CHAPTER 64! HIS FAMILY
"But I will spend the rest of my life giving you reasons to."
Aadhira looked away instantly, snapping her hand back as if the admission had stripped off her last layer of defense.
Because the truth-the quiet, terrifying truth-was that she had forgiven him a long time ago.
Not consciously. And certainly not all at once. But somewhere across those eight lost years, long before the truth about her fashion tuition came to light or the real reason he had kept her from Ayaan, the hatred she wore as armor had simply rusted away.
She had forgiven him in the micro-moments: the unshowy, steady way he fathered Ayaan; the quiet vigilance with which he noticed her exhausted eyes or skipped meals; the improbable softness of his touch, reserved only for her, even when he was furious at the rest of the world.
She had forgiven the man before she understood him.
And now, sitting in the quiet wreckage of his honesty, she was left holding an armor she no longer needed, with no idea where to lay it down.
Silence settled over the room, thick and velvet-heavy. Aryav remained on his knees beside her.
His chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate measures, his eyes anchored to her face.
He didn't offer quick excuses, nor did he reach out to claim her space. He simply anchored himself there, letting her breathe.
Aadhira closed her eyes, pulling in a ragged, chest-expanding breath. When her lashes lifted, she offered him a single, barely perceptible nod.
Only then did Aryav rise. The movement was slow, deliberate, as he smoothed the front of his shirt and stepped back to give her room.
Before the silence could stretch into something heavier, a soft, small voice floated in from the hallway.
"Mamma?"
Aadhira froze.
Then came the familiar, rhythmic pat-pat-pat of bare feet against the hardwood.
Aadhira hurriedly swept the backs of her wrists over her eyelashes and cleared the tightness from her throat.
A light, hesitant knock hit the lower panel of the door.
"Mamma?"
Aadhira let out a long breath, every sharp edge in her expression dissolving instantly. "Yes, love."
She pulled the door open.
Ayaan stood in the hallway in his superhero pajamas, dark hair tufted up on one side, his tiny hands laced tightly across his chest.
His bottom lip was thrust out in a full, dramatic pout.
Hiding a smile, Aadhira dropped to her knees in front of him.
"What happened to my sunshine?"
Ayaan didn't answer. He held her gaze for two solemn seconds, then aggressively looked down at his own toes.
"Love? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he mumbled to the floorboards.
"Nothing?" She leaned in, tilting her head. "Then why is my big boy carrying such a sad face?"
Ayaan kept his lip pushed out, letting the drama brew just long enough before finally lifting his wide, serious eyes to hers. "In my class, everyone goes to the amusement park with their parents."
"Oh," Aadhira murmured, the picture coming clear.
"I also want to go."
Looking at the raw hope painted across his face, Aadhira felt her chest warm.
"Is that all? Okay. We will go."
Ayaan's eyes snapped wide, instantly bright. "Really, Mamma?"
Aadhira laughed, the sound light and easy. "Yes, really."
She opened her arms, and Ayaan launched himself forward, burying his face in her neck.
As she lifted him onto her hip, Aryav stepped up beside them. Before she could balance the weight, his arms were already underneath the boy, seamlessly taking Ayaan into his own chest.
He always did that. Aadhira used to think he was just eager to hold his son.
Now she recognized the truth: he still viewed her as fragile, still believed Ayaan was too heavy for her to carry alone.
He just silently took the weight.
Ayaan settled comfortably against Aryav's chest, looking down at his father. "Papa, will you also come?"
Aryav looked at the small face so close to his own. "Do you want me to?"
"Yes. You, Mamma, and me."
Aryav went still for a beat, his gaze flickering briefly to Aadhira before returning to their son. "Okay," he said softly.
Ayaan grinned. Then, with a calculated, thoughtful pause, he added, "And ice cream?"
Aadhira's eyes narrowed playfully. "Ayaan."
"What?" he asked with complete innocence.
"We will go tomorrow after school," Aadhira said, fighting the smirk tugging at her mouth. "Not today."
Ayaan's face crumpled into instant tragedy. "Mamma..."
"You have a test tomorrow, remember? Which means today, we study."
Ayaan's shoulders dropped completely. He looked at her, realized her expression was set in stone, and slowly turned his head toward Aryav.
He leaned close, executing the most heartbreaking, pitiful look a seven-year-old could manage.
"Papa," Ayaan whispered loudly, "tell Mamma I will study at night."
Aryav looked at his son's pleading eyes. He opened his mouth to intervene, channelling his best indulgent-father routine-until he caught Aadhira's raised eyebrow.
One look. Absolute authority.
Aryav immediately cleared his throat, pivoting with tactical precision.
"Mamma is right."
