The Deceit

CHAPTER 24

VISHNU

Next Day – Night time

I hold Veer closer as he shifts slightly against my chest, his small body finally relaxed after days of fussiness. The gentle sway of my steps and the soft hum of my voice seem to be doing the trick tonight. Claire had offered to take him earlier, but there are some things—like holding my son as he drifts off to sleep—that I can’t hand over to anyone else, not even to our trusted nanny.

I hum softly, my steps slow and measured as I pace the living room, cradling him close. The faint sound of his quiet snores tells me he has finally fallen asleep. Without making a sound, I turn toward the nursery, but a slight movement from the bedroom catches my eye.

Peeking through the doorway, I can see Simran at her desk, her face softly illuminated by the glow of her laptop screen. She’s deep in conversation with a client over a video call, gesturing animatedly as she speaks, completely absorbed in her work. Even at this hour, the energy she exudes is magnetic.

I pause in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her. Memories of what happened at her boutique yesterday flood my mind. That black saree... God. The way it draped over her curves, the dangerous glint in her eyes when she challenged me—it was f*cking sexy. She knew exactly what she was doing, teasing me with promises of what our married life would bring. It was a preview of the life we were about to begin—a life I’m determined to make ours, no matter how much of a challenge she may prove to be.

Veer makes a soft whimpering sound against my shoulder, and I instinctively pat his back gently. He settles quickly, his breath evening out again. Looking between my sleeping son and the woman who will soon become my wife, something tightens in my chest.

Yesterday’s argument replays in my mind—the fire in her eyes, the determination in her jaw as she poked my chest, her blatant refusal to back down. “Your alpha male routine will not work on me all the time,” she had said. And then there were her promises—those delicious threats about sending me distracting photos during my meetings and making sure she was the only thing I could think of.

She didn’t need to wait for marriage to accomplish that.

And the kiss that followed... Damn. The way she matched my passion instantly, like she’d been holding back just as much as I had. Her body melted into mine, arching perfectly, and those little sounds she made when I touched her—it undid me completely. We’d both been fighting this overwhelming need between us for so long.

Two days. Just two more days until I’m legally Veer’s father, until Simran is officially my wife. But truth be told, I’ve already been hers since that night—even if I’m not ready to admit that out loud. As I think about her, I smirk to myself, imagining the chaos she’ll bring into the Walia family. She’s going to shake things up like no one else, no doubt about that. Devika follows Aksh’s lead without question, and even Meher’s rebellion against Ayaan stays within the limits.

But Simran? She’s pure fire. She’ll fight me on every decision and demand explanations for every command. She’ll turn our lives upside down. I mean, she already has… right from the moment she walked back into my life again with news of Veer’s existence. My perfectly controlled world hasn’t been the same since.

Veer makes another small sound, and I resume my gentle swaying, rocking him with practiced ease. With one last look at Simran, who is still engrossed in her call, I make my way to the nursery.

I carefully lay Veer in his crib, making sure he’s comfortable before stepping back. As I watch his peaceful face, it’s hard to believe how much my priorities have shifted. Everything I do now is for him, for Simran, and for our future together.

Once I’m certain he’s deeply asleep, I quietly head for the door. I need to check on the status of the investigation on the masked man. He has been silent for the past few days, but that silence feels ominous. I need answers, and I need them soon.

I cast one final glance toward the bedroom, where I can still hear Simran’s voice, and then head to the apartment across the hall.

I push open the door to find Abhay seated at the makeshift operations desk, scanning through some footage on a laptop, while two other team members whisper to each other in hushed tones.

“Latest updates?” I ask.

Abhay looks up from his laptop immediately, his expression saying he’s got something important.

“We’re monitoring Zane’s movements closely,” he says, gesturing toward the screens. “But to really confirm your suspicions about Zane, we need to dig deeper. Like search his house. We might find something there—a clue, a connection, anything that proves he’s behind the threat against Simran.”

