As Anirudh and Digvijay stood at the school gates, a collective sigh of relief washed over them when they saw Suman safe and sound.

The tension in Anirudh's shoulders eased, and Digvijay clasped his friend's shoulder, a small smile of reassurance on his lips.

Amay, however, had not left Suman's side for a second, his hand firmly holding hers as though letting go would make her vanish.

Suman, already flustered from the ordeal, turned a light shade of pink under Digvijay's teasing gaze, which earned a soft chuckle from him.

They all returned to Shekhawat Mansion, where Tara was pacing in the foyer, her worry evident.

The moment the door opened and she saw everyone, her eyes zeroed in on Suman.

Without hesitation, she rushed to her, enveloping her in a warm, motherly embrace.

“Suman!” Tara whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

She kissed Suman's forehead gently. “Are you okay, bacche?”

Suman nodded, her eyes glistening. “Yes, Maa, I’m fine.”

Tara exhaled deeply, relief flooding her features. “Thank God. I was so scared.”

Suman offered a soft smile, her heart warming at Tara's concern.

It was then she realized that Amay still hadn’t let go of her hand.

She glanced at him, her embarrassment growing when she noticed the intensity in his gaze.

Tara saw the way her son’s hand clung to Suman’s, his thumb absentmindedly caressing her knuckles, and she understood the depth of his inner turmoil.

With a knowing smile, Tara said, “Amay, take Suman to her room. I’ll send food there for both of you.”

Amay nodded without hesitation.

To everyone’s surprise—especially Suman’s—he scooped her up in his arms effortlessly.

“Amay!” Suman shrieked, her cheeks flaming as she buried her face in his chest to hide her embarrassment.

Digvijay chuckled at the sight. “Smooth, bro,” he teased.

Even Anirudh, ever composed, rolled his eyes at his son’s antics, though a small smirk tugged at his lips.

Amay carried Suman to her room as Tara turned to Digvijay.

Before she could say a word, Digvijay enveloped her in a playful hug.

“Kaisi hain aap, girlfriend?” he asked with a dramatic flair.

("How are you, girlfriend?")

Tara chuckled, playing along. “I’m fine, boyfriend. But I missed you. Apni girlfriend ki yaad nahi aayi?”

("I'm fine, boyfriend. But I missed you. Didn't you miss your girlfriend?")

Digvijay, ever the charmer, leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “Yaad toh roz aati hai,” he said with mock gravity. “Lekin kya karu, yeh zaalim duniya mujhe aapse milne nahi deti.” He pointed at Anirudh, who glared at him with mock annoyance.

("I think of you every day, But what can I do? This cruel world doesn’t let me meet you.")

Tara laughed at their antics. “Oh, toh yeh baat hai? Koi baat nahi, aaj yahi ruk jaa. Main bhi dekhti hoon kaunsi zaalim duniya tuhje mujhse baat karne se rokti hai,” she said, giving her husband a playful side-eye.

("Oh, so that's how it is? No problem, stay here today. Let me see which cruel world stops you from talking to me.")

Anirudh’s mock glare melted into puppy-dog eyes as he tried to win her over.

Tara shook her head, laughing softly.

Watching this exchange, Digvijay felt a pang of envy but also admiration.

Despite their years of marriage, the love, respect, and trust between Tara and Anirudh remained unwavering.

It was a love he hoped to find one day.

Coming from a dysfunctional family, he had little hope for such a connection, but seeing them gave him a glimmer of belief.

He also knew one thing for sure: Tara and Anirudh treated him as family.

They had taken him under their wing, offering him the warmth and love he had craved growing up.

Watching their bond, he couldn’t help but feel grateful, even as a flicker of longing stirred in his heart.

Amay gently placed Suman on the bed, his movements so delicate as if she were made of glass.

He knelt in front of her, making her eyes widen in surprise.

“Amay, yeh aap—” she began, but he cut her off softly.

("Amay, what are you—")

“Tum thik ho?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

("Are you okay?")

She nodded reassuringly, but Amay's eyes scanned her carefully, looking for any wounds or signs of discomfort.

Not finding any, his shoulders relaxed a bit, though his worry was still evident.

Suman smiled warmly and cupped his cheek with her hand.

Her touch was gentle, soothing the storm inside him.

He looked at her, surprised by the gesture.

“Main thik hoon, Amay. Please, pareshaan mat hoiye,” she said softly, her voice laced with affection.

("I'm fine, Amay. Please, don't worry.")

He exhaled and nodded, the tension easing slightly. “Tum change kar lo. Main tab tak khaana laata hoon.”

("You get changed. I'll bring the food in the meantime.")

She nodded again, watching as he stood and left the room.

Moving to the closet, she pulled out her clothes, her mind replaying the events of the day.

The terrifying incident at the school still lingered, but Amay's heartfelt confession overshadowed her fear.

Inside the bathroom, as she looked at herself in the mirror, a shy smile crept onto her lips.

She cupped her cheeks with her hands, her skin warming at the thought.

“He loves me,” she whispered, the words bringing a surge of joy to her chest. “Amay mujhse pyar karte hain.”

("Amay loves me.")

Her happiness was like a wave, and she twirled around like a child who had just received her favorite candy.

The gravity of the day had turned into a sweet memory she would cherish forever.

Tara was plating food when Amay entered.

She looked up at him and raised a brow.

“Aree, tu kyun aaya? Main khaana bhijwa hi rahi thi.”

("Aree, why did you come? I was about to send the food.")

“It’s okay, Maa. Main le jaata hoon,” he said, his voice distant, his thoughts elsewhere.

("It’s okay, Mom. I'll take it.")

Tara placed her hand on his, noticing the heaviness in his expression. “Amay, kya baat hai, beta? Main dekh rahi hoon, tu kaafi pareshaan lag raha hai.”

("Amay, what's wrong, son? I can see you're looking quite troubled.")

He looked at his mother, his resolve breaking.

Pulling her into a tight hug, he buried his face into her shoulder.

Tara’s hands instinctively rubbed his back, offering comfort.

A tear dampened her shoulder, and she stiffened slightly in concern. “Why are you crying, bacche?”

In a trembling voice, Amay replied, “Agar aaj usse kuch ho jaata toh main kya karta, Maa? Bahut darr gaya tha main. Usse khone se dar gaya. Main... she has become my breathe, Maa. Kaise reh paata main uske bina?”

("If something had happened to her today, what would I have done, Maa? I was so scared. Scared of losing her. I... she has become my breath, Maa. How could I live without her?")

Tara's heart ached at her son’s raw emotions. “Bas, bacche, aise rote nahi. Kuch nahi hua Suman ko. She’s fine. She’s in front of you.”

("Enough, my child, don't cry like this. Nothing happened to Suman. She's fine. She's right in front of you.")

Amay detached himself slightly, nodding, his face still shadowed by worry. “Main usse kuch nahi hone dunga, Maa.”

("I won't let anything happen to her, Maa.")

Tara smiled softly, brushing his tears away with her thumbs. “Bas phir, jo hua hi nahi, uske baare mein soch ke itna kyun pareshaan hona? Ja, aur aisi rotlu shakal leke mat jaana.”

("Then stop worrying so much about something that didn't even happen. Go, and don't go with that crying face.")

Amay let out a small chuckle, her teasing breaking through his emotions.

He took the food plates from her hands and headed upstairs, his heart feeling lighter yet still bound tightly to Suman.

When Amay entered, Suman was sitting on the bed, her hair slightly damp from washing her face.

Her cheeks flushed when she saw him, her mind flashing back to her bathroom twirls.

Amay set the plates on the side table and sat beside her, his eyes scanning her as if ensuring she was still safe and sound.

Without saying a word, he smiled, handing her a plate.

For both, the room was filled with silence—but it wasn’t empty.

It carried the weight of words unspoken yet understood, emotions unconfessed yet deeply felt.

Ayush sat in the study, working on the financial report, but his mind kept drifting.

He glanced at the clock, noting the late hour.

Tina hadn't come home yet, and the words from their last conversation echoed in his mind.

He knew what she had said was true—there was no reason for him to worry about her, especially when she was a grown woman who could handle herself.

But despite knowing that, his heart couldn't help but feel conflicted.

Worry gnawed at him.

With a frustrated sigh, Ayush dialed her number, praying she'd pick up.

The phone rang, and then... nothing.

She didn't answer.

He murmured under his breath, "Pick up the call, dammit," but the ringing stopped, and the call went unanswered.

He closed his laptop in irritation and stood up, heading for the hall.

He looked around, but Tina was still not home.

His worry grew, but he decided to wait for her.

Time passed, and just when he was about to lose patience, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.

Rushing outside, he saw the driver, Raju, stepping out of the car.

"Aree, Raju, Tina kaha hai?" Ayush asked, his voice tight with concern.

("Aree, Raju, where is Tina?")

Raju looked up at him, his face slightly tense. "Bhaiya, bhabhi ne... bahut pee li hai."

("Sir, Madam has... drunk a lot.")

Ayush's brow furrowed in surprise. "Accha... tu jaa, main dekh leta hoon."

("Okay... you go, I'll handle it.")

The driver nodded and quickly left.

Ayush's heart was pounding now as he moved toward the car.

He opened the door, and there she was—Tina, leaning against the seat, a wide smile plastered across her face.

Her voice, slurred with alcohol, reached him before she even spoke.

"Ayuussshhhhh! My husband!" she slurred, arms wide open.

She wobbled slightly as she tried to step out of the car, but Ayush caught her in time, steadying her.

Her head dropped onto his chest, and she pouted, her words barely understandable. "Ayush... tum yaha ho? I missed you so much."

("Ayush... you're here? I missed you so much.")

Ayush looked down at her, her face flushed, her breath smelling of alcohol.

He couldn’t ignore the redness on her cheek, the unmistakable mark of a slap.

A surge of anger flared inside him, but he kept his voice steady, his hand gently caressing her cheek.

"Tina, yeh kisne kiya?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

("Tina, who did this?")

She hissed in pain as his fingers brushed against the mark.

The air between them was thick with emotion, the quiet between them palpable.

As she stumbled, overwhelmed by the sudden wave of dizziness, he acted instinctively, his strong arms wrapping around her before she could fall.

He lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest as if she weighed nothing at all.

His heart raced, the urgency in his movements a reflection of his concern for her well-being.

With a swift, gentle motion, he carried her to their room, where the soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the space in a calming light.

He placed her delicately on the bed, his hands lingering for just a moment as if reassuring himself that she was safe.

Ayush's heart dropped, and he repeated the question, more urgently this time, "Who did this to you?"

As he turned to leave, a soft, trembling voice stopped him. “Please stay... Don’t leave me.”

Her words were barely a whisper, but they cut through the air like a plea, a raw, unguarded cry for comfort.

He froze, his back still facing her, the weight of her request settling into his chest.

Slowly, he turned back to face her.

His eyes softened, the determination in them now replaced by tenderness.

"I am not going anywhere," he murmured, his voice steady, yet full of warmth.

He walked back to her side, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

His hand gently cupped her face, brushing away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. "I’m right here, always."

Tina didn't answer at first, simply gazing at him with tear-filled eyes.

Finally, she whispered, "He slapped me..."

His voice came out low, filled with fury, as he stepped closer, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Who?" The question was demanded, sharp and unyielding, as if the very notion of someone hurting her felt like an affront to everything he held dear.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, brimming with vulnerability yet tinged with a quiet sadness.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely audible but unwavering as she answered, "My father."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

His expression darkened, disbelief giving way to a storm of emotions — anger, sadness, and an overwhelming desire to take her pain away.

He crouched in front of her, his hands gripping her shoulders with a fierce tenderness, as if he could somehow transfer his strength to her.

"Your father?" His voice cracked, disbelief lingering on the edges of the question. "How could he...?"

The words trailed off, too much emotion filling his chest for him to finish the thought.

Ayush’s heart sank.

Bhadresh Rao, the man who claimed to love his daughter so much, had hurt her.

"Why?" he asked, unable to process the words he had just heard.

Tina looked up at him, her voice breaking as she spoke. "Because I remind him of her... my mother. He hates everything about her, and he slapped me because I couldn't crack the deal. He said I’m just like her—useless... a failure."

Ayush clenched his fists, barely able to control the fury building inside him.

How could a father do this to his own daughter?

The rage he felt toward Bhadresh was inexplicable—he wanted to tear him apart.

But at that moment, all he could do was focus on Tina, whose pain was written all over her face.

She looked up at him, her voice shaky. "Are you going to leave me too, Ayush? Like my mother did? I know you don't want me... I know you’ll leave me one day."

Ayush froze.

He didn’t have an answer for her.

The truth was, he had no idea where his feelings for her stood.

But one thing was clear: he didn’t want to leave her.

Not now, not after everything they had been through.

In the months since their marriage, he had seen past the stubborn, spoiled exterior she put on for the world.

Beneath all that was a woman who was deeply vulnerable, who had been hurt by life and loved so fiercely in return.

He couldn’t leave her, not when he saw the pain in her eyes, not when he knew how much she needed someone to stay.

Tina, her tears quietly slipping down her cheeks, lay back on the bed, exhausted by the weight of her emotions.

She didn’t press him anymore for an answer.

Her facade was crumbling, and all she wanted was a moment of peace.

Ayush stood there, watching her.

He wanted to answer her, to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

So, instead, he gently covered her with the duvet and sat down beside her, his hand brushing her hair back from her face.

With a heavy heart, he laid down on the couch, unable to sleep.

His eyes stayed fixed on her sleeping form, knowing she had asked him a question he wasn’t ready to answer, but also knowing that something inside him was beginning to change.

He felt something—an undeniable connection to Tina that had begun to form over time, a bond that went beyond their marriage.

She had her faults, but he saw her now, truly saw her, and he realized he cared about her more than he had ever admitted to himself.

Tina, on the other hand, lay there with her eyes closed, the weight of the evening’s events pressing down on her.

She didn’t expect Ayush to say he loved her; she had never expected that.

She only wished that in another world, in another life, she could have the love she dreamt of—a love so pure that it would heal all the scars of the past.

In her heart, she prayed for that love to come to her in a dream.

And for the first time, Ayush couldn’t ignore the pull in his chest as he lay awake, staring at her sleeping face.

He didn’t have the answers yet, but he knew one thing for sure—he couldn’t leave her, no matter what.

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