Chapter 51 Written by Fate Pvt. Ltd.
Peace looks beautiful, until you realize it's just the pause button on chaos.
- emptyyourfeelings (Author)
Adhrita slowly opened her eyes. The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. Iva was sitting beside her, worry veiled behind her soft smile, while Adwait stood near the window, silent as ever. Outside the room, she could hear his voice - firm yet trembling - speaking to the doctor.
"Adhrita," Iva called gently.
Adhrita turned, smiled faintly, and tried to sit up.
"Please rest," Adwait said, his voice calm but carrying the authority of an elder brother. She leaned back against the headrest obediently.
The door creaked open, and Vritant entered - his composure gone. He strode to her side in two long steps.
"Are you okay?" he asked, eyes scanning her face, tone heavy with unspoken fear.
She nodded. "I'm fine-"
Before she could finish, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Vritant, I'm fine," she murmured, but his arms only tightened.
"You're suffocating her, Vritant," Iva said softly.
He loosened his grip, his breath uneven.
"Hritaa..." he whispered, brushing her hair back. His eyes were still trembling between disbelief and something deeper.
Then, in a broken whisper, he said,
"You're... mumma..."
Her eyes widened. For a moment, the words didn't sink in.
"What?" she managed, barely audible.
"I said-" his lips curved, almost unsure, "you're going to be a mumma..."
"WHAT?" Iva's voice pierced the silence, her eyes darting between them. Adhrita looked from Iva to Vritant - half in shock, half in awe.
He laughed softly, still unable to process it himself. "You're mumma... and I am-"
"-going to be papa," Adwait finished for him, walking closer with a smile.
Just then, Raha Agnivanshi burst into the room. "Wait-did I hear that right? I'm going to be a bua again?" she squealed before Kiaan quickly appeared, muttering,
"Not again, Raha," and dragged her out.
The room fell into warm laughter.
Adhrita's hand instinctively went to her stomach - the smallest, most fragile gesture of belief. Her eyes turned misty as she looked at him.
He knelt beside her, still holding her gaze like it was the only thing real in the world. She hugged him tightly, the words "we're having a baby" resting silently between their breaths.
Then Vritant abruptly stood, walked over to Adwait, and hugged him hard.
"Agnivanshi... I..."
Adwait smiled, patting his back. "You're going to be Papa, Vardhan."
And for a moment - amidst the laughter, disbelief, and sweetness - time slowed down.
Martin entered with a plate of sweets, shaking his head dramatically.
"Finally, some good news in your house that doesn't involve politics or blood pressure," he said, handing the sweets around. "Congratulations, Doctor and Mister Trouble."
Everyone laughed - except Vritant, who was still staring at Adhrita like she was something fragile the world had finally given back.
He sat beside her, touched her hand, and for the first time in months, his silence didn't weigh heavy.
He looked at the window - the same sea that had carried them home - and thought,
Maybe life didn't take everything. It just waited for the right heartbeat to return it.
Vritant shot him a look. "You can drown in those sweets."
Martin smirked. "After the news you just dropped? I'll happily drown in sugar rather than your emotions, Vardhan."
"Keep talking and I'll name the baby after your worst habit," Vritant replied.
"Ah, then 'Sarcasm Vardhan' has a nice ring to it," Martin grinned, biting into a laddoo.
Everyone laughed. The air felt lighter - like it had been holding its breath too long.
Adhrita leaned back, her hand brushing her stomach unconsciously. Vritant glanced at her, a flicker of disbelief and quiet awe crossing his usually guarded face.
"Am I missing something?" Iva asked, narrowing her eyes as she looked between her husband, Vritant, and Martin - like she'd just walked into the middle of a crime scene.
"Iva... I was about to explain-" Adwait began carefully.
"You knew Vritant all along?" she cut him off, disbelief rising in her tone.
"Iva," Vritant jumped in before Adwait could dig a deeper grave, "I was with Agnivanshi in London for years. And for the record, I met you because I already knew he was madly in love with you."
