It's a bright and peaceful afternoon. Khushi is sitting in the living room, reading a book while Anya plays with her toys nearby. They were alone as Zoya went on date with Aditya and Garima was with some neighbour for normal meet and greet. 

But today... something feels off.

Anya suddenly looks up from her toys, her small face full of confusion. "Mumma, I think I hear a car outside."

Khushi glances out the window but sees nothing unusual. "It's just the neighbors, sweetheart," she reassures her daughter, not thinking much of it.

Suddenly, there's a loud, insistent knock at the door. Khushi tenses. She wasn't expecting anyone. She looks down at Anya, who clutches her leg nervously.

"Stay here, Anya. I'll check who it is," Khushi says, trying to remain calm as she stands up.

She opens the door just slightly, but before she can see who it is, the door is forcefully pushed open. A large figure shoves past her and steps into the apartment. Khushi's heart drops into her stomach.

It's Ahaan.

His face is cold, his eyes full of an unsettling intensity. Behind him, two of his associates stand motionless, like shadows.

"Khushi," Ahaan says, his voice low and dangerous. "We need to talk."

Khushi takes a step back, her body instinctively protecting Anya, who's still standing in the corner. "What are you doing here, Ahaan? You can't just barge in like this. You don't have any right to—"

"I have every right to see my daughter," he interrupts, his voice rising in anger.

Khushi shakes her head, her pulse racing. "Anya is with me. You lost the right to be in her life."

Without warning, Ahaan steps forward and grabs her wrist. The harsh grip makes Khushi wince, but she refuses to give in.

"You don't understand, Khushi," Ahaan says, his eyes dark with something unsettling. "I never wanted it to end like this. I made mistakes, but I'm here now. And you're going to listen to me."

Khushi jerks her arm back, but Ahaan's grip only tightens. "Let go of me, Ahaan. What are you doing? You have no right to—"

Before she can finish, Ahaan's associates quickly grab Anya from the corner, silencing her frightened screams. The little girl thrashes in their grasp, but they hold her tightly, dragging her toward the door.

Khushi's heart lurches. "Anya! No! Let her go! Ahaan, please!"

Ahaan turns toward his associates, giving them a silent order. "Take her to the car."

"NO!" Khushi screams, her voice breaking as she struggles to break free from his grip. But Ahaan doesn't flinch.

"Don't make this harder, Khushi," Ahaan says coldly. "I've waited long enough. You and Anya are coming with me. You owe me this much."

Tears flood Khushi's eyes as she watches her daughter being dragged away. "Ahaan, please... don't do this. You're scaring her. You can't take her. She's my daughter!"

Ahaan doesn't react. He tightens his hold on Khushi's arm and leads her toward the door. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm taking her. And you're coming with me. I'm not leaving without both of you."

Khushi's heart races as she fights against his grip, trying to reach Anya, who's now outside, struggling against the men holding her.

"No, Ahaan. This isn't you. This isn't love," Khushi pleads, tears streaming down her face. "Let us go. You'll never be happy doing this."

But Ahaan's face is set in grim determination, his eyes cold and unyielding. "It's too late for that. I've made up my mind."

Khushi's mind races, panic flooding her thoughts. She can't let this happen. She can't lose Anya. As she struggles against him, she sees a glimmer of hope—Anya is still trying to break free, and she's not too far from her. Khushi knows she has to find a way to escape.

Khushi regains consciousness in a dimly lit, musty room. Her hands are bound to a chair, and her head is spinning. The cold metal on her wrists sends a shiver down her spine. She tries to move, but the restraints are tight.

Ahaan stands in front of her, his face expressionless. He's changed – older, more hardened. His eyes, however, still carry a hint of something that used to be love, now twisted into something darker.

"Where is Anya? What did you do with her." Khushi panicked.

"Not here atleast. Don't worry. She is my daughter too. She is safe." Ahaan answered smugly.

"Why are you doing this?" Khushi's voice is shaky, but her eyes are defiant.

