Manvi sat quietly in her room, her thoughts drifting back to conversations and moments that had unfolded over time. She remembered the stories, shared in fragments over the years, of the hardships Aarav had endured at the hands of Maya and Sumitra. Their actions had caused deep wounds and he became ruthless.

In the face of betrayal and adversity, Aarav had shielded Khushi from the harsh truths of his past, choosing instead to nurture her with love and compassion. He had shown her that despite the pain inflicted upon him, he could give a deserving life to his daughter.

Manvi's respect for Aarav deepened as she realized the magnitude of his sacrifice the silent battles he fought to protect his daughter's innocence and preserve her faith in humanity. 

The atmosphere in Manvi's room turned tense as Dhruv, her estranged husband, confronted her with his intrusive presence. His words cut through the air with an unsettling edge, revealing a disdainful disregard for her personal space and boundaries.

"Manvi, aajkal tum hospital ke bahut chakkar kaat rahi ho!" Dhruv's voice was laced with accusation and a hint of mockery, his eyes cold and calculating as they bore into hers.

Manvi, already weary from her own thoughts and the weight of recent memories, sighed deeply in response. Her voice carried a mix of frustration and resignation as she replied, "Tumhe usse kya, Dhruv? Aur tum mere kamre mein kar kya rahe ho! Just leave!" Her words were tinged with a sharpness born from years of pent-up anguish and disappointment.

But Dhruv, undeterred by her dismissal, moved closer, invading her personal space with an arrogance that made her skin crawl. She instinctively stepped back, a gesture of defiance against the man who had brought her more pain than solace throughout their marriage.

"Pati hun tumhara... Haq hai tumpar," Dhruv asserted with a twisted smirk, his entitlement to her presence and attention oozing from every word. But Manvi, fueled by a newfound strength and determination, pushed him away with a force that surprised even herself. "Koi haq nahi hai tumhara mujhpe samjhe tum!" Her voice trembled with a mixture of anger and fear, her eyes blazing with defiance.

Dhruv's smirk widened, a cruel glint in his eyes as he sneered, "Haq jatana aata hai mujhe." His words hung in the air like a threat, the underlying meaning clear to both of them. But Manvi refused to be intimidated or coerced into submission.

Attempting to break free from his grasp, she moved towards the door, her heart racing with a mixture of adrenaline and dread. Yet Dhruv, fueled by his own sense of entitlement and control, refused to let her go so easily. He grabbed her hand forcefully, pulling her back towards the bed with a strength that left her feeling powerless.

"Biwiji... Bahut waqt ho gaya," Dhruv murmured in a sinister tone, his intent unmistakable as he loomed over her, his weight pressing down on her fragile resistance.

Manvi's voice cracked with desperation as she shouted, "Dhruv, stay away!" Her eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to block out the impending violation, her body tensing against his unwanted advances.

In that harrowing moment, fear and revulsion mingled within her, but so too did a fierce resolve to reclaim her dignity and autonomy. The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with the suffocating presence of a man she once trusted, now turned predator.

Manvi's heart pounded with a mixture of rage and terror as she braced herself against Dhruv's unwanted advances, determined to withstand this assault on her spirit and reclaim her right to safety and self-respect. 

Manvi's desperation turned into a fierce determination as she pushed Dhruv away with all her strength, her hands trembling with anger and fear. The room seemed to shrink around them, suffused with tension and the echoes of their tumultuous history.

With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she grabbed the nearest object—an elegant vase from the side table and brandished it like a weapon. Her voice, usually gentle and composed, now rang out with a commanding ferocity, "Nikal jao mere kamre se warna sar phod dungi tumhara!" The threat was clear and carried the weight of years of suppressed indignation and pain.

Dhruv, momentarily taken aback by Manvi's sudden defiance, attempted to assert his dominance with a cold command, "Manvi.. Neeche rakho." His tone was authoritative, expecting compliance as if he still held sway over her.

But Manvi refused to yield. Her voice rose higher, fueled by a surge of raw courage and defiance, "Dhruv, leave!" The words were a plea and a demand all at once, an impassioned plea for freedom from his oppressive presence.

Frustrated by her resistance, Dhruv lunged forward and grabbed her wrist with a vice-like grip, wrenching the vase from her hand and throwing it aside. Manvi's heart pounded with a mixture of panic and resolve as she struggled against his overpowering hold, her mind racing for an escape.

Summoning every ounce of strength, she managed to reach for a pen lying nearby. Gripping it tightly, she swung it towards Dhruv with desperate force, aiming for any vulnerable spot she could reach. The pen connected with a sharp impact, causing Dhruv to stagger back momentarily, his grip loosening just enough for Manvi to break free.

Her heart racing, breaths coming in ragged gasps, Manvi seized the opportunity to flee. She sprinted towards the door, her mind focused solely on escape from the man who had once been her husband but had become a tormentor.

