GOOD BYE.DAD
Devyani swayed slightly on the bar stool, her balance held together by stubbornness and pure chaos.
The second glass still burned softly inside her, warmth spreading through her veins like liquid fire, wrapping around her sadness in a strange, dizzy haze. Her swollen eyes blinked rapidly, trying to focus as the entire room seemed to spin in slow, lazy circles around her.
The lights were too bright.
The music was too loud.
The floor felt suspiciously unstable.
But somehow...
The heartbreak hurt a little less.
Or maybe it was just floating somewhere farther away now.
Aditya stood beside her like a security guard assigned by fate itself.
Tense.
Alert.
One hand half-raised and permanently prepared to catch her if she decided gravity was optional.
His face carried the expression of a man who had seen too much and trusted nothing.
Especially not her.
Devyani turned slowly toward him.
Very slowly.
Like the movement itself required permission from the universe.
"Adi bhaiyya..." she slurred, her voice soft and dramatic, tangled somewhere between giggles and leftover sniffles.
Her lips were still swollen from crying.
Her nose still pink.
But now, there was a wobbly little smile sitting on her face like it had no business being there.
Aditya leaned down immediately, suspicious.
She stared at him for three whole seconds.
Serious.
Very serious.
Then asked in a whisper like it was the biggest secret in the world
"Is he coming?"
Aditya blinked.
He leaned closer, trying to hear over the loud bass shaking the walls.
"Who?"
She gasped.
Actually gasped.
As if he had just insulted history itself.
Her eyes widened dramatically, huge and accusing.
Both hands lifted into the air, waving around wildly like she was summoning Rivan's spirit from another dimension.
Aditya stared.
She pointed at him triumphantly.
Softer.
Sad again.
That question hit differently.
It wasn't drunk drama.
It was real.
Raw.
The alcohol had only made it easier for the truth to fall out.
Her fingers played with the edge of her dupatta again, slower this time.
Aditya's chest tightened.
He hated this.
Hated seeing her like this.
Broken and trying to laugh through it.
He crouched beside her, lowering himself to her level.
"Bhabhi..."
She looked at him with those red, glassy eyes.
He sighed.
She sniffed.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
He raised his hand dramatically.
She stared.
Then nodded.
"Valid promise."
Aditya let out a breath.
Thank God.
For one whole second.
Peace.
Then she suddenly leaned forward again.
Eyes sparkling with dangerous new drunk logic.
"No, bhabhi," Aditya said quickly, almost too quickly, his eyes darting around the crowded bar like Rivan might emerge from the shadows himself.
His heartbeat had not known peace for the last thirty minutes.
Every time the door opened, his soul left his body for two business seconds.
Devyani blinked at him.
Once.
Twice.
Then suddenly
Her entire expression changed.
She sat up straighter on the stool like a queen preparing for war.
She pointed one dramatic finger at his chest.
Deadly serious.
Poke.
She leaned closer, narrowing her eyes with drunken authority.
Aditya stared at her.
For a full second.
Then another.
Then he gave a nervous little laugh that sounded more like a man accepting his fate.
He rubbed the back of his neck, already imagining his obituary.
Excellent options.
Premium death package.
"Either way," he muttered dramatically, looking somewhere between exhausted and spiritually defeated, "I'm going to die, so don't worry."
Under his breath, almost like a final prayer to the universe, he whispered,
"Bhagwan... save me from bhabhi's wrath and bhai's fury. If I survive today, I'll become a better person."
Beside him, Devyani suddenly started giggling again.
Soft.
Then louder.
Then full uncontrollable drunk laughter.
The kind that made her shoulders shake and tears form at the corners of her already swollen eyes.
She clutched his arm.
He closed his eyes.
Accepted destiny.
"Yes."
She nodded wisely.
She patted his shoulder like she was blessing him.
Then looked around the bar with suspicious concentration.
Her eyes narrowed.
She leaned toward him again and whispered loudly enough for three nearby tables to hear
Aditya nearly choked.
She gasped.
A man at the next table looked offended while holding his whiskey.
Devyani pointed at a couple dancing too closely.
At fate.
At God.
At whoever had personally chosen him for this suffering.
And somewhere, far away, he could already hear Rivan's future rage approaching like background thunder.
Suddenly, the world tilted.