Ahaan steps closer, his presence looming over her. "Because I couldn't let you go, Khushi. You think you've moved on, but you haven't. You'll see, we belong together."

Khushi struggles against the ropes, but it's no use. "This isn't love, Ahaan. This is madness. You don't own me."

A flash of anger crosses his face. He slams his fist against the wall, causing a tremor to run through her. "You'll see soon enough. I won't let you be with anyone else. I'm your past, your present, and your future. You're mine."

Tears well up in Khushi's eyes, but she holds her ground. "I'm not yours, Ahaan. I never was."

" Then who do you belong? That Raizada? Don't worry sweety. This is his test. He was bluffing so much about the blessing in the form of Anya , na? Then let's see, who will he save. You or Anya?" Ahaan said and put a tape back on Khushi's mouth.

The air in Ahaan's dimly lit room is thick with tension. His back is to the door, his hands resting on the edge of his desk as he stares out the window, watching the rain pour heavily against the glass. He is calm, eerily calm, but there is a storm brewing within him. The echo of Khushi's defiance earlier still rings in his ears, and the image of Anya's terrified face haunts him.

A small, cruel smile plays on his lips as he reaches for his phone. His finger hovers over the contact list for a moment, then he dials a number he knows all too well. It's the one number he's been avoiding for years, but now, it's time to make the call.

A few seconds later, the phone rings on the other end. Ring. Ring. Ring.

In the penthouse across town, Arnav's phone vibrates against his desk, pulling him out of his deep thoughts. He picks up the receiver without looking at the screen, his mind preoccupied with the day's work. When he hears the voice on the other end, his blood runs cold.

"Arnav."

Ahan's voice is low, smooth, and cold, It's the voice of a man who has crossed a line, a man who no longer cares about the consequences of his actions.

Arnav stiffens at the sound of Ahaan's name. A few seconds of silence pass before Arnav speaks, his voice strained but controlled.

"What do you want, Ahaan?"

A cruel laugh escapes Ahaan's lips, but there's no humor in it. "It's not about what I want, Arnav. It's about what's coming. You should be grateful that I'm calling you first."

Arnav's eyes narrow as he instinctively feels the tension in his gut. "What's this about?"

Ahaan lets out a deep breath, and when he speaks again, it's with a hint of dark satisfaction. "Khushi. She's with me now."

Arnav's heart skips a beat. His mind instantly flashes to the worst possible scenarios. He stands up from his desk, his fingers tightening around the phone. "What did you do, Ahaan?" His voice comes out colder, sharper than he intended, the warning clear in his tone.

Ahaan's voice stays unnervingly calm. "She's mine now, Arnav. And so is Anya."

Arnav's grip on the phone tightens as the reality of the situation hits him. His breath hitches as he forces himself to remain composed. "You've kidnapped them?"

"Kidnapped?" Ahaan's laugh is bitter, mocking. "Is that how you see it? I'm just... taking back what's rightfully mine."

Arnav's mind races, calculating his next move, but his voice is steady, cutting through the air with intensity. "You don't have the right to do this. I'll have you arrested, Ahaan. Let them go, now."

Ahaan's tone turns icy, almost too calm. "Arnav, you really think you can stop me? You have no idea what I'm capable of. I'm not asking for your permission; I'm just giving you a warning."

Arnav's blood boils, the protectiveness he feels for Khushi and Anya surging through him. "You won't get away with this, Ahaan. Let them go, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Ahaan's chuckle is dark and menacing. "You're too late for that. They're already with me, and you can't change that. But don't worry, Arnav. You'll get them back... when I'm ready."

Arnav feels his stomach drop as a sick realization settles in. Ahaan is no longer the man he used to know. This is someone entirely different—a man driven by obsession, willing to do anything to keep control.

A brief silence hangs between them before Ahaan speaks again, his words dripping with venom.

"I'll be in touch. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, Arnav. I'm going to enjoy watching you beg for their release."

Before Arnav can respond, the line goes dead. The click of the call ending echoes in his ear.

