43. BREAKDOWN
It took Vivan barely two hours to reach back from Mumbai, but it felt like the longest flight of his life.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t think.
Didn’t feel.
Just walked out of the jet, got into his car, and drove straight home—alone.
Yuvan went straight to his home.
When Vivan entered the Singhania mansion, everyone was already gathered in the living area for their usual morning routine. Warm lights, soft chatter, clinking of dishes—everything looked painfully normal.
Until Vivan walked in.
Every head turned.
“Vivan?” Pragya gasped, shocked to see him back this early.
He tried to smile for her—tried to look normal—but the smile barely lifted his lips. Pragya immediately went to him and gently held his arm, guiding him to the sofa like he was a tired child returning from war.
“Sit,” she said softly.
He obeyed.
Vinod watched him closely.
There was a strange silence around Vivan—he wasn’t just quiet; he was hollow.
“Vivan,” Vinod called, voice calm but careful.
“Hmm…” Vivan hummed back, eyes distant.
“This kind of loss happens in business,” Vinod said, placing a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder. “If you break down like this, how will you handle bigger storms?”
Vivan nodded. He even forced a tiny smile.
But anyone looking closely could see it wasn’t reaching his eyes.
Before the atmosphere could become heavier, Pragya tried to lighten it.
“Alright, enough worrying. Breakfast is ready!” she said cheerfully and stood up, expecting everyone to follow.
They did.
Except Vivan.
He stayed seated, unmoving.
Pragya frowned. “What happened?”
Vivan finally spoke, voice flat. “I don’t have any appetite.”
Aarvi’s eyes flickered toward him. Just a quick glance.
She didn’t say anything—because she thought he was simply stressed, overwhelmed by the company loss.
She had no idea there was more.
Much more.
Pragya stepped closer. “Should I order something for you? Maybe—”
“No, Ma,” he cut her off gently. “I’m just… not hungry.”
Before anyone could convince him again, Vivan stood up and walked away toward his room.
Everyone watched him leave.
And for the first time, Vinod’s calm expression faltered.
He stood there, a crease forming on his forehead.
“He faced bigger disasters during his startup days… when he had nothing. And still my son was stronger than steel. Then why now? Why is he breaking now?”
Vinod couldn’t shake the feeling.
Meanwhile Aarvi looked at his disappearing figure, worry settling in her chest.
Is the loss really that big? she wondered, seeing Vivan this tense… this unlike himself.
“Aarvi,” Pragya’s voice pulled her back. She turned to see her mother-in-law looking at her firmly.
“Tell Vivan that I’m calling him to my room,” Pragya said.
Aarvi instantly grew conscious. She had never seen Vivan this quiet, and the thought of approaching him right now made her stomach twist. But she nodded hesitantly.
Pragya meanwhile told one of the staff, “Today I’ll have breakfast in my room.”
Aarvi walked slowly toward their shared room, every step feeling heavier.
Should she knock? Should she just enter?
She paused at the door, gathering her courage, then finally knocked.
For a few seconds, nothing.
Then the door clicked open.
And there he was.
Vivan stood in front of her, eyes dull, face blank—no anger, no irritation… just a terrifying stillness.
Aarvi froze. She had no idea what to say. Her voice barely came out.
“Ma is calling you,” she said softly.
He didn’t respond at first. Just stared at her with those unreadable eyes that made her heartbeat stumble.
The silence stretched.
Too long. Too heavy.
Then finally, he blinked, like he snapped out of some deep thought. “Okay,” he said quietly, his tone flat, exhausted.
He stepped out, brushing past her unintentionally. The faint touch of his arm, the warmth of his presence—it sent a strange shiver through her. She stayed rooted to the spot, watching him walk away toward Pragya’s room.
And instead of feeling relieved… her worry deepened.
Something was wrong.
And it wasn’t just the company’s loss.
Meanwhile Vivan walked toward Pragya’s room.
The door was open, the curtains drawn softly by the morning breeze. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting.
“You called me?” he asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
“Hm,” Pragya nodded and patted the empty space beside her.
Vivan looked at her hand for a second… then slowly sat down where she indicated.
The moment he settled, she reached for his hand—warm, gentle—her thumb softly caressing his knuckles. It was enough to make the tension in his shoulders tremble.
“What happened?” she asked directly, eyes searching his face.
Vivan’s heart stumbled. He wasn’t expecting her to ask so bluntly. His gaze flickered everywhere—floor, wall, ceiling—anywhere except his mother’s eyes.
“You know, Maa… the loss…” he muttered hesitantly.
Pragya’s brows furrowed. “Is it about the loss only?”
He swallowed hard. A lump formed in his throat. His voice came out low, husky, strained.
“…hm.”
But Pragya wasn’t the kind of mother he could hide from.
She cupped his face gently, forcing him to look at her.
“So now you’re lying to your Maa?” she asked softly, not accusing… but hurt. Deeply hurt.
He shut his eyes.
“Maa… it’s not like that,” he whispered, turning his face slightly away, but she held him firmly and pulled him back.
“Really?” she asked again, her voice trembling just a little.
And that was it.
He broke.
A single tear slipped from his eye, betraying everything he had been holding in. In the next second, he leaned forward and hugged her—hugged her with all the fear and pain he’d been stuffing inside.
Pragya wrapped her arms around him instantly.
And Vivan held her tightly, almost desperately, like he was terrified he might lose her too.
The strong, unshakeable Vivan Singhania… crumbling only in his mother’s arms.