Literally.
For Devyani, the entire bar seemed to sway like it had joined some secret dance she hadn't been invited to.
The lights blurred into streaks of gold and red.
The music thumped somewhere inside her ribs.
The floor beneath her feet felt suspiciously alive.
She grabbed the edge of the bar table dramatically, blinking hard as if personally offended by gravity.
Then
She burst into laughter.
Bright.
Loud.
Completely unfiltered.
"Wowwww!"
She looked at Aditya like she had just discovered the meaning of life.
She slapped the table excitedly.
She pointed at absolutely nothing.
Then at the ceiling.
Then at a lamp.
Then at Aditya's face.
She stood abruptly.
Bad decision.
Very bad decision.
She wobbled dangerously, arms flailing like a dramatic heroine in slow motion, her Pallu slipping off one shoulder as she tried to maintain balance.
"We should move too!" she declared like a revolutionary leader.
And before Aditya could stop her
She marched.
Or rather...
stumbled with purpose.
Through the bar.
Like a drunk queen on a mission.
Aditya followed immediately.
Too late.
Because her eyes had locked onto something.
Or rather...
someone.
A guy at a nearby table.
Mid twenties.
Smug face.
Cheap confidence.
And the kind of stare every woman recognizes instantly.
His eyes were shamelessly fixed on her.
Not her face.
Lower.
Lingering.
Disgustingly comfortable.
Even through the alcohol haze, Devyani caught it.
And something inside her snapped.
Her spine straightened.
Her face hardened.
The drunken giggles vanished.
Replaced by pure fury.
Alcohol didn't soften anger.
Sometimes...
it made it louder.
She stormed toward him with long, slightly unsteady strides, her dupatta trailing behind her like a battle flag heading into war.
The man smirked.
Big mistake.
Aditya's soul left his body.
Too late.
Her palm connected with his face so hard the sound cut through the music like a gunshot.
The entire bar froze.
Music still played.
But everyone heard it.
The man's head snapped sideways in pure shock.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
And there stood Devyani
cheeks flushed red
eyes blazing
hair slightly messy
breathing hard like an angry storm wrapped in silk
pointing at him like divine judgment itself.
Her voice rang through the room.
Slurred.
But lethal.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Even the bartender stopped wiping glasses.
Aditya stood three feet away, witnessing the funeral of his peace.
Internally.
Spiritually.
Legally.
He whispered to himself,
But honestly...
The man staggered back, stunned.
His hand flew to his cheek, fingers pressing against the angry red mark blooming there.
For one second, pure shock.
Then
his face twisted.
Ugly.
Humiliation turning into rage.
His chair scraped harshly against the floor as he stood up, towering with wounded ego and cheap masculinity.
Straight at her.
And that
was his final mistake.
Because before he could even move
Aditya was there.
Fast.
Sharp.
Violent.
Like instinct had taken over before thought could.
His foot slammed hard into the man's knee with brutal precision.
A sick sound followed.
A sharp crack of pain.
The man let out a howl so loud it cut through the music, his body collapsing instantly, crumpling to the floor like someone had cut his strings.
He hit the ground in a pathetic heap, clutching his leg, face twisted in agony.
The entire bar went silent.
Not quiet.
Silent.
Because now...
everyone was watching Aditya.
And Aditya looked dangerous.
Gone was the playful big brother.
Gone was the man cracking jokes five minutes ago.
This was something else.
Tall.
Still.
Cold.
His jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful.
His shoulders squared.
His entire body radiated the kind of warning people understood without words.
Predatory.
Controlled violence.
The kind that didn't need shouting.
But he did anyway.
He stepped forward, towering over the man on the floor, eyes dark enough to make the air feel heavier.
His voice was low.
Deadly calm.
Which somehow made it worse.
No drama.
No exaggeration.
Just a promise.
The man froze.
Because he believed him.
Everyone did.
The whispers started immediately.
Soft.
Excited.
Shocked.
Her friend sighed dreamily.
Across the room, even the bartender looked impressed.
Meanwhile
Devyani stood there, slightly swaying, watching all of this with wide drunk eyes.
Then she blinked.
Looked at Aditya.
Looked at the man on the floor.
Then pointed proudly like a proud mother at a school function.
"That..."
she announced loudly,
Aditya closed his eyes for one second.
