----CONTINUED

"Aagaye Siddharth... tumhara hi intezaar kar rahi thi main."
(You've come, Siddharth... I was waiting only for you.)

And when he looked up those blue eyes. The same eyes he hated more than anything.

More than pain.

More than death.

They were looking at him again. And this time, he didn't look away.

He just stood there. His feet still. His body calm. His face as cold as stone. But his eyes... they were burning. Sharp like blades. Silent like storms. Screaming like fire-but only if someone could hear them.

In front of him stood Zeenat. After twenty long years.

And she smiled.

That small smile, so soft, yet sharp enough to crawl under Siddharth's skin. A smile that made his jaw tighten. That smile-like a secret she was carrying. Like a game she was playing. A game Siddharth didn't want to play anymore.

But he didn't speak. He didn't move. He just stared at her. And Zeenat, slowly... calmly... took a step forward.

Her blue eyes met his. Her smile still there. Her body relaxed, like she had already won. Like she had been waiting for this moment. Not afraid. Not proud. Just... sure. Sure of her place. Sure of the power she still thought she had.

Siddharth's hands were at his side. His chest rising slow, steady. He didn't let that smile shake him. But it did something. It stirred something deep. Something old,broken.

Zeenat's voice rose softly, slicing the silence.

"Bahut intezaar karwaya apni maa ko, bete."

(You made your mother wait too long, son.)

And something snapped.

Something deep inside Siddharth cracked in that moment. Just like a fire that had been waiting to breathe. A fire that now had air.

She had no right to say that.

She had no right to call herself a mother.

Not after everything.

Not after what she did.

Not after what he saw.

His eyes darkened. The fire inside him was no longer hiding. His breath shortened. His fists clenched. And still, his face didn't move. Not a single line. Not even a twitch.

But his glare-sharp as a sword-cut straight into Zeenat's smile.

And that was when Zeenat smiled a little more.

Just a little.

She saw it. She knew it. That her words had touched something. That her voice had pierced through the steel Siddharth wore on his skin. Her smile grew, not wide-but confident. Like she was enjoying this.

She wanted this.

Siddharth didn't speak. He just took a breath.

He was still. But his heart was not. His anger was not. His silence was screaming. And Zeenat, calmly watching him, tilted her head-ever so slightly-like a mother pretending to understand a child's pain.

Then she said it again.

"Tumhe yaad nahi aayi? Maa ki, Siddharth?"
(

Didn't you miss your mother, Siddharth?)

That was it.

That was the last string. The last thread holding the storm inside him. Siddharth's hand flew to his waist. In one sharp motion, he pulled out his gun.

Click.

The metal shined under the half-light. His finger curled around the trigger. His steps were slow, but firm, he walked with his gun in his hand & then he pointed the gun at her,

That was the Siddharth who had come tonight. Not the boy who once cried in this building. Not the boy who once lost everything here. That Siddharth was dead. This one was born of fire.

But before he could take his third step, three men rushed forward.

Black suits. Stone faces. Trained hands.

They grabbed him, one on each arm, another on his back. One hand caught his wrist, the one holding the gun. He didn't drop it, but they didn't let him move.

Siddharth struggled. His body fought back.

He twisted, pulling against their grip. His teeth clenched. His eyes, red and wild, never left Zeenat's face. He wanted to shoot. Not to scare. Not to warn. Just... end it.

But they held him firm.

Four men now.

His shoes dragged slightly on the concrete. His arms held back. But his glare-still locked on Zeenat-was more powerful than any bullet.

And Zeenat, she didn't flinch.

She just stood there. Her head tilted. Her smile now full of amusement. Her blue eyes were glittering, glowing, enjoying the chaos. She looked at Siddharth like he was a story she had already written the end of.

And that only made him angrier.

Siddharth wanted to rip that smile off her face. He wanted to make her feel half the pain she had given. But right now, he couldn't move. Not yet.

