47
As we reached home, Datta didn't say a word. He walked in silently, his expression unreadable, his eyes hollow. My heart ached seeing him like that. Without looking at anyone, he went straight to our room and locked the door.
I sighed deeply, holding back the tightness in my chest. I turned and looked at the rest of our family-Bhairava bhaiya, Dyan bhaiya, Utsav, Papa, and Arya bhabhi-all standing there quietly, their expressions mirroring my concern.
Gyan bhaiya gently took Adya with him, saying, "I'll keep her with me in the penthouse for now. She needs peace."
I nodded silently.
Papa stepped forward and hugged me tightly, rubbing my back. "You're holding this family together, Katha. I don't say it often, but I'm proud of you, beti."
I smiled faintly, leaning into his embrace. "I'm just doing what mama would've done."
Then Dyan bhaiya came and wrapped his arms around me in his usual crushing hug. "If you need me to kick that Agnivanshi door down, just say the word," he muttered. "He shouldn't be locking you out."
I chuckled softly, patting his back. "No need, bhaiya. He just needs time."
Arya bhabhi hugged me next, warm and gentle. "He's just overwhelmed, Katha. You're his anchor... he'll come to you."
"I know," I whispered. "I just hate seeing him like that."
Utsav hugged me last but hugged me tight like a little child, his voice muffled. "Please take care of bhaiya, Di... he looked like he couldn't even breathe back there."
I nodded, brushing his hair. "I will, my ladla. Always."
Finally, Bhairava bhaiya stepped forward and held both my shoulders. "You're strong, Katha. And he's lucky to have you. Let him fall apart... you just be there when he's ready to rebuild."
Tears welled up in my eyes but I held them back and nodded. "Thank you, bhaiya."
They all left one by one, each giving me a final glance of reassurance and quiet strength.
The moment the door closed behind them, I heard soft padding across the floor. My baby. Sheraa trotted toward me, his tail swishing, ears perked up. He let out a little huff and nudged my leg.
I bent down and scooped him into my arms, hugging his soft warm body. "Let's go, meri jaan. Papa needs us."
With Sheraa nestled close, I walked to our bedroom door and gently knocked, ready to stand beside the man I loved, no matter how broken he felt.
"Datta," I whispered again, my voice barely audible as I knocked gently.
The door creaked open slowly on its own... and what I saw made my heart drop.
The room was wrecked.
Lamps smashed, curtains torn, the mirror shattered into sharp glints across the floor. His sketchbooks ripped apart. Paint smeared over the wall like a storm had passed through. And there-standing in the middle of it all-was Dattatriya.
His hand was bleeding, his knuckles raw and dripping crimson onto the floor.
He didn't even look at me. His shoulders were tense, jaw clenched so hard it trembled. He stood like a statue, like if he moved, he'd collapse under the weight of it all.
My eyes widened, but I didn't say anything yet. I gently lowered Sheraa onto the bed, on the only clear spot, making sure there were no shards around him.
Then I carefully stepped through the chaos toward him.
"Datta," I whispered again. "Please... look at me."
Nothing.
I moved closer, slowly, afraid one wrong word would make him spiral again. I reached for his hand-his bleeding one-and he flinched. But he didn't pull away.
"You hurt yourself," I said softly, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. "Why do you do this to yourself, Datta... why?"
Still nothing.
So I pulled him gently. He let me. Like he had no strength left in him. And I made him sit down on the edge of the bed, then kneeled in front of him. I brought his hand to my lap and started wiping the blood with my dupatta, not caring that it stained.
"You never let anyone see you like this," I whispered. "But I see you. I always see you, Datta."
And that's when I felt it.
A tiny, broken breath.
Then another.
And finally-he shattered.
He broke.
He let out a choked sob, and before I could even move, he buried his face in my neck and clutched my waist tightly, like if he let go, the world would fall apart again.
"I hated her, sunshine..." he cried, voice hoarse, desperate. "I hated the only person who stayed behind... for us. I failed mama. I failed Pooja. I failed Adya..."
"No, no..." I whispered, my hands immediately running through his hair, stroking his back. "You didn't fail anyone."
"I did," he whispered against my lap, tears soaking through the fabric. "All those years... I saw her love and I spat on it. I treated her like an outsider. I-I was so cruel..."
I said nothing.
Because he didn't need words now.
He needed arms to hold him while he cried.
And I gave him that.
