled the original investigation.

The man who knew what had really happened.

My team had already confirmed the address.

Everything was prepared.

But I knew Aayat.

I knew she wouldn't wait.

The moment the car stopped outside the house...

she opened the door.

"Aayat."

She looked back.

"What?"

I stepped out after her.

"Remember why we're here."

Her eyes hardened.

"To get the truth."

"Not revenge."

A small pause.

Then she nodded.

"I know."

But I could see it.

The anger.

The hurt.

The daughter inside her who wanted answers.

I walked beside her.

Not ahead.

Not behind.

Beside her.

Because that's where I wanted to be.

⸻

The house was quiet.

A simple home.

Nothing like the places powerful people lived in.

Aayat pressed the doorbell.

A few seconds passed.

Then the door opened.

An older man appeared.

And the moment he saw her...

his entire expression changed.

Fear.

Shock.

Regret.

All at once.

His eyes moved from her face to mine.

Then back to her.

"...Aayat Raghuvanshi."

Her jaw tightened.

"You know me."

It wasn't a question.

The officer swallowed.

"Everyone knows you."

"No."

Her voice became sharper.

"You knew me before that."

The man's face fell.

And I knew immediately.

He had been waiting for this day.

The day the past came back.

"I was afraid you would find the truth."

Aayat stepped forward.

"Why?"

Silence.

"Why were you afraid?"

The officer looked down.

"Because I was the one who helped hide it."

I watched her.

The smallest crack appeared in her expression.

Not weakness.

Pain.

I moved slightly closer.

Ready.

Not to stop her.

To support her.

The officer opened the door wider.

"Come inside."

⸻

Inside, the house smelled of old books and memories.

The officer didn't sit immediately.

He walked toward a cabinet.

Removed an old metal box.

Placed it on the table.

Aayat stared.

"What is that?"

He looked at her.

"The truth."

My attention sharpened.

He opened it.

Old documents.

Photographs.

Reports.

Things that had been hidden for years.

I stepped closer.

The first document caught my eye.

The original investigation report.

Not the official version.

The original.

I scanned the pages.

And my heartbeat changed.

Because this wasn't just suspicion anymore.

This was proof.

The accident report had been altered.

Evidence had been removed.

Statements had been changed.

I looked at Aayat.

She was reading too.

Her hands had started trembling.

"Mihir..."

Her voice was barely audible.

"This..."

I took the file gently.

"Yes."

My voice was steady.

"This can change everything."

The officer looked at us.

"I should have done this years ago."

Aayat looked up.

"Then why didn't you?"

The man had no answer.

And for once...

I understood her anger.

Because regret after destruction never felt enough.

But now...

we had something.

A beginning.

A way forward.

I looked at the evidence.

Then at Aayat.

The room remained silent after the officer finished explaining everything.

Not the comfortable kind of silence.

The kind that carried years of guilt.

The kind that existed when someone had held onto a secret for far too long.

The old officer looked at Aayat.

Then slowly...

he pushed the metal box toward her.

"These belong to you."

Aayat looked down.

For a moment, she didn't move.

"Me?"

The officer nodded.

"Yes."

He opened the box fully.

"Original investigation reports."

"Unedited witness statements."

"Vehicle inspection records."

"Photographs that were never submitted."

"Communication records."

"Everything I kept hidden."

Aayat's eyes moved over every document.

Her expression changed with every page.

Anger.

Pain.

Disbelief.

But beneath all of it...

hope.

The officer took a deep breath.

"I failed your father."

His voice became heavier.

"I allowed fear to win."

He looked at her.

"But I won't do that anymore."

He placed his hand over the files.

"Take these."

Aayat stared at him.

"What am I supposed to do with them?"

The officer answered without hesitation.

"Fight."

A small silence followed.

"These documents are enough to reopen the case."

My attention sharpened.

"Are you sure?"

The officer nodded.

"Yes."

He looked at the papers.

"The original investigation was never completed properly."

"The official version was built on manipulated evidence."

He looked at Aayat.

"With these..."

"You can challenge the entire verdict."

Aayat slowly touched the first file.

"After twenty-one years..."

Her voice broke slightly.

"Can it really change?"

The officer looked at her.

"Truth doesn't expire."

Aayat lowered her gaze.

For the first time since we entered the house...

I saw something other than anger in her eyes.

A little bit of hope.

⸻

I stepped closer.

"These documents need to be protected."

The officer nodded.

"They do."