The sky had begun its slow descent into chaos.

The sun, once watching with idle warmth, was now being swallowed by thick, creeping clouds-grey and ominous. A shrill cacophony of birds echoed above, as if nature itself had caught the scent of danger in the air. Their restless wings carved circles in the darkening sky, while on the ground, four men struggled to hold down the storm of another kind.

His breaths were ragged, with fury. The kind of fury that burned the lungs like smoke. He thrashed in their grip, restrained yet untamed, the veins in his arms taut against the hands that held him back. His jaw clenched so tight it seemed to ache with silence. His eyes-blazing blue-refused to look away from the woman who stood before him.

Zeenat.

She watched him with the air of a eagle inspecting her enemy, her steps slow and deliberate as she walked closer-heels crunching on gravel, the sound deliberate, calculated. The smile that once played on her lips was now gone. Wiped clean like a mask peeled off. Her amusement was replaced with something darker. Colder. Her eyes, those same ocean-blue irises, had lost their false shimmer. Now they carried the weight of a storm Siddharth knew too well-the one that had once torn his life apart.

And then she walked & stood just in front of him, her hand rose. One of the guards, without needing to be told, placed a gun in her palm. Her grip around the weapon was delicate, almost reverent, like she was holding a relic meant for a sacred purpose. But her eyes-those eyes never left Siddharth's face. Not even for a second.

His jaw clenched tighter. His eyes narrowed, red with unspoken rage.

And then-he spat. His voice was a growl, forged in fire and grief.

"Meri maa nahi ho tum, Zeenat!" He paused.

("You are not my mother, Zeenat!")

"Iss shabd ka matlab bahut bada hai... Tum jaisi giri hui zubaan pe accha nahi lagta!"

("That word means far more than you deserve... It doesn't belong on a tongue as vile as yours!")

He lunged forward again, but the guards held him steady, fists tightening, their own faces beginning to glisten with sweat.

Zeenat didn't flinch. But her jaw twitched.

A flicker-small, but Siddharth saw it. The blow had landed. The wound was where he meant it to be.

And yet, she didn't look away either.

Her hand rose again, calm and slow, as she pressed the cold steel muzzle of the gun right beneath Siddharth's jaw-right where the pulse beat beneath the skin. A dangerous place.

But Siddharth didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Didn't even twitch.

He stared directly into her eyes, unflinching. His silence was louder than a scream. Because even then-his fury would live on.

She saw that. The fire. The defiance.

And then, as suddenly as the threat had risen, she withdrew the gun-slowly.

Her eyes softened into that same psychotic calm. Her lips twisted into a cold, crooked smile as if nothing had ever happened at all.

"Maano ya na maano tum..." she paused & like waiting to bring the worse out of him she said said.

("Believe it or not...")

"Maa to hoon tumhari."

("I am your mother.")

She tilted her head slightly, pausing just long enough to let the venom seep into his mind.

"Tabhi to pata tha kaunsi naas kaise dabani hai... Aur tumhe yaha tak kaise laana hai... akele."

("That's exactly why I knew which nerve to press... and how to bring you here... alone.")

With that, she took a few steps back. The tension in the air didn't fade-it sharpened. Her smile widened-twisting now into something monstrous. And then-

She laughed, mocked him.

That laugh-it echoed like a hollow bell through the courtyard. A sound so sharp it could slice flesh from bone. She was laughing at him. At his rage. At his mistake. At the way her plan had unfolded-perfectly. And he'd walked right into it.

Siddharth didn't move, not a muscle.

His eyes didn't break away. But something-something shifted inside him. In his face. In his gaze. His breath slowed. His expression changed.

Zeenat didn't stop. She tilted her head back, dropped it slightly to the side-her signature move before striking deep-and spoke again. Her voice was a whisper coated in poison.

"Tumhare chhote se parivaar se door... akele."

("Far away from your little family... alone.")