He said it all in one breath, then sighed in relief. "There, truth bomb dropped. Now I'm safe."
"WHAT?" Iva's eyes widened.
"Ika, listen-" Adwait tried, hands up defensively.
"I will not leave you, Vardhan ke bacche!" she shouted, grabbing the nearest pillow and launching it straight at him.
"In London," Vritant added hastily, ducking behind Adwait for cover, "a girl called him Dimpy because of his dimpled smile."
"ONE more secret," Iva said, exasperated, "and I swear I'll throw the entire pillow set!" She stormed out before anyone could reply.
The room went silent for a beat before Vritant burst out laughing. "Jaao, manao..." he teased.
Adwait gave him a flat look. "Woh toh favorite kheer se maan jaayegi. But what about yours?" he said, jerking his chin toward Adhrita - who was glaring at Vritant like he'd just sided with the enemy.
Adwait shook his head, laughing, and walked off to pacify Iva - leaving Martin and Vritant exchanging that rare, mutual grin of men who knew domestic war was far scarier than politics.
Martin, who had been watching the whole spectacle with his arms crossed and an amused grin, finally chimed in.
"Oh, I'm just saying," Martin said, picking up a sweet from the tray, "if the UN ever forms a 'Ministry of Mess,' both of you are strong contenders for cabinet positions."
He popped the sweet in his mouth, gave a mock salute, and turned to leave.
"Anyway, I'll go before one of your wives makes me the next diplomatic casualty."
As Martin disappeared down the hallway, Vritant chuckled under his breath, glancing at Adhrita.
"And they say I'm the manipulator," he muttered, smiling faintly. "I just attract the talented ones."
After Martin left, the room finally fell silent - the laughter still lingering faintly in the air.
Vritant walked over to the bed and knelt beside her, his hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
"We need to go for your reports," he whispered, his voice soft - cautious, almost reverent.
"First, let's go home," she said, her tone steady but her eyes glimmering with emotion.
He smiled and slipped his hand into hers, helping her to her feet.
And as they walked out, hand in hand, the smile simply refused to leave their faces - as if, for once, life had decided to smile back.
??? V ? A ???
As the jet touched down in Delhi, the familiar skyline greeted them with a quiet warmth. By the time they reached Vardhan House, the air was already thick with excitement - the entire family was there.
Even her father, Ashwin Adani, stood in the living room, smiling faintly as the door opened.
"Papa!" she called, running forward - but before he could open his arms, she bypassed him completely and threw herself into Shaurya's embrace.
"Aagaya mera baccha..." Shaurya said softly, his eyes glistening with pride as he caressed her hair. "Congratulations," he added, guiding her gently to the sofa.
(My baby's here)
Then came Dadi and Dadu, blessing her with trembling hands and overjoyed smiles. Anamika, Dev, and Aaradhya followed - one by one, the house filled with laughter and soft murmurs. Everyone was there, except Vedashree.
When Vritant had called his father with the news, Shaurya had made sure no one was left out.
Aasha tai entered with a silver tray of sweets, and the celebration began - everyone feeding each other, laughter echoing off the marble floors. Adhrita fed Shaurya first, and when she turned, her eyes caught her father's - Ashwin Adani watching her with a quiet, bittersweet smile.
Without hesitation, Vritant took the plate of sweets and walked toward him.
"Congratulations, beta," Ashwin whispered, his voice soft with emotion, feeding a piece of sweet to his son-in-law.
Vritant smiled - a calm, respectful nod - and took another piece, offering it back.
Shaurya, standing behind, paused mid-sentence - his son feeding his father-in-law was not a sight he saw every day.
Just then, the echo of heels on marble broke the moment. Vedashree entered, her presence instantly grounding the room. Aasha tai approached her with the tray.
"Adhrita is pregnant," she announced cheerfully, her eyes crinkling with joy.
Vedashree froze for a fraction of a second. The smile faltered - then returned, poised, practiced.
Vritant turned, already reading her silence.
"Vritant..." Shaurya called softly, drawing his attention away.