Because somehow...
that made this worse.
And better.
At the same time.
Devyani stood there, chest rising and falling with righteous fury, eyes still blazing like she had personally been chosen to restore morality to society.
The man on the floor groaned, clutching his knee and wounded pride.
She looked down at him.
Still not satisfied.
Not even a little.
With the dramatic intensity of a mythological heroine preparing for war, she bent down
and kicked off one sandal.
Aditya saw it happen in slow motion.
His soul whispered no.
Too late.
THUD.
The sandal flew through the air like a guided missile and smacked directly into the man's shoulder.
The entire bar collectively gasped.
Devyani pointed at him like an angry queen delivering judgment.
And before anyone could recover
she yanked off the second sandal too.
Aditya moved on pure survival instinct.
In one smooth motion, he caught it.
Then bent, grabbed the first one too.
Now standing there
holding both her sandals in one hand like sacred temple offerings.
Silence.
A girl nearby whispered emotionally,
Another nodded.
Aditya ignored civilization.
His focus remained on disaster management.
He stepped closer to Devyani, lowering his voice urgently.
His hand gently caught her arm, not forcing, just pleading.
His eyes were practically begging.
Aditya had zero interest in becoming tonight's entertainment.
But Devyani?
She gasped like he had suggested betrayal.
She pulled her arm back dramatically.
She stomped one bare foot on the floor like an angry child protesting bedtime.
The pout.
The swollen eyes.
The drunken determination.
Absolutely terrifying.
Aditya looked like a man standing before divine punishment.
he whispered harshly,
His voice cracked with genuine trauma.
She folded her arms.
Still barefoot.
Still furious.
She leaned closer, whispering like a criminal mastermind.
Aditya stared at her.
Honestly...
fair.
But also horrifying.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"More precious than mine?"
That almost made her laugh.
Almost.
Then she turned toward the dance floor where loud music pulsed and people were moving under flashing lights.
Her eyes sparkled with dangerous new ideas.
Aditya saw it.
And immediately panicked.
"No."
She smiled.
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"Absolutely not."
She pointed dramatically toward the dance floor.
"I am going there."
Aditya looked toward heaven again.
No response.
God had abandoned him hours ago.
Devyani stopped walking.
Abruptly.
Like someone had pulled an invisible brake.
She turned slowly toward Aditya, her expression shifting with dangerous dramatic precision.
Her lower lip trembled.
Her swollen, puffy eyes filled again with fresh tears, shining under the dim bar lights.
It happened so fast it gave Aditya emotional whiplash.
One second: angry drunk warrior.
Next second: heartbroken abandoned princess.
She crossed her arms over her chest, swaying slightly for dramatic effect, looking like betrayal itself had personally offended her.
Her voice came out small.
Soft.
Absolutely devastating.
"You love bhaiyya..."
A pause.
Then
Silence.
The universe stopped.
The music faded.
Time itself sat down to watch.
Aditya froze.
His brain left his body.
His soul packed its bags.
Because this
this was not a question.
This was an execution.
Wrong answer?
Death.
Correct answer?
Also death.
His mind immediately showed him two visions.
Option one Choose Rivan.
Immediate funeral arranged by drunk bhabhi.
Option two: Choose Devyani.
Delayed funeral arranged by elder brother.
Excellent.
Premium suffering.
He gulped.
Hard.
Sweat forming instantly.
His survival instincts screamed.
And with the courage of a man choosing his assassin
he answered.
Too fast.
Too loud.
Too honest.
Another dangerous pause.
Aditya prepared to meet his ancestors.
Then
Like sunrise after apocalypse
her face lit up.
Instantly.
A huge, bright, toothy grin spread across her face, so sudden and dramatic it nearly gave him spiritual collapse.
Her eyes sparkled through the leftover tears.
Pure victory.
Pure happiness.
Pure menace.
She clapped once.
Loudly.
Like she had just won custody of the universe.
Aditya stood there blinking.
Recovering.
Barely.
She leaned forward proudly.
She nodded with drunk wisdom.
Then, before he could breathe
she grabbed his free hand tightly.
The other hand still held her sandals like tragic trophies.
"Then today," she announced like a queen issuing royal orders, "you will listen to me."
His heart dropped.
"No..."
"Yes."