"Na biwi, na baap, na bhai, na dost, na woh maa...Koi toh nahi hai tumhare paas."

("No wife, no father, no brother, no friend, not even that mother.You have no one left.")

"Akele mere samne, maut ke muh mein, phir se...20 saal baad, wahi khade ho... jahan uss din the."

("Alone, in front of me... in death's mouth... again. After 20 years, standing right where you stood that day.")

Her smile returned-no longer amused, but victorious, she stepped closer, eyes darkening as they narrowed, her voice now a low murmur.

"Har khel... jaldbazi aur jazbaat se nahi khele jaate, Siddharth. Kuch dimaag se bhi khele jaate hain."

("Not every game is played with haste or emotions, Siddharth...Some... are played with the mind.")

She paused, watching him like a predator watches a deer that just realized it's cornered.

And Siddharth he didn't move.

He had gone still unmoving & Unblinking.

But Zeenat could see it. The realization dawned inside him. The storm he tried to bury is now beginning to take root.

She had brought him here.

She had played her game-and won.

And the smirk on her face said it all.

Still standing there, she was watching him. Watching how everything had gone exactly as she had planned. The way he stood now-calm, silent-told her everything. He wasn't just listening to her words. He was feeling the weight of them, realizing what he had done. What he had walked into.

She tilted her head slightly, a mocking curve on her lips as her voice cut through the heavy silence.

"Woh teesra baccha... Noor ke baap ki bimari... woh gudiya-tumhe kya laga, tumne mujhe pakad liya?"

(That third child... Noor's father's illness... that doll-what did you think, you caught me?)

A sharp laugh escaped her lips again. That mocking, cruel kind of laughter that didn't just fill the space-it echoed. It bounced off the walls, breaking the silence that had settled like dust, mixing with the distant cries of birds overhead. It was the kind of laughter made to mock, to taunt, to hurt.

Siddharth didn't move. She was still laughing when she said,

"Maine moqe tumhare liye pheke the, Siddharth."
(I threw those chances your way, Siddharth.)

And in that moment, something in Siddharth changed. His eyes, once rigid and full of burning rage, dimmed just a little. Not weak or broken. But like someone who had suddenly been handed a burden too heavy. His spine didn't bend, but his breath... slowed. Like a weight had been placed on his chest, a pressure not from the outside-but from within, like a realization.

Zeenat stepped closer again, slowly.

And with a steady hand, she raised the gun once more-pressing the cold steel under his chin, where his pulse beat again, Her mocking smile disappeared now, twisted into something darker. Rage began to take its place, creeping like smoke into her eyes, crawling across her face. The hatred she had buried for years now found its stage.

"Aur ab... jo tum yahan ho..." she said, her voice low, shaking with anger. "Har chuke ho... ye khel yahin khatam karte hain. Barso ki nafrat tumhare saath aaj yahin khatam kar dete hain."

(And now... that you're here... defeated... let's end this game here. Let's finish this hatred that's lived for years-with you, right now.)

She pressed the gun deeper into his skin, Siddharth didn't look away. He jaw was clenched tight. But his eyes-lit again. Fire returned, pure and unfiltered.

Fear? Not even a shadow.

He stared right at her, straight into those cruel, mad eyes-eyes he had once looked into with love & craved the same.

Her hand didn't tremble. But just as it felt like she would pull the trigger-just as the air itself held its breath-Zeenat stepped back.

Siddharth frowned. What was she doing? Still staring at him, she whispered,

"Jab sab kuch 20 saal pehle jaisa hai... toh yeh itna aasaan kaise ho sakta hai?"

(When everything is exactly like it was 20 years ago... how can it be this easy?)

She tilted her head again-her signature twitch-and said,

"Waise bhi... marne waale ki koi bhi khwahish adhoori nahi chhodte."
(Besides... we never let the dying leave with an unfulfilled wish.)