Adhrita, noticing Vedashree's stillness, walked toward her. Vedashree extended a sweet, her tone perfectly neutral.
"Congratulations," she said - the word polite, but distant.
"Mummy..." Adhrita began, but Vedashree was already walking toward the stairs.
Instinctively, Adhrita moved to follow, but Shaurya stopped her, his hand gentle but firm.
"Adhrita... no stairs," he reminded her.
She nodded, forcing a small smile, her eyes lingering on the empty staircase where her mother-in-law had disappeared - a silence heavy enough to drown the laughter that had filled the house moments ago.
Adhrita's eyes followed Vritant as he quietly walked up the stairs after his mother, leaving her surrounded by family yet suddenly feeling alone. She wanted to go after him - to be beside him - but before she could take a step, her father, Ashwin Adani, came to her side.
"Congratulations," he said softly, his voice warm but tinged with something she couldn't quite name - pride, perhaps, or distance carefully hidden behind civility.
"Thank you," she replied, equally brief, her smile polite but fading at the edges. She wanted to say congratulations to you too - for becoming a grandfather - but the words caught somewhere between her throat and her heart.
"Main chalta hoon," he said finally, straightening his coat as if to leave.
(I am leaving)
"Please stay," she whispered, her voice fragile, almost childlike. For all her poise and control, in that moment she was just a daughter asking her father not to go.
"But..." he hesitated, searching for an excuse - perhaps out of discomfort, or habit.
"Please," she interrupted gently, her eyes glistening.
He nodded slowly, defeated by her plea, and sat back down - not as a politician, not as a public figure - but simply as a father, who still didn't know how to hold his daughter without losing his balance between guilt and love.
??? V ? A ???
Vritant stood before his brother's picture.
"Hi, chachu," he said softly, placing a small piece of sweet on the plate beneath the frame.
(Uncle)
He stared at the photograph for a long moment - the stillness of the room pressing into him, heavy and familiar.
"I don't know what to say," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Except... I'm scared."
Silence filled the space between him and the smiling face in the frame - the kind of silence that felt like an old friend, cruel yet comforting.
"Be with me," he finally said, the words fragile but sincere. Then he turned and left the study.
When he came downstairs, Adhrita was waiting by the door. Without another word, he took her hand and led her toward the car.
They drove in silence to Vardhan LifeCare, the city moving past like a blur neither of them really saw.
"You were quiet..." she said softly as they stepped out of the car.
"I want to see the reports first," he replied, his tone calm but tight, his hand absently holding the end of her dupatta - grounding himself in her presence.
"Don't be scared," she said gently, offering him a small, reassuring smile - though her own heartbeat betrayed her words.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and as they stepped out, she noticed the entire floor was empty except for the team waiting ahead - nurses, a doctor, and the faint sterile scent of antiseptic that always meant something important was about to be said.
They stepped into the consultation room - muted light, soft chairs, and the low, comforting beep of a monitor somewhere beyond the curtained partition. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and jasmine from the corridor bouquet; everything about the room felt deliberate, calm.
Dr. Smita stood to greet them, file in hand and that steady, practiced smile that made difficult news easier to hear. She led them to the examination couch and motioned them to sit.
"First of all-congratulations," she said, warm and direct. "We'll take this step by step."
Adhrita's fingers tightened around Vritant's hand. He held on without looking at her, knuckles white but steady.
Dr. Smita dimmed the lights and turned the ultrasound console toward them.
The probe moved with practiced ease, tracing careful circles over Adhrita's abdomen.
Two bright ellipses appeared on the monitor - twin specks of light, each flickering with its own steady rhythm.
For a moment, the room filled with nothing but the soft hum of the machine and the faint, synchronized echo of two tiny heartbeats.
"You're seven weeks along," she said. "Both gestational sacs are clearly visible, and so are the fetal poles. Two distinct heartbeats-steady and strong." She paused to let the relief sink in for both of them. Vritant let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Adhrita's breath hitched. Her eyes darted to the monitor, trained instinctively by years of medical experience. She leaned forward, heartbeat syncing with the soft rhythmic flickers on the screen.