“Then do it.” The words come out clipped, automatic. When it comes to Simran’s safety, I don’t hesitate.

“It’s not that simple,” Abhay sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “We’re in New York. We can’t just search someone’s private property without a cause or a warrant. And if we’re planning to do this covertly, there’s another issue.” He pulls up a few surveillance photos on his laptop. “We’ve been keeping track of Zane’s schedule, looking for a window when the property will be empty. But there’s a slight hitch.”

I lean against the desk, studying the images. “What’s the problem?”

“Zane’s apartment is fitted with top-of-the-line alarm systems. We’ve analysed them—they’re way beyond the standard security setup. These are far more sophisticated and with high-end advanced triggering mechanisms. Breaking in without setting them off would be extremely challenging.”

I frown. Why would a man like Zane need such advanced security? He’s a fashion consultant, not someone with enough assets to justify something like this. My suspicion deepens.

“Who installs that level of security… unless they have something to hide?” I mutter, half to myself.

Abhay, who overhears me, nods thoughtfully. “Exactly. That’s what I’ve been thinking. This won’t be just another search mission. Also, we don’t have access to the kind of specialised coding expertise to crack that system. Not here in New York, at least.”

I’m silent for a moment, my mind running through potential solutions. And then it clicks. I smirk and reach for my phone. “I know exactly who can help us.”

Pulling out my phone, I first check the baby monitor feed from Veer’s nursery. Thankfully, my son is still sleeping peacefully. I exhale in relief and then scroll through my contacts until I find the name I need: Krish Rajwanshi.

Ayaan’s best friend answers on the third ring.

“Well, well, well... Did someone dial the wrong number,” he drawls in amusement. “I mean, Vishnu Walia calling me? That’s not exactly an everyday occurrence, you see.”

I suppress a sigh. Krish’s playful nature is one thing when it’s aimed at Ayaan, but dealing with it myself… it is... hmm, challenging.

“I need your help with something.”

“I’m all ears, Mr. Stoic.”

I roll my eyes at the nickname he’s given me.

“There’s a situation in New York that requires someone with your technical skills. I know it’s beneath your current position, but given your history with... specialised security systems...”

“Oooh… I’m touched I was your first thought,” Krish interrupts, clearly enjoying himself. “What kind of trouble are you brewing? That too in New York?”

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if he knows about Simran and Veer. Did Ayaan tell him anything? Before I can respond, he continues.

“Please tell me it’s something more exciting than babysitting. By the way, congratulations, Vishnu! Let me wish you now, before you spring another surprise baby on us. Haha! You’re now officially in the Dad Club and are about to join the Husband Squad. Ayaan and I have been waiting for this moment! It’s about time we had another poor soul in the ‘Married Club.’ We’d even placed bets—you or Raghav. But I always knew you’d bite the dust first. You just had that ‘early joiner’ vibe, you see.”

I grit my teeth, ignoring his relentless teasing. “Can we save the stand-up comedy for later and focus on why I called?”

“Oh, I’m all ears. I wouldn’t dream of wasting your precious time.” His smug voice practically floats through the line.

I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts, then dive straight into the reason for my call.

“I need someone to bypass a high-level security system. It’s on an apartment door, and the alarms can’t go off. We need to get in and out without leaving a trace.”

“What the hell, Vishnu!” Krish sputters, his laughter echoing through the phone. “You want me to help you break into somewhere? I’m the Director of GLEN, for God’s sake. I can’t just hack security systems like some small-time thief.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Also, whose place are we talking about? This sounds juicy.” I can already imagine him rubbing his hands in glee.

I rub my forehead, mentally bracing myself for his theatrics.

“It’s related to the threats against Simran. Her friend-slash-client, Zane. I need to rule him out as a possibility.”

Krish goes quiet for a moment.

“Does Simran know about this little adventure of yours?”

“No.”

