56.
"Khushi hui tumhe dekhke, Ravi. Khala se bhi kabhi milne aa jaya karo," Ravi's aunt said warmly, adjusting the dupatta on her head. Though technically his aunt, the age gap between them was barely ten years. To Ravi, she had always felt more like an older sister than anything else.
She squinted at him playfully. "Waise ek baat batao... apni nikkah ke baare mein kuch socha bhi hai ya nahi? Abhi tak toh tumhare do do bachche ho jaate. Par nahi... nawab jaade ko toh woh uth jaise Shaurya sahab ke saath hi rehna hai."
Ravi chuckled, shaking his head as he loaded the last of his belongings into the car trunk. "Who will even marry me at this age?" he teased, stretching his arms with exaggerated laziness.
Before she could retort, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his brows drew together in confusion.
"Just a minute," Ravi murmured, stepping aside as he answered.
"Ravi?" Aarohi's voice came through, tight and trembling.
"Yeah?" His tone immediately grew alert.
"Where are you?" she asked quickly.
"I was just about to leave for Udaipur. Standing outside my house right now. Why? What's wrong?"
There was a pause—he could almost hear her breathing hitch. "Can you please come back here? It's urgent."
Ravi straightened, his chest tightening. "Alright... but are you okay?"
"Just stop asking questions and come. Veer is injured," Aarohi blurted. Her voice cracked. "And don't... don't tell Shaurya Bhai about it. Please."
His grip on the phone tightened. "I'm coming. Wait for me." He ended the call without another word.
"Ravi?" his aunt asked, concerned. "Who was that?"
He opened the driver's door, his expression taut. "I have to go. It's an emergency. Tell Ammi I'm sorry for leaving like this—but I'll come back to meet her soon, I promise."
Before she could press further, he slid behind the wheel.
"May Allah protect you," she whispered under her breath as the engine roared to life.
Ravi's jaw clenched. Without another glance back, he drove off, the car tearing down the road toward Amritnagar, his mind racing faster than the tires against the asphalt.
---------------------------------------------------------
Since the day Shaurya brought that little kitten home, Aarya and he had become nearly inseparable.
The bond grew stronger with each passing day.
Every night, Shaurya stayed beside her bed until she drifted off to sleep, the kitten curled in her arms. Only then would he quietly slip away, making sure he was gone not before catching a glance of Aarav returning from work.
At first, Aarav had found the arrangement unsettling. But soon, it became routine. He'd come home to find Aarya already asleep, the faint traces of her laughter still lingering in the room, her dreams guarded by both a purring kitten and the man who had once left them behind.
Aarav couldn't ignore the gnawing guilt that surfaced during weeks like these—when work swallowed up all his hours and he barely had time for his daughter.
He hated the thought of her needing him and finding only absence.
Yet, in that guilt, there was also relief.
Because at least Shaurya was there. Shaurya, surprisingly patient and unexpectedly gentle, stepping into the gaps Aarav left behind.
But that very thought carried its own weight.
Because Aarav knew Shaurya.
The Shaurya Shekhawat he once loved had never been one for easy displays of affection.
His love had always lived in silence—quiet gestures, guarded looks, unsaid words.
And now, watching him openly care for Aarya—reading her stories, playing with her toys, even humming songs—Aarav couldn't shake the worry that Shaurya was pushing himself too hard.
That maybe this was all a desperate attempt to make up for lost time, to prove something, to earn something.
And Aarav knew—when someone forced themselves to carry too much, something always broke.
And he wasn't sure if he could handle watching Shaurya break again.
Meanwhile, there was Yug.
Yug, who had slipped into Aarav's life at the strangest time—too talkative, too charming, too present. Someone who refused to let Aarav curl into silence. Aarav had thought about it often: maybe Yug was a distraction. Maybe he was a bridge. Maybe he was something else entirely.
They had spoken about it—what they were, what they weren't. Both agreed to take it slow. To let things breathe.
But still, when Aarav allowed himself to think too long, fear curled its way into him.
Because no matter how much Shaurya hurt him in the past, the flowers still came.