"Please no."
"Come!"
And with shocking strength for someone who had cried for two hours and consumed chaos in liquid form
she started dragging him.
Toward the dance floor.
Toward destruction.
Toward tomorrow's regret.
Aditya stumbled behind her like a kidnapped hostage.
"Bhabhi please..."
She ignored him.
"I don't dance!"
Still ignored.
"Bhaiya will kill me before sunrise!"
Nothing.
She just pulled harder.
And somewhere, far away
Rivan probably sneezed.
Because trouble had officially reached its final form.
Aditya let out a long, defeated breath.
The kind of breath a man takes when he knows destiny has personally chosen him for suffering.
I'm doomed.
Absolutely doomed.
But still...
he followed.
Because what else could he do?
One hand clutched her abandoned sandals like priceless family heirlooms.
The other held the trailing edge of her pallu carefully, making sure she didn't trip over it and create an even bigger national crisis.
Together, they moved through the crowd.
Or rather
she marched.
And he followed like unpaid security.
Her bare feet padded softly against the sticky floor, each step slightly unsteady but determined, while heads turned shamelessly in their direction.
Some people stared.
Some whispered.
Some openly smiled.
A guy near the entrance muttered to his friend,
His friend replied,
For one second, she just stood there.
Silent.
Looking up at the sky.
Then suddenly
she spun dramatically toward the car.
Her eyes narrowed.
Locked.
Target acquired.
Aditya followed her gaze.
Then froze.
His keys.
Jangling from his pocket.
No.
Absolutely not.
She pointed like a commander assigning war duty.
Aditya's eyes bulged so hard they nearly filed for independence.
His hands shot up instantly in surrender.
He corrected himself mid-panic, words tripping over pure survival instinct.
He clutched his chest dramatically.
She blinked at him.
Then tilted her head.
Thinking.
Very seriously.
One finger came up, tapping thoughtfully against her chin like she was considering a major business merger.
"Ummm..."
Aditya stood there, sweating.
Waiting for judgment.
Then
she nodded.
Slowly.
"Okay."
His soul returned to his body.
"I don't want you to die."
And before he could emotionally recover
she reached up and patted his cheek gently.
Consolingly.
Like he was the fragile one.
"There, there."
Aditya stood there in silence.
Processing.
He had just been emotionally comforted by a drunk barefoot woman holding family honor hostage.
And somehow...
it felt worse.
He opened the car door for her like a defeated gentleman.
"Thank you for sparing my life."
She nodded regally and got inside like a queen entering her royal carriage.
They somehow made it to the car.
Somehow.
Aditya still wasn't sure whether this counted as success or just delayed tragedy.
The moment she sat inside, he quickly leaned over and buckled her seatbelt himself, careful and patient, like handling an emotionally unstable royal princess who might declare war at any second.
Which, frankly, she might.
He shut her door, rushed to the driver's seat, slid in, and started the engine with the silent prayer of a man begging the universe for mercy.
Maybe if he drove fast enough, they could reach the haveli before disaster expanded into international news.
He cleared his throat carefully.
Devyani nodded lazily, still slightly swaying in her seat, cheek pressed against the window.
Aditya took his chance.
Hope.
Pure, desperate hope.
Maybe tonight could still be saved.
Maybe God had not fully abandoned him.
But the second the words left his mouth
her entire face changed.
Instantly.
Like someone had lit a match inside her.
Her brows furrowed.
Eyes narrowed.
Lips dropped into the biggest offended pout known to mankind.
And before Aditya could react
she opened the car door.
Stepped out.
And dramatically sat down.
Right there.
In the middle of the parking lot road.
Thud.
Cross-legged.
Barefoot.
Like a protesting saint.
Arms folded tightly across her chest.
Her feet kicked little pieces of gravel like punctuation marks of betrayal.
Aditya stared.
For a full five seconds.
His soul quietly left his body again.
"Bhabhi..."
No response.
Only a majestic angry pout.
He got out slowly, like approaching a wild animal that might either cry or bite.
She looked up at him with the heartbreak of a tragic heroine in a hundred-episode serial.
His knees almost gave out.
No.
Not emotional blackmail.
Anything but emotional blackmail.
He crouched in front of her immediately.
"What? No! I love you very much! Please stand up before someone records this and ruins my life."