"Toh tumhare liye... ek nahi... do surprise hain. Maa ki taraf se."
(So for you... not one, but two surprises. From your mother.)

She turned her head toward the large doorway behind her. Siddharth stood still. Watching. Listening. Like he was trying to understand her. There was no fear, nothing in those eyes rather than hawk like gaze watching her every move.

The silence wrapped the moment like fog. And in that thick quiet... he heard it.

Footsteps. Somebody was walking out. Hedidn't blink. He didn't turn his head. But deep inside, something told him-he knew-who it was.

This was the third child. The mystery Zeenat had always kept hidden. But even as he prepared himself for that, another thought crawled through his mind.

What's the second surprise?

His mind raced. His expression didn't move. And then... Zeenat's voice again, cutting through the quiet.

"Mera teesra beta."
(My third son.)

And she said it with pride. With the kind of twisted joy that dripped poison. Si ddharth's gaze lifted toward the shadow appearing in the doorway.

The figure walked closer. Slowly.

And as the shadow turned to flesh, a face, a body... Siddharth's heart froze for a second before it dropped another beat. His jaw clenched tighter.

His eyes shut for a second. Just one second, it was exactly whom he thought. He was right. And when they opened-he was staring.

Right into the face that stood in front of him.

D

heer

It was Dheer.

He was the one who stepped out from the shadows, from the same gate. The echo of his footsteps on the terrace floor felt louder than the crashing waves beneath. It was him. The same face Siddharth had seen just days ago-the same face that had stopped him in his tracks. The same face that, despite everything else crumbling around him.

His entire body went still. The fire in his eyes dimmed into something else-something heavier. Disbelief. Shock. A strange silence wrapped around his thoughts. He was not afraid. He was stunned. There was a moment where even time held its breath.

He wasn't fighting the bodyguards anymore. He wasn't even blinking. His eyes locked on the figure beside Zeenat.

Exactly what she wanted.

They never expected Dheer to come into their lives as the third child. The third child that had never been introduced. Thd third child they hadn't even known existed until now.

And now... he was here. Standing in front of Siddharth. Standing beside Zeenat.

He was not just a son.

He was the final blow.

He was the climax of a revenge Zeenat had dreamt of for decades. Her eyes didn't soften as she looked at Dheer. There was no affection. No warmth. No motherly pride. Only victory. Only obsession. Only madness.

Dheer wasn't her son in that moment. He was her masterstroke. Her final weapon. The key to the last lock.

She had built this moment piece by piece. She had carved him into this role. And now, standing beside her, tall and stone-faced, Dheer looked like the very image she had been sculpting for years.

Siddharth watched the boy-no, the man-he was supposed to have protected, supposed to have guided, supposed to have known. And Dheer? Dheer stood still, face cold, emotionless, staring back at Siddharth.

Two brothers. Same blood. Same father.

And she-she was going to make one kill the other.

Zeenat's heart was thundering in her chest, but her face carried a dangerous calm. Her lips curled slightly as she soaked in the sight of the two men-two sons-facing each other like enemies on a battlefield.

"Ye hai mera pehla tohfa," she said. (This is my first gift.)

Her voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

"Woh teesra bacha jise tum jee jaan lagaa ke khoj rahe the."
(The third child you've been desperately searching for.)

Siddharth didn't flinch, didn't reacted. Didn't let her know what was running in his mind. But she noticed it. She loved it. That hint of shock. That flicker of confusion behind the storm he carried. She drank in every moment of it.

The secret he had been hunting for days was standing right before him. The mystery he thought he was close to solving had just hit him in the chest like a train.

He was trapped. And she knew it.

Zeenat looked at Dheer's hand. At the way his fingers were curled tightly around the handle of the gun. She noticed how firm his grip was-how eager he seemed to finish this.

He was ready. Just like she had trained him to be. Just like she had raised him to be. Cold. Focused. Ruthless.