“Oh man, this is so f*cked up.” He sounds delighted. “You’re snooping into her friend’s life behind her back. When she finds out—and trust me, she will find out—she’s going to chew you up and spit you out like a bitter piece of karela.”

I clench my jaw, already imagining the mess that would unfold. “Are you helping or not?”

“Hmm... I don’t usually involve myself in such petty tasks, you see...”

“But you’ll do it because Ayaan’s your best friend, and I am, after all, his brother-in-law,” I cut in, knowing how to play this.

His laugh is genuine this time.

“No, man. Wrong guess. I’ll do it because you’re Meher’s brother. If she finds out I refused to help her dear big brother, she’ll murder me the next time I’m in India. And trust me, I’m not ready to die just yet. So, be grateful—I’m doing this for her.”

Despite myself, I laugh at his response. It’s classic Krish. And the way he’s so scared of Meher always amuses me to no end. My little sister does love to bully him.

“Alright,” he says, his tone turning serious. “How soon do you need this done?”

“Day after tomorrow,” I reply without hesitation. “The morning of my wedding. That’s when Zane will be away from his apartment.”

Krish whistles again. “Talk about perfect timing. You sure know how to keep life interesting, Walia.”

I roll my eyes. “But how will you do it? You’re not even in New York.”

“You’re forgetting something, Vishnu,” Krish says with mock offence. “We’re GLEN. We have resources all over the world. My team will coordinate with yours when they go in. We’ll take care of the alarm system and the CCTV.”

“Great,” I take a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Wait until we pull this off. And hey, try not to look so serious at the wedding. It’s not a funeral, even if your bachelor days are officially over.”

“Are you done?” I groan.

“Never,” he quips. “Alright, I’ll stop. Good luck, Walia. And don’t forget to send me some wedding sweets.”

“Goodbye, Krish,” I say, hanging up before he can crack another joke. I turn back to Abhay, who’s been watching the exchange with a grin on his face.

“Who was this guy again?” Abhay asks, probably wondering how a serious man like me can even have a playful contact like Krish.

“Ayaan’s best friend and a Director at GLEN,” I reply with a shrug, keeping it short.

“Really?” Abhay raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “From what I could gather from your replies, he sounds like a complete character. I mean, you’ve never rolled your eyes so much in one conversation before.”

“This was just the trailer,” I tease, unable to hide a smile. “Wait until you meet him.”

Abhay smirks, clearly amused.

“Well, looks like we’ve got our solution then. Krish’s team will handle the security system and the CCTVs. Coordinate with him and make sure we are ready for the day after tomorrow.”

Abhay nods, already typing away. I check the baby monitor one more time. Veer is still sleeping peacefully. My mind drifts back to Simran. If she ever finds out what I am planning... well, I’ll deal with it when the time arrives. Keeping her safe is worth any argument that might arise. Even if she doesn’t see it that way.

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

I return to Simran’s apartment an hour later. The soft glow of the nursery monitor in the corner shows Veer is sound asleep, his tiny body curled up in the crib. A sense of calm washes over me on seeing my son. Then my gaze shifts toward Simran’s bedroom, where the door is slightly ajar. Through the dim light, I can see her silhouette as she finishes up her call and shuts down her laptop. She looks exhausted yet stunning in the soft ambient light.

Before I even realise it, I’m in her room. She doesn’t notice me at first… not until I’m right beside her, and before she can react, I sweep her off her feet. Her surprised gasp fills the air as I scoop her effortlessly into my arms.

“Vishnu! Put me down—I can walk!” she squeaks, squirming slightly in my grip as her hands reach my shoulders for support. “You’ve been carrying Veer all day because I was stuck at work. You don’t have to carry me too.”

I lay her gently on the bed, but my hands linger longer than necessary.

“Carrying you and my son are two very different things, Simran,” I reply. “He’s far too light.”

Her jaw drops, and those expressive eyes narrow with indignation. “Are you saying I’m too heavy?”

