Armaan stepped through the door of their home after a tiring day at the court, the faint click of the latch announcing his arrival. His heart was pounding in excitement, the adrenaline of the day still coursing through his veins. It had been hours in the closed chamber of thr court room, with claims and accusations being hurled, but at the end of the day they had emerged victorious and it was all that mattered.

In one hand, he held his bag, and in the other, a tub of Abhira’s favorite ice cream—a small but thoughtful gesture to celebrate not just his victory, but their shared journey.

As he walked into the living room, his eyes immediately sought out Abhira. She was curled up on the couch with a book resting on her bump, her legs tucked under her, a serene look on her face. The sight of her, glowing in the soft evening light, filled his heart with a rush of love and gratitude. She looked up the moment she sensed him, and in an instant, their eyes met.

There was a moment of silence, a charged moment where everything seemed to still, as if the universe itself was waiting for the news he was about to share.

“Guess what?” Armaan couldn’t help but grin as he approached her, placing the ice cream tub on the coffee table with a sense of triumph. His voice was filled with excitement, his chest swelling with pride. “Not only did we win the case, but the MLA’s son is behind bars right now!”

Abhira’s eyes widened in disbelief before a radiant smile lit up her face. She quickly set her book aside and stood, her hands flying to her mouth in sheer joy. “Armaan! You did it!” she exclaimed, rushing to him and throwing her arms around him. Her embrace was tight, her body pressed against his, her heart pounding just as fast as his. “I am so, so proud of you!”

Armaan laughed softly, holding her close, his face buried in her hair. For a moment, he simply breathed her in, the scent of her calming his frayed nerves. It was moments like these that reminded him why he worked so hard—why every late night, every difficult decision, and every struggle was worth it. Because, at the end of the day, he had her. His rock. His constant.

He gently pulled back to look into her eyes, his voice filled with emotion. “We did it, Abhira. We both did. I couldn’t have gotten through any of this without you by my side, supporting me through it all.”

Her hands moved to his chest, smoothing down his shirt as she smiled up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of pride. “You were amazing, Armaan. I know how much this case meant to you—the justice it would bring, not just for the victim, but for everyone who believed in you. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, and today… you’ve made all of us so proud.”

Armaan’s smile softened as he gazed down at her, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. “I wasn’t alone in this, though. You’ve been with me every step of the way, even when you couldn’t be at the firm anymore. I don’t think I could have done it without knowing you were here, believing in me.”

Abhira felt her throat tighten at his words. She had never doubted his capabilities, but hearing him acknowledge her part in his success made her heart swell with even more love for him. She reached up, brushing a soft kiss against his lips. “I’ve always believed in you, Armaan. Always.”

They stood there in the middle of their home, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the moment settling over them. It wasn’t just the victory of the case that filled the air, but the quiet knowledge that they had faced so much together—and they had emerged stronger.

Armaan finally let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He gently pulled away, glancing over at the coffee table and pointing at the ice cream with a boyish grin. “And speaking of victories, I brought you something special to celebrate.” He picked up the tub and handed it to her with a flourish. “Your favorite—caramel chocolate swirl.”

Abhira let out a soft laugh, her eyes crinkling in amusement. “You really do know how to spoil me, don’t you?” She took the tub from him and shook her head, teasing him. “Did you storm the supermarket the way you stormed the courtroom?”

Armaan shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I did have to battle through a few old ladies in the frozen section. But I prevailed.” He gave a mock bow, making her laugh.

She opened the tub, the rich, creamy aroma wafting up, and she couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness. “You went through all that for me?”

“Of course,” Armaan said, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she held the ice cream. His chin rested on her shoulder, his breath warm against her neck. “After the day we’ve had, I figured we both deserved something sweet. But I do expect a spoonful in return.”

Abhira arched an eyebrow, turning her head slightly to look at him. “Oh? Is that how this works? You win a big case, and suddenly you’re entitled to my ice cream?”

Armaan chuckled, nuzzling her cheek. “Considering I just put a criminal behind bars, I’d say I’ve earned at least a few bites.”

Abhira laughed softly, but before she could say anything else, he playfully snatched the spoon from her hand and scooped up a generous bite, grinning mischievously as he savored the taste.