Arnav's mind is spinning, his thoughts rushing like a whirlwind. He knows he has no time to waste. Ahaan has gone too far, and this time, he won't let him win. The stakes have never been higher, and Arnav's heart is filled with one single thought—he will stop at nothing to get Khushi and Anya back.

Arnav's hand shakes as he hangs up the phone after Ahaan's call. The words echo in his mind like a haunting refrain: "Khushi is with me now, and so is Anya."

The world seems to stop for a moment as a cold sweat forms on his forehead. His breath becomes shallow, his mind racing in a blur of fear and disbelief. The realization that Ahaan has gone this far—kidnapping Khushi and their daughter—fills him with a rage so intense it's almost suffocating. But beyond the anger, there's an overwhelming sense of dread.

What if Ahaan's telling the truth? What if he has them?

Arnav's heart pounds in his chest as he quickly paces around his penthouse, trying to focus, trying to think. He grabs his phone, his fingers trembling as he dials the one number he's afraid of calling—the one person who might know the truth.

Khushi's mother, Mrs. Gupta.

As the phone rings, every second feels like an eternity. The anxiety is choking him, his throat dry. He forces himself to stay calm, knowing he needs to get answers.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Finally, the call connects. Mrs. Gupta's voice is soft and tired, but there's something about the way she answers that makes Arnav's chest tighten with even more fear.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Gupta," Arnav says, his voice strained and breathless. "It's Arnav. I—I need to know something."

Mrs. Gupta's tone shifts immediately, sensing the urgency in his voice. "Arnav, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

Arnav swallows hard, trying to steady himself, but the panic is creeping through. He forces the words out. "Is Khushi with you? Is Anya with her?"

There's a long pause on the other end, and in that silence, Arnav's world feels like it's crumbling. He holds his breath, waiting for Mrs. Gupta's response.

"I—no, Arnav," Mrs. Gupta's voice cracks with concern. "I haven't heard from her since this morning. Why do you ask? What's happened?"

His heart drops. The cold reality settles in like a punch to the gut.

"Ahaan has them," Arnav says, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's taken them. He's kidnapped Khushi and Anya."

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. Mrs. Gupta gasps, her breath catching in shock. "What? No... no, this can't be true! Arnav, what do you mean? He would never—"

"He has, Mrs. Gupta. He called me. He told me. He said Khushi and Anya are with him," Arnav cuts in, his tone sharp with panic now. "I don't know where they are, but I need you to check. I need you to tell me that he's lying. Please... please tell me they're safe."

Mrs. Gupta's voice trembles, and Arnav can hear her frantic steps as she moves in haste. "I—I'll go to her apartment, Arnav. I'll find out. But you need to be careful. Ahaan... he's not the same. This isn't just about Khushi anymore. He's dangerous."

"I know," Arnav says, his jaw tightening as a cold fury fills him. "I know exactly what he's capable of. I'll find them, Mrs. Gupta. Just... just tell me if you find any sign of them."

Another long pause fills the line, and Arnav can hear the sound of Mrs. Gupta moving quickly in the background.

"Arnav, I—" She stops suddenly, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "I'm at her apartment. The door is locked, but there's something... something isn't right. There are signs of a struggle. Her things are gone. I don't know where she is, but... but she's not here. Ahaan has taken her, I'm sure of it."

Arnav's breath catches in his throat, and the world seems to spin around him. His worst fear has come true. He can hear the desperation in Mrs. Gupta's voice, and it makes his heart ache.

"I'll kill him for this," Arnav mutters under his breath, fury boiling in his veins.

"Arnav, you have to be careful," Mrs. Gupta warns urgently. "Ahaan is dangerous. I know you want to protect Khushi and Anya, but you need to think. You have to act smart. Please, don't let anger blind you."

"I won't," Arnav says, his voice steely with resolve. "But I will find them, Mrs. Gupta. I promise you that."

He ends the call abruptly, his mind racing with plans. The pain of not knowing where Khushi and Anya are gnaws at him, but there is one thing he knows for certain: Ahaan has made a fatal mistake by taking what is his. Arnav will stop at nothing to get them back.