She pointed an accusing finger at him.
She gasped dramatically.
She pointed vaguely toward the direction of the haveli like she was identifying the villain's castle.
her voice cracked, tears instantly filling her swollen eyes again
Aditya's expression softened.
Her lower lip trembled.
And then the tears came.
Fast.
Hot.
Dramatic.
Her voice rose into a full emotional wail that echoed through the parking lot like a public announcement of heartbreak.
A couple walking nearby slowed down.
A security guard turned.
Someone definitely started recording.
Aditya looked at the sky.
Why me, Bhagwan.
Why always me.
He crouched lower, trying to gather the scattered remains of this situation.
She gasped again.
"He is!"
She blinked through tears.
Aditya froze.
Wrong sentence.
Very wrong sentence.
He rubbed his face.
She sniffled loudly.
And that
that broke him a little.
Because beneath the drunken drama, beneath the childish stubbornness, there it was.
Real hurt.
Real fear.
A woman who loved too purely trying to understand why love sometimes came wearing anger.
Aditya sighed softly.
Sat down on the road beside her.
In expensive clothes.
In the middle of a parking lot.
Because dignity had left hours ago.
And quietly, like an older brother holding together a broken evening, he said,
His voice came out rushed, panicked, full survival mode activated.
Devyani sat there on the road like a betrayed queen of a fallen empire.
Arms folded.
Lower lip pushed out.
Bare feet dusty.
Eyes swollen from crying.
Still somehow terrifying.
She slowly lifted her gaze through wet lashes, suspicious and dramatic.
"Really?"
That one word held the weight of trust, betrayal, and at least three emotional TV serials.
Aditya nodded immediately.
He raised three fingers like he was swearing loyalty to the nation itself.
His heart pounded.
Because one wrong answer and she might start another public protest.
She studied him for a long moment.
Like a judge deciding a death sentence.
Then
the suspicion melted.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
And in its place came something worse.
A sly smile.
Oh no.
Aditya knew that smile.
That smile meant trouble.
Big trouble.
The kind of trouble that ends with someone calling Rivan.
She leaned forward slightly.
Aditya blinked.
Excuse me?
He was not the decision-maker here.
He was merely the driver of this emotional disaster.
Still, he played along.
"Where does Her Highness wish to go?"
And suddenly
like someone had switched on the sun
her whole face lit up.
Eyes sparkling.
Hands clapping.
Pure excitement exploding from her like fireworks.
She nearly shouted it.
She bounced right there on the road, all previous heartbreak temporarily forgotten.
Aditya stared at her.
And despite everything
the crying, the drama, the bar incident, the public road protest
he smiled.
Because this...
this was her.
So heartbreakingly simple.
So beautifully alive.
A girl who could cry like the world was ending and five minutes later dream of speeding under city lights with loud music and the wind in her hair.
Her joy was infectious.
Impossible to resist.
It cracked right through his worry.
He stood, offering her his hand with exaggerated royal respect.
"Come then."
She placed her hand dramatically in his like they were about to begin some grand adventure.
And maybe they were.
He helped her up carefully, brushing dust from her saree while she stood proudly like a victorious revolutionary.
Then together judgmental gaze of strangers, they climbed back into the car.
This time
not toward the haveli.
Not toward Rivan.
But toward the open road.
Toward music.
Toward wind.
Toward temporary freedom.
And somewhere deep inside, Aditya knew
today was going to be unforgettable.
Possibly fatal.
But unforgettable.
She pointed dramatically toward the car like issuing military instructions.
"Play my favorite song!"
"Which one?"
"The one with dancing aunties!"
Silence.
Aditya blinked.
Then realization hit.
"Bhabhi..."
He slid into the driver's seat, already laughing.
"That's not dancing aunties."
He started the engine.
"That's item songs."
She pointed at him triumphantly.
"Yes!"
Exactly!
She began swaying in her seat before the music had even started, the alcohol turning her into pure moving chaos.
"And later..."
she narrowed her eyes seriously
"you dance with me."
Aditya nearly choked.
"Later? You're dancing now!"
He turned the volume up.
The car exploded with loud beats.
Bass shaking the windows.
The exact kind of music respectable families pretended not to know.
And Devyani
she was already gone.
Head swaying.
Hands in the air.