The small notes tucked between bouquets still appeared.
Shaurya's presence still lingered—sometimes too loud, sometimes too quiet, but always there.
And Aarav couldn't ignore the truth: Shaurya hadn't stayed for him. He had stayed after discovering Aarya.
That truth terrified Aarav more than anything.
Because if, by chance, Aarav let his feelings slip even a little... if he let himself believe in Shaurya again, let himself hope—
It would only end in disaster. But still Aarav wants to give Shaurya a chance. Aarav wants them to give a chance.
------------
Yug sat on the porch, body slouched, eyes fixed on the empty space ahead. His fingers tapped absently against his thigh, restless, but his gaze was vacant—like his mind wasn't anywhere near this house.
Aarav had taken Aarya and Eve out for the afternoon. Some errand. Aarav had even disguised himself under cap and scarf to avoid the paps who would never miss a chance to hound him in this heat. The house, for once, felt quieter than it should.
Shaurya stepped onto the porch carrying a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the faint scent of cocoa trailing with him. He didn't sit beside Yug, but across from him, in the chair facing him directly. He studied him for a moment, then spoke with that casual bluntness of his.
"I finally figured it out."
Yug blinked, pulled from his haze. "What?"
"Who you look like."
Yug frowned, waiting.
"Doraemon," Shaurya said flatly.
Yug stared. "What the hell? Where did that come from?"
Shaurya shrugged, deadpan. "Just wanted to share my opinion. You're always in blue. Same as him. Except Doraemon's actually useful."
Yug scoffed, shaking his head. "Aarav was right. You really shouldn't talk much—it's weird." He turned away, dismissing him.
Shaurya smirked faintly and took a sip from his mug. The steam curled upward, warm against the heavy silence. After a beat, he asked, quieter, "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing you need to care about," Yug muttered.
Shaurya only nodded, letting the words pass. He leaned back, watching him through the rim of his mug.
Then Yug's phone lit up. The shrill ring shattered the quiet. He glanced at the screen, hesitation flashing briefly in his eyes before he answered.
"Yeah... Doctor Sharma."
Shaurya's gaze sharpened.
"...... mhm... I'll bring her tomorrow again."
Another pause. Yug's shoulders stiffened.
"Does she need to be admitted?" His voice cracked just slightly.
More silence from the other end.
"... Okay. Thanks again." Yug ended the call, exhaling like he'd been holding his breath the entire time.
Shaurya set his mug down, watching him. His expression was still, unreadable—but his eyes lingered, searching.
"Your mother... is she alright?" Shaurya finally asked.
Yug's throat bobbed. He didn't look at him. His fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles pale. After a long silence, he whispered, "It's time. She'll be leaving me soon."
The words hung in the air, heavy, irreversible.
Shaurya's chest tightened, but he said nothing. Just drew in a long breath, slow, deliberate, like he was steadying himself. He reached out, placed the mug carefully on the table—then froze when he heard it.
A sharp, choked breath.
Shaurya's eyes flicked up. Yug's head was bent low, shoulders trembling. Tears slid down his cheeks, silent but raw, until his body betrayed him and a broken sob slipped through.
For a second, Shaurya stayed still—awkward, unsure. They weren't close. Not in the way that allowed for easy comfort. But pain like this was something he recognized too well. He had lived it. He still carried it.
Slowly, Shaurya moved from his chair and stepped beside him. He didn't say anything, didn't reach out—not yet. He simply stood there, letting his presence fill the silence.
Yug scrubbed furiously at his face, trying to erase the evidence. He cleared his throat roughly, pulling himself back together.
"...Sorry," he muttered, though his voice still wavered.
Shaurya just watched him, eyes steady, the ghost of understanding flickering there.
Shaurya just watched him, eyes steady, the ghost of understanding flickering there.
"Yug. Look at me," he said finally, his voice low, steady.
Shaurya shifted, lowering himself onto the bench beside him. The wood creaked softly under their weight. Yug turned slightly in his direction, but his eyes stayed fixed downward, as though meeting Shaurya's gaze would split him open.
