Epilogue #2
Just then, Avni and Rajat walked in along with Abhimanyu and the kids, who had gone out to welcome them. Their arms were full of gift bags. It was Raksha Bandhan today, and like every year, the entire family had gathered at Wadhwa Mansion to celebrate together.
Mishti and Komal happily hugged Avni, while Karan froze mid-step. Not only was he twinning with Abhimanyu in identical outfits, but Rajat was dressed exactly the same too.
Karan frowned, glancing between them.
Rajat looked equally confused and turned toward Avni. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?” he asked suspiciously. “To make us three match our outfits?”
Avni, Mishti, and Komal burst into laughter.
“Not three,” Komal said cheerfully. “The fourth one is also wearing the same.”
Karan rolled his eyes just as Daksh and Divya entered with Pari.
Pari immediately ran toward her siblings, excited and chatty, while Daksh stopped short, staring at the sight of all the men dressed exactly like him.
Horrified.
Karan caught his expression and nodded sympathetically. “Welcome to the party,” he said dryly.
Daksh sighed, then turned to Mishti. “Whose stupid idea was this?”
Mishti, Komal, Avni, and Divya replied together, “Ours.”
“Come on,” Mishti added, smiling innocently, “what’s so wrong about it? It’s Raksha Bandhan. We wanted all the brothers to wear the same outfits.”
Rajat shook his head. “Fine. But at least you could’ve warned us.”
Avni grinned. “Then how would we get to see such wonderful expressions on our husbands’ faces?”
Abhimanyu chuckled and turned toward the men. “High time we plan something better for them next time. They’re always one step ahead of us.”
Komal laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to match us.”
“Ever,” Avni added.
Laughter filled the room as everyone finally settled in.
*****************
A few minutes later
Daksh entered the kitchen looking for Mishti, who was checking all the arrangements. The house was already buzzing outside, but here she was, standing near the counter, carefully arranging sweets on a tray and tasting the kheer herself, even though the staff hovered nearby, ready to step in.
He shook his head, mock-disapproving, unable to help the small smile tugging at his lips.
“You know what your problem is, Mishti?” he said, angrily. “You still don’t sit down for five minutes. Running after everyone like this house won’t survive without you. Just stop doing that now.”
Before Mishti could even respond, a small voice cut in, clearly offended.
“Don’t scold my mom.”
Both Daksh and Mishti paused.
Arin had stepped forward, tiny fists clenched at his sides, standing squarely between Daksh and Mishti. His chin was lifted, his eyes narrowed just a little, too serious for a five-year-old.
Daksh blinked. “Excuse me?”
Mishti immediately knelt beside Arin, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.
“Arin,” she said softly, smiling. “Your Daksh uncle is not scolding me. He’s only saying that he doesn’t want your mom to work so hard.”
Arin looked up at her, studying her face for a second, then a slow grin spread across his face.
“Oh.”
The next moment, he wrapped his arms around Daksh’s legs in a sudden hug.
Daksh laughed despite himself, ruffling Arin’s hair. “You scare me sometimes, little boy,” he said honestly. “One second you’re ready to fight the world… the next you’re hugging me.”
He glanced at Mishti. “Typical aura of your husband. Same warning energy.”
“That’s because he’s genetically coded like me,” Karan said, just then, walking in.
He looked down at Arin with pride unmistakable in his eyes.
“He is protective,” Karan continued proudly. “Selective. And doesn’t tolerate raised voices where his mother is concerned.”
Daksh laughed, shaking his head. “God help us all.”
Mishti looked up at Karan, her heart doing that familiar flutter again.
Daksh straightened, clapping his hands once as if sealing a decision.
“Alright, little bodyguard,” he said to Arin. “Come with me. I’ve got something for you.”
Arin’s eyes lit up instantly. “What?”
“Gifts,” Daksh replied, conspiratorially. “And I’ve been waiting to show you.”
That was enough.
Arin immediately slipped his hand into Daksh’s, gripping it tight. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, already pulling him toward the door.
Daksh chuckled, letting himself be dragged along. “No rushing,” he warned lightly. “Good things deserve a little patience.”
Their laughter faded as they walked out together. Mishti watched them go before her eyes met Karan’s. He moved to her, sliding his arms around her waist and drawing her into him.
“This time, I’m with Daksh,” he said. “He’s right to scold you for doing everything yourself. Enough of checking everything personally.”
His thumb brushed her side, grounding.
“The family needs you with them. Come.”
Mishti smiled, even as she nodded. She turned once more toward the kitchen, already halfway stepping away from him.
“Maria,” she called softly, “please make sure the sweets are set out near the living room. And tell the staff to bring the puja thaal in ten minutes.”
Maria nodded immediately. Only then did Mishti let Karan guide her out, her fingers curling into his as they hurried together, back to the noise, the warmth, and the family waiting for them.
****************
Soon, it was time for the Raksha Bandhan rituals to begin.
Avni stood before her brothers with the puja thaal, her smile bright and pleased.
Karan held out his wrist first, arching a brow. “You’re enjoying this far too much, aren’t you? Tricking all the men into wearing the same outfits.”
“Completely,” Avni replied, tying the rakhi. “We don’t get to do this often. Now stop talking and let me finish the rakhis.”
As she moved to Abhimanyu, he leaned closer and nudged Karan. “She’s only this excited because of the gifts. Otherwise, there’s no real sentiment in this tradition.”
Avni laughed, tugging lightly at Abhimanyu’s cheek. “Exactly. Because my brothers always give me the best gifts.”
Rajat scoffed, mock-offended. “And what about all the gifts I give you throughout the year? On almost every occasion?”
Avni grinned. “That’s your duty, darling.”
Laughter followed, and Mishti chuckled along with them, resting her head against her brother’s shoulder as she watched.