Arnav stands by the window, the weight of the entire world pressing down on him. His heart is racing, his mind a chaotic blur of fear, anger, and desperation. His hands grip the phone tightly, as though it could somehow provide him with control over the situation, but there's nothing that can give him peace. Ahaan has taken Khushi and Anya, and now Arnav is faced with a choice that no one should ever have to make.

The phone rings again, and Arnav's eyes narrow. He already knows who it is. Ahaan.

He answers the call with a growl, his voice tight with restraint. "Ahaan, if you've hurt them, I swear—"

Ahaan's voice cuts through the tension, calm and unsettlingly cold. "You need to listen, Arnav. I don't want to hurt anyone. But I want you to understand. I'm giving you a choice. You can save one. Your lover... or her daughter."

Arnav's heart skips a beat, his breath caught in his throat. The words are so absurd, so unimaginable, that for a moment he doesn't respond. But Ahaan's cruel tone pulls him back to reality.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Arnav. I've split them up. Khushi is at one location. Anya is at another. You have to choose who to save. The other... well, let's just say they'll stay with me... forever."

Arnav's blood runs cold, and his hands begin to shake. This is beyond anything he could have ever imagined. He wants to scream, to lash out, but he knows that reacting out of anger will get him nowhere. He has to think, he has to act quickly.

"Where are they, Ahaan? Tell me," Arnav demands, his voice low and dangerous.

Aahan laughs softly, but it's the kind of laugh that sends chills down Arnav's spine. "Ah, so eager. I'll give you the locations, but remember—time is running out. You have one hour. One hour, Arnav. Choose wisely."

Before Arnav can respond, Ahaan hangs up. The call ends with a harsh, final click, leaving Arnav staring at the screen, his mind racing.

Arnav paces back and forth, his thoughts a whirlwind of panic and dread. His mind is screaming that he can't make this choice, that he can't be forced into deciding between Khushi and Anya. But Ahaan is right—he doesn't have the luxury of time.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down. It's a message from Ahaan:

Khushi's location: The abandoned warehouse by the old docks.
Anya's location: The abandoned factory on the east side of the city.

Arnav's blood runs cold. He knows both places well opposite of each other, and they're both dangerous, isolated locations—perfect for someone like Ahaan. He clenches his fists, his mind searching for a solution, anything to save both of them. But there's no time. He has to act now.

The door bursts open, and Aditya steps into the room, his face tense. "Arnav, what's going on? What happened?Zoya told me...."

"Khushi and Anya... Ahaan has them," Arnav says, his voice strained. "I have to choose. I can only save one."

Aditya's expression falters, then hardens. "You don't have to choose alone. Let me help."

Arnav looks at him, his eyes full of anguish. "I need you to go to Khushi. She's at the warehouse. I'll go after Anya. We'll get them both, I swear."

Aditya nods, his jaw clenched. "I'll get to Khushi. You don't need to worry about her."

Arnav grabs his jacket, his hands still trembling with the weight of the decision. "Be careful, Aditya. Ahaan is dangerous. We can't let our guard down."

Aditya gives him a quick, reassuring nod before rushing out the door. Arnav watches him leave, his heart in his throat. The clock is ticking. Every second counts. He can't afford to fail.

The city is cloaked in shadows as Arnav speeds toward the abandoned factory. His mind is sharp, his heart pounding with a singular mission: save Anya.

He arrives at the factory, the dilapidated building looming in front of him like a nightmare. He scans the surroundings quickly before slipping inside, moving with the precision of a man who has nothing to lose. His footsteps are silent as he checks each room, the darkness consuming him as he moves through the cold, empty corridors.

In the far corner of the factory, he hears a faint cry. His heart races, knowing it's Anya. He moves faster, pushing open a rusted door.

There, in the center of the room, sits Anya, bound and terrified. Her eyes widen as she sees him.

"Uncle!" she cries, her voice choked with fear.

"Anya, baby, I'm here," Arnav whispers, rushing to her side. He quickly unties her, his hands shaking as he pulls her into his arms. "It's okay. You're safe now."