Ayaan's jaw dropped in absolute, utter betrayal.
"You study today," Aryav continued smoothly, unbothered by the dramatic treason in his son's eyes. "Tomorrow, the second I get back from the office, we leave."
Ayaan weighed the terms in his mind for a moment, negotiating with himself. "Promise?"
"Promise."
That was enough. Ayaan let out a tiny, resigned sigh and nodded. "Okay."
Aadhira reached up, gently brushing down the messy tuft of hair on top of his head. "Good boy."
Ayaan immediately leaned into Aryav's ear, his voice dropping to an conspiratorial whisper.
"Papa... are you also scared of Mamma?"
Aryav leaned his head down, whispering back with deadly seriousness, "I'm not scared. But if we don't listen to her, she gets very dangerous."
Ayaan nodded solemnly.
"Yes. Mamma is very sulky sometimes."
Aadhira crossed her arms, fighting an absolute losing battle against her own grin.
"I can hear every single word you two are whispering."
Ayaan spun toward her, beaming with pure, shameless charm.
"We were just saying you are the most beautiful Mamma in the whole world!"
Aryav looked over the boy's head, his dark eyes sparkling with a quiet, dry humor that clearly said, See what you created?
Aadhira shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her. "Silly boy."
"Your silly boy, Mamma," Ayaan corrected proudly.
"Yes, my silly boy. Now come on, let's get you something to eat."
Aryav lowered Ayaan to his feet, and the boy instantly wrapped his small fingers tightly around Aadhira's index finger, tugging her toward the hallway.
They stepped out into the corridor, but as they crossed the threshold, Aadhira paused and glanced back over her shoulder.
Aryav was still standing by the bed, his posture tall, watching them with an intensity that made her chest ache in a completely new way.
Their eyes met across the warm silence of the room.
Aadhira didn't look away this time. She offered him a small, genuine smile-a quiet white flag-before turning back to follow their son downstairs.
.
.
.
The study was quiet, draped in the dim, golden light of a single desk lamp. Papers, international trade reports, and financial files were scattered across the heavy oak surface, but Aryav's focus remained sharp, his eyes moving methodically down the printed columns.
A quiet creak at the heavy mahogany door made him look up.
Ayaan stood in the doorway, clad in his favorite superhero pajamas. One side of his dark hair was tufted up from rubbing against his pillows, his small hands tucked behind his back.
Aryav glanced at the brass clock on his desk. It was long past the boy's bedtime.
"Didn't Mamma put you to sleep?"
Ayaan padded across the room, the soft pat-pat of his bare feet breaking the hush of the office.
He stopped right beside Aryav's leather chair, his dark eyes solemn. "I told her I would sleep after talking to you."
Aryav's brow twitched with mild curiosity. "Talking to me?"
"Yes." Ayaan reached up, tapping Aryav's knee, his meaning clear. "Papa, Pick me up."
Without a word, Aryav leaned down, sliding his hands under the boy's arms and lifting him seamlessly onto his lap.
Ayaan settled into the wide space, adjusting his pajamas before looking his father straight in the face. "I want to play a game with you."
"At this hour?" Aryav asked, his rough voice carrying a thread of dry humor.
"Yes, Papa. Please. Just for five minutes," Ayaan pleaded, holding up five small fingers to emphasize the point.
Aryav leaned back slightly, adjusting his grip so the boy was secure. "Fine. Five minutes."
Ayaan immediately dug into his pajama pocket and pulled out his treasure. It was a simple gold band-one of Aadhira's everyday rings-tied securely to the end of a long piece of red thread.
"Okay, Papa," Ayaan said, holding the dangling ring between two fingers. "I will move this, and you have to follow it with your eyes. No blinking, okay? No cheating."
Aryav watched the swaying metal with quiet amusement.
He recognized the setup instantly-the child was attempting to hypnotize him.
From Where the boy had picked up such a bizarre idea was a mystery, but Aryav nodded, keeping his dark eyes fixed on the swinging ring as instructed.
Ayaan swung the thread back and forth in a slow, rhythmic motion, his small face locked in absolute concentration.
After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and tried to deepen his voice.
"Aapko neend aa rahi hai..."
"Aapko neend aa rahi hai..."
"Aapko neend aa rahi hai... nahi, nahi, ruko abhi mat sona." Ayaan stopped himself, correcting his spell. "Ab aap meri sari baatein manoge." ( You will do whatever I say.)
Aryav softened his posture, letting his eyes go slightly heavy to play along. "I will do whatever you say," he replied, his tone flat and compliant.
Ayaan's eyes widened with triumph. "Are you hypnotized?"
"Yes," Aryav murmured.