Tiny shoulder dance activated.
Pure drunk happiness.
Aditya shook his head with a grin.
Then pressed the accelerator.
Wind rushed through the windows.
Laughter filled the spaces heartbreak had occupied.
And for a little while
just a little while
they weren't running from pain.
They were outrunning it.
.
.
.
The automatic glass doors of the hospital slid open with a hollow hiss as RIVAN stepped inside, the sharp scent of antiseptic and silence wrapping around him like a second skin.
The fluorescent lights above were too bright.
Too cold.
Everything about hospitals felt like suspended time lik life itself stood at the edge of something uncertain.
His footsteps echoed against the polished floor as he walked toward the ICU wing, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
No panic.
No visible emotion.
Just that same controlled storm he always carried inside him.
At the nurse's station, he stopped, voice low and clipped.
"What's the condition?"
The doctor standing nearby looked up from the file in his hands, his expression heavy with the kind of sympathy people reserve for endings.
He exhaled.
Silence.
RIVAN simply nodded once.
A small movement.
"Hm."
Nothing else.
No dramatic reaction.
No visible crack.
But something shifted behind his eyes.
Something old.
Something buried.
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the private room at the end of the corridor.
Room 307.
The door stood slightly open.
And inside
lay the man he had spent half his life trying not to think about.
Rishi.
His biological father.
Machines hummed softly around him.
Monitors beeped in slow, tired rhythm.
The once powerful man now looked reduced to bones and regret, his skin pale, body fragile beneath white hospital sheets.
Death sat quietly beside him.
Waiting.
RIVAN stood at the doorway for a moment.
Still.
Unreadable.
Like a son.
Like a stranger.
As if sensing him, Rishi slowly opened his eyes.
Weak.
Heavy.
And when he saw him
he smiled.
A broken, exhausted smile.
Barely breathing, voice scraping out like something torn from his chest, he whispered,
His lips trembled faintly.
RIVAN stepped inside slowly, hands sliding into his pockets, his face giving away nothing.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
A pause.
His eyes met his father's.
Something flickered in Rishi's expression.
Not pain.
Not offense.
Something sadder.
He gave a weak, breathless smile.
His eyes watered faintly as he looked at him.
RIVAN said nothing.
He just stood there.
Silent.
Rigid.
Because what could he say to that?
What words existed for a father who was never truly a father?
For a man who watched from shadows and called it love?
Rishi swallowed painfully, gathering what little strength remained.
His voice trembled.
"I fell in love... with Vasundhara..."
At her name, something in the room changed.
Heavy.
Sacred.
Broken.
"She was in love... with Virendra..."
A bitter smile touched his lips.
"I tried... my best..."
His breathing hitched.
"One day... we ended up drinking..."
He closed his eyes briefly, shame pressing into every word.
"And... we had a one-night stand..."
Silence filled the spaces between breaths.
"She got pregnant... with you..."
RIVAN's jaw tightened.
Still silent.
Still standing there like stone.
"I... didn't know..."
Rishi whispered.
"When I found out... you were my son..."
His eyes opened again, glistening now.
"I started watching you... from far away..."
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye into the pillow.
"I felt jealous..."
His voice cracked.
"So jealous..."
"The child I wanted..."
"The woman I loved..."
His fingers trembled weakly against the bedsheet.
"I asked her... for you..."
"Because my love for her... never faded..."
His chest rose shakily.
"I didn't want another life..."
"I thought... if I couldn't have her..."
"...maybe I could at least live near you..."
His eyes shut again.
Pain.
Regret.
Punishment.
"One day..."
His voice became smaller.
More fragile.
"I got angry..."
"At her..."
"And I..."
His breathing stuttered.
His hand twitched.
"I shot her..."
The words hung there like blood in the air.
RIVAN's entire body went still.
Completely still.
Rishi cried silently now.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quiet tears of a dying man drowning in the weight of what he had done.
Because guilt had no simple language.
Because monsters were rarely born they were made.
And in that hospital room, under white lights and the sound of dying machines
a father confessed.
And a son stood there...
trying to decide whether forgiveness was even humanly possible.
Rishi let out a weak, broken laugh, the kind that sounded more like pain than amusement. It scraped through the silence of the hospital room, thin and bitter, as if even his lungs were tired of carrying regret.
