The Deceit

CHAPTER 29

SIMRAN

Next Morning

I wake with a jolt, my hand immediately reaching out for Veer. Empty space. Panic floods my system as I bolt upright, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then it hits me—we’re in Walia Mansion, in Vishnu’s bedroom. Our bedroom now.

But where’s Veer? Where’s Vishnu?

I sit up, trying to calm the rising storm within me. My hand instinctively reaches for my phone on the nightstand, but instead, my fingers brush against a folded note. Picking it up, I unfold it slowly.

‘Veer is with me. He woke up while you were still sleeping, so I am taking him downstairs to feed him his breakfast. Don’t worry.’

A sigh of relief escapes my lips. Veer is with Vishnu. Thank God. I lean back against the headboard, letting the panic subside as I clutch the note tightly.

Flashes of last night come rushing back—Vishnu gently waking me for dinner, his voice soft and patient. But I had no energy left to eat or even respond properly. The exhaustion had consumed me. Now, as I check the clock, I realise it’s already past ten. Ten-thirty, to be precise. A gasp in shock. I’ve never woken up this late before, and definitely not in someone else’s home, let alone my sasural.

I throw off the duvet and head to the bathroom to make myself presentable. After a quick shower, I slip into a simple yet elegant churidar—a soft pink one with delicate Chikankari embroidery—making sure to look every bit like the new bride. The thought of meeting everyone downstairs, facing Vishnu’s family and my two estranged friends, leaves my stomach fluttering with nerves.

Walking through the halls of the mansion, I catch the staff smiling at me as I pass by. They’re warm and welcoming, but it only adds to the pressure of fitting in. I’ve visited this home countless times before, but everything feels different now. I’m not just Meher and Devika’s friend anymore—I’m the wife of the eldest Walia son. The thought itself makes me more anxious. I glance around, hoping to spot Vishnu or Veer, but they’re nowhere in sight.

Finally, I stop one of the staff members and ask, “Where is Vishnu?”

“In the drawing room, ma’am, with Pratap sir and some guests,” she replies with a polite smile.

I thank her and make my way toward the drawing room but stop short when I see Vishnu through the partially open door. He’s seated at the head of the table, engrossed in what looks like an intense discussion with his father and a group of ministers. His commanding presence catches me off guard—this is a side of him I’ve never seen before. For a moment, I barely recognise my husband in this powerful political persona. The confident way he leads the conversation, the way everyone listens to him… It’s clear he’s preparing to take on his role as Party President.

But where’s Veer? The note said he was with Vishnu, but I can’t exactly burst into a political meeting to ask that, can I? I begin to worry. My son isn’t great with strangers, especially without either of us present.

I spot another maid passing by. “Do you know where Veer is?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s in Devika ma’am’s room,” she replies, smiling.

I exhale deeply, relief washing over me. With quick steps, I head towards Devika’s room. Before I even step inside, I hear the sound of soft giggles and endless chatter. The door is slightly ajar, and I peek in. The sight in front of me melts my heart instantly. Veer is on a playmat with his cousin Avika, and both of them are surrounded by colourful toys. Avika, just a year and a half old, is trying to stack blocks while Veer babbles animatedly, his little fingers grabbing at anything within reach. Around them, Meher and Devika sit cross-legged on the floor, their earlier coldness momentarily forgotten as they watch the children play.

“Look at how he scrunches his nose when he concentrates,” Meher says, reaching out to tickle Veer’s tummy. “Just like Vishnu does. So serious, yet so full of energy, isn’t he?”

My son breaks into delighted giggles, and my heart clenches at how naturally he’s bonded with his aunt. He’s usually so reserved with new people.

“But that smile,” Devika says, gently stroking Veer’s cheek. “That’s all Simran, isn’t it? That same naughty grin.”

“Definitely,” Meher agrees, her voice soft with affection. “He’s got the best of both of them.”

Hearing them talk about Veer and me like this brings a lump to my throat. I step inside, and as soon as they notice me, the room falls silent. Veer spots me immediately, his tiny face lighting up as he begins to crawl toward me.

I scoop him up, pressing kisses to his chubby cheeks before walking over to Avika.

“Hi, sweetie,” I coo, dropping a kiss on her head too.

This is the first time I’m seeing Avika like this—in person. Otherwise, it was always on video calls. The girl is as pretty as her mother, with the same delicate features and sweet disposition.

Devika and Meher exchange a quick glance, but neither of them says a word. I step forward and approach them, holding Veer close.

“Can we talk?” I ask softly, my voice tinged with hope.

Meher crosses her arms. “What’s left to talk about?”

Her cold tone cuts deep, but I swallow my pride.

“Everything, Meher. I know I hurt you and Devika, and I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to try. Please.”

Devika looks away, focusing on a toy on the playmat. Meher shakes her head. “You broke our trust, Simran. Do you even realise how much we shared with you? How much we trusted you? And you kept something so big from us? That too something that’s related to us, to this family?”

