Jhanvi sat in a cozy corner of their home, her fingers tracing the worn, leather-bound notebook that had once belonged to Misthi. It was filled with memories, with every line and every word a testament to a love story that had weathered time, distance, and loss. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with reverence as she held the final draft of the biography in her hands. After months of research, countless conversations with Misthi, and late nights immersed in Abir’s letters, it was finally complete. The story of Misthi and Abir—Echoes of Heartbeats: An Untold Love Story in Kashmir—was ready to be shared with the world.

Later that evening, Jhanvi gathered everyone in the living room. Misthi sat beside her, eyes glistening as she looked at the manuscript, her hands shaking ever so slightly as she turned the pages. Abhir, holding Abhiraa on his lap, watched quietly, pride and emotion filling his gaze. The title alone had taken Jhanvi days to perfect. It was more than just a story—it was the heartbeat of generations, a tale that had survived war, heartbreak, and loss, echoing in the lives of everyone who had loved Abir and Misthi.

“Do you like it, Maa?” Jhanvi asked softly, breaking the silence.

Misthi took a deep breath, her eyes moist as she looked up. “It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined. You’ve captured every memory, every heartbeat… everything that Abir and I were, Jhanvi.”

Abhir reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “His story… your story… it deserves to be told, Maa. People should know about the kind of love you both shared.”

Jhanvi’s voice softened as she addressed Misthi, her gaze tender. “I wrote it because I believe others need to feel that love, to know that in the darkest of times, love can still be a guiding light. Abir’s story, your story… it’s a reminder that love doesn’t end with goodbye.”

Abhiraa, who had been listening intently, looked up at her father with wide, curious eyes. “Dadi, will I get to read it too one day?”

Misthi chuckled, pulling her granddaughter into her arms. “Yes, my little one. And when you do, you’ll learn about your Dadu, the bravest man I ever knew. And you’ll know just how much he loved us all.”

That night, as everyone drifted to bed, Misthi stayed up, holding the book close, reading passages here and there, letting the memories of Abir surround her. She closed her eyes, almost feeling him beside her, his laughter echoing in her ears, his promises lingering in the air.

“Abir,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “your story will live on. Our love will live on.”

In the quiet of the night, Misthi felt a sense of peace, knowing that their love story, once just an echo in the hearts of their family, was now captured forever in the pages of Jhanvi’s book. Echoes of Heartbeats was no longer just an untold story. It was a legacy—a promise of love, courage, and hope that would continue to inspire generations to come, just as Abir had always dreamed.

As the first rays of dawn pierced through the window, Misthi sat alone in the garden, a gentle breeze sweeping through her silvering hair. The morning was quiet, the world still asleep, but she felt an undeniable peace settle within her. It was as though everything had come full circle—every heartache, every joy, every memory, and every tear had led her to this moment.

Abhir and Jhanvi were busy with their daily routines, and Abhiraa was playing in the yard. Yet, Misthi knew it was time—time to say goodbye to the world she had so deeply loved, the world that had given her both the greatest gift and the deepest sorrow.

She looked at the sky, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her thoughts were with Abir now, not just the man she had loved, but the man she would soon be with again. Her fingers brushed against the old, worn photograph of their wedding day, tucked into her pocket. It had always brought her comfort, like a piece of him was still with her. She closed her eyes, remembering the sound of his voice, the way he had promised to return, the way he had kissed her forehead before leaving for Kargil.

"I’ll come back to you, Misthi. I swear it on our Love."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but they weren’t tears of sadness anymore. They were tears of peace, of acceptance. She had kept her promise to him by living with his love every day, by raising their son and cherishing the memories they had shared. And now, it was time for her to keep the final promise—to join him in the place where no battles, no sorrow, no distance could ever separate them again.

A warm presence enveloped her, and in her heart, she felt Abir’s embrace, gentle and familiar. It was as if he were standing right beside her, whispering to her that it was okay, that their time apart was over. She stood, her body weary but her soul light, and with one last look at the world she had known, she felt her heart swell with love.

"Abir," she whispered, her voice soft yet steady, "I’m coming to you."

As if responding, a soft breeze swirled around her, carrying the scent of the jasmine flowers she had always loved. It was his way of calling her home.

She took one last deep breath, her heart steady, her mind calm. And with that, she felt a peaceful sensation wash over her—a warmth, a light, a gentle pull toward the place where love would no longer be bound by time or distance.

With a final glance at the home she had built for them, at the family she had nurtured, Misthi closed her eyes, her heart full of love for the life she had lived. The world faded away, and in its place, she was filled with a soft, glowing light—one that carried her through the veil, back to the man who had stolen her heart all those years ago.

In the vast, beautiful skies of heaven, Abir stood waiting, arms open wide. He had kept his promise.

And together, finally, their hearts beat as one again.