Even Daksh had barely left her side since they reconciled, and on days like this, he seemed even more attentive.
If she paused, he paused. If she turned, looking even slightly tired, he was already there, passing her a glass of water, adjusting a chair, stepping in quietly before she had to ask.
Mishti hugged him tightly now, soaking in that brotherly warmth. Daksh rested a hand briefly on her head, pulling her closer, his gaze shifting back to Avni as she completed the rituals.
Then it was Mishti’s turn to tie the rakhi on Daksh’s wrist.
He grew visibly emotional as she fastened the simple thread.
He could never stop thinking about how close he had come to losing all of this…
how he had almost let their childhood slip by without giving Mishti the place she had always deserved in his life.
And now, standing here, he was deeply grateful that fate had still given him these moments…
with the same sister he had once failed, and loved fiercely ever since.
Rajat stood beside them, absently admiring the rakhi already tied on his hand by Kanika that morning.
He had gone to visit her before coming here.
Kanika, now happily married to Rohit, one of their clients, had settled into her new life three years ago.
No kids yet, but she was content, thriving, and finally at peace.
Gifts were exchanged next, laughter filling the room as boxes and blessings were passed around. Then, with excited claps and playful nudges, the adults pulled the kids in for their turn.
Arin proudly climbed onto the sofa, sitting straight, chest slightly puffed, already aware that this moment was his. He loved this day to the core when all his sisters made him feel so special, although he was still too young to understand the significance of it.
Pari came first. Carefully, she tied the rakhi around Arin’s wrist, her tongue peeking out slightly in concentration. When he handed her the gift, passed to him by Mishti, she kissed his cheek. Arin beamed.
Next came Anaya and Nysa, both too little to fully understand the ritual. With Avni and Komal guiding their hands patiently, the girls tied their rakhis too, giggling when the threads slipped or tangled.
By the end, Arin’s arms were adorned with rakhis of every kind. Some were bright and glittery, some simple with tiny beads, one with a cartoon charm, another with a soft pastel thread, and he wore them proudly.
Gifts were handed back to the girls, one by one. Arin was too serious about that responsibility, as if this too was part of his duty as the only brother.
Then came the photo session.
Arin sat with all his sisters, completely at ease in front of the camera. He was a natural poser, just like his father. Karan and Mishti exchanged a proud glance as they watched him handle the chaos effortlessly, even as the girls jostled and argued over who would sit closest to him.
The photographer clapped his hands, trying to gather everyone’s attention.
“Alright, everyone together now. Kids, are you ready?”
That was easier said than done.
“No, I’m sitting here,” Anaya declared, already climbing onto the sofa.
“You always sit there,” Nysa protested, tugging at Arin’s sleeve.
Arin sighed dramatically. “Nysa, you sit to my left. And come closer, you two. Give Pari didi space.”
Rajat laughed. “Look at him. Already running the house.”
“He’s like Bhai. Knows everything,” Abhimanyu muttered, lifting Nysa and making her sit comfortably next to Arin.
Komal leaned in, adjusting Anaya on the couch. “Stick together, kids. If anyone falls, I’m not responsible.”
Pari wrapped her arms around Arin from behind, nearly tipping him forward.
“Pari!” Divya warned.
“I’m hugging him,” she defended. “That’s allowed.”
Mishti laughed softly, her hand reaching out instinctively to steady all of them, while Karan watched them all with a smile, wondering how his son was turning out to be a perfectionist like him.
“Cheese!” the photographer called.
“No, wait—Arin, smile properly,” Avni said.
“I am smiling,” Arin argued. “This is my serious smile.”
The adults broke into laughter again.
“Perfect,” the photographer said, clicking the photos.
Then it was time for the family photograph, a tradition they never skipped.
Mishti and Karan took their place at the centre of the 12-seater couch, with Arin comfortably settled on Karan’s lap.
Rajat and Avni sat to their left with Anaya, while Daksh and Divya sat to their right with Pari.
Abhimanyu and Komal sat slightly below to fit into the frame, with Nysa perched happily on Komal’s lap.
“Cheese,” the professional photographer called out.
Smiles spread instantly. Laughter echoed. The kids giggled and squirmed. Without thinking, Karan pulled Mishti a little closer. Their heads turned toward each other just as the camera clicked.
For a brief moment, everything else faded.
The laughter around them. Even the kids’ voices. All Karan saw was Mishti. All Mishti saw was him and this family they had built together.
Two broken souls who had once craved nothing more than a sense of belonging were now standing at the centre of a family that trusted them, loved them, and leaned on them.
This was their legacy now.
A marriage that had begun in revenge had quietly, stubbornly, grown into something far greater. A life. A home. A family rooted in love.
Dilip Goel was gone.
He had died just a few months after Mishti’s last meeting with him in prison. Isolation, guilt, and the complete severing of his outside connections had hollowed him out. Alone with his regrets, unable to bear the weight of what he had destroyed, he had passed away quietly.
When the news reached Wadhwa Mansion, Karan had breathed for the first time in years as if something heavy had finally lifted. Justice, at last, for his mother. For his family. For everything he had fought for, was served.
And Mishti…She had felt no grief. She had already mourned the man her father should have been and had decided not to grieve someone who had caused suffering for his own greed.
“Karan… the camera is at the front, buddy,” Rajat’s voice echoed, pulling them both back into the present.
Mishti moved closer instinctively as Karan’s arm tightened around her waist. Together, they turned toward the lens, ready for one more photograph.
One more memory.
One more proof that love, when chosen, could turn even the darkest beginning into something worth passing on.
And as the camera clicked, Karan and Mishti smiled, surrounded by laughter, children, and warmth, having found not just each other, but a meaning to their lives that revenge had never been able to give.
Only…One Hellish…Love had.
THE END