This wasn't about love. This was about revenge. This was about a woman who had waited for decades to bring down the Rajvardhan family. And Dheer, Dheer was her final chapter.

She looked back at Siddharth. And what she saw made her smile.

He was desperate. He was breaking. He was burning.

And then, like poison dripping slowly, she said the final words. The words she knew would destroy him.

"Aur doosra tohfa..."
(And the second gift...)

Siddharth's eyes flicked to her, he didn't speak. He didn't ask. He just watched.

She pulled something from her pocket. A small, almost weightless object. & placed it in her palm, walked toward him, and extended her hand.

Her face held no pity. No regret. Only cold satisfaction.

Siddharth didn't looked down at first but then he looked at her hand & there were green bangles.

The same green bangles Siddharth remembered buying for Noor. Just last night, she had demanded them with her softness. And he had brought them this morning before leaving.

He knew those bangles. He had touched them. Hold them. Felt them, imagined her wearing them before buying it for her and now... they were here.

In Zeenat's hand. His body didn't move. But his eyes did.

They turned blurry. The color drained from his face. His throat dried up. And in that one second, he understood the depth of the second gift.

He understood the cruelty. The message. The trap & she was still smiling.

"Kaisa laga mera doosra tohfa?"
(

How's my second gift?)

Zeenat's voice rang through the air, soft but cruel. She watched him, waiting, but Siddharth didn't lift his face. He stood frozen. His eyes were locked on the green bangles resting in her open palm.

She didn't need to say anything more. Siddharth understood. This wasn't just a message. It was a warning. A statement. A weapon. Zeenat had taken everything-his family, his friends, his blood, and now, his Noor.

For a long moment, he didn't move. Didn't blink. He only stared. Until finally, finally, he looked up. And Zeenat-Zeenat felt victorious.

She closed her fist over the bangles slowly, Her smile widened at the way he looked-shocked, lost & fearful But then, she saw it. That shift. That flicker in his eyes. From disbelief to rage. Like he wasn't afraid to beg but to fight.

He began to thrash.

"Chhodo mujhe!" he yelled at the guards holding him. "Chhodo!"
(Leave me, leave me)

The guards tightened their grip, but he fought harder. "Mar dunga aaj main tumhe! Chhodo mujhe!"
(

I'll kill you today. Leave me)

Zeenat laughed.

"Arey, shaant raho," she said calmly, "koi faida nahi hai."
(

Keep quite. Their is no benefit of doing it)

But Siddharth's fire was back. He wasn't calming down. He was burning again. He stared at her like he could kill her with his eyes. And when he spoke next, his voice was low. Rough. Deadly. Even the guard that was holding him felt less.

"Ek kharoch aayi na meri Noor pe... toh jaan le loonga tum sab ki."
(

A single strach of my noor & I'll kill all of you)

Zeenat's smile faltered. Just for a second there was something in his voice. Something more terrifying than anger-resolve. A promise made in blood.

She stepped forward, slowly, her expression unreadable now. Then, with a sudden flick of her wrist, she hurled the bangles down. The glass shattered as they hit the rooftop, breaking into tiny green pieces.

Siddharth's eyes shot to the fragments, his jaw tightening as his entire body coiled with fresh rage. He lunged again, but now more guards came. Six of them in total. One held tightly to his wrist-the one that still had the gun strapped in. They couldn't take it from him. Not yet.

And Zeenat watched. She gritted her teeth. Even now, after everything, he wasn't breaking. Even now, his anger was stronger than his pain. His devotion stronger than her threats.

Fine, she thought. Then let me destroy what's left, she walked closer, her voice colder than ever.

"Bohot gussa hai na? Marne ka mann kar raha hai?" she whispered. "Chalo. Mar dete hain...par tumhari Noor ko."

(

You're very angry, aren't you? Feeling like killing? Alright then. Let's kill... but let's kill your Noor.)