“Not heavy. Never too heavy for me. I mean, there’s no comparison.” I can’t help the smirk that plays on my lips. “But there’s another reason too.”

Her brows furrow, curiosity flickering in them. “And what reason is that?”

I let my gaze drift deliberately from her eyes to her lips, then lower to where her dress meets her collarbone.

“Carrying you gives me different kinds of feelings. Dark... dangerous... intoxicating.”

I watch as she swallows hard, her throat moving with the subtle movement. Her body stiffens slightly as my gaze lingers on her lips for a moment too long. With great effort, I pull away before I do something we might both regret—or might not regret at all.

Clearing my throat, I stand straighter.

“Veer’s asleep, and you should be too.”

She shakes her head, her worry written all over her face. “But what if he needs me in the middle of the night? Since he’s teething, I don’t want him sleeping anywhere else but beside me.”

I step closer, gently placing my hands on her shoulders. “I understand that, Simran. I really do. But touchwood, he’s doing better now. His fever’s gone, and he’s been sleeping soundly today. You’ve been overworking yourself, barely taking a moment to rest. You need sleep too.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “Listen, I’ll sleep in the nursery with him tonight. I’ll make sure he’s comfortable. And if he wakes up in the middle of the night feeling hungry or fussy, I’ll bring him straight to you. Okay?”

“Are you sure?” she still hesitates.

“I’m sure. Let me take care of him tonight so you can rest. It’s our big day in 48 hours, and I need you to be well-rested and at your best.”

She frowns, clearly hesitant, but then blurts out, “As if, after our marriage, you’re not going to let me sleep at all...”

Her words hit me squarely, the innuendo hanging heavy in the air. Her eyes widen as the double meaning dawns on her, and she fumbles, her cheeks reddening.

But the next moment, she composes herself. With feigned innocence and a mischievous glint in her eye, she continues, “Or maybe it’s me who will ruin your sleep every night after marriage...”

Heat courses through my body at her words. “Let’s see who makes the other’s night more difficult after we marry,” I reply, my voice thick with promise. “Now sleep.”

Before I can do something foolish—like kiss that challenging smile off her face—I reach over and switch off her bedside lamp, before either of us can slip further into this dangerously tempting moment. As I walk out of her room, I can feel her gaze burning into my back, and I know sleep won’t come easily for either of us tonight.

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

Next Morning

Veer is sleeping peacefully in his crib, his tiny hand clutching the edge of his blanket as if it’s his most cherished possession. A soft sigh escapes my lips. For the first time in days, he’s not woken up fussing. I linger for a moment, ensuring he’s comfortable, before tiptoeing out of the room.

With my phone in hand, I step onto the balcony of the guest room, needing a little privacy. It’s been ages since I last spoke to Meher, and today, with everything seemingly calm for now, I decide to make that long-overdue call.

It’s around 10 p.m. in India, the perfect time to catch her. The moment the video call connects, her face fills the screen, and I brace myself for what’s coming.

“If you hadn’t called me today, I swear I was going to take the evening flight to New York and come and fight with you face to face!” she bursts out, and I can’t help but smirk, knowing she absolutely would do just that.

A laugh escapes me as I lean against the railing, grinning. “I don’t doubt that for a second, Meher.”

“Don’t you dare laugh, Vishnu!” she huffs. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for your call? Ever since Dad came back and told us about Veer and everything that’s happened over there, I’ve been dying to talk to you! Do you know how hard it’s been to stop myself from calling you every day? And you couldn’t spare five minutes for your only sister? If you hadn’t called me today—”

“How could I not call you?” I say softly. “It’s my wedding tomorrow, and you know the tradition—without a sister’s blessings and heartfelt wishes, a brother cannot even get on a horse to go to his own wedding.”

That stops her mid-rant. Her expression softens, but then she quickly narrows her eyes.

“Stop buttering me up, Vishnu. That’s really not going to work this time.”