I looked at Aayat.

She was holding the files as if they were something fragile.

Not paper.

A piece of her father.

"We will make copies."

"Multiple."

"Digital backups."

"Everything."

Aayat looked at me.

The smallest relief appeared on her face.

Not because the problem was solved.

But because she knew she wasn't handling it alone.

The officer looked between us.

"You really came all the way here for him?"

Aayat didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

The answer was immediate.

"My father spent twenty-one years alone."

Her fingers tightened around the documents.

"He won't spend another day like that."

I watched her.

And for a moment...

I forgot everything else.

The case.

The politics.

The danger.

I just saw Aayat.

A daughter who had travelled across the world for someone she thought she hated.

⸻

The officer handed me one final envelope.

"This is important."

I took it.

"What is it?"

"The last communication I received."

"From Devang."

Aayat immediately looked up.

"From my father?"

The officer nodded.

"He knew the case was being buried."

"He knew nobody would believe him."

"He wanted someone to keep the truth safe."

Aayat stared at the envelope.

"Why didn't you give this before?"

The officer looked ashamed.

"Because I was afraid."

A pause.

"Today, I am more afraid of carrying this guilt."

Slowly...

he handed the envelope to her.

Aayat took it.

Her hands trembled.

I stood beside her.

Not touching.

Not interrupting.

Just there.

Because some moments belonged only to her.

⸻

Outside the house...

the cold air hit us.

Aayat stood on the steps holding the files.

She looked down at them.

Then at me.

"Mihir."

"Yes?"

Her voice was quiet.

"We can really do this?"

I looked at the evidence in her hands.

Then at her.

"Yes."

A faint breath escaped her.

"Reopen the case?"

"Yes."

"Free him?"

I paused.

Because I knew there would be obstacles.

Powerful people.

Old secrets.

But I also knew one thing.

"I don't know how long it will take."

I met her eyes.

"But we will."

Her eyes filled slightly.

Not tears of sadness this time.

Something else.

Hope.

For twenty-one years...

Aayat had been searching for the truth.

And today...

she finally had it in her hands.

I looked toward the road ahead.

Tej Kapoor had spent years believing the past was buried.

He was wrong.

Because now...

the past was coming back.

And this time...

it had evidence.

Mihir's POV

The moment we stepped outside the officer's house...

Aayat stopped.

The files were pressed against her chest.

The same files that could change everything.

The same files that could finally give her father a chance.

But instead of looking victorious...

she looked overwhelmed.

Like after searching for years, she had finally found the door...

and now she was afraid to open it.

"Aayat."

She didn't answer.

Her eyes remained fixed on the documents.

"We have them."

A small breath escaped her.

"We have them..."

She repeated softly.

Then her voice broke.

"But what if it's still not enough?"

I understood.

Because getting evidence was one thing.

Getting justice was another.

"What if they don't believe us?"

"What if Tej already has another plan?"

"What if by the time we reach him..."

She stopped.

She didn't complete the sentence.

She didn't have to.

I knew what she was afraid of.

Losing her father again.

After finally finding him.

"Aayat."

She looked at me.

For once, she didn't look like the woman who could challenge anyone.

She looked tired.

Scared.

Human.

"You've spent twenty-one years fighting a battle you didn't even know you were fighting."

My voice softened.

"Today, you finally have people standing with you."

She looked away.

"I should have found him earlier."

"No."

The answer came immediately.

She looked back.

"You were six."

"You were a child."

"But—"

"No."

I shook my head.

"You don't carry the blame for someone else's crimes."

Her eyes filled.

And before I could think too much...

I stepped forward.

For a second, I hesitated.

Because Aayat wasn't someone who liked people crossing her boundaries.

Especially me.

Especially after a marriage that had started as an agreement.

My hand lifted slightly.

Then stopped.

A question without words.

She noticed.

For a moment, she simply looked at me.

Then...

she moved closer.

And that was enough.

I wrapped my arms around her.

Carefully.

Not trying to take away her pain.

Not trying to force her to be okay.

Just reminding her that she didn't have to stand alone.

For a few seconds, she stayed completely still.

Then slowly...

she held onto the files with one hand and rested the other against my shoulder.

Neither of us spoke.

The city around us continued moving.

Cars passed.

People walked by.

But for that moment...

all that mattered was that she finally had something she had been searching for her entire life.

The truth.

I stepped back after a while.

She looked at me.

Her eyes were still wet, but there was more strength in them now.

"Thank you."