Behind her, Dhruv cursed and shouted in anger, the sound of his footsteps echoing in pursuit. But Manvi's adrenaline-fueled determination carried her forward, driven by a fierce instinct for self-preservation and the desperate need to reclaim her sanctuary from his invasive presence.

As she reached the safety of the hallway outside, tears of relief and anguish streamed down her face. The encounter had left her shaken and bruised, but also strengthened her resolve to never again allow Dhruv's toxicity to darken her life.

In that moment of escape, amidst the chaos and turmoil, Manvi found a fleeting sense of liberation—a glimmer of hope that she could rebuild her life on her own terms, free from the shadows of a past that threatened to consume her.

After Aarav was finally discharged from the hospital, Khushi took him home, her heart filled with relief and gratitude. She guided him gently to the couch, where he settled with a weariness that spoke volumes of his recent ordeal. As he sat down, Khushi knelt before him, her eyes brimming with tears that flowed freely down her cheeks.

"Dadda.. maine aapko kitna galat samjha! Aapne sirf mujhe pyaar kiya aur maine..." Khushi's voice faltered, choked with emotion as she struggled to articulate the regret she felt for misunderstanding her father's unwavering love and sacrifices.

Aarav, ever tender and understanding, reached out to wipe away her tears gently. "Khushi, humne promise kiya tha na ki hum past ki baat nahi karenge," he reminded her softly, his voice a soothing balm to her troubled heart.

"Dadda, aap best ho!" Khushi exclaimed, her voice a mixture of admiration and deep affection as she placed her head on his lap, seeking comfort in his presence. Aarav's hand moved lovingly through her hair, a gesture of reassurance and paternal warmth.

"Wo toh main hun! Tumhari dost se bhi zyada best hun na," Aarav teased playfully, a hint of pride in his voice mingled with a touch of mock jealousy.

Khushi looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she smiled. "Ahan.. Someone is still jealous of my dost," she remarked sarcastically, her tone light but filled with affectionate teasing.

"No, I am not!" Aarav retorted, slipping back into his slightly arrogant demeanor, though it was clear to both of them that it was all in good spirits.

"Acha??" Khushi countered, her playful disbelief evident in her voice.

"Yes! Tumhari dost dost hai aur main tumhara baap hun!" Aarav asserted firmly, his love and protectiveness for Khushi shining through his words.

"Exactly, Dadda.. Aap mere Dadda hai, one and only Dadda! Aapse mujhe koi door nahi kar sakta, main khud bhi nahi," Khushi affirmed earnestly, her words carrying a depth of devotion that resonated deeply between them.

Aarav nodded, overwhelmed with gratitude and affection for his daughter. He pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close as if to reassure himself of their unbreakable bond. In that embrace, amidst the quiet of their home filled with love and understanding, Khushi found solace in her father's arms, knowing that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always have each other's unwavering support and love.

The next morning dawned with a sense of purpose and determination in Aarav's household. After three long months away from his office duties, he prepared himself to return, feeling a mix of anticipation and responsibility. His absence had taken a toll on the operations, and he knew there was much to catch up on.

Khushi, sensing his resolve and readiness, entered the room where Aarav was getting dressed. She approached him with a reassuring smile, gently helping him into his coat. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Khushi spoke with unwavering confidence, "Dadda.. mujhe pata hai aap do din mein sab thik kar doge office mein." Her faith in him shone brightly, a testament to the bond they shared.

Aarav turned to face her, his smile warm and grateful. "Wo toh main kar dunga," he affirmed, his voice filled with determination to set things right in his workplace.

Khushi nodded with a supportive grin. "Yes, aur.."

"Janta hun! Thoda strict kum rahunga," Aarav interjected playfully, knowing well his tendency to maintain discipline tempered with understanding.

Khushi chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with pride and affection for her father. "Chaliye jaldi se breakfast karte hai," she suggested, guiding him downstairs to the dining table where Sharda, their household help, awaited them with a spread of breakfast dishes.

They settled around the table, the atmosphere infused with a newfound sense of unity and joy. Sharda, who had witnessed the ups and downs of their family dynamics, couldn't help but smile through tear-filled eyes. Finally, after so much turmoil and heartache, their home was once again filled with love, care, and laughter.

As they ate, Aarav and Khushi exchanged stories and plans for the day ahead, their conversation punctuated by shared laughter and genuine camaraderie. Aarav's heart swelled with gratitude for the unwavering support of his daughter and the warmth of their restored family bond.

In that moment, surrounded by the simple pleasures of a shared meal and the company of loved ones, Aarav felt a renewed sense of purpose and hope for the future. He knew that with Khushi by his side, he could face any challenge that awaited him, both in his professional life and beyond. And as they finished breakfast together, ready to embark on the day ahead, the echoes of laughter and happiness lingered in the air, a testament to the healing power of love and unity in their home.

As Aarav stepped into his office after a prolonged absence, the atmosphere around him seemed to immediately tense up. His presence alone commanded attention, and the sight of employees relaxing and the general laxity did not sit well with him.