He sobbed, all that pain, all that grief he had locked away for years-he poured it into me. The great Dattatriya Agnivanshi, broken and bleeding... not from his fists, but from his guilt.
I just held him. Gently rocking him, whispering sweet nothings.
"You're not a monster, Datta. You're just human."
"I don't deserve you," he whispered.
"You have me," I said firmly. "Forever. And now... we'll face it all together."
His arms tightened around my waist, his breathing heavy, broken. But slowly, gradually... I felt him begin to calm.
And in that moment, I didn't see the mafia king.
I didn't see the ruthless ruler.
I saw the little boy who just wanted his mother back.
As Dattatriya lay in my lap, finally beginning to calm, a soft little whimper echoed in the room.
Sheraa.
The snow leopard cub had gotten off the bed, carefully stepping around the broken glass.
He came toward us with his little ears pulled back, his eyes filled with concern.
He nudged Datta's hand softly with his head, then licked his bruised, bloodied knuckles with so much tenderness, it brought another tear to my eye.
Datta sniffled and looked at him. "Even you feel bad for your dada, huh?" he murmured, managing a small, broken smile.
Sheraa let out a soft huff, then stood on his hind legs, putting his front paws gently on Datta's lap, and licked his cheek.
"Okay, okay," Datta chuckled hoarsely. "You'll lick all my pain away, huh? You little tiger..."
I laughed through my tears, wiping his face gently. "He's just like you. Doesn't talk much, but loves fiercely."
Datta looked at me with those red, tired eyes, then leaned into my palm, his voice soft. "And just like you... he knows exactly when I need him."
Sheraa nuzzled his head against Datta once more before giving me a quick, approving lick too-like he was making sure his sunshine was alright-then trotted away out of the room, his little tail flicking as if saying, "You two talk. I'll stand guard."
We both laughed at that.
As the room fell into a soft silence again, I looked into Datta's eyes and saw the shadows still lingering there. But something else too.
A flicker of light.
Of healing.
I cupped his face gently, and without a word... I leaned in and kissed him.
Not with passion.
But with love.
Deep. Steady. Anchoring.
He kissed me back with the same emotion, his hands holding my face like I was the only real thing left in his world.
"I love you," I whispered against his lips.
His forehead rested against mine. "And I don't know what I'd become without you, sunshine."
We sat there-just the two of us-surrounded by the mess of pain and healing... but finally, together.
I had spent the last hour cleaning every piece of broken glass in our room.
Every shattered frame, every torn piece of memory.
I knew it wasn't just the room that was broken - it was Datta's heart, shattered by years of anger, grief, and guilt.
But I would pick up every shard if it meant helping him piece himself back together.
Once I finished, I walked downstairs and paused at the last step.
There he was.
Sitting on the sofa, quietly stroking Sheraa, who was curled right beside him like a loyal shadow. Sheraa hadn't moved an inch away from him since Datta had come out of the room. The way that little cub stayed protectively close, like he understood everything... it warmed something deep inside me.
I walked towards them silently and sat down. Without saying a word, Datta pulled me onto his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly.
"Adya is with Gyan bhaiya, don't worry," I whispered gently against his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. He nodded, his fingers running through my hair.
After a few minutes of silence, I lifted my head slightly. "Datta..."
He hummed in response, eyes still half-lost in thought.
"I think it's time you talk to them," I said quietly.
His brows furrowed. "To who?"
"Your father," I said softly, brushing his fingers with mine, "and your stepmother. Pooja. And... Garud, Athira too."
He tensed a little, his jaw tightening.
I placed my hand gently over his heart. "You said you want to be free of this pain, right?
Then talk to her. To all of them. Hear the truth from them.
Your mother... she made her choices out of love.
And Pooja... she fulfilled a promise that cost her everything. I think... she deserves to be heard."
He didn't answer immediately. Just sat there, staring ahead. Sheraa looked up at him too, like even he was waiting for the answer.
Finally, he exhaled a long breath. "It won't be easy."
"I know," I whispered. "But I'll be with you."
His arms tightened around me, and he kissed the top of my head. "Alright, sunshine. I'll talk to them."
A small smile tugged at my lips. I nuzzled into his chest and closed my eyes, feeling his heartbeat calm beneath me.
And Sheraa? He laid his head across both our legs like the little guardian he was.
In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of love, I knew - maybe, just maybe - healing had finally begun.
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