“Hey!” she protested, feigning outrage as she tried to take the spoon back. “That’s mine!”

He leaned back, holding the spoon out of her reach as he laughed. “What’s yours is mine, remember?”

She shook her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she lunged for the spoon. “Not my ice cream, mister!”

Their playful banter filled the room as they wrestled for the spoon, both laughing so hard they could barely keep up the charade. Finally, Abhira managed to grab it back, holding it up in victory.

“You’re impossible,” she said, still catching her breath from their impromptu tussle.

Armaan grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he pulled her close again, this time more gently, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Maybe. But I’m your impossible.”

Abhira’s laughter faded as she melted into his embrace, her heart swelling with emotion. His words, though playful, were filled with meaning. She knew what he was saying without him needing to say more—no matter how tough things got, no matter how much they teased and pushed each other, they were in this together. Always.

She reached up, brushing her fingers through his hair as she looked into his eyes, her voice softening. “You’re right. You are mine. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Armaan’s gaze softened, his heart full as he leaned down to capture her lips in a tender, lingering kiss. The world around them seemed to fade away as they shared the quiet moment, just the two of them, wrapped in love and laughter.

When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, a contented sigh escaping his lips. “I love you, Abhira.”

“I love you more,” she whispered back, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw.

They sat back on the couch, ice cream in hand, laughing over the silliest things and stealing bites from each other’s spoons. It was a perfect end to an exhausting, exhilarating day—a day where justice had been served, love had triumphed, and they were reminded, yet again, that no matter what life threw their way, they would always face it together.

________

The golden rays of the morning sun filled Armaan's office with a warm glow, but despite the peaceful atmosphere, Dev’s footsteps echoed with a sense of unease as he walked in. He had expected to feel this way after hearing the news about the Poddar firm, but there was something about today that made him feel even more unsettled. He’d known Armaan for a while and had seen him face tough situations with composure, but the complete collapse of his family’s legacy—that was a different story.

Armaan was at his desk, casually scrolling through emails, the image of calm efficiency. As Dev walked in, Armaan’s head lifted, his expression relaxed, almost as if nothing was wrong.

“Morning, Dev,” Armaan greeted smoothly, his tone light as though it were just another day at the office.

Dev hesitated, still processing what he had come to say. He had anticipated some form of reaction from Armaan, maybe not shock or devastation, but something. Yet, Armaan seemed unaffected, like the news was just another piece of information that didn’t really touch him. It threw Dev off balance.

“Uh, yeah… morning,” Dev finally replied, stepping into the office and standing by the desk. His fingers drummed against the files he was holding as he looked at Armaan with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “Did you hear?”

Armaan smiled slightly, already knowing where this was headed. “About the Poddar firm going bankrupt?” He nodded, still calm, still composed. “Yeah, I heard.”

Dev blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. He had expected Armaan not to be shattered by the news, but this level of calm—this almost dismissive attitude—it was beyond what even he had expected.

“You seem… surprisingly relaxed about it,” Dev said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge whether Armaan was just hiding his true feelings.

Armaan leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. “Why wouldn’t I be relaxed? It was inevitable, Dev. We all saw it coming.”

This time, Dev couldn’t hold back his surprise. “Yeah, I figured you might’ve known things were going downhill, but this… Armaan, this is your family’s firm we’re talking about. It’s a big deal. And you’re sitting here like… like it’s just another Wednesday.”

Armaan chuckled, the corner of his lips tugging upward as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. “It is just another Wednesday, Dev. The firm going bankrupt doesn’t affect me anymore. Not in the way you thought it would.”

Dev took a seat, still puzzled. He’d seen Armaan face difficult situations before, but this was different. The firm, the legacy—it was a huge part of his life, or at least, it had been. And now, nothing? Just calm acceptance?

“Come on, Armaan,” Dev pressed, leaning forward. “This is the Poddar firm we’re talking about. Your family’s legacy. Your grandfather built this, you built this. You’re telling me you don’t care at all?”

Armaan’s gaze shifted slightly, his eyes darkening for a brief second. “I did care. But the moment Dadi sa decided that Rohit would take over and i was ruthlessly thrown out, despite everything I did for the firm, it stopped being my problem. I’ve moved on.”

