55.
It was already noon. Aarya had just finished lunch, and we decided it was too hot to do anything else but take a bath. July in India is brutal—thankfully, her summer break starts next week. I quickly bathed her, then took a shower myself.
When I stepped out, steam still curling around me, I paused in front of the mirror. I tugged the bathrobe off and tossed it onto the couch, standing there bare for a moment.
My reflection stared back. My body had changed—really changed.
The smooth skin I once had was now a canvas of ink.
Tattoos ran over my shoulders and arms, down across my waist and onto my thighs.
Works of art, permanent and raw. A shame they stayed hidden under fabric most of the time.
Then again... I knew there was someone out there who would lose his mind if anyone else got to see the parts of me he once claimed as his.
I sighed, grabbed a bottle of lotion, and worked it into the ink, careful and deliberate. At the very least, if you love your tattoos, you keep them alive.
Afterward, I went downstairs. Aarya was in her room, busy with some craft project she still refused to show me. I let her be.
I picked up the Forbes magazine from the table and stretched out on the couch. The cover stared back at me—my own face, polished and posed, stamped with the title: Businessman of the Year.
I studied it closer. Handsome, sure—but the makeup artist had no clue what she was doing. Luckily, the lighting had done most of the heavy lifting for her. I snorted under my breath and flipped through the pages.
It was strange, though. Shaurya hadn't made the list again this year. In fact, it had been four—maybe five—years in a row since he'd completely disappeared from the business world. Once, he was always at the top, rubbing shoulders with Bailey Hughes, making headlines at every gala.
And now? Nothing. Like he'd been erased.
Sometimes I wondered what he was actually doing in all those years.
Ravi once told me that Shaurya didn't even check in on the mafia unit much anymore. Another mystery stacked on the pile that was Shaurya Shekhawat.
But it's not like Shekhawat Industries were falling apart.
Veer had been the one holding the empire steady, and to say he impressed me would be an understatement.
He's relentless, sharp, a perfectionist in the best sense.
At last year's Gala, he walked away with Most Influential Businessman.
We almost crossed paths, but he slipped out before we could meet.
I placed the magazine back on the table with a sigh.
Sundays are suffocating without Yug. Sure, he talks too much—half the time, I want to tape his mouth shut—but at least his chatter keeps me from drowning in my own thoughts. Now, with him gone, all I had were these endless quiet rooms and one irritating thought: the flowers.
Still no sign of them.
If Shaurya didn't show up tomorrow, he'd better prepare himself—because this time, I really would kick his ass.
The doorbell rang.
Finally, Eve back from her dentist appointment, I thought, as I made my way lazily to the door.
I peeked through the peephole—
—and froze.
My breath lodged in my throat.
There he was.
Shaurya.
The last man I wanted standing outside my home, yet the exact man I'd been subconsciously bracing myself for.
I opened the door, heart pounding louder than it should.
He stood there, hands tucked neatly behind his back, smiling in that infuriatingly calm way of his—as if he hadn't vanished, as if he hadn't turned my life upside down years ago.
He wore a beige shirt, the first few buttons undone, sleeves rolled casually up his forearms. His chest muscles pressed against the fabric, and I hated how obvious it was.
His hair was cropped shorter than I'd ever seen it, exposing more of his angular face.
His beard, finally trimmed, traced his jaw cleanly.
Thank god—because only a few days ago, he'd looked like some tired wanderer who'd lost his way.
And also his moustache. Always the perfect length.
But what caught me most—what I wished hadn't—were his eyes. Those golden-brown irises, streaked with gray, glinting under the harsh midday sun. Alive. Familiar. Dangerous.
He looked startlingly like the Shaurya from ten years ago—the twenty-five-year-old man I had once shamelessly stalked. Well actually Veer did all the work from getting me his pics because that man had no social media account.
I realized I was staring too long. Heat rushed to my face. I coughed, tearing my gaze away.
"Hey," he chuckled, voice low, playful.
"Hi," I muttered, curt.
"Hey," he repeated, this time with that teasing lilt I used to know too well.
I rolled my eyes, though something in my chest loosened at the sound. A betrayal of relief.
"Can you say something else? And what are you doing here?" I folded my arms, grounding myself.
"I can't stay away from Aarya for too long, you know," he said, his tone soft but certain.
I forced my face into neutrality. "Right," I muttered.
Before I could form another word, tiny footsteps came pattering toward us, and Aarya's squeal pierced the air.
"You came back!" she shrieked, running full speed.
Shaurya crouched instantly, the small box he'd been holding clinking softly as he set it on the ground. His arms opened, and Aarya crashed into him, hugging him with all the force her little body could muster. She grinned ear to ear, studying his face with childish scrutiny.
"You got a haircut?" she asked, tilting her head like a detective.
"Mhm. Do I look bad?" he asked, very concerned.
She shook her head so fast I thought it might fly off. "You look handsome. Right, Papa?"
Her eyes darted to me, twinkling.
I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my neck. Reluctantly, I nodded.
Shaurya's lips curved into a knowing smirk, and damn him, he looked.... ughh forget it.
He took Aarya's tiny palms in his, lifting them reverently before pressing a kiss to her hands. "I missed you," he whispered.
The words were so simple, yet the tenderness in his voice, the weight in those three syllables, made me pause. He meant them. Every single letter. Of course he did.
"I missed you too!" Aarya beamed, rubbing her cheek against his like a kitten marking its favorite.