Her lips parted to speak, but the words refused to come. She had spent years in operating rooms, holding lives between precision and pulse - yet nothing in all her training had prepared her for this moment.
Adhrita blinked, her professional instinct taking over for a fleeting moment.
"Monozygotic?" she asked softly, the doctor in her surfacing even through the haze of awe.
Dr. Smita nodded, impressed. "Yes. Identical twins. The division seems to have occurred early, so they're dichorionic-each with its own sac, perfectly separate but genetically identical. You'll want to monitor them closely, of course-but everything looks beautifully healthy."
The words fell into the quiet room like a soft kind of thunder.
Identical. Two.
"Twins," she whispered at last, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Dr. Smita smiled. "Yes, twins. Both heartbeats are healthy. Everything looks perfect for seven weeks."
Adhrita's eyes flickered to the monitor again - two tiny pulses, beating in sync like matching echoes. The weight of it sank in slowly, like sunlight through water.
Her breath trembled; years of medical detachment couldn't shield her from the raw wonder building in her chest. She had seen hundreds of scans before, yet this one - this one had her heart in it.
She turned to look at him.
Vritant wasn't speaking. His eyes were fixed on the screen, pupils dilated, expression unreadable - the stillness of someone hit by something deeper than surprise.
Then, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped him. "Of course, identical twins," he murmured, shaking his head. "Guess the universe really likes reruns."
Adhrita smiled through her tears, her fingers finding his. "Maybe this time, it's a happier script."
He looked at her then - and there it was, the faintest hint of that unguarded softness he rarely allowed anyone to see.
Two heartbeats reflected in his eyes - one for the life he lost, and one for the life he was finally learning to live.
Dr. Smita gave a knowing look but didn't interrupt. She began typing the report, giving them the privacy of that moment.
Vritant wasn't smiling. Not yet. Just staring - the kind of stare that came when the mind was still trying to believe the heart.
Adhrita looked up at him - the silence between them filling with wonder.
"You okay?" she whispered, searching his face.
He blinked, exhaled slowly, and a faint, disbelieving smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
"I don't know," he said honestly. "For the first time in my life, I don't know what to do."
Her eyes softened. "Maybe just... feel?"
He turned to her then, really seeing her - this woman who had walked through his chaos and now carried something of his peace.
"Two heartbeats," he murmured, still watching the monitor. "You realize that's double the trouble, right?"
Adhrita laughed through a tear. "And double the noise."
He chuckled - a quiet, raw sound. "Guess the universe finally decided I wasn't loud enough alone."
She smiled at him, hand tightening around his.
"It's poetic," she said softly. "The man who's spent his whole life running from his past now has two tiny reasons to stay."
He didn't reply. Just lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles - an unspoken promise, quiet and real.
"Everything looks good so far," Dr. Smita continued. "That's the most important part at this stage."
Then Dr. Smita folded the file and shifted into a tone that balanced professionalism with quiet familiarity.
"A few clinical notes, doctor to doctor," she said.
"Your hemoglobin's a little low - start iron supplementation right away.
Cortisol and stress markers are on the higher side, which isn't unusual given your specialty, but it's something we'll monitor.
Avoid long hours in the OR for now, stay hydrated, rest when you can.
We'll repeat the scan and blood work in two weeks to make sure both embryos are developing normally. "
Vritant didn't need to be told twice. "She will rest," he said, voice like an order-soft, but immovable. Dr. smita smiled at him, then at Adhrita.
She slid an ultrasound printout and a thin sheet of paper across the desk - the written report: clinic header, dates, provisional impressions, and clear next steps: iron supplement, follow-up scan in two weeks, immediate contact points if bleeding, severe pain, or dizziness occurred.
Adhrita held the tiny, grainy image as if it were spun glass. The print was small - a blurred speck of life - but it changed the room's temperature. She touched the paper once, then placed a hand on her belly, testing the impossible truth.
Vritant leaned close, his forehead nearly touching hers. "So small," he murmured, half to the image, half to her. "And already everything I'm terrified to lose."