Dev stared at him, still finding it hard to digest. “So, you’re just going to let it go? Walk away without a second thought?”

Armaan shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve already walked away, Dev. I walked away from the Poddar Mansion, the firm, all of it 4 years back. My life isn’t tied to that place anymore.”

Before Dev could respond, Armaan pressed the intercom button. “Sanya, two coffees please,” he said, before turning back to Dev with a casual smile.

Dev’s mind was still spinning, trying to grasp how Armaan could be so unbothered by something this monumental. The man before him was far too composed. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” Dev muttered, half to himself.

Armaan just smiled again and nodded, lifting his mug when the coffee arrived. As they both took a sip, Dev found himself staring into his cup, his thoughts drifting back to the Poddars.

“So… you wouldn’t be willing to help them, would you?” Dev asked cautiously, testing the waters. “The Poddars, I mean. If they came to you for help.”

The mood in the room shifted. Armaan’s casual demeanor evaporated, and suddenly, there was a cold edge to his eyes, something darker lurking beneath the surface. He placed his cup down slowly, the small sound of porcelain meeting wood echoing in the now-tense silence.

“You’re asking me if I would help after being a witness to everything that happened in that one year before we shifted altogether to Mumbai." Armaan looked disappointed, "Help the people who threw Abhira and me aside like we didn’t matter? After everything they put us through?”

Dev felt the weight of the question hit like a ton of bricks. He knew Armaan had every right to be angry, to feel betrayed by the way his family had treated him. But seeing that raw emotion—hidden under layers of calmness—was different. “I’m not saying you should help them,” Dev said carefully. “But they are your family. And they’re in trouble. Wouldn’t part of you want to—”

“Want to what?” Armaan interrupted, his voice low but filled with intensity. “Save them? After they spent years undermining me, treating Abhira like an outsider, questioning my decisions at every turn? For putting me and abhira throught the most disturbing phase of our life. They made their choice then and so Did I.”

Dev swallowed, feeling the weight of the words. “I know, Armaan. I do. But I guess I just thought, maybe… since you’re not the kind of guy to hold grudges—”

“This isn’t about holding a grudge,” Armaan cut in sharply. His jaw tightened as he leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Dev’s. “This is about knowing when to walk away. I spent years trying to prove myself to people who never saw my worth. They never respected my decisions, my relationship, or my choices. They crumbled my dreams beneath their feet and now that Abhira and I have built something new—together, I’m not going to throw that away to clean up their mess.”

Dev sat back in his chair, nodding slowly ans smiling.  Deep down Dev himself did not want Armaan to help Poddars. He had seen both Armaan and Abhira suffer and now he wanted the poddars to feel the same. “So, it’s really over, then? No chance of reconciliation?”

Armaan exhaled slowly, his expression softening just a bit. “I’ve made peace with it, Dev. I’ve found my own path. They chose theirs. That chapter of my life is closed.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it was filled with a kind of finality, a quiet understanding. Dev took another sip of his coffee, feeling the weight of Armaan’s words settle in. He had known Armaan had emerged strong after that incident, he had always admired his resilience, but seeing him now—so clear in his decisions, so firm in his boundaries—it was something else entirely, something Dev was proud of.

“I get it,” Dev said softly, finally breaking the silence. “I just… I had to ask.”

Armaan’s eyes softened slightly as he nodded. “I appreciate that, Dev. But I’ve got my own life to live now. The Poddar firm… that’s not part of it anymore.”

And with that, the conversation shifted, but the weight of it lingered in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment that the past had been left behind, and Armaan had firmly set his sights on the future.

_______

The heavy air inside the once-glorious Poddar Mansion mirrored the gloom that had settled within its walls. Dadi sa, Sanjay, and Rohit sat in the sprawling hall, their eyes glazed over with a mixture of disbelief and helplessness.

Rohit had been making frantic calls all morning, dialing one contact after another, his voice laced with desperation as he tried to find a legal solution—any solution—that could save the ancestral home from the inevitable auction.

Sanjay, for whose bail kaveri had sold some of the ancestral jewels thinking he would help avoid the inevitable too, sat beside him, murmuring suggestions, equally frantic, but none of their efforts seemed to hold any weight.