She tilted her head, smiled darkly.

"Batao. Pehle tumhe maru? Ya tumhari Noor ko? Hmm?" siddharth's eyes burned. His body pulled against every pair of arms holding him.

"Zubaan noch loonga agar dobara meri Noor ka naam bhi liya to," he growled. "Tumhari aukaat nahi hai unhe chhoone ki bhi."

("I'll rip your tongue out if you take my Noor's name again.
You're not even worthy of touching her.)

Zeenat's expression hardened. Her jaw clenched. So he still thinks he can win? He still believes in himself? In her?

She couldn't bear it.

With a flash of her hand, she gave a sharp signal to the guards. They began dragging Siddharth toward the edge of the rooftop. Toward the railing. He resisted-god, he resisted. Even with six men, he was hard to move. But inch by inch, they forced him forward.

Below, five floors down, the view opened toward the port. The sea beyond. And parked close to the shore-a black car.

The car door opened & two masked men stepped out. And then, they pulled someone. Siddharth who was fighting the guards, Froze. It was Noor.

"Noor!" Siddharth's voice cracked before it even left his throat. His eyes screaming more than his lips. He can hear that, she was screaming his name. Calling him."Aarth" "Siddharth" but here he was, fighting back. Her hands tied, her face pale. But he could hear her. Even from this far. He could feel her panic, her fear. His eyes burned. His body burned with rage.

He saw how they pulled her out & then pushed her in again, how they were handling her. Siddharth jaw tightened. He will kill them all. He oothed.

And Zeenat saw it. The moment of helplessness & anger.

"Ab dekho main kya kya kar sakti hoon," she whispered.
(

Now see, what I can do)

Siddharth looked up from the scene below. Zeenat was already watching him. Slowly, she lifted her hand.

In her grip-a small remote.

Siddharth's eyes widened. The color drained from his face.

He looked down at the car. Then back at Zeenat who wasn't looking anywhere but at him.

She smiled. But it was low, cruel smirk. nd then- she pressed the button & before Siddharth can think further, before anyone can think further

A deafening blast ripped through the air. Th moment the blast rang through the air, the world stood still.

Zeenat saw it first. Siddharth's entire body jerked-not violently, but like something inside him had snapped. The fire in his eyes, the defiance in his spine, the madness in his resistance-it all froze.

His eyes looking down at the car that just blasted, the car that carried his life. His eyes went hollow. And body Gabe up. Like their was no soul left anymore.

His head lowered slowly, as if it had become too heavy to hold. It wasn't just pain anymore. It was emptiness. His arms were still being held by six guards, his wrists still locked-but Siddharth Singh Rajvardhan had fallen. Not on his knees. But deeper.

And Zeenat, Zeenat smiled.

A smile so slow, so sinister, so steeped in the ecstasy of revenge-it could silence thunder. Very deep, sick, victorious smile that touched the corner of her lips and slowly bloomed across her face like a rose blooming in blood. Her chest heaved in relief, in pleasure, in glory. The weight of years finally began to lift.

She stood straighter. For the first time in decades, she felt taller. The kind of tall that comes from breaking something powerful.

The great Siddharth Singh Rajadhan had bowed-not by will, but by force. His soul, crushed. His strength, snapped. His fire, extinguished.

Her lips curled like poison blooming in spring. Her eyes sparkled not with light, but with madness, intoxicated by the sight in front of her. She stepped closer, just a little, to look at him fully.

She had won.

She had done what she waited thirty-four years to do.

Her heart danced in her chest, a wild, maniacal joy overtaking her. She looked at him-still silent, head down-and whispered:

"Khatam.
(It's over.)"

And then she laughed.

A laugh that wasn't loud, but raw. The kind of laughter that comes from the deepest pit of a rotted soul. She laughed as if each breath fed her. She laughed like someone who'd been starving and just devoured a feast. It wasn't just a laugh; it was a scream wrapped in music. She was finally tasting the joy she'd waited 34 years for.