Pragya gently rubbed his back as he clung to her, his breath uneven, his body tense like he was holding himself together by force.
“Vivan…” she whispered softly, “tell me the truth, beta.”
He didn’t answer at first. He just stayed there, forehead pressed against her shoulder, trying to breathe normally… trying to act strong even now.
But when he finally pulled back, his eyes were red, glassy, exhausted.
“Maa…” he breathed out, voice shaking despite his attempt to steady it. “Kiara… she…”
He swallowed again, fighting the words that hurt to speak.
“She was using me.”
Pragya stiffened, her fingers tightening slightly around his hands.
He laughed—broken, hollow. “All these years… I thought she loved me, Maa. I thought she cared.” His voice cracked. “Turns out she never did.”
Another tear rolled down. He quickly wiped it away, embarrassed, trying to sit straight, shoulders stiffening like he was forcing himself to be strong.
“But I’m fine,” he said quickly, voice trembling. “I mean… it’s okay. I’ll handle it. I’m fine.”
He clearly wasn’t.
Pragya cupped his cheek again. “Vivan, look at me.”
He looked up, eyes filled with pain.
“You’re not fine,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”
That did it. His composure cracked again.
“Maa… I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?” she asked instantly.
“For… everything.” He lowered his head. “You warned me. Papa warned me. Even Yuvan. And A.. Aarvi also.”
His voice cracked badly.
“But I didn’t listen. I trusted her.
I went against all of you. I fought with Papa for her.
I even—”
His jaw tightened.
“I even shouted at A... Aarvi once because of her.”
Pragya’s eyes softened painfully.
He clenched his fists. “It’s my fault. All of this. I let her in. I… I was blind.”
“Vivan,” Pragya whispered, gently placing a hand on his cheek, trying to comfort him.
“But I was foolish,” he choked out. “I let her break me. I let her play with my feelings. And now… after everything…”
He exhaled, a painful, shaky breath.
“I can’t even understand how I didn’t see it, Maa. How did I not see who she truly was?”
Pragya shifted closer and hugged him again, cradling his head against her chest like she used to when he was a child.
“Because you loved her, beta,” she whispered. “Love blinds. But it also teaches.”
Vivan’s fingers clutched her dupatta tightly. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Maa.”
Pragya kissed the top of his head. “You don’t owe me an apology. I just want my son back. The one who doesn’t hide everything inside.”
He closed his eyes, tears slipping silently.
For the first time in years, Vivan let himself be vulnerable in front of someone…
and for the first time, he didn’t feel ashamed of breaking.
“I am happy now.”
Both Pragya and Vivan jerked slightly at Vinod’s sudden voice from the doorway.
Vivan didn’t even try to wipe his tears.
Didn’t try to sit straight.
Didn’t try to hide the trembling in his throat.
He just turned… with those same doe-like, wet eyes.
Vinod’s expression softened the moment he saw him.
“I am happy,” he repeated, walking closer, “that my son is free now.”
Vivan didn’t respond — he couldn’t. He just kept staring, broken yet calm in his father’s presence.
Vinod came forward and kneeled right in front of him.
Not as the head of Singhania Industries.
Not as a strict patriarch.
But as a father.
He gently cupped Vivan’s face and wiped the tears with his thumbs.
“You’re looking exactly like seven-year-old Vivan,” he said with a warm, teasing smile, “crying restlessly because he lost his toy.”
A tiny, fragile smile broke on Vivan’s lips — the first real softness in hours.
Pragya’s eyes glowed, a small smile forming even as tears gathered again. Seeing her son smile, even slightly, melted her heart.
Vinod ruffled Vivan’s hair the way he used to when he was a kid.
He was smiling big… yet inside, his heart was aching because he knew how deep this wound was.
Then Vinod stood up and sat beside him, pulling him into a side hug — warm, protective, as if shielding him from the whole world.
“And,” Vinod added dramatically, “she didn’t deserve my handsome son anyway.”
This time Vivan looked at him with a grin that didn't reached his eyes — small, shy, but real.
In that moment, even with heartbreak sitting heavy inside him, one truth hit him:
He may have lost the woman he loved…
but he had a family who would love him till the end of his life.
And that made the pain hurt a little less.
Vinod suddenly straightened his posture and added dramatically—
just to ease the tension that still lingered in the room—
“Now I have a very big responsibility on my shoulders.”
Both Vivan and Pragya frowned.
“What?” Vivan asked, his voice still heavy from crying.
Vinod sighed deeply, as if preparing to carry the weight of the whole world.
“When you go back to your room… your mother will start crying again, worrying about you.”
Pragya’s eyes widened as she glared at him.
“kya!” she whispered sharply.
Vivan let out a small chuckle — soft, tired, but real.
“No she won’t,” he said, turning to his mother, “right, Maa?”
Pragya didn’t say a word.
She just smiled — a warm, melting smile that said more than words ever could.
Vivan exhaled gently and stood up.
He leaned down and placed a soft peck on Pragya’s forehead.
“Because if you do… it will hurt me more,” he whispered.
Pragya instantly shook her head — as if silently promising she wouldn’t cry — but her eyes were already glistening.
Vivan turned to his father.
A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips — the kind that silently says, Take care of her.
Vinod nodded once, firm and reassuring.
He understood without a word.
And with that…
Vivan left the room.
Still hurting.
Still stitched together with fresh heartbreak.
But for the first time since the truth broke him…
he felt a little lighter.
A little steadier.
Because he realized one thing:
No matter who betrayed him—
his family never would.