As they make their way toward the exit, Arnav hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen in panic—Ahaan's men are closing in. He pulls Anya closer, his body instinctively shielding her.

"Stay down, Anya," he murmurs, as he prepares to fight his way out.

Meanwhile, Aditya approaches the old warehouse cautiously. He knows Ahaan won't make this easy, but he's determined to get Khushi back.

He moves quickly, slipping through the shadows. As he nears the entrance, he sees two of Ahaan's men standing guard. With a swift, silent move, he takes them out, knocking them unconscious before entering the building.

Khushi is in the center of the warehouse, her hands bound to a chair. She looks up as Aditya approaches, her eyes wide with shock and relief.

"Aditya... you came! What about Anya, he'll take her forever." she says, her voice trembling with exhaustion and fear.

"Of course, I did, and no he is not taking anyone anywhere." he says, cutting her free. "We're getting out of here."

They move swiftly through the warehouse, but as they reach the exit, Ahaan's voice echoes through the dark.

"Running away, Khushi? You think it's that easy?"

Ahaan steps into view, flanked by several of his men. His eyes gleam with dark satisfaction. "I knew Arnav would come for you. But you're both too late. You've made your choice. Now... you'll pay the price."

Aditya steps forward, positioning himself between Ahaan and Khushi. "You're not taking her anywhere, Ahaan."

Just as Ahaan's men move toward them, a car screeches to a halt outside. Arnav bursts into the warehouse, gun in hand, his eyes locked on Ahaan.

"This ends now, Ahaan!" Arnav growls, his voice full of fury and determination.

A standoff ensues. Ahaan smiles, a cruel, mocking expression. "You think you've won, Arnav? You really think you can take them both?"

Arnav looks at Khushi and Anya, who are both standing behind Aditya. His heart swells with relief, but the fight isn't over yet. "I don't need to take them, Ahaan. They're coming with me. And this time, you'll stay away from them. Forever."

The tension is palpable. The moment feels like it's suspended in time—until Arnav makes his move. With a swift motion, he disarms one of Ahaan's men, and a fight breaks out. But Arnav, Aditya, and Khushi fight back with everything they have. In a final, explosive moment, Ahaan is knocked down and arrested.

The night air was still, heavy with the weight of everything that had just transpired. The distant sound of sirens faded into silence as Ahaan was taken away in the back of a police van, his protests becoming muffled as the doors slammed shut. The streets, once filled with tension, now seemed peaceful, as if the world had exhaled after holding its breath for far too long.

Khushi stood still, her eyes tracing the flashing lights as the van disappeared into the distance. Her heart was still racing, her body tense from the confrontation, but beneath it all, there was a strange feeling of relief. Aahan was gone—no more threats, no more fear.

And yet, the quiet left her feeling exposed, vulnerable. She had carried the weight of his cruelty for so long that it felt impossible to imagine life without the constant fear of him. But in that moment, as she stood there, the burden seemed to lift.

She wasn't alone.

Arnav stood beside her, his presence a steady force. He didn't speak immediately, but his proximity was reassuring. He didn't push her to talk or pretend everything was okay, he simply stood there, a silent support. After everything they had gone through, she didn't need words. His mere presence spoke volumes. He had stood by her when she needed him most, and in that moment, she realized just how much he had come to mean to her.

Finally, Arnav spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "It's over, Khushi. He won't hurt you again."

Khushi nodded, her voice catching in her throat as she whispered, "I can't believe it's really over."

Arnav gave her a reassuring look, stepping closer. "It is. He can't hurt you anymore. And he won't."

Khushi glanced up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude, though there was more—something she hadn't fully recognized until now. She wasn't just grateful. There was something else. She could feel it in the way her chest tightened whenever he was near, the way he made her feel protected, safe. His calm presence was something she had come to rely on, and though she hadn't fully allowed herself to acknowledge it, she knew it was because of him that she felt like she could finally breathe again.

"You don't have to say anything now, Khushi," he said softly. "But I'll be here, whenever you're ready."

