Epilogue
Wadhwa Mansion – Seven Years Later
The bedroom door creaked open as Karan and Mishti’s five-year-old son, Arin, pushed it with both hands. His small fingers tightly wrapped around those of his four-year-old cousin, Nysa, Abhimanyu and Komal’s daughter, who trailed beside him. They walked hand in hand, looking around the room.
“No one is here,” Arin whispered, eyes scanning his parents’ bedroom.
Nysa nodded seriously, as if this was an important discovery. That’s when he heard the faint sound of running water. Arin’s face lit up. He tugged Nysa along and walked straight to the bathroom door, knocking once with confidence.
“Dad?”
Inside, behind the closed door, Karan and Mishti froze.
Steam filled the glass shower cubicle, warm water cascading over skin that knew every inch of the other by heart.
Karan had her pressed gently against him, his forehead resting against hers, his hands wrapped around her waist. Seven years had not dulled the way he looked at her. If anything, it had deepened it.
The knock from their son cut through their intimate moment.
Mishti froze first, as reality rushed back. Her eyes widened as she whispered his name in warning, her palms pressing against his chest to push him away.
But Karan didn’t panic. He only stilled her with a soft hush, his mouth brushing her temple as he looked at the door, which was firmly locked.
The knock came again.
“Dad?” Arin called, louder this time.
Karan reached out and turned the shower off before he answered, “Yes, Arin.”
Outside, Arin beamed at Nysa, clearly pleased he’d been heard.
“Where is Mumma?”
Karan glanced down at Mishti, who was still catching her breath, cheeks warm, face flustered. He smiled at her, gesturing for her to calm down.
“Mumma must be in the temple room,” he replied for his son to hear.
Arin frowned. “No, she’s not there. I checked.” Then, as if remembering something very important, he added, “I want ladoo.”
Mishti shot Karan a look and nudged him, trying to step away, clearly determined to exit before more questions followed.
But luckily for them, before either of them could move, another voice floated in the room.
“Arin? Nysa?” Komal called, walking into the room and frowned lightly. “What are you two doing here? I’ve been looking for you.”
Relief washed over Mishti inside, instantly. “Saved.”
Karan chuckled under his breath, leaning closer to her once more.
Nysa immediately ran to her mother, slipping her little hand into Komal’s. But Arin didn’t move. He stayed rooted to his spot, stubborn as ever.
“I’m looking for Mumma,” he announced, then knocked back to the bathroom door, harder this time.
“Dad… where is Mumma?”
From inside, Karan answered once more. This time, it was meant for Komal.
“Komal, can you give Arin a ladoo? He’s been asking for it.”
Komal arched an eyebrow, amused. Her gaze drifted briefly to the bed, and landed on Mishti’s phone lying there and she quickly understood where suddenly Mishti had disappeared.
A knowing smile curved her lips. She reached for Arin and pulled him gently towards her, replying just loudly enough for Karan to hear, “I didn’t hear a please.”
Inside the bathroom, Mishti had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling. She saw Karan roll his eyes dramatically, then turn to look at her with a very clear expression that said she was absolutely going to pay for laughing at him.
Knowing very well he wanted Komal to take the kids away quickly, he finally sighed in defeat.
“Please, Komal.”
Komal chuckled, clearly enjoying this far too much, before nodding.
“Alright, alright.”
She guided both children out of the room at once.
Once they were safely down the corridor, she paused, then turned back and knocked once on the bathroom door.
“Have fun,” Komal called lightly, giggling before heading out.
The moment the door closed again, Mishti let out a slow breath.
“We really need to stop doing this when the kids are around,” she said, shaking her head. “Soon Arin will start wondering why his Mumma keeps disappearing for long stretches… especially when his dad is always conveniently in the shower.”
Karan grinned, completely unbothered.
“He won’t,” he said confidently. “He’s far too young to put all that together.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but she didn’t get the chance as his mouth found hers instead, silencing every sensible thought she had been forming.
The kiss was slow, deep and devastating in the way only he could manage.
His hands drew her closer, pulling her flush against him, again, reminding her exactly where she belonged.
Mishti melted into him without resistance, her worries dissolving just like they always did with him. The world outside the bathroom, once again, ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in love and a desire that seven years had only made deeper.