Dadi sa sat silent, her gaze unfocused, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind. The calls that Rohit and Sanjay made held no interest for her; it was all futile now, and she knew it. Deep down, she was beginning to understand that her world was crumbling. The pride, the ego—everything she had clung to—was being stripped away, piece by piece.

Armaan's words from years ago rang in her ears, clear as day, like a curse reverberating through time.

"Ek din aisa aayega, Dadi sa, jab aapka yeh gurur aapse aapka sab kuch cheen lega."

She had scoffed back then, dismissing him with her characteristic arrogance. Armaan had become a rebel, the one who defied her authority. She had convinced herself that his warnings were born out of spite, that he was the one who would suffer for defying the Poddar legacy.

But here they were. His prophecy unfolding before her very eyes.

"Aapne joh aaj mere saath kiya hai na, vo uska phal aapko milega Dadi sa. Ek din aap apna sab kuch kho baithengi jaise aaj maine aur Abhira ne khoya hai."

The echoes of his voice grew louder in her mind as the reality of their situation set in. She had always believed Rohit was her true heir, her pride and joy. She had always believed in Sanjay, more than her own children and yet he brought the to this. Where was that pride now? Where was the legacy she had fought to protect?

"Bohot naaz hai na aapko apne sage pote par, apne jamai sa par? Main intezaar karunga us din ka, Dadi sa, jab aap inhi logon ki wajah se apna rutba, naam, izzat sab kho dengi."

The bitter truth stung more than she had ever anticipated. She glanced over at Rohit and Sanjay, who were still frantically discussing their next moves, unaware that no amount of talking or planning could change their fate.

"Yaad rakhiyega, Mrs. KAVERI PODDAR, aapke karam ke din aapko yeh din zaroor dikhayenge. Aur yakeen maaniye, us din aap meri jagah hongi—lachar aur bebas."

Dadi sa’s throat tightened, her vision blurring with the weight of her past decisions. Armaan’s words—his curse—had come to fruition. And she was, indeed, helpless.

Meanwhile, in another corner of the mansion, Madhav, Manoj and Vidya were packing away what little they could salvage, stuffing personal belongings into cartons, each item a remnant of a life they were soon to leave behind.

The chaos that had enveloped the Poddar household was expected—Armaan had warned them many times. But even knowing it was inevitable didn’t lessen the pain. Madhav’s hands stilled for a moment, his mind racing back to every word Armaan had spoken. He hadn’t cursed them—he had predicted this downfall, one that was now standing before them in all its crushing reality.

Vidya’s eyes were red-rimmed, though no tears fell. She was too numb to cry, the weight of everything they were losing too heavy to process fully. They could only pack the bare essentials, the few things they were permitted to take with them. The rest would be left behind to be sold, auctioned, turned into nothing more than numbers on a balance sheet.

Vidya wrapped up the family’s old photographs, her hands trembling with every frame she placed in the box.

"Ye sab toh aana hi tha," Madhav whispered, his voice heavy with resignation. "Armaan ne pehle hi kaha tha..."

Vidya nodded, unable to say anything, her tears silently falling. Armaan’s words had come true with brutal precision, and as much as they had hoped things would somehow turn around, they knew this day had been inevitable.

In the dining area, Manisha quietly set the table, laying out breakfast for the chorus gang, though no one had the appetite to eat. The plates sat untouched, the smell of food filling the air but doing nothing to comfort the broken spirits of the family. Manisha herself didn’t feel like eating either, but she went through the motions, hoping to bring some semblance of normalcy to the rapidly crumbling household.

The chorus gang, usually so lively, sat in somber silence, their eyes staring at the table but their minds lost in the uncertainty that loomed over their heads. No one knew what would come next. The Poddar Mansion had always been a symbol of stability, a grand legacy that none of them had ever imagined would fall apart. But now, that future seemed to be slipping away, leaving nothing but uncertainty and fear.

Just as the silence threatened to swallow them whole, the sound of heavy footsteps approached the hall. The entire family looked up, startled, as a group of men in official uniforms strode into the mansion, their presence commanding attention.

Income tax officers.

"Mrs. Kaveri Poddar?” the leading officer called out, his voice carrying an air of finality.

Kaveri stepped forward hesitantly. “Yes, that’s me.”