She smiled through the sheen in her eyes. "Get used to being terrified," she teased, voice shaking only a little. "It's part of the job."
Dr. Smita rose, offering practical final words. "Take the supplements, avoid heavy lifting, keep appointments. We'll monitor you closely. Call if anything unusual happens."
??? V ? A ???
It was evening, the sky melting into shades of copper as the car stopped at the Vardhan estate.
Aasha tai stood at the main door, brass thali in hand, its camphor flame dancing against the breeze. The moment she saw them, her eyes softened.
"Ruko zara... nazar utarni hai," she said, her voice low, affectionate - almost trembling.
(Wait a moment... I need to ward off the evil eye.)
She circled the thali around Adhrita three times, her bangles softly clinking in rhythm. Then she turned to Vritant, who stood there with folded arms and a crooked smile, pretending to be unfazed.
"Ab nazar utaar di," she said, flicking the chillies and salt into the brass bowl.
(There, it's done)
Then she walked to the corner near the entrance, crouched slightly, and set the chillies alight. The air filled with the sharp sting of burnt spice.
"Aasha, sambhal ke... usko dhuye se dikkat hogi," Anamika called from behind, gesturing toward Adhrita.
(Aasha, careful... the smoke might bother her.)
Aasha tai quickly nodded, waving the smoke away with her pallu.
He held Adhrita's hand gently, fingers lacing through hers as they began walking toward the living room. His pace was slow, deliberate - matching her every cautious step.
As they passed Anamika, he turned slightly, his voice calm but carrying that quiet authority only he had.
"We all will have dinner together," he said - not as a suggestion, but as a subtle command wrapped in warmth.
Anamika smiled faintly and nodded, sensing the rare softness in his tone.
He guided Adhrita straight toward the lift instead of the staircase, pressing the button and waiting with his hand still around hers.
"No stairs," he murmured, almost to himself.
And when the lift doors opened, he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her in - protective, unhurried, as if every step now carried the weight of two heartbeats instead of one.
He took her to their room, and the door creaked the same way it always had.
"I'll change this," he muttered absently.
For years, he had kept that creak on purpose - a small rebellion against his mother. But now, as the sound echoed through the quiet hall, it felt wrong. He didn't want rebellion anymore. Not here. Not with her.
Adhrita disappeared into the washroom, and when she came back, she was in a loose T-shirt and soft cotton pants, her hair damp and her face fresh but tired. She sat cross-legged on the bed, pulled the medical file from her bag, and began to go through it with practiced focus.
Just then, Vritant entered with Karma padding at his heels. The dog wagged his tail eagerly and was about to leap onto the bed when Vritant caught him midair with one arm.
"Karma, behave," he said softly, setting him down near Adhrita's feet.
Karma huffed in protest before curling up obediently, letting out a small bark as if claiming his spot in the moment.
Vritant sat beside her, his presence quiet but heavy with emotion. After a pause, he asked in a low voice, "Can I?"
She closed the file, placed it aside, and gave a small nod. Then, without a word, she lifted the hem of her T-shirt just enough for him to rest his hand gently on her abdomen.
The contact froze him - not out of fear, but out of awe. The air shifted. His fingers trembled, tracing the delicate rise and fall of her breath.
Adhrita placed her smaller hand over his, her voice barely a whisper.
"I'm here, papa."
He smiled - that rare, raw smile that stripped away every layer of control he'd built over the years - and closed his eyes. His hand shook against her skin.
"Vritant, tremors?" she asked softly, recognizing the subtle tremble she'd felt before.
He shook his head slightly. "Not because of the medicines," he whispered.
She understood instantly. This wasn't his condition - it was his heart.
He pulled her gently into a tight embrace, his face buried against her neck.
"Thank you," he breathed into her ear, his voice cracking with something that was not weakness but wonder - the quiet, trembling kind of gratitude that only comes from being loved back to life.
??? V ? A ???
Everyone had gathered at the dinner table, the air light with chatter and clinking cutlery - it felt less like dinner and more like a celebration.