Khushi blinked, her eyes filling with a mix of emotions. She had been through so much—so many years of torment, silence, and fear—but now, for the first time in so long, she felt like she was finally standing on solid ground. The walls she had built around her heart had always kept her safe, but they also kept her alone. And she realized, in that moment, that she didn't want to be alone anymore.

Arnav's words settled in her heart, and though she didn't have all the answers, she knew one thing for sure: she was ready to move forward, ready to trust again. She didn't need to be rushed. There was no pressure. But what Arnav had given her tonight—the safety, the unwavering support—had opened a door in her heart she hadn't even known was there.

"I think... I think I'm ready," she said, her voice quiet but steady, meeting his gaze. "To move on. To finally live my life again."

Arnav's face softened, the edges of his hardened expression melting away into something more tender, more real. "You deserve that, Khushi. More than anyone I know."

Khushi took a deep breath, her heart still racing but filled with a new sense of hope. She had always feared what might come next—what it would mean to open herself up again, to trust someone, to love. But now, with Arnav standing beside her, that fear seemed to fade into the background.

For the first time in years, she felt free.

As the night continued to unfold, Khushi and Arnav stood together, side by side. The threat of Ahaan was no more, and with it, the weight of her past. And though the future was still uncertain, for the first time in a long time, she felt ready to embrace whatever came next.

And, as Arnav silently vowed to protect her with everything he had, the seed of something deeper, something real, began to take root between them. It wasn't an ending. It was just the beginning.

And that was enough.

It was a non typical evening at the Raizada mansion, with the family gathered around the grand dining table. Arnav and Arjun has came here to inform about Arnav's relationship. The aroma of the lavish dinner filled the air, but the atmosphere felt thick with tension. Arnav sat at the head of the table, his usually composed demeanor slightly clouded, as his family's murmurs reverberated around him.

"Arnav, you can't be serious about her," his mother, Sameera Raizada, finally spoke up, her voice sharp. "A single mother? A divorcee?" She sneered, casting a disapproving glance at her husband, Arjun Raizada, as though seeking his validation.

"Sameera's right," Arvind, Arnav's uncle, added from across the table. "You can't just marry someone with a complicated past. We have a reputation to uphold. A divorcee with a child, she'll drag the family name through the mud!"

Arnav clenched his jaw, his fingers curling around his fork. The weight of their words wasn't lost on him. He had never liked how his family treated the women in his life, but hearing their judgmental tone now, especially about Khushi, made his blood boil.

"Enough," Arnav said, his voice steady but commanding. "You all need to stop with this nonsense."

Sameera raised an eyebrow. "Arnav, we're just looking out for you. You have responsibilities. You can't just bring anyone into this family. You're the heir to AR, the future of the Raizada legacy."

His mother's words stung, but Arnav refused to show any sign of weakness.  "Legacy? What legacy are you talking about? Adopting a child than abandoning him? Your another child is always in the scandal. Is this Raizada legacy?"

"But a single mother?" Arvind scoffed, clearly irritated. "What kind of example would she set for the family? Think of what people will say."

Arnav's voice grew cold. "I don't care about what people say. And for the record, she's more than just a single mother. She's strong, independent, and she's been through hell, yet she stands tall. You think you can judge her because of her past? You think you know her? You don't."

A heavy silence fell over the table. Arnav's words lingered in the air, but the Raizada family was too proud to admit they had underestimated Khushi. They were too accustomed to their wealth, status, and traditional values to understand that love and respect weren't confined to superficial labels.

"She's not good enough for you, Arnav," Sameera's voice trembled with frustration. "You deserve someone from a respected family, someone with a clean slate, someone who knows how to fit into our world."

Arnav stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. His eyes flashed with anger, but there was also a hint of sadness in them. He had expected this, but it still hurt to hear his family speak so disparagingly about someone who meant so much to him.

"You want someone from a 'respected' family?" Arnav asked bitterly. "Someone who fits your mold? Khushi doesn't fit your mold, but she has something that none of you do—decency, kindness, integrity. And she's earned every bit of it. You don't get to decide who I love or who I care about."