Shaurya didn't push. He studied him in silence—the restless fingers scratching at his neck, the uneven rhythm of his breathing, the way his shoulders hunched inward like he was bracing against a storm.
"I'm not ready for this," Yug whispered, his voice thin, raw. "I'll never be ready." His chest rose and fell sharply, a sigh dragging out of him like it hurt to release. Slowly, finally, his eyes lifted—red-rimmed, wet—and locked onto Shaurya's.
"How did you do it?" Yug's voice cracked. "How did the pain go?"
Shaurya leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. He didn't sugarcoat it. "It never left."
The words hung heavy, blunt and unflinching.
His gaze drifted, not at Yug but past him, somewhere far away. "It was so sudden I didn't even realize what was happening. One second she was there, the next..." He swallowed, his throat working. "Uhh.. I was a kid then. And I had to watch her get shot. Right in front of me."
His voice dropped lower, rougher. "That day, I realized how much I hadn't said to her. How much more I wanted to hear her voice. To tell her I loved her. But it was gone. Just—gone."
Yug sat rigid, his breaths uneven, his chest hitching as though the confession dug straight into his own breaking heart. Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, save for the faint sound of Yug's shaky breathing.
"I think you should talk to her," Shaurya said after a pause, his voice softer this time.
"Stay with her, Yug. She wants you there.
I know how impossible it feels, but you've been given something I never had.
" He glanced at him, eyes sharp with quiet intensity.
"You still have her. You have the present. Don't waste it."
"I'm not ready," Yug murmured again, his head dropping into his hands. His shoulders trembled.
Shaurya's hand reached out, steady, deliberate, and patted his back—gentle, grounding. His palm lingered there, rubbing , something he himself had once needed but never received.
"You'll be alright," Shaurya said quietly.
The words were simple, almost fragile, but in that moment, Yug's walls cracked. Tears welled again, spilling despite his attempts to hold them back. His chest shook with each breath, grief clawing its way out no matter how tightly he tried to contain it.
Shaurya shifted a little closer, his large hand settling on Yug's shoulder. He gave him a light, almost brotherly jerk.
"Don't cry," Shaurya murmured, his tone softer than Yug had ever heard from him. His eyes, usually sharp, carried an unfamiliar warmth. He knew exactly what Yug needed in that moment—someone to steady him, to just be there.
A hollow ache tugged inside Shaurya as he realized how badly he had wanted the same once. But back then, no one had been there for him. His father had been drowning in his own grief, shattered by the loss of his wife, and Shaurya had been left to carry the silence, the weight, the emptiness.
Yug let out a wet chuckle between sniffles, scrubbing at his face with the heel of his palm. "Don't give me those eyes, Shaurya. I'll vomit."
Shaurya exhaled through his nose, half a huff of amusement, half resignation. He shook his head, the faintest smirk ghosting across his lips as he stood. Picking up the cooling mug of hot chocolate from the table, he swirled it once before bringing it to his mouth.
"You want some?" he asked casually, lifting the cup slightly toward Yug.
Yug shook his head. "No, thanks. And you should stop drinking that crap too. You'll end up with diabetes."
Shaurya tilted his head, unfazed, and took a deliberate sip. "It's worth having diabetes for" he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Always better to die eating your favorite food than live miserably without it."
The words came out half in jest, half in truth. He raised the mug in a small, mock-toast before sipping again.
Yug sighed smiling faintly.
"We're back!" Eve's voice rang out from across the hall.
Yug hurriedly swiped away the last trace of tears from his cheeks, forcing a deep breath into his lungs before rising from the sofa. Shaurya too, mug in hand, and together they stepped toward the entrance.
Eve appeared first, juggling a massive shopping bag that looked far too heavy for her frame. Right beside her was Aarya, clutching a smaller bag with both hands, beaming like she'd just won a treasure hunt.
But it wasn't them who made Yug's heart stop.
Behind them walked Aarav—steady, deliberate—his hand carefully supporting someone else's.
A woman.
For Shaurya, she was a stranger. But for Yug—his body froze in place, disbelief gripping his chest like a vise.