****************
An hour later, when Mishti and Karan finally came downstairs, both freshly showered, the living room was already buzzing with Arin’s restless energy. His laughter filled the space as he ran around, unable to sit still even for a second.
Abhimanyu stood near the couch in his traditional kurta, while Komal fussed over him, fixing a stubborn button of his outfit. The children circled them, playing, laughing, turning the room into complete chaos.
The moment Arin spotted his parents, his face lit up. He ran straight to Mishti and immediately bent down, hugging her feet with dramatic affection before looking up at her with wide, accusing eyes.
“Mumma, where were you? I was looking for you everywhere.”
Mishti smiled softly. Her heart melted the way it always did with him. She ruffled his hair lovingly.
“I was in the garden, sweetheart,” she said gently. “And when you were busy eating ladoos, I came back upstairs to help your dad get ready faster.”
Karan raised an eyebrow and looked down at his son.
“How many ladoos did you eat?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
Arin held up two fingers proudly.
“Two.”
Karan sighed deeply and glanced at Mishti in mock despair. But she immediately frowned at him, completely unfazed. “It’s fine. He loves them. Thankfully, my son has taken after me in this matter. He loves desserts very much, unlike his father.”
Karan caught her elbow and gently pulled her closer.
“Only that part,” he said with a smirk. “The rest of his genes are clearly mine.”
Mishti laughed softly, knowing he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Arin was a perfect junior version of Karan in more ways than one.
If he didn’t like something, convincing him took days.
He was stubborn, opinionated, fiercely independent, and very particular about what he wanted.
He had the same intense focus and the same serious little expressions when displeased.
But one trait stood out more than anything else.
Just like Karan had always loved Abhimanyu and Avni, Arin adored his siblings with the same fierce protectiveness.
He was extremely possessive about Nysa, always holding her hand, always standing a little in front of her as if guarding her.
He was equally attached to Avni and Rajat’s four-year-old daughter, Anaya, and especially to Daksh and Divya’s daughter, Pari, his eldest cousin sister, who was seven now.
Arin was obsessed with his three sisters. And being the only brother, all of them doted on him endlessly.
The sound of a double car horn suddenly echoed outside, and Arin jumped in excitement.
“That’s Rajat uncle’s car!” he announced happily. “Anaya is here!”
Before anyone could stop them, Nysa and Arin ran toward the door.
“Careful!” Karan called out instinctively, in concern.
Abhimanyu immediately gestured for him to relax and rushed after the kids, keeping a watchful eye on them.
Just then, Komal walked up to Karan and Mishti, deciding to tease them a bit.
“Why did you change your saree after the morning puja, Mishti?” she asked, holding her grin. “And… you showered again? Why?” she added, even more teasingly, seeing her wet hair.
Mishti froze for a second while Karan, standing right beside her, hid his smile.
Of course, Komal had knew that after the puja, Mishti had gone back to their room only to check if Karan was still caught up in business calls or had finally gone in for a shower.
Mishti had stepped in with nothing more than concern on her mind.
But the moment she entered the room, everything else had slipped away.
One look had turned into another, one step into another, and before she could even register it, he had pulled her into the bathroom with him.
That was how the moment had turned romantic, and how her saree had ended up changed again.
Komal’s eyes moved between the two of them slowly, taking in Mishti’s flushed face and Karan’s unusual smirk. Mishti, although aware Komal was just teasing, she still could not find any response.
Karan noticed and decided to enjoy her discomfort just a little.
“Oh yes, Mishti,” he said casually, tilting his head. “The pink saree you wore in the morning was really nice. Why did you change?”
Mishti shot him a glare, though it did nothing to hide the colour rising on her cheeks.
Karan, clearly enjoying himself now, continued, “And you look a little tired too. Everything okay, baby?”
He looked at Komal with mock concern. “Should Komal check if you’re fine?”
That was when Komal laughed. Even Mishti’s blush gave everything away.
Komal widened her eyes dramatically. “Oh my God… you two,” she said, shaking her head. “Still behaving like newlyweds. Next time lock the bedroom door so that the kids don’t interrupt you. I’m not going to come again to save you both.”
Mishti immediately hushed her, mortified. “No more teasing now,” she whispered. “They’re here.”