Vritant walked in with Adhrita, his hand gently resting on her back as they took their seats. The faint sound of laughter died down when Shaurya looked up, eyes full of anticipation.
"Beta, what did the doctor say?" he asked. His tone carried that rare mix of concern and excitement only fathers have.
Vritant looked at him, then at everyone around the table - his eyes stopping briefly on his mother before landing on Adhrita.
"Everything is fine," he said calmly, then added with a soft smile, "It's twins."
For a heartbeat, the room froze - and then erupted into cheers.
Anamika gasped and clapped her hands, Devika dadi immediately reached for sweets, and even Aaradhya squealed, "Twins!" while hugging her father.
But two faces stayed still - Shaurya's and Vedashree's.
Shaurya was motionless, eyes glistening faintly, while Vedashree just stared at Adhrita, expression unreadable.
Ashwin Adani, meanwhile, had tears in his eyes.
Pride and guilt warred across his face as he watched his daughter - his little girl, now carrying the next generation.
Adhrita saw that look, and in that instant, she made up her mind.
She would forgive him. She would not carry her childhood wounds into motherhood.
Aasha tai entered just then with a tray. "Bahu, yeh aapka khana," she said cheerfully, setting the plate in front of Adhrita.
Adhrita frowned. "I don't want to eat this."
Before she could say more, Vritant interrupted quietly, "You're a doctor. You know better."
"I do not want to eat this," she repeated firmly, but her voice cracked - hormones making her sound petulant.
"Beta, you can't eat anything else," Anamika chided gently.
Vedashree's voice cut through, calm but commanding. "Let her eat whatever she wants."
"But she's carrying twins," Anamika argued, "She has to be careful. She knows it better than anyone."
That single line - the reminder that she should know better - hit Adhrita harder than expected. Her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, tears welled up. Stupid hormones, she thought bitterly.
Devika dadi immediately stepped in. "Anamika, let her be. She's not a patient, she's pregnant."
By then, Vritant had already reached, silently pulling the plate toward himself. He began serving her what she actually wanted, ignoring everyone else's eyes.
Shaurya quietly got up from his seat and sat beside her, gently brushing her tears away. "Let me feed you, beta," he said softly, his voice breaking the awkward silence.
He picked up a spoon and offered her the first bite, smiling warmly. "Anamika, let her eat - hai na, beta?"
Adhrita nodded faintly, a tear slipping down her cheek as she took the bite.
At the far end of the table, Ashwin and Vedashree exchanged a glance - silent, complex, heavy with unspoken emotion - and then, without a word, returned to their food.
The house was full again, full of love and noise and chaos - but beneath it all, every heart carried something quiet, something unsaid.
??? V ? A ???
It was 12:30 a.m. when Adhrita's eyes fluttered open. The space beside her was empty - the pillow cool under her searching hand.
"Where could he be?" she murmured, her sleepy voice barely audible.
Karma was curled up near the window, snoring softly. She smiled faintly and slipped out of bed, padding barefoot through the quiet corridor. She knew his pattern - sleepless nights usually ended in his private study.
As she approached the door, she heard low voices. She reached for the handle - but froze when she recognized one of them.
Her father's.
"I forced my daughter to marry you so you could protect her," Ashwin's voice was taut, weary.
"Her protection meant everything. I didn't mind being the villain in her eyes.
But now you're making enemies in politics?
You were the one who made me sign that agreement - that I'd never push her into politics.
Then why are you entering it, knowing the risk?
You've already made enemies in four states! "
"You can't tell me what to do," Vritant's tone was cold, contained - but there was tension in every word.
"I have every right," Ashwin shot back.
"I told you before marriage - my daughter's safety comes before everything.
I even had to threaten her, strip her of her medical identity to keep her off the radar.
And now she's pregnant - carrying your children - and you're dragging yourself into politics?
They're worse than terrorists, Vritant. The riots - those riots were part of the same political game. And you couldn't save her and -"
Before he could finish, the door creaked.
"And what?"
Both men turned sharply.