He turned his head slightly on the pillow, eyes glassy but still holding that sharpness of a man who had lived too long with ugly truths.
"Do you really think..." he whispered, each word dragging through shallow breaths, "Virendra found me... and caged me for years... just like that?"
RIVAN's expression didn't change, but something in his gaze sharpened.
Rishi smiled faintly.
Sad.
Knowing.
The room felt colder.
The machines kept beeping.
Steady.
Cruel.
RIVAN stood still, shoulders rigid, his silence now heavier than before.
Because he already knew.
Somewhere deep down, he had always known.
Nothing about Virendra Thakur was random.
Nothing.
Rishi's eyes drifted toward the ceiling, as if the past itself was written there.
Rishi's breathing had grown weaker now, each inhale sounding like a battle his body was slowly losing.
His fingers trembled against the white hospital sheet, veins visible beneath paper-thin skin, his eyes never leaving RIVAN's face as if trying to memorize him one last time.
His voice came softer now.
More fragile.
Like a confession stripped of all pride.
"It was me..."
he whispered.
A long pause.
"I was the one... who got caught by him."
RIVAN's brows pulled together slightly.
Rishi gave a faint smile.
Broken.
Almost ashamed.
"So that... I could see you..."
His throat tightened.
"At least once... in a year..."
Silence settled heavy between them.
The kind that hurt.
"I made sure..."
he struggled for breath
"...that he handed me to you."
His eyes glistened.
"So I could see you... daily."
RIVAN's face remained unreadable.
Stone.
Still.
But inside, memories were rising like ghosts.
Every strange encounter.
Every forced proximity.
Every unexplained tension.
Every time fate had seemed too deliberate.
Not fate.
A plan.
A desperate father's plan.
Rishi closed his eyes for a moment.
RIVAN stood there in silence.
No anger.
No sympathy.
Just the unbearable weight of understanding.
Rishi exhaled shakily.
"Now..."
his voice cracked
"...it ends."
His eyes opened again.
Tired.
Peaceful in a terrifying way.
"Finally..."
a weak smile touched his lips
"...I am leaving."
Death stood closer now.
No longer waiting politely.
And still
his greatest fear was not dying.
It was being hated.
His eyes filled.
"I just..."
his voice broke completely
"...I just don't want you to hate me."
A father's final request.
Not forgiveness.
Not love.
Just
don't hate me.
Please.
RIVAN didn't move.
Didn't cry.
Didn't break.
He simply stood there, carrying emotions too heavy for expression.
Rishi looked at him like a man standing at the edge of his own ending.
And then, with what little strength remained, he whispered,
"And... don't hate Virendra."
At that name, something shifted again.
Because even here
even now
Virendra's shadow remained.
Rishi smiled faintly.
His voice was barely air now.
A pause.
His eyes softened with quiet respect.
A father.
A mother.
A home.
A life.
He swallowed painfully.
His gaze held RIVAN's.
Not by blood.
But by truth.
By love.
By sacrifice.
By staying.
RIVAN's throat tightened for the first time.
Because some truths came too late.
And still changed everything.
Rishi's breathing stuttered.
His chest rising slower now.
Weaker.
"Vasundhara..."
His lips trembled around her name.
"...is gone."
A tear slid into his hairline.
"And now..."
a final breath
"...I am going too..."
His voice was almost gone.
Just a whisper left behind.
"So forget."
"Live peacefully..."
And there it was.
Not redemption.
Not absolution.
Just the final wish of a dying man
that the son born from ruin
would somehow still choose peace.
RIVAN stood there beside the hospital bed, under cold white lights, beside the man who gave him blood
and thought of the man who gave him life.
Virendra.
Yashodha.
Home.
Love.
Belonging.
And for the first time
he understood
that fatherhood was never about blood.
It was about who stayed.
And Rishi
for all his love
had always remained a shadow.
While Virendra had stood in the light.
And maybe...
that was enough.
Rishi's chest rose once.
Then again.
Slower this time.
Painfully slower.
The machines beside him continued their soft, merciless rhythm, each beep sounding louder now, like the room itself knew the end was near.
His fingers twitched weakly against the bedsheet, searching for strength that no longer existed.
His eyes stayed on RIVAN.
Only on him.
As if nothing else in this world mattered anymore.