"Mumma?" his voice cracked, the single word breaking free like a prayer.
Shalini smiled faintly at him as Aarav guided her forward, his arm steady around her frail frame. A scarf was tied gently around her head, hiding the hair she had lost to chemotherapy. Her skin was pale, her steps slow, but her eyes—warm, determined—found her son with unwavering clarity.
Aarav murmured something softly to her, his face carrying that rare tenderness he saved only for the people he considered family.
Yug's composure shattered. He all but rushed forward, his hand slipping over hers as though to reassure himself she was real, she was standing here.
"What are you doing here?" he blurted, worry sharp in his voice. "You should be resting—"
Shalini reached up with her free hand, brushing her son's cheek with a touch that was far steadier than he expected.
"I wanted to see my boy on his birthday, fool," she said with a smile, her voice soft yet threaded with unshakable love.
His birthday. Of course. He'd been so tangled in work, in his mother's illness, in everything else weighing on his chest, that he hadn't even remembered. And now—sadly, cruelly—it would be his last birthday with her. Aarav had made sure they would spend it together.
"Aarav," Yug said sternly, his gaze snapping to him, voice tight with unspoken emotions.
But Aarav only lifted his shoulders in a small shrug, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. No words, just a quiet this is where you're meant to be.
Between the two of them, Yug and Aarav gently guided Shalini to the couch.
Her movements were slow, deliberate, her fragile body leaning into their support.
Aarav sat down beside her, steady and composed, while Yug immediately lowered himself to the floor at her feet—like a child again, clinging to what he feared losing.
He never once let go of her hands. His eyes traced every detail of her face, memorizing her in a way that ached—her pale skin, the faint tremor in her lips, and yet the fierce warmth in her eyes that never dimmed, not even now.
"Happy birthday, dear," Shalini whispered, her voice trembling with both weakness and love. Her hand lifted, shaky but determined, and she cupped his face. Her thumb brushed across his cheekbone in a tender, uncontrollable caress—as if she couldn't help herself.
Yug's throat closed. He bent forward, unable to hold back, and buried his face in her lap. His shoulders shook as her thin fingers threaded through his hair, stroking gently, just like she had when he was a boy.
For that moment, he wasn't a grown man with responsibilities, heartbreak, and fear. He was simply her son—her little boy—holding on as though the warmth of her touch could last forever.
"Okay, okay. Enough of this gloom," Shalini said suddenly, her voice soft but carrying that familiar motherly authority. "You're a grown man, Yug. Birthdays shouldn't be depressing. Put some music on."
Yug reluctantly lifted his head from her lap, wiping the corner of his eyes before standing. He picked up his phone and scrolled through the playlist with a sigh. The atmosphere in the room was still heavy, and he almost wanted to put something mellow on.
"Yug," Shalini frowned, narrowing her tired eyes at him. "What's wrong with you? No wonder you don't have friends—you'd bore them to death. Change this song."
Yug rolled his eyes, half-amused, half-exasperated, and handed her the phone with a helpless shrug. "Fine, you pick."
The track that started next made everyone freeze.
Shaurya's brows shot up, Aarav bit back a laugh, and Eve covered her mouth, smothering her giggles. Yug groaned out loud.
"Ughhh, please, Mom." He dragged a hand down his face.
From the speakers blared the unmistakable beat of Sheila Ki Jawani.
Aarav could almost imagine Shalini getting up and breaking into dance if her body wasn't so frail right now. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, though, like she was dancing on the inside.
And then—
"That's my song!" Aarya shrieked happily as she dashed into the middle of the room. Her little body started bouncing to the beat, her hands flying up as she sang along in her high, squeaky voice.
Shaurya's heart squeezed at the sight. He leaned forward slightly from where he stood, watching her with an expression that softened every sharp edge of his face. She looked so alive, so uninhibited—his daughter.
Aarya twirled dramatically, tossing her hair as if she were on stage. "What's my name... what's my name... what's my name?"
Eve, unable to hold back any longer, jumped in too. "My name is Sheila... Sheila ki jawani!" she belted, laughing as Aarya copied her moves.