“We are here to proceed with the auction of the Poddar Mansion,” the officer stated coldly, holding up an official document. “Please gather the entire family in the hall.”

A hush fell over the house, thick with despair. One by one, the family members, from the youngest to the eldest, gathered in the main hall, their faces pale and their hearts pounding in dread.

The officers calmly, methodically, began the process. Their voices were firm, informing the Poddars that the auction would proceed today. The mansion, with all its grandeur, all its history, was now a mere asset to be sold off, a relic of a bygone era.

Dadi sa stood at the center, her face pale, her eyes hollow. She had watched this house grow over the decades, had ruled over it with an iron fist, believing it would always remain in the family. But now, the walls that once echoed with her authority were being stripped of their power. One by one, the officers moved, surveying the place as if it were nothing more than a piece of property, devoid of the memories it held.

The auction began shortly thereafter. It was a cold, clinical process, each bid an additional nail in the coffin of the Poddar family’s pride. Piece by piece, the mansion was divided up, sold off to the highest bidder. The chandeliers, the furniture, even the land itself—it all went under the hammer, every item a reminder of how far they had fallen.

“This property, the Poddar Mansion, is now officially being auctioned to recover the outstanding debts owed by the Poddar family. The minimum bid has been set at...”

Outside, prospective buyers began to gather. Some were investors, others were real estate developers, all of them ready to pounce on the opportunity to claim the prestigious Poddar Mansion at a fraction of its worth.

As the auctioneer began calling for bids, the numbers climbed higher and higher, and with each new bid, the family’s hopes sank lower.

Dadi sa’s hands trembled as she watched strangers walk through her home, making offers, treating it like any other property. She wanted to shout, to scream, to stop them—but there was nothing left to say. Armaan’s words echoed louder than ever, reverberating in her soul.

In the corner, Madhav, Vidya, Manoj and Manisha stood, watching the legacy of the Poddar family be dismantled before their eyes. The chorus gang huddled together, their expressions blank with the shock of it all. No one could have imagined it would come to this.

Manoj clenched his fists, feeling as though the walls were closing in around him. “How did it come to this?” he whispered, mostly to himself. “How could we have let this happen?”

Manisha reached out to hold his hand, her grip tight and trembling. “We did see it, Manu. We did see what was happening and chose to not acknowledge until it was too late.”

Rohit, for the first time, looked truly panicked. “Isn’t there anything we can do? Can’t we... can’t we stop this?” His voice cracked, betraying the fear that had been building in him.

But there was nothing anyone could do now.

As the final gavel struck, marking the end of the auction, Dadi sa’s legs gave way, and she slumped into the nearest chair, her pride shattered, her spirit broken. Everything was gone. And Armaan’s prophecy had come true—her arrogance had taken everything away.

The officer turned to the family. “You have 24 hours to vacate the premises.”

The words hit like a blow, leaving the family stunned, unable to comprehend the finality of it all. The Poddar Mansion, the home that had stood for generations, was now gone.

The once-mighty Poddars were now reduced to mere onlookers in their own home, watching as strangers prepared to take possession of the legacy they had so carelessly let slip away.

Dadi sa’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her hands shaking as she realized just how deeply her pride had cost them. And as she sat there, broken and defeated, all she could hear were Armaan’s parting words:

“Aapne mujhse aur Abhira se hamara sab kuch cheen liya, Mrs Poddar. Main us din ka intezar karunga jab aapse aapka sab kuch chin jayega. Us din aapko Mere aur Abhira ke dard ka andaza hoga."

________

Armaan sat in his office, the weight of his past and present pressing heavily against his chest. The spacious cabin that once symbolized his triumphs in the legal world now felt suffocating, the air thick with memories he had tried to leave behind.

He had ordered Sanya to ensure that no one—not even Dev—was allowed to interrupt him today. He needed the solitude, a moment to confront the storm that was brewing within.

Sanya, loyal as ever, had followed his instructions without question. The rest of the office buzzed with its usual energy, but Armaan’s corner remained silent, sealed off from the outside world. He needed this time, this space, to process what was happening—what had been inevitable for years.

The soft hum of his laptop broke the silence, the screen flickering with a live telecast of the Poddar Mansion's auction. Armaan’s sharp eyes took in every detail of the familiar house that was now being picked apart, room by room, artifact by artifact. The ancestral home, which once stood as a proud symbol of the Poddar legacy, was now a mere commodity to be sold off to the highest bidder.