My chest clenched. Unfair. She only ever did that with me.
"Careful, Aarya. You might get rashes from his beard," I muttered, half-joking, half-serious.
Shaurya only chuckled and hugged her tighter, deliberately taunting me.
"Well, I brought something for my beautiful lady. Want to see?"
Aarya's face lit up, her curiosity exploding into excitement. She nodded eagerly, bouncing on her toes.
That's when I finally looked properly at the box he'd set down.
A small cage.
Shaurya crouched and unlatched the little cage. The door creaked open, and out stumbled the tiniest ball of fur I'd ever seen.
A kitten.
Not just any kitten—her coat was soft cream with splashes of gray, her round sapphire eyes blinking curiously at the world. She was clumsy, wobbling out onto the carpet as though her paws hadn't quite learned their purpose yet.
For a second, silence held.
And then—
Aarya screamed. Actually screamed. Her voice shot so high-pitched that Shaurya instinctively cupped his hands over the kitten's ears, as if protecting it from the shockwave.
I couldn't help it—I smiled. Wide, unguarded, helplessly.
"A kittyyy!" Aarya squealed, hopping up and down, clapping her hands with abandon.
It was one of those rare moments when she wore her heart completely on her sleeve.
Usually, my daughter's expressions were quiet, contained, hard to read.
Just like her dad. But right now? She was pure, unfiltered joy.
Shaurya was smiling too—soft, patient, utterly absorbed in her delight.
"Yayyy! Is it mine?" she gasped, almost holding her breath for the answer.
Shaurya nodded solemnly, as though granting her a sacred vow. "Of course. But only if you promise me something."
"What?" she asked eagerly, kneeling on the carpet to reach the kitten.
"That you'll always play with her, and always protect her."
"I promiseeee!" Aarya declared, immediately hooking her tiny pinky around his. The gesture was so natural it made my chest ache.
Shaurya's lips curved faintly as she squeezed his finger tight, sealing the deal. Then, without warning, Aarya threw herself into his arms again—hugging him with a force that almost knocked him off balance.
"I love you!" she blurted, voice so sweet, so unpolished and pure, it rang like a bell through the room.
The words punched the air out of me. Goosebumps erupted along my arms.
I turned to Shaurya—
He was frozen.
Literally frozen, his arms halfway around her, his expression wide open in a way I hadn't seen in years. He looked at me, almost as if searching for permission to believe what he'd just heard. His eyes were shining, uncertain, but raw.
I swallowed hard. Even I felt dangerously close to breaking. So what must it have been like for him—to hear those three words from his daughter for the first time?
Before he could say anything, Aarya wriggled out of his hold, darting back to the kitten who was pawing curiously at the edge of the rug.
I bent down, scooped the tiny creature into my hands, and held her close. She nuzzled against my palm, her body warm and trembling like a fragile heartbeat.
"She's so beautifullll," Aarya cooed, stroking the kitten's head with impossibly gentle fingers.
Shaurya exhaled, the tension in his body softening. He smiled, brushing his hand lightly through Aarya's hair. "You're beautiful too," he murmured, his voice hoarse but tender.
She giggled, still too distracted by her new friend to notice.
Then he looked up.
At me.
"You too," he said.
I blinked. "Huh?"
His gaze didn't falter. "You're beautiful too."
The heat shot straight to my face. My throat tightened, and I cursed inwardly at myself—control it, Aarav. Control it.
He rose slowly, straightening his posture as Aarya crouched by the kitten again. His steps carried him closer to me, and suddenly he was right there—towering, his presence pressing into the space between us.
I bit my lip, fighting the smile tugging at me, failing miserably.
"She said she loves you," I muttered, my voice lower , my eyes locked on his.
Shaurya nodded simply—but his silence spoke volumes.
I let out a shaky breath, my lips curving into a small, unguarded smile. "She'll call you Dad soon."
Shaurya's eyes softened. He chuckled under his breath, but the sound cracked at the edges, like he didn't quite know how to carry the weight of the moment. "Why are you smiling so much?" he asked, tilting his head, curious.
"I don't know," I admitted with a shrug, though the warmth in my chest betrayed me. "I'm happy for you, I guess."
He went quiet for a second. His gaze lingered on me in a way that made my skin prickle, as though he was searching for something he couldn't say aloud. Then, almost in a whisper—
"Aarav."
"Yes?"
"Hold me. Please."
I couldn't refuse him. Not now. Not when he'd just taken his first fragile step back into Aarya's world.
So I smiled faintly and opened my arms.
He didn't hesitate. He leaned forward instantly, burying his head against my shoulder like a boy too exhausted to carry his armor anymore.
I wrapped my arms around him, steadying him, grounding him.
His hold on me was tight—bone-deep, almost trembling—like he was afraid if he let go, everything would vanish.
"One step closer," I whispered against his hair, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet my eyes. His own were glistening, and when he spoke, his voice broke with sincerity. "I love her so much."
"I know," I said softly, my throat tightening. "You're doing so great. Thank you."
He exhaled shakily, almost relieved by the acknowledgment. Then, after a beat, he murmured, "I left the flowers in the car."
I chuckled, brushing my hand across his shoulder in a quiet reassurance. "I don't need them now. You came back."
For a moment, we just stood there, holding each other's gaze, the world narrowing down to the warmth between us. Then I smiled—genuine, unguarded.
"Welcome home."