•| THIRTY SIX |•
At evening, the golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the living room while Kiaan and you sat patiently on the couch, both of you dressed and ready, waiting for Krish to arrive.
You adjusted the pleats of your saree for what felt like the tenth time, smoothing your palm over the silk fabric nervously, your bangles clinking softly with every movement.
Kiaan, sitting beside you in his tiny suit, swung his legs back and forth while playing with the buttons of his blazer.
“Mumma, when will Dad come?” he asked, pouting slightly, and you smiled softly, brushing his hair back.
“Anytime now, baby… he must be on the way.” Just then, the sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through the house, making both of you look up instantly.
Your heart skipped a beat for reasons you didn’t want to admit as you quickly stood up, adjusting your pallu once more before walking to the door.
As you opened it, your breath hitched for a split second—there he stood, leaning slightly against the doorframe, looking devastatingly handsome in his tailored black suit, his hair perfectly styled, his watch glinting under the warm lights.
His eyes slowly scanned you from head to toe, not in a way that was disrespectful, but in a way that made heat crawl up your neck.
A slow, knowing smile curved on his lips.
“You look… beautiful,” he said in a low voice, and you lowered your gaze shyly, murmuring a soft “Thank you.” Before you could say anything else, he bent down and effortlessly lifted Kiaan into his arms, kissing his cheek.
“Ready, champ?” he asked, and Kiaan giggled, nodding excitedly.
“Let’s go then,” Krish said, glancing at you one more time before turning.
Soon, the three of you were in the car, the city lights blurring past the windows as soft music played in the background.
Kiaan kept chattering about school and cartoons while you stole occasional glances at Krish, who looked calm yet unreadable.
Within some time, you reached the grand hotel where the party was organized—the entrance glowing with chandeliers, valet staff rushing around, and guests dressed in their finest walking in.
Krish placed a protective hand on your back as you walked inside together.
Aarav and his family were already there; greetings were exchanged, light laughter followed, and soon Krish got pulled into conversations with Aarav and other business associates.
Meanwhile, you stayed with Kiaan, who quickly ran toward Ishika and little Reyansh, pulling you along. The three kids began playing while you and Ishika talked casually, smiling, sipping juice, watching over them. Everything felt normal… peaceful even.
Until it didn’t. Because across the hall, near the bar counter, Krish’s body suddenly went rigid.
His hand, which was holding a glass, stilled mid-air.
His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as they locked onto a figure you hadn’t noticed yet.
The noise of the party seemed to fade for him as a single name left his lips—low, disbelieving, almost like a ghost from the past had materialized right in front of him.
“Sara…?”
The name slipped from Krish’s lips like a ghost he had buried long ago, his voice low yet sharp enough to cut through the music and chatter around them. Aarav followed his line of sight and his brows furrowed in confusion before recognition dawned on his face.
“Wait… is that Sara? What is she doing here?” he asked, disbelief lacing his tone as he glanced between her and Krish, whose entire posture had gone rigid — jaw clenched, shoulders tight, fingers curling into fists at his sides as if he was holding himself back from either storming out or confronting the past standing a few feet away in an elegant gown.
He tore his gaze away almost instantly, like looking at her burned.
Turning to Aarav, he spoke in a hushed but firm voice, “Aarav, we’re leaving now.
I don’t want to see her face… not tonight.
” His words carried finality, but Aarav placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Krish, relax. It’ll be rude if you just walk out like that.
At least stay for an hour — it’s not that hard.
Just ignore her… resist her, like you’ve done all these years.
” Krish exhaled slowly, the weight of memories flickering behind his eyes before he gave a reluctant nod. “Fine… one hour,” he muttered.
His gaze instinctively searched for you and Kiaan, almost like you were his anchor in the storm that had just entered the room.
You, unaware of the emotional earthquake that had shaken him moments ago, were standing near Ishika, laughing softly while adjusting Kiaan’s blazer that had slipped off one shoulder.
And then — your eyes met his. You gave him a shy, warm smile, the kind that reached your eyes, innocent and trusting.
He tried to return it, but his smile came out strained, awkward — weighed down by the past standing behind him and the present standing before him.
Still, he walked toward you, each step deliberate, as if grounding himself back into reality.
Without a word, he slid his arm around your waist, pulling you gently closer — not just affectionately, but protectively.
You glanced up at him, slightly surprised by the sudden closeness.
“Are you enjoying the party?” he asked, his voice softer now, calmer — like he was trying to wash away the tension within himself.
You nodded immediately, your bangles chiming lightly.
“It’s so elegant… everything looks so beautiful,” you said, your eyes sparkling as you looked around at the grand chandeliers, floral arrangements, and glittering décor.