His heart clenched when he saw Madhav and Vidya in the frame, standing in the background, helpless. They were accompanied by Manisha and the chorus gang, their faces shadowed with grief and despair. They weren’t just losing a home—they were watching their history, their legacy, and everything they had built over generations being torn apart.

Armaan felt a pang of pity as he observed their quiet suffering. Manoj and Manisha had always treated him with kindness, had always stood by him even when the rest of the family turned their backs. The chorus gang, too, had been nothing but supportive. They didn’t deserve this. They didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of a war they hadn’t started.

For a brief moment, a part of him wished he could intervene, that he could do something to pull them out of the mess they were drowning in. But as the camera panned to the center of the auction, his chest tightened and any trace of sympathy evaporated.

There they were.

Dadi sa, Sanjay and Rohit.

Dadi sa’s expression, still held some stubborn arrogance, the same unshakable pride that had driven him and Abhira out of that house four years ago and out of that city three years ago. Rohit stood beside her, his posture rigid, his eyes betraying the panic he was trying to hide. The favored grandson, the heir to the Poddar empire—the one Dadi sa had fought to protect at the cost of everything else.

Armaan’s jaw clenched as the memories flooded back, uninvited and unrelenting.

Three years ago when all that he heard were echoes of Abhira’s heart-wrenching cries. The air had been thick with betrayal, the walls closing in around them as their dreams shattered before their eyes. Dadi sa had stood in the middle of it all, orchestrating their downfall with her cold, calculated decisions.

He could still hear Abhira’s sobs, the sound cutting through him like glass. The night they had been forced to leave everything, it wasn’t just their physical possessions they had lost—it was their future, their peace, the family they had hoped to raise there.

He had fought—oh, how he had fought—to protect the most precious joy in their lives. His mind replayed the images of that time: Abhira’s trembling hands resting on her belly, her tear-filled eyes meeting his, begging him to make things right. They had been so close to losing everything. But he had fought tooth and nail to keep their child safe, to shield their unborn joy from the ugliness that threatened to engulf them. But the joy was lost, they had lost a part of them all because of those faces.

Armaan stiffened, his hand trembling as it hovered over the laptop. He saw Dadi sa’s posture, and something inside him snapped. With a sharp motion, he slammed the laptop shut, the screen going dark in an instant. The auction, the Poddar family’s downfall—it was no longer his concern.

The anger that simmered in his veins pushed away any lingering sense of pity. They deserve it and so much more after what they had done.

His eyes fell on the photograph sitting on his desk, the one he looked at every day without fail. It was of him and Abhira, from that moment of pure joy, one after one of Abhira’s Sonography a few months back. In the photo, he was gently kissing Abhira’s slightly visible baby bump, his lips pressed against her belly with reverence. Abhira, her face radiant with joy, was laughing, her hand resting protectively over his as they shared a moment of absolute bliss.

That picture was more than just a memory. It was a symbol of everything he had fought for, everything that mattered.

His heart swelled with a fierce protectiveness as he stared at the photo. This was what mattered now. Not the Poddar Mansion, not Dadi sa’s legacy, not the cursed family pride that had destroyed so much. What mattered was the family he had built with Abhira, the life they were creating for their child, the love that had carried them through their darkest days.

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath, feeling his resolve harden. The Poddars could rot in the mess they had created. They had chosen their path, had betrayed him and Abhira in the worst possible way. Now, they would face the consequences of those actions.

Armaan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still locked on the photo. No matter what happened, no matter how many times the past tried to drag him down, he would protect this. His family, his love, his future with Abhira—it was all that mattered. And he would stop at nothing to keep them safe from the Poddars and their toxic legacy.

They had made their choice. Now, it was time for him to make his.

And he chose Abhira and their little bundle of joy. Every single time.

Armaan stepped into their home, his body weighed down by the exhaustion that had settled deep in his bones. The day had been long, filled with the echoes of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. His steps were slower than usual, his face lined with the silent weight of everything he had witnessed.