I chuckle. “It was worth a try.”

“Do you know how much I want to be there… to see my brother take those vows?”

“I know,” I respond, knowing it’s true. My baby sister always wanted to see me married. “But I also know that to compensate for your absence at my courthouse wedding, you’ve been planning a rather big celebration back in India to make up for it.”

Her eyes light up mischievously.

“I have, and even though Dad told me you don’t want a grand affair, you know it’s not up to you anymore to decide.”

I sigh, already picturing the extravagant celebration she must be planning. That’s Meher—always going above and beyond for the people she loves.

“Okay, don’t change the topic. First tell me, how are you, Vishnu?” Her tone and expression both softens. “I know... I mean, it’s not even something I should ask, considering how your entire world has changed all of a sudden.”

“I couldn’t have asked for a better change in my life than this,” I say sincerely. “Though, I do wish it had happened differently.”

“She knew, Vishnu,” Meher continues, tears welling up in her eyes. “Simran knew what you went through. She saw how much it hurt you when Dad didn’t acknowledge you publicly. She watched you struggle with that pain, and yet…she did the exact same thing to your child? How could she?”

“It’s complicated—” I begin, but she interrupts me.

“Don’t defend her!” Meher’s protective instincts flare up. “You always do this. You always see the best in everyone, even when they end up hurting you. First, it was Dad, and now it’s Simran. But I’m your sister, and I have every right to be angry at her for betraying you like this! I’m so hurt and so mad at her because she hurt you. I’m not going to speak to her even when she comes to India with you.”

“Meher,” I say gently, “I understand why you’re angry. But—”

“No buts, Vishnu!” she snaps. “I’m not like you. I can’t just forgive and move on. Simran, Devika and I need to have a serious conversation. She broke our trust, Vishnu. We’ve been friends for so long now, shared everything together... or so I thought. All those video calls while she was pregnant, and she never said a word! Mind you, she’s not going to be forgiven anytime soon.”

Her tone softens a little as she continues, softly this time, “I’m really happy for you, Vishnu. I am. But don’t ask me to forget what she did. I’ll need time to forgive her. And that’s not up for discussion.”

I nod, though I hate seeing her like this.

“I understand the grudge you and Devika are holding,” I say carefully, “but remember, she is going to be your sister-in-law now.” I can’t help but tease her with the last part.

Her jaw drops in mock indignation.

“The wedding hasn’t even happened yet, and you’re already taking your wife’s side and not your sister’s? I didn’t expect this from you, Vishnu!”

“Just like you always give in to Ayaan’s demands more than mine,” I counter. “It’s the same thing.”

She blushes, then quickly changes the subject.

“Where’s my nephew? Is he awake? I want to see him.”

“He’s still sleeping,” I say, already walking toward the nursery, “but his bua (aunt) can always see him.”

As I make my way there, she suddenly asks, “So you’re not sleeping with Simran yet?”

I give her a look through the phone screen, and she bites her lip, grinning. “Honestly, putting all those grudges aside, I’m dying to hear from Simran how she managed to break through your impossibly thick walls. You hardly paid any attention to her when she flirted with you, yet somehow, in just one night, you managed to let your guard down and went that far with her. That’s a story I definitely want to hear. And I know you’ll never share those juicy details with us. Only she will.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her silliness.

“Shh,” I warn her now as I enter Veer’s room. “You’re going to wake him up.”

She immediately mimes zipping her lips, and I turn the camera to show her Veer, her nephew. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on Veer’s peaceful face, and I hear Meher’s quiet gasp of pure joy through the phone.

“That’s him. That’s my son, Veer,” I say, my voice filled with unmistakable pride, watching Meher’s reaction through the screen as she sees Veer for the first time.

Her eyes fill with tears again as she reaches out, her fingertips lightly brushing the screen, as if trying to close the distance and touch him. A soft sob escapes her lips.