Not regret.
Not guilt.
Not death standing at the edge of the bed.
Just him.
His son.
His voice came out barely above a whisper, fragile enough to break in the air.
A pause.
A long, trembling pause.
His lips quivered.
His throat worked painfully.
And then, with the last pieces of himself, he said,
"I wish..."
his breath hitched
Tears slipped from the corners of his tired eyes.
His chest trembled.
A father's longing.
A lifetime of it.
The word shattered something invisible in the room.
Silence swallowed everything.
Rishi's voice cracked into almost nothing.
His eyes searched RIVAN's face desperately.
Not for forgiveness.
Not for acceptance.
Just one impossible mercy.
His lips trembled into the faintest smile.
his eyes glistened
The words hit harder than any scream.
Because they were not dramatic.
They were honest.
Raw.
A dying man asking for the smallest piece of love.
And RIVAN
stood there.
Frozen.
His throat locked.
His chest tight.
His entire life rushing through him like a storm.
The man on the bed was a sinner.
A destroyer.
A stranger.
A father.
All at once.
His lips parted.
But no sound came.
Because some words arrive too late.
And some wounds are too deep for language.
Rishi kept looking at him.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Until even hope became too heavy.
His breathing faltered.
Once.
Twice.
Then
the monitor screamed.
A long, flat sound.
Sharp.
Final.
Unforgiving.
The line stretched across the screen.
Straight.
Still.
Endless.
Rishi's chest no longer moved.
His hand slipped lifelessly against the bed.
His eyes remained half-open, as if still waiting for an answer that would never come.
RIVAN stood there.
Still.
His own breathing stopped for a second.
As if his body had forgotten how.
The doctor rushed in, nurses behind him, quick movements, practiced urgency
but everyone in that room already knew.
The doctor checked.
Listened.
Watched.
Then slowly looked up.
His voice was quiet.
Respectful.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
He just stood there beside the body of the man who had spent his life loving wrongly
and dying still wanting one word.
Dad.
A word RIVAN had never given.
And now
never could.
The silence in the room became unbearable.
Because grief was not always loud.
Sometimes it was this.
Standing beside a hospital bed.
With unfinished words lodged in your throat.
And the terrible understanding
that some regrets
live longer than people do.
For a long moment, RIVAN did not move.
The room stood frozen around him.
The flatline still echoed in the walls, in his ears, in his chest.
The doctor and nurses had stepped back, giving silence the space it deserved, but none of it reached him.
Because all he could see
was that still face.
That lifeless hand.
Those half-open eyes that had waited...
and waited...
for one word.
His fingers trembled slightly at his sides.
Barely noticeable.
But for RIVAN, it felt like the earth shifting.
His throat tightened so violently it hurt to breathe.
The air in the room felt too heavy.
Too thick.
Like grief itself had taken form.
Slowly
very slowly
he stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
Until he stood right beside the bed.
Close enough to see the lines time had carved into Rishi's face.
Close enough to see how death had softened him.
No anger now.
No guilt.
No explanations.
Just silence.
Just the end.
RIVAN bent down.
Carefully.
Like even now, he was afraid of breaking something.
His hand moved toward him, hesitated for the briefest second, then gently reached up and closed Rishi's eyes.
A final act of peace.
A final mercy.
His fingers lingered there for a moment.
Warm skin turning cold.
A father he never had.
A father he could never fully claim.
His chest ached with something nameless.
Not forgiveness.
Not love.
Not hatred.
Something far more dangerous.
Something human.
His lips parted.
His voice came out cracked.
Barely a whisper.
Barely enough for the dead to hear.
The word broke inside him.
Dad.
Late.
So unbearably late.
But real.
And for the first time in his life
he said it.
Not to blood.
Not to guilt.
But to the broken man lying before him.
A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
Quiet.
Unwanted.
Honest.
It traced slowly down his face before disappearing into silence.
RIVAN shut his own eyes then.
Not to stop the grief.
But to survive it.
Because some goodbyes did not end when someone died.
Some goodbyes stayed.
Lived inside you.
Echoed forever.
And in that cold hospital room, beside a father he had found too late
RIVAN mourned.
Not just the man.
But the years.
The chances.
The word that should have come sooner.
And the son he might have been
if life had been kinder.