"And i don't care about your opinion. I just wanted to inform you which i did. Let's go baba." Arnav said with finality.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, the sunlight streaming gently through the living room windows. The soft rustling of leaves outside seemed to harmonize with the calmness that had finally settled in their lives. Khushi was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, watching Anya play with her dolls on the floor. The room was filled with warmth and laughter, the kind that only home could bring.

Arnav stood by the window, looking out, but his mind was elsewhere. He had become accustomed to being in this space, a place where the world felt a little less heavy. His eyes, however, kept wandering to Anya, who was playing and talking to her dolls like she always did. But today, something was different. There was an unspoken bond, a connection, that had been growing between him and the little girl.

Anya looked up from her play, her large, innocent eyes meeting Arnav's gaze. She tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful look on her face. Arnav, who had been lost in his thoughts, caught her gaze and smiled warmly.

"Arnav uncle," Anya said, her voice small yet full of innocence.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden attention. "Yes, Anya?"

She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Why do you always look at me like that?"

Arnav's heart skipped a beat. He had no idea how to respond to such an innocent question. His feelings for her were something he hadn't fully understood yet, but he knew they were important. More important than he had ever anticipated.

He knelt down beside her, so they were eye level. "What do you mean, Anya? Like what?"

Anya thought for a moment, her little brows furrowing. "Like you're waiting for me to say something... or like you want me to be happy."

Arnav chuckled softly, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "I guess I do want you to be happy, little one. You're very special to me."

Anya's face brightened, but then she became serious again, her small hands clasping together. "I think you're special too, Arnav uncle," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arnav's heart fluttered at her words, but before he could respond, Anya continued.

"You know, Mumma talks about you a lot," she said, her eyes full of curiosity. "She says you're always there when she needs help. Like a superhero."

Arnav felt a lump form in his throat. Hearing Khushi speak of him like that made his chest tighten, but he smiled at Anya. "Well, your Mumma is pretty amazing herself, don't you think?"

Anya nodded enthusiastically, her face lighting up. "She's the best! But..." she trailed off, biting her lip as if contemplating something important. "You're like the superhero she always needed," she said, her voice soft but with so much clarity.

Arnav's smile faltered for a moment. He could feel the weight of her words, the innocence in them, and how they were slowly opening a door to a new reality for him. Anya wasn't just a little girl in his life anymore—she was part of his future, a future he had never imagined before.

Anya stood up from the floor, walked over to him, and placed her tiny hands on his shoulders. "You know," she said, her voice more serious now, "I think you're really nice. You make Mumma smile, and you make her feel safe." She paused and looked at him with a mix of determination and innocence. "I want you to be my papa."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and Arnav's heart stopped beating for a second. Did she just say what he thought she did? His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Anya, unable to speak for a few seconds.

Anya continued, not noticing the effect her words had on him. "Mumma's always said that a papa is someone who loves you, and you love me, don't you?"

Arnav's eyes softened as he knelt down to her level. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely a whisper, filled with emotion. "Anya..." he started, but words seemed so inadequate in that moment.

"I do love you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I care about you more than I ever thought I could care for someone."

Anya's face brightened even more, her small hands reaching out to hug him. "Then you're my papa," she declared simply, her voice filled with the kind of certainty only a child could have.

Arnav stood there, stunned for a moment, as Anya wrapped her arms around his neck. Slowly, he enveloped her in a tight hug, a rush of emotions flooding through him. There was so much love and tenderness in that simple gesture, so much more than he had ever known. He had always wanted a family, but he had never imagined this kind of love, this pure connection. And here, in the arms of this little girl, he had found it.

Khushi, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, felt her heart swell with emotion. She had never expected this moment to come so naturally, so effortlessly. Her daughter had just given Arnav something she hadn't even realized he was missing—a family. And in return, Arnav had given Anya something she had always craved—a father.