As if Siddharth's broken silence had poured honey into her veins. He didn't lift his face. Not once. Not even to give her the final look. Dheer stood still. No expression. No emotion. No flinch.

Zeenat turned slowly, now facing Siddharth again.

"Ab teri baari hai. Ab mera waqt hai. Jo kuchh chalu hua tha chhattis saal pehle, aaj uss kahani ko khatam karne ka waqt aa gaya hai."

(Now it's your turn. Now it's my time. The story that began thirty-four years ago-today, I will end it.)

Her laughter vanished. Her face darkened. The fire inside her sharpened to a blade. She turned & stepped beside Dheer. While Siddharth stood there, his face still down, looking at ground, lifeless. And then she turned Siddharth.

"Aaj apne dard ka woh kaaran hamesha ke liye khatam karungi... Us raat ki ghinoni yaad... Us shaadi mein ghoont ke jeene ke karam... Jis karan tumhare baap ne mere pyaar ko maara... Meri tarap ka karan, meri ghoont ka karan... Aaj un sab karanon ko mita dungi. Tumhein mita dungi, Siddharth!"

("Today I will erase the root of all my pain... The filthy memory of that night... The curse of surviving in a marriage that killed me... The reason your father murdered the man I loved... The reason I suffocated for decades... Today I will erase every reason. I will erase you, Siddharth!")

She screamed that last line. Screamed it with such hate, it felt like the walls would bleed, but Siddharth never looked up.

And that drove her mad. She needed to see his eyes. Those cursed blue eyes that had never known fear. She had never seen them fall, not even when he lost his sister, not even when it was about his life. But tonight, when Noor died she thought she had seen it. A glimpse. And now she craved it.

But the more she wanted to see it, the more restless she became. Her body was crawling with fire. Her mind was spinning in power. Her hatred clawed at her throat.

She remembered him-the only man she ever loved. The one Siddharth's father murdered.The man whose safety had forced her into a marriage she never wanted. She remembered that night-the moment she realized she had married a monster.

The man who raped her. She remembered the man who forced her to stay silent, to raise a child that looked like her pain, to sleep in a bed stained with her nightmares.

She remembered the betrayal she got. The promise that was never completed. Her motive that was never completed. Her dream that was never completed.

Siddharth had his face. He was a constant reminder.

A reminder that she couldn't run. A reminder that she was a wife, raise a family, and pretend to live. Every breath she took after that night was a curse. And Siddharth? Siddharth was the face of it.

Every. Single. Wound.

Of rape, of every scream.
Of every breath she took when she wanted to die.

He was not her son, he was her prison.
He was her pain.

Her entire life shackled in his presence.
Every beat of her heart since that night screamed because of him, he was the reminder.

"Tum... tum toh kab ka mar chuke the mere liye," she muttered and then she turned on her heel, her eyes tbat was filled with hate shifted as they looked at Dheer. They turned manipulating, her footsteps echoing with rage and power. Her voice came low, sharp:

"Aao Dheer, Badla ko apna. Haq cheen lo apna."

("Come, Dheer... Make revenge yours. Claim what's yours.")

She didn't wait. She didn't want to. Saying the last line, the last order to her victory she walked out-her back straight, her lips trembling with the taste of victory. She didn't need to watch Siddharth fall. Her victory wasn't in his death. Her victory was in his silence.

She had won.

She didn't want to see his eyes anymore. The same eyes she saw in that night's shadows-when she cried, her heart bleed and wanted to die.

She hated him.

And just as her footsteps disappeared from the rooftop, there was a sound.

A gunshot.

The kind of gunshot that ends something. The sound of a gunshot cracked through the air like lightning slicing open the night.

Zeenat expected a scream. A cry. Something. She turned to walk away-her victory complete, her power draped around her like a dark veil-but silence greeted her. There was no scream. No crash. Nothing. The silence was heavier than sound, thick like smoke, settling into her chest.