“I know,” I whisper, tears brimming in my eyes. “I made a mistake, but I was scared. I didn’t know how to face any of you, especially Vishnu.”

Devika finally speaks, her voice calm but distant. “Pratap uncle asked us to let the past go, but that doesn’t erase the hurt, Simran. It can’t undo what happened. We’ll need time.”

I nod, holding Veer tighter as he clings to my churidar.

“Take all the time you need. Just… please don’t shut me out completely.”

They don’t reply to that, their silence cutting deeper than any harsh words could. The coldness between us stings.

“Devika, give her the family jewellery for tomorrow’s wedding,” Meher finally says, not meeting my eyes.

Devika walks over to her wardrobe and removes several ornate boxes. Wordlessly, she places them in my hands.

“These are Walia family pieces,” she says, her voice formal. “Pratap uncle had them made for both his daughters-in-law. He wanted us to give you yours.”

Her words are polite, but they sting nonetheless. I take the boxes and manage a weak smile, saying, “Thank you.”

A servant appears, calling for Devika, and she excuses herself, leaving Meher, Veer, and me alone in the room. For a moment, there is nothing but silence between us, but when Veer stretches his tiny arm towards Meher again, she melts a little, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his fist.

Her gaze then shifts to me, and I wish it didn’t. I try to hold her stare, but the guilt bubbling inside me threatens to spill over.

“Meher, I—” I begin, but she cuts my words, gesturing with her hand to stop.

“No matter what you say now, Simran, you’ve really gone too far this time. Vishnu’s my big brother. You know how much he means to me. I’d told you how I felt when I found out he was my brother, how devastated I was. You saw me stand up to my own father for his rights. I stood against my father for him, Simran.” Her voice cracks with emotion. “And yet, you hurt that same brother of mine. The man I love and respect so much. You robbed him of his right to know he had a son. For months, Simran. Do you even realise what you’ve done?”

Tears prick at the corner of my eyes. Veer starts getting fussy, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck—his usual sign of hunger. The timing of his innocent gesture only deepens the emotional weight of the moment.

“Vishnu’s heart is too soft,” Meher continues. “I’m glad he found it in himself to forgive you after all this. But I’m not him. I have every right to hold onto this grudge for as long as I want, until it feels right here.” She points to her heart, her eyes reflecting her pain. She then scoops up Avika in her arms and walks out of the room.

My tears spill freely now, and I can’t stop them. Veer squirms in my arms, trying to grab the shimmering lace on my dupatta, blissfully unaware of the storm raging within me.

I’m still processing her words when familiar arms encircle me from behind. I flinch, but Vishnu gently turns me around, his jaw clenching when he sees my tears. He wipes them with his thumb, his eyes darkening with concern.

“I’ll talk to Meher—” he starts, but I grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t,” I say firmly. “I told you not to come between us. Meher is right. If I were in her place, I’d be just as angry and hurt.” I manage a weak smile. “But in all this, there’s one thing that makes me happy—you have the best sister in the world. Someone who would fight with the devil himself for you. And that’s something I’ll always be grateful for.”

His lips twitch into a smirk, and for a brief moment, the tension dissipates. “I know,” he says. “I’m lucky.”

Before I can respond, Veer fusses again, more insistently this time, babbling and pulling at my dupatta with his tiny fists.

“What did you feed him this morning?” I ask.

“Some mashed banana and Ragi porridge,” Vishnu replies. “Devika said that’s healthy. But he didn’t eat much.”

“He needs his milk now,” I say, adjusting him in my arms. But before we can move, a man appears in the doorway.

“Sir, the media personnel are here.”

“Coming,” Vishnu says, his entire demeanour shifting into that of a leader. He then turns to me.

“What’s going on?” I ask, already dreading the answer.

“I’m announcing you as my wife,” he says simply, “and letting them know about Veer.”

My heart skips a beat, and my grip on Veer tightens. I know what this means—history is repeating itself. The Chief Minister’s son having a child out of wedlock, just like his father before him. The media will have a field day, and the headlines will be merciless.

Vishnu reads the worry on my face. He steps closer, his hand resting on my arm.

“Don’t worry,” he says softly. “I’ll handle everything.”

He guides me toward the stairs, and as I head up to feed Veer, I hear him walking back to meet the media. The reality of my new life hits me full force—this isn’t just about becoming part of a family; it’s about entering a political dynasty. The constant scrutiny, the media attention, the protocols, and the security measures that seemed so foreign yesterday—is my world now.

As I settle into the armchair in our room to nurse Veer, I can almost hear the buzz downstairs—the cameras clicking and the barrage of questions being fired at my husband. My chest tightens, thinking about the storm that’s about to break over us. In New York, my biggest worry was meeting client deadlines. Now, I’m part of a world where every move is scrutinised, every decision analysed, and where even personal matters become a public spectacle.

The magnitude of this change is overwhelming, but looking down at Veer’s peaceful face as he nurses, I know I have to find the strength to weather it. For us. And for this complicated, messy, beautiful family we’re building.