"Yeh kya ho raha hai mere office mein?" Aarav's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and demanding, causing everyone to snap to attention. The sudden shift in demeanor from relaxation to alertness was palpable, as if a switch had been flipped in response to their boss's return.

The manager, standing nearby, felt a mix of trepidation and satisfaction. He had often seen Aarav in action, known for his tough stance and no-nonsense approach. To him, Aarav's return signified a return to discipline and efficiency that had been lacking in his absence.

"Mr. Sharma, I want reports in my cabin in 5 minutes!" Aarav's instructions were clear and uncompromising, leaving no room for delay or excuses. Sharma, though taken aback by the sudden directive, nodded swiftly in acknowledgment, silently grateful for the chance to impress his formidable boss once again.

As Aarav made his way towards his cabin, his path intersected with an intern, Riddhi, who entered hesitantly, her expression tinged with fear. She knew she had committed a mistake by being late, a grave offense in Aarav's eyes.

"Sorry Sir.. wo meri maa beemar thi unhe.." Riddhi's voice trembled slightly as she offered her apology, aware that such excuses rarely softened Aarav's resolve.

Aarav paused, his sharp gaze fixing on Riddhi with a level of scrutiny that made her nerves fray even more. Unexpectedly, he responded with a calm that surprised everyone present. "Next time aisa nahi hona chahiye, Riddhi," he said firmly, his words carrying a hint of understanding that resonated in the stunned silence of the office.

Riddhi's shock was evident, as was the collective surprise among her colleagues witnessing Aarav's uncharacteristic leniency. His unexpected gesture hinted at a depth of empathy beneath his tough exterior, leaving a lingering impression on those who witnessed the rare display of compassion.

Without further ado, Aarav continued on his path to his chamber, his actions and words reverberating in the minds of his employees. His return had marked not just a reinstatement of authority, but also a glimpse into a more nuanced leadership style that balanced firmness with understanding.

In the aftermath of his encounter with Riddhi, murmurs of approval and curiosity floated through the office, mingling with a renewed sense of respect and perhaps even admiration for their formidable boss. As the day progressed under Aarav's watchful eye, the office buzzed with a newfound energy, spurred on by the promise of discipline tempered with humanity under his leadership once more. 

As Aarav entered the serene ambiance of the Malhotra mansion after a long day at the office, his eyes widened in surprise and a touch of apprehension as he saw Khushi engrossed in painting. The sight of her wielding a brush, her face lit up with a gentle smile, stirred memories and emotions long buried beneath the surface.

"Khushi ye.." Aarav began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words to express his mix of astonishment and concern.

Khushi turned towards him, her smile widening as she beckoned him closer. "Dadda.. aao help me," she invited warmly, her tone infused with a blend of encouragement and affection.

Aarav hesitated, his gaze shifting between Khushi and the canvas before him. He couldn't help but recall his turbulent childhood, haunted by memories of Sumitra's constant belittling and the crushing weight of his own self-doubt. The idea of picking up a brush again, of confronting his inner demons through art, felt daunting and raw.

Khushi sensed his reluctance and gently placed her hand on his, her touch a comforting anchor amidst his turmoil. When Aarav met her steady gaze, he found a resolve and understanding that only a daughter's unconditional love could offer.

"Dadda, aapne painting karna chod diya tha.. lekin ab aapko painting karni hogi mere liye," Khushi asserted softly yet firmly, her words carrying a profound conviction that resonated in the air.

Aarav instinctively denied, his defenses still held strong against the vulnerability of exposing his emotions on canvas. "Nahi Khushi.." he started, but she interrupted with a gentle insistence.

"Dadda.. khudko saza nahi de sakte ho! Aaj aap iss canvas pe apna har dard utardo! Koi inhe barbaad nahi karega.. Khushi will guard you," she implored, her voice filled with a tender strength that melted his defenses.

Tears welled up in Aarav's eyes, reflecting a mixture of gratitude, pain, and a newfound hope. His daughter's unwavering belief in him, her steadfast determination to heal the wounds he had carried for so long, touched him deeply. With a nod of acceptance, he allowed Khushi to place the brush in his hand, a symbol of trust and companionship in their shared journey of healing.

Removing his coat, Aarav stood before the canvas, the weight of decades-old burdens lifting as he tentatively began to paint. Each stroke carried a fragment of his soul, a testament to the resilience that had carried him through life's storms. Khushi watched silently, her presence a silent affirmation of his courage and strength.

In that quiet moment, amidst the faint scent of paint and the soft glow of evening light filtering through the windows, Aarav found solace in the act of creation. With each brushstroke, he felt a release, as if the canvas absorbed his pain and transformed it into something beautiful and meaningful.

As the painting took shape under Aarav's skilled hand, Khushi's eyes shimmered with pride and love. She knew that this shared moment was more than just art; it was a profound step towards healing and renewal for her father, a testament to the power of love and understanding to mend even the deepest wounds of the heart.

Will Manvi be able to get divorce?

Hope you enjoyed father and daughter moments. Many more coming.