His gaze, however, never left you. “Not more than you,” he said in a low, flirty tone, the corner of his lips finally lifting into a real smile this time.
You gasped softly and whacked his shoulder.
“Krish ji!” you scolded under your breath, cheeks warming, while he chuckled — the sound easing the tightness in his chest. “What? I’m just stating facts,” he teased, leaning slightly closer.
You shook your head, trying to suppress your smile, but it broke free anyway.
The two of you stood there laughing quietly, lost in your little bubble — a sight that from afar looked like a perfect family moment.
And that’s exactly what made Sara’s nails dig into her clutch.
Her eyes burned as she watched his hand resting possessively on your waist… the way he looked at you… the way he smiled — a smile she hadn’t seen in years, maybe had never truly received. Her jaw tightened, jealousy and disbelief coiling in her chest. But then her gaze shifted.
To Kiaan.
He stood a little away from you both, sipping his juice innocently, completely unaware of the storm of adult emotions swirling around him.
Sara’s eyes softened for a split second — not with love, but with something more calculating…
observant. She studied his face, his features, the way he resembled Krish.
And slowly… she began walking toward him.
She smirked before making her way towards him, the sharp click of her heels muffled by the music as her eyes softened into a fake warmth the moment she stood in front of the little boy.
Kiaan felt someone’s presence and slowly looked up from his juice, only to see an unknown lady staring at him as if she already knew him.
“How can I help you, miss?” he asked innocently, tilting his head the way he always did when confused.
Sara’s lips trembled into a smile as she bent slightly to his height, her fingers itching to touch his face.
“My baby… you grew up so well. I’m so happy to see you again,” she whispered emotionally, her voice thick with something that wasn’t entirely love.
Kiaan frowned, stepping back a little. “But… I don’t know you, aunty.
” He tried to move away, discomfort clear on his tiny face, but before he could, she caught his wrist gently yet firmly. “I’m your mo—”
“Kiaan.”
Krish’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
Before Sara could finish, Krish had already reached them, his eyes dark, jaw clenched so tight a vein throbbed at his temple.
He pulled Kiaan protectively into his arms, placing the boy against his chest as if shielding him from her very shadow.
“Mummy is looking for you, baby. Go to her,” he said softly to Kiaan, though his gaze never left Sara’s face.
Kiaan nodded, sensing the sudden tension even if he didn’t understand it, and ran towards you, hugging your leg the moment he reached you.
As soon as Kiaan left, the softness vanished from Krish’s face. He turned to Sara fully, his expression cold, controlled fury simmering beneath the surface. “Don’t you dare,” he said in a low voice.
Sara straightened, folding her arms as if she had every right to stand there. “What? I was just talking to my son.”
“He is not your son,” Krish shot back instantly.
Her eyes flashed. “I gave birth to him.”
“And you abandoned him,” he replied, each word measured, lethal. “You walked away. You signed the papers. You chose your freedom over him. So don’t come here tonight and try to play mother.”
Sara scoffed, though her composure cracked for a second. “You never let me see him.”
“You never tried,” Krish countered. “Not once. No calls. No visits. No birthdays. Nothing.” He leaned slightly closer, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “So you don’t get to walk up to him and confuse him. You lost that right the day you left.”
Sara’s gaze drifted past him for a moment, landing on you and Kiaan across the hall. You were wiping juice from Kiaan’s lips, smiling softly at him, completely unaware of the storm standing just feet away. Her eyes hardened. “So that’s her? You replaced me that easily?”
Krish followed her gaze, his expression shifting—not softer, but steadier. Certain. “No one replaced you. You removed yourself.” He paused before adding, “And watch your distance from my family.”
“Family?” she repeated bitterly. “You married her?”
He didn’t answer verbally—his silence was answer enough.
Sara laughed dryly, though jealousy burned in her eyes. “You moved on fast.”
Krish’s patience snapped. “I moved on the day you walked out.”
For a moment they just stared at each other—the past heavy, suffocating, unfinished. Then Krish stepped back, putting physical distance between them the same way he had emotionally years ago. “Stay away from Kiaan,” he warned one last time. “And stay away from my wife.”
Without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked back towards you—towards the life he had built, the one he refused to let her disrupt again.
As he reached you, his hand instinctively slid around your waist, pulling you closer than usual.
You looked up at him, confused by the sudden intensity in his eyes.
“Krish… is everything okay?” you asked softly.
He forced a small smile, brushing his thumb over Kiaan’s hair. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Everything’s fine.”
But the way his grip on you tightened… said otherwise.