Aarav chuckled, shaking his head at the chaos. Yug, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands, muttering something under his breath about dying of secondhand embarrassment.
But in that living room, for just those few minutes, the heaviness cracked open—and something bright and ridiculous spilled through. Even Shalini, weak as she was, clapped her hands along with the beat, her laughter tinkling over the music like a blessing.
Halfway through the music—right when Aarya was spinning herself into a dizzy mess—Eve came rushing back into the living room, balancing a cake box in her hands.
"Okay, okay! Enough Bollywood auditions," she announced dramatically, placing the cake on the table. "It's time to cut the cake!"
The music instantly lowered as Aarav reached for the speaker remote and turned it off. The room shifted into a softer, expectant hush. Eve carefully opened the box, revealing a beautiful chocolate cake, rich and glossy, with Happy Birthday Yug written across in neat white frosting.
"Sit, birthday boy," Aarav teased, nodding toward the couch.
Yug obeyed, helping his mother settle in more comfortably before sliding down beside her. He reached for her hand automatically, holding it steady like a lifeline. Shalini gave him a smile that managed to be both weak and impossibly full of love.
Meanwhile, Aarav busied himself with the candles, sticking them one by one into the thick frosting, his brows furrowed in concentration as if he were arranging something far more serious than dessert.
Finally, he lit the candles, the little flames flickering and bathing the room in their golden glow.
On the opposite sofa, Shaurya had pulled Aarya onto his lap. She leaned comfortably against his chest, her small legs dangling over his arm. His large hand absently caressed her little arm, slow and protective, while his gaze followed every movement around the cake.
Shalini's voice broke the soft lull. "It was really nice meeting you, Shaurya," she said, her eyes lingering on him.
Shaurya's lips curved into a gentle smile. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, his hand still stroking Aarya's arm. "The pleasure's mine, Mrs. Khurrana" he replied, his tone quiet but sincere.
Then all attention turned to Yug. He leaned forward, took a steadying breath, and blew out the candles. The room erupted with claps, cheers.
Eve quickly cut neat slices of cake, but before she could hand any out, Yug reached for the first piece himself. His hands trembled slightly, but his eyes softened as he turned to his mother. With infinite care, he brought the bite to her lips.
"Happy birthday to me," he joked weakly.
Shalini chuckled, accepting the bite and patting his cheek. "Happy birthday, my boy."
Then Yug turned toward Aarav, holding up the next bite almost stubbornly. Aarav raised a brow, smirking. "Really?"
"Don't make it weird. Just eat," Yug muttered.
So Aarav leaned forward, took the bite, and chewed slowly, dramatically. But just as Yug relaxed, Aarav's mischievous streak kicked in. He grabbed a handful of cake from the plate and smashed it straight into Yug's face.
The room exploded with laughter.
"Happy birthday, kiddo," Aarav grinned, wrapping his arms around Yug's cake-smeared face and pulling him into a tight hug.
Yug groaned, muffled against his shirt. "I swear to god, Aarav—if I get pimples because of this—"
Aarav threw his head back, laughing harder.
From Shaurya's lap, Aarya's eyes widened like she'd just remembered something very important. She hopped down quickly, her little feet pattering against the floor as she darted over to Yug.
Holding a small piece of cake in her tiny hands, she reached up to him with all the seriousness of a priest performing a sacred ritual. "Happy birthday, Yug Uncle," she said in her sweetest voice. "Love you a lot!"
Yug's entire face softened. He bent down, letting her hold the piece to his lips, and took a careful bite. Then he smiled—wide and boyish—and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
"Thank you, princess. Love you too."
For a moment, everything froze—the laughter, the teasing, the pain beneath it all. There was just this: family gathered close, love stitched together with laughter, and the fragile but powerful joy of being here, now.
Shaurya sat back, a rare softness lingering in his features as he watched Yug laugh with frosting still smeared on his face.
He could see it clearly now—the way Aarya's eyes shone for Yug, the way Aarav's tone softened around him.
Yug wasn't just some friend or occasional support; he was family.
