The Deceit

CHAPTER 7

SIMRAN

*PRESENT*

As soon as I end the call with my assistant Julie, I turn back toward the living room, expecting to see Vishnu where I had left him. But… but the room is empty. My heart skips a beat. Where could he have gone? He was right here just moments ago. A cold, terrifying thought grips me, and my pulse quickens. What if… what if he’s in there? In my bedroom? With my son?

My stomach clenches with fear, and without wasting another second, I sprint towards the bedroom. The moment I reach the door, my breath catches in my throat. The sight before me drains the life out of my body. Vishnu is standing there, holding my son— our son —in his arms. His eyes are brimming with tears, a look of wonder softening his face. But the moment he looks at me, his expression shifts, and his gaze hardens into something fierce, something raging. My heart plummets, into every corner of my being.

Our eyes lock, and in that instant, my worst fear comes true. He knows. He knows the truth that I had tried so hard to keep from him. That this beautiful baby boy is his son. My steps falter as I face the fire in his eyes, the betrayal and the raw anger searing in them, cutting through me like a knife. This wasn’t how I’d envisioned him finding out. I never wanted it to happen like this.

Vishnu’s grip tightens around the baby, his knuckles turning white as the realisation strikes him like a thunderbolt. I can see the world around me blur, the edges of my vision dimming as he finally speaks. His voice is laced with unimaginable rage, grief, and hatred. Hatred for me. For robbing him of the precious months he could have had with our child.

“Why?” His voice cracks, shaking with barely contained fury.

His ‘why’ is more than a question. It’s an accusation, a cry of pain, a demand for an explanation that I’m not sure I can give. I can see the mountain of anguish behind his eyes, a raw and bleeding wound that I’ve inflicted on him by hiding the truth for eighteen long months. His pain crashes into me like a tidal wave, nearly k nocking me off my feet. He’s a man who’s been denied so much in life, and now I’ve denied him the most precious thing of all—a chance to know his own son.

I can barely breathe. The anger in his eyes is palpable—alive and kicking, ready to lash out at me for the betrayal I’ve committed. And the worst part is, I can’t defend myself. Not against this. I did keep ‘Veer’ from him. I did steal those moments and those memories from him.

I stand there, frozen, unable to find the words, unable to move. Tears well up in my eyes as the storm of anger and pain in Vishnu’s voice crashes over me, threatening to unleash itself fully. I had dreaded this moment for so long, and now that it is here, I feel utterly powerless and unprepared for the heartbreak I’ve caused.

“He is my son,” Vishnu states rightfully, his voice shaking with a devastating blend of anger and sorrow.

My heart shatters into pieces and tears stream down my face, but words seem to fail me. I’m unable to speak, unable to find the strength to answer him. I know that no amount of my explanation could ease the agony I had caused him.

“Answer me, dammit!” he roars, his voice reverberating through the room, his rage boiling over.

The sudden rise in his voice startles our son, and Veer begins to cry, his tiny hand reaching out towards me, desperate for comfort, calling out to me to take him from Vishnu’s arms. Without thinking, I rush forward, my motherly instincts overriding everything else, and I try to take my baby from Vishnu, but he doesn’t let go.

“Vishnu, please,” I beg, my voice trembling. “Veer is crying. He’s scared.”

The moment I say our son’s name, something seems to shift inside Vishnu. The anger in his eyes dim, and I see a flicker of helplessness wash over his features. His protective grip loosens ever so slightly, and he allows me to take Veer from him. I hold my son close to my chest, breathing in the familiar scent of my baby, whispering soothing words to calm him down while trying to steady my own racing heart.

“Veer?” Vishnu murmurs, his voice suddenly softer, as if he is processing the name of our child for the first time. His eyes, still stormy with emotion, bore into mine, searching for answers, for an explanation that I don’t know how to give.

My throat tightens painfully, and all I can do now is face the consequences of my past choices.

“Why Simran?” Vishnu’s voice is like a whip, slicing through the air with a sharpness that makes me flinch. His eyes blaze with anger, and I can feel the heat of it radiating off him in waves. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had a right to know.”

I swallow hard, trying to find the words to explain, to make him understand. “I—”

“You what?” he cuts me off, his tone dripping with venom. “Conveniently decided to keep my child a secret from me? Robbed me of months… precious months that I can never get back with my son? How could you?”

Each accusation slices through me like a knife, knocking the air out of my lungs. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. The guilt, the fear, the shame—it all tangles together in a mess that I can’t unravel.

Vishnu is pacing now, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. He looks like a man possessed, barely holding himself together. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

He stops abruptly, slamming his fist against the wall with a force that makes me jump. The loud thud echoes through the room, and Veer, sensing the tension, begins to cry again, his tiny body trembling with fear.

“Please lower your voice,” I plead, a bit firmly this time. “You are scaring him, Vishnu.”

But he’s too far gone, too consumed by his rage to listen. He turns toward me, his eyes wild and filled with a mix of hurt and fury. “I can’t believe you did this, Simran. I can’t believe you kept him from me. Do you even know what that feels like? To find out you have a son, months after he was born? To realise you’ve missed so much of his life already?”

I can see the torment in his eyes, the war raging inside him—between his love for the son he’s just discovered and the betrayal he feels toward me.

Veer’s cries grow louder, his tiny hands reaching out for me, his face crumpled in fear. My heart breaks for him, caught in the middle of this storm that he doesn’t understand.

“Vishnu, please,” I say, my voice stern this time. “You need to leave. I have to feed Veer. You’re only making this worse.”

He looks at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort to contain his emotions. For a moment, I feared he’d refuse, that his anger would push him to stay and keep fighting. But then he sees the tears streaming down Veer’s tiny face, the way his little body shakes with sobs, and something shifts in his expression.

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Simran,” he finally says, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Never ever.”

He takes one last, lingering look at Veer, his face a mask of pain, before turning on his heel and storming out of the room. The sound of the door slamming shut behind him echoes through the apartment, leaving me standing there, holding my son, my heart so heavy that it feels as if it might just collapse under the weight of ‘the deceit’ I’ve inflicted on Vishnu.