Adhrita stood in the doorway, her expression steady - but her eyes, fiery.
"Adu-" Ashwin started.
"Hrituu-" Vritant's voice overlapped, softer but just as startled.
She took a step forward. "And what, Papa? Why did you force me?"
Ashwin froze, guilt flashing across his face. "Adu beta, you shouldn't-"
"Why, Papa?" she cut him off, her voice trembling but firm. "Why was I forced to marry him?"
Her father sighed deeply, eyes falling to the ground. Then, reluctantly, he looked at Vritant - as if asking for permission.
Vritant exhaled and said quietly, "I didn't want to stress her anymore. I told you she deserves the truth."
Adhrita turned toward him. "What truth?"
He met her eyes steadily. "The truth is you were forced to marry me because he wanted protection for you."
Ashwin's head snapped toward him - shocked that Vritant had said it aloud.
"Protection from whom?" Adhrita demanded, her voice cracking. "And you - you're going to answer me," she said, pointing at her father.
Ashwin's shoulders slumped. "It's... a long story, beta."
"I have time," she said flatly, walking past both men to the sofa. She sank into it, her face pale but resolute.
Vritant quietly poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. She didn't drink it.
Finally, Ashwin began, his voice low, heavy with years of silence.
"I helped Shaurya Vardhan catch his son's killers," he said.
"When I did, I became an enemy of the terrorist group behind it.
They wanted revenge. I had to enter politics to survive - to protect myself and my family.
But power attracts enemies, and I made more on the way up.
After your mother died... I had to send you away.
You became a target by blood. Being my daughter was dangerous, Adu.
I kept you hidden - away from India - because that was the only way to keep you alive. "
He paused, voice breaking.
"But even after years, the threat never died.
Vardhans became stronger, their security tighter.
So, I recalled the promise - I forced your marriage into the Vardhan family.
You'd be under the protection of Shuny - the most covert and ruthless team in this country.
That's what your new name meant, Dr. Adhrita Vardhan.
I didn't care about the politics, or the alliance - I just wanted you safe. "
By the time he finished, his eyes were wet.
"I'm not justifying my methods. I was, am, and always will be the villain in my daughter's story," he said, voice trembling as he sank to his knees before her. "But I'm not sorry for protecting you."
Tears slid down Adhrita's cheeks. "How could you do this to me, Papa?"
"I had to," he whispered, reaching for her hands. But as he moved, he accidentally knocked over the medical file on the table. It fell open - ultrasound photos slipping out.
"PAPA!" she cried, immediately bending to pick them up. She pressed the pictures to her chest, tears blurring her vision.
Ashwin's voice softened, breaking as he spoke.
"You just got protective of your children, didn't you? You couldn't stand to see their picture touch the floor. That's how I felt when your life was in danger."
Her defiance faltered. "You could've told me," she whispered.
He smiled faintly, tears in his eyes. "You wouldn't have understood then. But now... now you're a mother. Agar hawa bhi tere bacche ko chot pahochayegi toh tu hawa se bhi beir kar legi"
(When your child even brushes against pain, you'll make war with the world itself.)
She nodded weakly and took his hand. "I'm sorry, Papa..."
Vritant moved closer and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Please, no more tears. Bacchon pe asar padega," he murmured gently.
Ashwin wiped his face and sat beside her, still holding her hand. "Please forgive me, beta," he said, folding his hands.
"No, Papa..." she said, shaking her head, her eyes glistening. "You forgive me - for being rude... for dropping your surname."
Ashwin chuckled faintly through his tears. "That was your husband's plan to make me sign agreement," he said softly.
Adhrita glared instantly at Vritant, who just smirked and reached for her hand.
"I did everything for my then hone wali biwi," he said with a mock-serious tone.
(To be wife)
Despite her tears, she broke into a laugh - that soft, familiar laugh that somehow made everything a little lighter.
Ashwin wiped his eyes, Adhrita leaned on his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment - the storm finally seemed to calm.
Perfect. Two families, one truth, zero peace - welcome to the Vardhan-Adani merger.
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