“Oh, Vishnu,” she whispers, trying to keep her voice down. “He’s so cute... and precious… and so perfect. Those little fingers, that nose—it’s just like yours when you were a baby. Remember when Dad showed us your childhood photos the other day?”

I nod, the memory still fresh in my mind. Dad had recently showed us my baby pictures—not much older than Veer—that he’d received from my late maternal grandmother before she passed away last year. They had been tucked away in her belongings all this time, a part of her treasured memories.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing your son. My brother’s little boy. I never thought I could love someone I haven’t even met yet, but look at him, Vishnu. He is ditto you. Your mini version.”

I see her wipe her eyes furiously, trying to get a better view through her tears.

“He even sleeps like you—that little frown, the way his hand is curled up at the side. God, I wish I could hold him right now. Kiss those chubby cheeks. Tell him stories about his Papa, about us, about what a wonderful family we have.” She lets out a watery laugh. “I’ve already bought so many things for him. His bua is going to pamper him so much... Please come to India soon, Vishnu. I need to hold him; I need to see both of you together.” She blows a gentle kiss toward the screen.

I turn the camera back to myself, catching sight of her hastily wiping away more tears.

“We’re flying out the day after tomorrow night, the day after the wedding. You won’t have to wait long,” I assure her.

And then, I tell Meher all about Veer—his growth, his mannerisms, his schedule, and how his teething has given both me and Simran a hard time this week. I step out of the nursery and quietly shut the door behind me to let Veer continue his peaceful sleep. Meher prays that he is all well by the time we board the flight back to India, so he is ready and in the mood to meet the rest of the Walia family. I’m hoping for the same.

Immediately, she switches back to her sisterly mode, her expression turning critical as she stares at me.

“Have you even looked in a mirror lately? Are you seriously going to sport that stubble for your big day?” she asks in mock disapproval. “Tomorrow is your wedding. You can’t show up looking like this. You have to look like a groom, not a hippie.”

“Relax, Meher. Everything’s taken care of,” I assure her. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh really?” Her eyebrow arches sceptically. “So, I’m assuming you’ve already planned the perfect proposal? The ring exchange? Don’t tell me you’re going to make it one of those dull paper signing ceremony! And what about the mangalsutra? Please tell me you’ve at least thought about what you’re going to say to her!”

“Since when did you become such an expert on weddings?”

“Ever since my completely hopeless brother decided to get married without consulting his far more romantically experienced sister,” she retorts.

“Meher—”

“Did you at least buy her flowers?”

I lean against the wall, amused. “Are you done?”

“Not even close! But fine, keep your secrets. Just remember—I want pictures. Lots of them. And they better not be boring courthouse documentation shots, or I swear I’ll make your reception in India so embarrassingly grand you’ll never live it down.”

Before I can respond, Simran emerges from her bedroom, rolling her hair up into a bun. Though she can’t see Meher on the screen, I can tell from her expression that she recognises her friend’s voice.

I hesitate for a moment before asking Meher. “You... you want to speak to Simran? She’s here?”

Meher’s jaw clenches visibly.

“No,” she says firmly. “I don’t want to.”

A glimpse of hurt flashes across Simran’s face before she quickly looks away, swallowing hard. My chest tightens at seeing her pain, but I know this isn’t something I can fix, no matter how much I want to.

“Take care, Vishnu,” Meher continues. “And don’t forget to keep me updated on all the wedding details. I’ll call again tomorrow evening to know how it all went.”

“I will,” I promise, and we exchange goodbyes before ending the call.

By the time I look up, Simran has already disappeared into the nursery to check on Veer. I stand there for a moment, wondering when and how these three friends—Simran, Meher, and Devika—will patch things up.

One thing I know for sure: until they do, this is going to be a bittersweet and emotional journey for all of us. The happiness of my wedding will be tinged with the strain of this broken friendship, and as much as I want to fix it, I know that this is something they’ll need to work out on their own.