As he entered the living room, he found Abhira waiting for him, her eyes immediately catching the tension in his posture. She knew him—better than he knew himself—and she didn’t need to ask what had happened. She had seen the auction too, just as he had. And she knew that it would have taken more from him than he’d ever admit.

Without a word, Abhira moved toward him, her presence a calming force that soothed his frayed nerves. She gently took his bag and placed it aside, her fingers brushing his arm in a gesture of quiet understanding. Armaan looked at her, his eyes tired, yet softened by her touch.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but Abhira heard the exhaustion and frustration in it.

She nodded, her own heart heavy with the emotions she’d felt while watching the live telecast. “I did. And I know you didn’t need to see it... but I also knew you would.”

Armaan let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping as he finally let go of the tension he had been holding all day. He sank onto the couch, feeling as if the weight of the world had finally settled down on him. Abhira followed him, sitting beside him, her hand resting gently on his back.

“I knew you’d watch it too,” Armaan muttered, his voice low. “You feel bad for Maa, Papa, Chachu Sa and Chachi Sa and the chorus gang, don’t you? They never deserved this.”

Abhira’s expression softened as she thought about them. “I did feel bad, Armaan. For them, I did.” She paused, her eyes hardening. “But the moment I saw them—Dadi sa and Rohit—all of it came rushing back. The pain, the betrayal, the way they forced us to leave our lives behind...”

Her voice trailed off, and Armaan understood without her having to say another word. Abhira’s sympathy, like his, had evaporated the second those faces from their past had appeared on the screen. The memories of their heartbreak, the loss they had endured, and the wounds that still hadn’t fully healed—none of it could be forgotten.

She sat beside him on the couch, her hand reaching out to gently guide his head into her lap. Armaan didn’t resist, sinking into her comforting embrace. He let his head rest there, his eyes closing as he felt the warmth and safety she offered him, a place where he could finally let go.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with an unspoken understanding, a deep connection that didn’t need words. Abhira’s fingers slowly threaded through his hair, her touch gentle and soothing, easing the tension from his mind.

Armaan lay there, feeling the soft rise and fall of Abhira’s breathing, the quiet rhythm calming his racing thoughts. The auction, the betrayal, the anger—it all seemed to fade away in her presence. He felt the warmth of her body, the love she gave without question, and it was enough. In her lap, he found solace, a place where the past couldn’t reach him, where he could simply be.

After a few moments, Abhira’s hand moved down to her belly, her palm resting protectively over their child. Armaan felt the shift, and his eyes fluttered open, catching sight of her hand on their growing baby.

His heart softened instantly, and without saying a word, he moved his own hand to join hers. His fingers gently traced the curve of her belly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the weight he had carried all day.

“Our little one is going to be just as strong as you,” Armaan whispered, his voice filled with love as he looked up at Abhira. “Because our baby will have both of us by his/her side.”

Armaan shifted slightly, turning his head to place a gentle kiss on her belly, a gesture filled with tenderness and promise. Abhira smiled, her heart swelling with the quiet joy of the moment.

Suddenly, a strong kick from their baby jolted through Abhira's abdomen, causing her to wince slightly.

“Ouch!!” Abhira exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise as she placed her hand on her belly.

Armaan lifted his head, instantly concerned. “Abhira, are u ohk? Did Our little one just tried to practice karate in there?” He teased, a playful smile spreading across his face.

Abhira let out a soft laugh, rubbing her belly gently. “I think our baby is just letting you know that he/she can feel ur touch.”

Armaan chuckled, leaning closer to Abhira and placing his hand over hers on her belly. “Or maybe its a reminder to you that i am the one who is more loved among the two of us.’”

Abhira playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, is that so?”

Armaan laughed again, his heart swelling with affection as he watched her playful demeanor. “Yes it is So!"

They shared a lighthearted laugh, the sound filling their small home with warmth. It was moments like these, filled with laughter and love, that made the challenges they faced feel a little less daunting. And as another gentle kick came, this time more of a reminder than a surprise, they both knew that together, they could handle anything life—and their little one—threw at them.

*..*..*..*..*

Oh the joy of writing this 🤌😊

Now i know u people would have not realised but Ruhi missing hai, aab vo kahan hai yeh aap soncho.

And do u think Armaan would help the poddars ??

Soncho aur hum agle update main milenge.

~TheLostSoul