Something inside her twisted. A flicker. A whisper. A chill. A warning. Her steps faltered, and then, like instinct clawing its way to the surface, she turned back.

And just as she did-

Another shot fired.

The bullet tore through the air and scraped past her arm, close enough to kiss the skin but not deep enough to break bone. The pain was sharp, burning. Her breath caught, and her body tilted, collapsing down to the cold, dust-covered ground.

She hit the floor hard. Her elbow scraped. Her arm throbbed. But her eyes-they widened.

In front of her stood Siddharth. Still. Straight. Silent. He was no longer being held by the guards. No longer chained by her illusion. No longer broken. He stood with both arms behind his back, his head tilted slightly, staring at her-not with rage, not with grief, but with something much worse. Calm. And control.

But the gun was not in his hand the fired. And just then before she can think or say further, a body moved in front of Siddharth, blocking hr gaze but meeting her with same fury.

It was in Dheer's.

Her breath seized.

Dheer. Her Dheer. Her masterpiece. Her crafted storm. Her third son. The one she had nurtured with poison and purpose. The one she had raised like a shadow of her own vengeance. He stood in front of her, gun raised, eyes cold & the targeted on her.

"Pura khatam kar dete hai, maa."
("Lets end it completely, mother.")

His voice. Sharp. Cold. Familiar. Thay words Maa sounded like Siddharth. A slap of reality.And foreign. He tilted his head slightly. Just like her.

Siddharth didn't move. Just watched. A small, almost invisible smirk danced at the corner of his lips. The smirk of a man who has just revealed the final card in a game everyone thought he had lost.

Zeenat's body was frozen, but inside, everything was spinning.

Dheer? Dheer had turned?

She couldn't process it. Her mouth went dry. Her heartbeat grew loud. Her eyes darted between the gun, her bleeding arm, and the son she had built like a weapon.

And now the weapon was aimed at her.

She looked around. The guards-her men-were still holding guns. But not pointed at Siddharth. Not even at Dheer. They were pointed at her.

Betrayal burned through her blood.

How? How could this happen?

She tried to rise, but pain pinned her down. Blood soaked her sleeve. The metallic scent rose with the tension.

And then Siddharth stepped forward. Slow. Steady.

He started folding the sleeve of his shirt with the same hand that held a gun, movement smooth, almost casual and he started dusting his shirt, like ths The dust of her dominance was falling off him with each step.

Zeenat's vision blurred with rage. Her hands trembled. Her mind screamed.

How dare Dheer stand against her? How dare Siddharth still be standing? She had broken him. She had killed his Noor. She had taken his light.

And still-he was standing.

Siddharth came close. He stood right in front of her now. Tall, Silent,Unshaken. Her eyes tried to find something in him. Grief. Pain. Even revenge.

But she found only stillness.

He leaned down. Just slightly. Enough for his shadow to fall over her.

The smirk remained. A touch cruel. A touch calm. But fully in control.

"Mujhe batake khud bhool gayi, Zeenat-"
("You told me yourself, Zeenat, and then you forgot it.")

His voice was soft. But it sliced deeper than any bullet.

"Har khel jaldbazi aur jazbaat se nahi khele jaate..."
("Not every game is played with haste and emotion...")

He straightened his spine. Looked her dead in the eye.

"Kuch dimaag se bhi khele jaate hain."
("Some are played with the mind.")

And in that moment, everything shattered.

Her illusion. Her pride. Her dominance.

Zeenat stared at him. The same eyes that haunted her past were now staring into her defeat. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her chest tightened. Her breath hitched. Her world-the one she controlled so tightly-had cracked wide open beneath her feet.

And Siddharth?

He simply watched.

As the empire of a vengeful queen collapsed in the silence she had once used as a weapon.

The silence of a mastermind's triumph.

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