And Shaurya knew, deep in his bones, that mattered. For Aarya. For Aarav.
The laughter gradually ebbed, like ripples fading on water. Silence settled, but not the heavy kind—this one was calm, full of quiet smiles and unspoken gratitude.
Shalini shifted slightly, her thin hands adjusting the blanket over her lap. She turned her gaze to Aarav. "Come here, beta. Sit beside me."
Aarav obeyed immediately, moving closer to the couch. Shaurya was already seated nearby, their shoulders almost brushing. For a brief moment, the closeness prickled with tension—but Shalini's presence seemed to dissolve it.
She reached out, taking Aarav's hands gently into her frail ones. Her fingers traced his knuckles, her touch both fragile and grounding. Aarav bowed his head slightly, humbled by the tenderness.
Then Shalini's eyes lifted, settling on Shaurya. Her gaze was sharp, but kind—seeing far deeper than most dared.
"Yug told me you have a good heart," she said softly. "Like your mother."
Shaurya stilled, the words hitting something inside him he hadn't expected. Slowly, he turned his head toward Yug, who gave him a small, almost sheepish nod before looking away. Shaurya swallowed, then looked back at Shalini, his voice quieter than usual.
"You... knew my mother?"
Shalini's lips curved faintly. "Everyone knew her son. She was something so pure, Shaurya. Light in the truest form."
The memory flickered across Shaurya's face like a shadow of grief, chased by pride. He didn't speak, but his eyes said everything—how deeply he missed her, how much he still carried her within him.
Beside him, Aarav gave a faint smile, nodding in agreement. "She really was."
Shalini squeezed Aarav's hands once more before glancing between the two men.
Her voice grew weaker but carried the weight of sincerity.
"So Aarav and Shaurya... please, don't leave my boy.
He might be a bit annoying sometimes," she chuckled, "but he's just a child by heart.
And he needs people who will stand by him. "
Then she paused, her gaze softening even more. "And also... don't leave each other."
For a heartbeat, time stopped.
Aarav's eyes lifted, locking with Shaurya's. The world seemed to shrink down to that gaze—two men tethered by history, by love once cherished, by wounds never fully healed.
Shalini didn't know the full truth—not really.
Aarav had confided in her about their past, about how his marriage to Shaurya had unfolded and unraveled, about the pain that had driven them apart.
But he hadn't told her the whole story. He hadn't told her that his feelings for Shaurya weren't the same anymore—or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.
"I won't leave him behind. We won't. He's our family. And I truly appreciate Yug," Shaurya said, his voice dropping into a steadier, more serious tone.
The words carried weight, not just for Shalini but for everyone in the room. Yug felt his throat tighten as Shaurya spoke. For a man who rarely revealed what was in his heart, Shaurya's acknowledgment struck him harder than expected.
"He stayed with my Aarav," Shaurya continued, his gaze flickering briefly toward Aarav before returning to Shalini. "He stayed with my daughter. And he even saved my life. I'd be selfish if I left him behind. I promise you that."
Yug swallowed, the sincerity pressing against the wall he had built around himself.
"You don't have to worry, Aunty," Aarav said softly, now tightening his grip on Shalini's frail hands. His voice cracked with tenderness. "You know how much he means to me, right?"
Shalini gave the faintest nod, eyes glistening. Aarav smiled gently at her before lifting one hand toward Yug, motioning him closer.
Yug crouched down, slipping his hand into Aarav's without hesitation. The warmth there steadied him more than he wanted to admit.
Aarya, not one to be left out, rushed forward with her small hand, Eve following with an encouraging grin. Their circle tightened, hearts bound together in that moment.
Shaurya remained still, his broad frame anchored in silence. But before he could withdraw into himself, Yug reached out, grabbing his arm firmly. He didn't let go until Shaurya relented, his reluctant hand sliding into the circle.
Aarav looked around at all of them, his chest rising with a mixture of love, ache, and something unspoken. A soft smile curved his lips.
"We'll always be together," he said, his voice barely above a whisper yet filled with conviction. "Forever."