I shook my head.

"No."

She frowned slightly.

"No?"

"You don't thank someone for standing beside you."

A faint expression crossed her face.

Something close to a smile.

Then she looked down at the files again.

"We need to get these secured."

"Already planned."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Of course."

A small smile appeared.

"You always have a plan."

"Someone has to."

That earned a tiny laugh.

A real one.

The first one since we arrived.

And somehow...

that mattered more than I expected.

I looked at the documents in her hands.

Then toward the road ahead.

The next steps wouldn't be easy.

Reopening a case after twenty-one years.

Standing against Tej Kapoor.

Bringing Devang Kapoor's truth before the world.

It would take everything.

But now...

Aayat had proof.

And she had a reason to fight.

We walked back toward the car together.

This time...

she wasn't walking alone.

The entire drive back was quiet.

Not the uncomfortable kind.

A quiet filled with thoughts.

Aayat sat beside me, holding the files securely in her lap.

Every few minutes, her fingers would move over the pages.

As if she needed to remind herself they were real.

That this wasn't another dream.

That she finally had a way to bring her father home.

I watched her from the corner of my eye.

I knew she was thinking about one thing.

Not the case.

Not Tej.

Not the evidence.

Him.

Devang Kapoor.

Her father.

After a long silence, she finally spoke.

"Mihir."

"Yes?"

Her voice was soft.

Almost hesitant.

"I want to meet him."

I already knew who she meant.

But I asked anyway.

"Your father?"

She nodded.

"I want to see him."

A pause.

"Not through glass."

"Not through old photographs."

"Not through someone's memories."

Her fingers tightened around the file.

"I want to see him."

I looked ahead.

The request was something I expected.

But it wasn't simple.

"Aayat..."

She immediately looked at me.

"Please don't say no."

I sighed softly.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Then what?"

I chose my words carefully.

"Right now, it won't be easy."

Her expression changed.

"Why?"

"The prison authorities won't simply allow a private meeting."

"Especially after twenty-one years."

"But we have evidence now."

"Yes."

I nodded.

"And we will use it."

"But arranging an immediate meeting with an inmate involved in a reopened investigation..."

I paused.

"It will take time."

Her eyes filled with frustration.

"Mihir."

The way she said my name...

not angry.

Just desperate.

"I waited twenty-one years."

She looked away.

"I don't want to wait another day."

That sentence silenced me.

Because she was right.

For everyone else, this was a legal process.

A case.

Documents.

Procedures.

But for her...

this was her father.

The person she had lost.

The person she had just found.

I looked at her.

And I knew.

I couldn't tell her to wait.

Not for this.

I took out my phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a call."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"Mihir..."

I held up my hand.

"Let me try."

⸻

The next few hours passed in calls.

Officials.

Permissions.

Verification.

Questions.

I used every legal channel available.

Not because of my position.

But because Aayat deserved this moment.

By noon...

the arrangements were completed.

⸻

The prison looked exactly as I remembered.

Cold.

Silent.

Heavy.

But this time...

Aayat wasn't walking in looking for answers.

She was walking in knowing the truth.

We entered after the formalities.

She was unusually quiet.

I could see the nervousness she was trying to hide.

The woman who faced boardrooms without hesitation...

was now afraid of meeting her own father.

As we reached the corridor leading toward his cell...

she stopped.

I looked at her.

"Aayat?"

She took a slow breath.

"What if..."

She stopped.

I waited.

"What if he looks at me and sees the daughter who hated him?"

My chest tightened.

"Aayat."

She looked at me.

"He won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

My voice was calm.

"Because I know something you don't."

"What?"

"He spent twenty-one years protecting you."

I paused.

"He didn't survive all that time to hold a grudge against you."

Her eyes softened.

⸻

When we reached the cell...

I stopped.

The guard unlocked the door.

Aayat looked at me.

And for the first time...

she looked uncertain about something.

Not the truth.

Not the case.

This moment.

"Mihir..."

"Yes?"

Her voice was quiet.

"Won't you come with me inside?"

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1. Aayat kissed him because she had no words... what was your reaction? 😭

2. Drop your favourite scene from this chapter!

3. If Tej Kapoor finds out Mihir is helping Aayat, what do you think his reaction will be?

4. What do you think Aayat will do when she finally meets Devang? Hug him first or demand answers first?

5. Tell me honestly... what do you think Mihir's biggest red flag is?

Tell me how was the chapter?

DO NOT FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT