The Deceit

CHAPTER 2

VISHNU

My heart thunders as I stand at Simran’s apartment door, the 14-hour flight from India to New York already a distant blur in my memory. Every fibre of my being pulsates with urgency—the threat to her life pulling me across continents. No distance is long enough to keep me away from her when she needs protection. I am here, ready to shield her from whatever danger lurks in the shadows.

I take a deep breath to steady myself and press the doorbell. I wait for someone to open the door, the seconds stretching into eternity. Then, without warning, the door swings open, and there she is.

Simran.

Seeing her steals the air from my lungs. She’s even more stunning than I remember—her long, ebony hair softly cascading over her shoulders, those dark eyes widening in shock as they meet mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. We’re both frozen, drinking in the sight of each other after all this time.

Simran’s beauty has only grown more striking during our time apart. She’s always been graceful, but now, there’s something new—her figure has taken on curves that weren’t there before, and the soft lines of her face seem just a bit sharper. There’s a new glow to her skin, as if the city’s lights have kissed her with their sparkle. I notice the subtle changes in her posture. She stands taller now, more confident, yet there’s a wariness in her stance that wasn’t there before. Her lips, still as full and inviting as ever, are pressed in a thin line of surprise and something else... apprehension, maybe?

As my gaze travels over her, I catch a flicker of something in her eyes. For a fleeting moment, I see the spark of the old Simran—the one who used to flash that teasing, flirty smile whenever she saw me. It’s quickly masked, but it’s enough to send a jolt through my body.

She’s watching me, too. I can feel it—the way her eyes trace over the changes these months apart have brought. I’ve grown stronger and filled out a bit more. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me now. Does she still see the man she once knew, or has time turned me into a stranger?

I can’t help but marvel at how she still affects me and how my body instinctively leans towards her, like a sunflower seeking the sun. Despite everything, despite the time and distance, Simran still has the power to leave me breathless. And judging by the slight tremor in her hand gripping the doorframe and the quick rise and fall of her chest, I’m not the only one affected by this unexpected reunion.

But then, as quickly as it came, the moment shatters. Simran’s eyes harden, and her body language closes off. The woman I glimpsed—the one who still held a trace of the old Simran I knew—disappears behind a wall of caution and distance. And I’m left wondering how we’ve come to this, standing on opposite sides of a threshold, feeling both incredibly close and yet miles apart.

“Vishnu?” she finally whispers, her voice a mix of disbelief and something else I can’t quite identify. Anxiety? Fear?

“Hi,” I reply, my voice low and steady despite the turmoil inside me.

“What... what are you doing here?” she stammers, her grip on the doorframe tightening.

“You know why I’m here,” I reply without hesitation. “We need to talk. Inside.”

I take a step forward to enter, but she hesitates, her body language screaming reluctance. It’s as if she’s seen a ghost, and the last thing she wants is to let it cross the threshold.

“I... I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Her resistance ignites a spark of confusion within me. I expected surprise, maybe even a bit of shock, but this? This level of wariness wasn’t what I anticipated. “Simran, I’ve flown across the globe to make sure you’re safe.”

She bites her lip, a gesture that still captivates me after all this time. “The NYPD is handling everything, Vishnu. Thanks to your quick alert, everything’s under control. There’s really no need for you to be here in person.”

Her words sting, but I refuse to be deterred. “We both know no one can protect you like I can.”

Without waiting for her to respond, I grasp her wrist gently but firmly and push past her into the apartment. I lock the door behind us, my protective instincts kicking into high gear.

Simran’s body goes rigid at my proximity. I can sense her unease, and it worries me. Why is she so afraid of my presence?

“I’ll leave once we’ve discussed your security,” I assure her, softening my tone. “If that’s truly what you want.”

After what feels like an eternity, she swallows hard and nods, seemingly accepting the inevitable. She delicately extricates her hand from mine and turns to lead me toward the living room. The apartment is spacious and tastefully decorated, reflecting Simran’s impeccable style. But my focus remains singular—fixed on her as she guides me to the couch.

“Would… would you like some water?” she asks, her voice a bit too formal.

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

A heavy silence settles between us. The jet lag gnaws at me, but taking rest is a luxury I can’t afford until I’m certain of her safety. My mind races back to my hasty plans—the hotel car waiting downstairs, my luggage packed for a two-week stay. I didn’t even give my father the full story, despite the looming responsibilities of my impending role as Party President. I simply informed Meher, instructing her to tell Dad that an urgent matter required my presence in New York.

But this reunion is nothing like I imagined. I thought Simran would be relieved, maybe even happy to see me. Instead, she stands at a wary distance, arms crossed protectively over her chest, looking more guarded than I ever expected.

“Sit,” I say, but she just shrugs.

“I’m fine here.”

The eye contact is missing, and I can’t shake the feeling that she’s hiding something—or someone from me. I glance around the room, but nothing seems immediately suspicious. This guarded, nervous Simran is a far cry from the woman I remember. Maybe yesterday’s events really shook her up.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, breaking the silence. “Meher told me what happened. It must have been really scary.”

Simran nods, her eyes darting away from mine. “It was... unsettling. But I’m okay now. The police have been very helpful.”

“That’s good to hear,” I say, taking a step closer. She instinctively steps back, maintaining the distance between us. The action doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Simran, what’s wrong? Why are you acting like this?”

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “Vishnu, I appreciate you coming all this way, I really do. But it wasn’t necessary. I have everything under control here.”

Her words ignite a spark of frustration within me. “Under control? Someone is stalking you, threatening you, and you’re saying everything is under control?”

“The police are handling it,” she insists. “They’ve increased patrols in the area and installed a direct alarm system. I’m safe.”

I clench my fists, trying to keep my rising anger in check. “And you think that’s enough? Simran, I’ve spent years protecting my father. I know how quickly these things can go wrong.”

She looks at me then, a flash of defiance in her eyes. “I don’t need your protection, Vishnu.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Let me be the judge of that. That’s why I’m here.”

“No,” she says firmly. “That’s why the NYPD is here. You... you should go back to India. Your father, your responsibilities—they need you more than I do. I’ve heard you are stepping into your father’s legacy now, becoming the Party President.”

I take another step closer, sensing a hint of disdain in her tone regarding my political future. But that’s not something she can dictate or even influence.

“My father has a whole security team,” I say firmly. “My duties can wait. Right now, you’re the one who needs protection, and I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”

As Simran shakes her head, a familiar meow suddenly interrupts our heated exchange. I look down to see Leila, Simran’s cat, padding towards us. The feline’s eyes light up with recognition as she spots me, and she immediately begins purring and rubbing against my legs, demanding my attention.

A smile tugs at my lips despite the tension in the air. I bend down, running my hand along Leila’s soft fur. “At least someone around here hasn’t changed,” I say with a smirk as I scoop Leila into my arms. I can feel Simran’s glare burning into me, knowing full well that my comment was aimed at her.

Leila snuggles into my chest, her purrs growing louder. I look up at Simran, unable to resist teasing her. “Even Leila agrees that I should be here. With you.”

I gently set Leila back on the floor. Her presence has done little to diffuse the tension. Simran’s frustration is palpable, her voice tight with barely contained anger as she continues to vent.

“You can’t just waltz back into my life and expect everything to be the same. Things are different now. I have a new life here. I can’t have you disrupting everything.”

Disrupting? Her words hit me like a cold wave. “I don’t want you here,” she says quietly, but the words carry clearly to my ears.

I feel as if the ground has been pulled out from under me. Something flickers in her eyes—pain, perhaps? But she quickly masks it.

“I’ve built a life here, away from... everything. You can’t just fly across the world and insert yourself into my life like this. I don’t need you complicating things.”

Her outburst stuns me into silence. I hadn’t expected this level of anger and resentment.

I refuse to back down. “Your life is already complicated. Someone out there wants to harm you. How can you stand there and tell me you don’t need help?”

She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Because I’m handling it! I’m not the same person I was back in India, Vishnu. I’ve grown up; I’ve changed. I can take care of myself.”

This time, I step forward, closing the distance between us, and she doesn’t retreat. “I know you’re strong, Simran. I’ve always known that. But this isn’t about strength. It’s about safety. It’s about…”

I trail off as I hear the unmistakable cry of a baby from the bedroom.

Simran freezes, her eyes locking with mine for a fraction of a second before she bolts towards the bedroom. I follow, my mind reeling as I try to process what I’m hearing.

As I step into the room, the world tilts on its axis. There, in Simran’s arms, is a baby boy, no more than a year old. She cradles him close to her chest, rocking him back to sleep with gentle pats on his back. A baby? My mind spins with questions—whose baby is this? Who else lives here with Simran? Is she sharing this apartment with another woman, probably the mother of this child? I don’t know anything. But the way the baby tightly clings to her tells another story. The baby is hers. And it hits me like another physical blow, my heart sinking at the realisation.

“You have a baby?” I blurt out, unable to hide my surprise.

She quickly turns around to face me. The fear I saw in her eyes when she resisted me from entering her apartment is back, this time more intense than before.

“Please, just leave,” she says firmly, though her voice trembles just a bit.

“Is that your baby?” I ask again, my jaw clenched, knowing her reply already.

“Yes, this is my baby,” she nearly shouts, then quickly gathers herself, lowering her voice for the child’s sake. “This is my son. I’m a single mother. I met someone here, and this baby happened. That’s exactly what I meant by ‘things are different now,’ Vishnu. So please, leave. I’m grateful that you came to protect me, but I don’t need it anymore. I’ll be fine. Just go.”

The room spins around me as I struggle to process her words. She met someone? Here in New York? And had a baby with him? The mere thought of another man touching her makes me want to murder him. Does Meher know? I doubt it—if she did, she would have told me. Why did Simran keep this a secret? And who is the father? Is he still in the picture? Does he live here with them?

A thousand questions race through my mind, each more painful than the last. But one thing is crystal clear. I’m not leaving until I have answers.

With determined strides, I move towards her. Simran’s eyes widen in alarm, and she instinctively clutches the sleeping baby tighter to her chest, as if trying to shield both him and herself from me.

“I’m not leaving, Simran,” I declare, my voice low and resolute. “Not until I ensure you’re safe. And most importantly, not until we figure this out.” I glance pointedly at the sleeping baby in her arms. “All of it.”

For a moment, we stand there, the air between us charged with unspoken emotions and earth-shattering revelations.

“I realise you’ve moved on from whatever happened in the past. But you’re still Meher’s friend, and your safety remains my priority. I’m here to protect you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere. We’re meeting again tomorrow, and I expect you to be ready to answer everything I need to know.”

She looks at me, a mixture of defiance and fear clouding her eyes, but I’ve said my piece. With a final, piercing look, I turn and walk out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

As I make my way to the elevator, my body trembles with the force of suppressed emotions. Simran has a child. That single, monumental truth refuses to settle in my mind. It never will! But one thing is certain—I’m not leaving New York until I uncover every last secret she’s kept hidden from me. The stakes have just risen dramatically, and I refuse to back down now.

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

I storm into the hotel room, barely registering the plush surroundings of the Upper East Side establishment as I slam the door behind me. My hands are still trembling as I head straight for the mini-bar, desperate for something to numb the turmoil raging inside me. I’ve checked into a hotel just a block away from Simran’s apartment, wanting to be in the close vicinity to keep my eye on her.

The smooth burn of whiskey does little to quell the inferno of confusion and anger threatening to consume me. Simran has a baby. The thought repeats itself, a relentless hammer against my head. I down another glass, and in a fit of frustration, I throw it against the wall, the crystal shattering into a thousand glittering pieces.

When did this happen? When did Simran become so integral to my peace of mind? The last eighteen months flash before my eyes—the political games, family obligations, and unspoken regrets. Simran had always been there, a constant presence in the back of my mind, my biggest source of guilt and longing.

Meher’s words echo in my head, a cruel reminder of opportunities lost. “Confess your feelings before it’s too late,” she’d always say. How right she was. Every time Simran’s name came up, my heart would skip a beat. But I’d pushed it aside, convinced that settling down with a woman was a distraction I couldn’t afford.

My sole focus had been on protecting my father, and safeguarding the Walia family legacy. Now, as I grapple with the reality of Simran moving on, I’m left to wonder why I never allowed myself a chance to explore those feelings. Each passing moment deepens the scar on my heart, and the weight of ‘what if’ feels like it’s going to crush me.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. The constant buzzing of my phone serves as a harsh reminder of the world beyond this room. Messages from my father flood the screen, demanding to know why I left so abruptly. How can I possibly explain this to him? To anyone?

The truth is a bitter pill to swallow. My family, including Meher, has no idea of the depth of my feelings for Simran or of the secret that I have hidden from them. And now, with her new life here—one that includes a child—they can never know. It’s a secret I’ll have to carry alone, buried alongside the shattered pieces of my heart.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I can’t let my wounded heart interfere with Simran’s safety. That’s why I’m here, after all. To protect her, nothing more. I grab my phone and quickly type a message to my father, offering a vague reassurance that I’ve arrived in New York and will explain everything soon. It’s not enough, but it’ll have to do for now.

As I set the phone down, a thought strikes me. There’s someone else I need to call, someone whose skills I trust implicitly when it comes to ensuring safety. My fingers move of their own accord, dialling a number I know by heart.

Abhay answers on the second ring. My most trusted associate and my go-to guy, he’s been by my side through countless political cleanups and delicate situations I had to handle for my father’s political career. If anyone can help me steer this minefield, it’s him.

“I’ve got a job for you,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

“Where?” Abhay’s voice crackles through the line.

“New York,” I reply, pacing the length of the hotel room. “I need you here. Tomorrow.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. “Must be serious if you’re calling me all the way out there. What’s the situation?”

I hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal. “Someone needs to be protected here with my life…” I trail off, the words caught in my throat.

Abhay picks up on my hesitation. “Another one from the Walia family?”

“She’s not a Walia,” I say, closing my eyes at the admission.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asks. “Protecting someone with your life, someone who isn’t even a Walia? Has to be special.”

“Just get on the next flight here,” I command, clenching my jaw, not wanting to answer his queries at the moment.

“Yes, Boss,” he assures me.

As I hang up, a mix of relief and determination washes over me. With Abhay by my side, I can focus on what truly matters—keeping Simran safe. My personal feelings, the ache in my chest, the burning questions about her child and his father—all of that has to take a backseat.

I walk over to the window and look out at the glittering New York skyline. Just a block away, Simran is living her new life, unaware of the storm brewing inside me. I press my forehead against the cool glass, allowing myself a fleeting moment of weakness.

“I will protect you, Simran,” I whisper into the night. “Even if it breaks me in the process.”