Arnav pulled away slightly, looking at Anya with a soft smile. "You've made me the happiest man alive, Anya," he whispered, his voice full of warmth and affection. "I promise I'll always be here for you."

Anya beamed, her eyes shining with pure joy. "I know, Papa. I know."

As Arnav held her close again, he couldn't help but feel like the world had shifted into something brighter, something filled with hope. He had always thought he was too damaged, too lost to deserve happiness. But in that moment, with Anya in his arms and Khushi watching them from across the room, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he had found the family he had always yearned for.

And this family, this bond with Khushi and Anya, was everything.

The evening was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. Arnav and Khushi sat across from each other in her living room, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow over the space. Their eyes locked for a moment, the air thick with a tension that neither of them could deny.

Khushi, sitting on the couch, shifted slightly, her fingers nervously brushing over the edge of the coffee cup in her hand. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't quite place why. The warmth of the room was not entirely from the candles—there was something more. Something between them.

Arnav, who had been watching her intently, leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. His usual confident demeanor had softened, replaced by something far more vulnerable. "Khushi," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "You've been avoiding me. Why?"

Khushi swallowed, her throat dry. She knew what he meant, knew that he could see right through her, through the walls she had built so carefully around herself. But there was no hiding from him anymore. The feelings she had tried to suppress were bubbling to the surface, and every moment she spent in his presence made it harder to push them down.

"I'm not avoiding you," she replied softly, though the words sounded more like a lie than the truth. She wasn't sure how to navigate what was growing between them—what had already begun. "I just... I don't know how to deal with this." She gestured vaguely between them, unable to fully express the whirlwind inside her.

Arnav's eyes softened, and he moved closer, his presence filling the space between them. His hand reached out, gently taking hers in his. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quickening beat of their hearts, in sync with each other.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now, Khushi," Arnav murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "But I need you to know that I'm here. Whatever this is, whatever happens between us, I want you to be a part of it. I don't want to hide from it anymore."

Khushi's breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her pulse racing. Her heart told her to step away, to keep the distance she had always maintained, but her body was betraying her. There was a magnetic pull between them, an undeniable force that drew her in closer, until she was right there, on the edge of something that could change everything.

Her eyes searched his face, trying to read his intentions, trying to understand if this was really what she wanted. But there was no need for words. The way he looked at her—the intensity in his gaze—was enough to tell her that he wasn't going to pull back. And neither was she.

Slowly, hesitantly, she leaned in. Her lips brushed against his, tentative at first, as though testing the waters. The moment her lips met his, something shifted—something that neither of them had been prepared for. The kiss deepened, their feelings surfacing in a rush.

Arnav's free hand came to rest on the small of her back, pulling her closer, his body responding to the pull between them. Khushi's fingers threaded through his hair, tugging him closer, her heart pounding as if it had never been alive before.

They paused for a moment, breathless, faces inches apart. Arnav's forehead rested against hers, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.

"Khushi," he whispered, his voice thick with desire and something deeper. "I don't want to stop. I've never felt this way before... not with anyone."

Khushi's eyes fluttered closed as she took a deep breath, her pulse quickening. She had never been this vulnerable, this exposed. But with Arnav, it felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She had always guarded her heart, always kept it hidden away. But now, in his arms, everything felt right.

"Then don't," she whispered back, her voice shaky but determined. "I don't want to stop either."

And as their lips met again, it wasn't just passion that drove them. It was something deeper, something more than either of them had ever experienced before. There were no more walls between them, no more barriers. Just two people, letting themselves be consumed by the moment, letting themselves be vulnerable with one another.

As the night stretched on, they lost themselves in each other, both of them knowing, without a doubt, that this was only the beginning.

Arnav's farmhouse was glowing. It was as if the house itself was glowing in anticipation, preparing for the grand union of Zoya and Aditya. The air was filled with the fragrance of jasmine, roses, and marigolds, and everywhere you looked, the mansion was adorned with intricate decorations—string lights twinkling, silk drapes swaying gently, and gold accents giving the whole atmosphere a regal feel. The chandeliers were sparkling, and the terrace was set to host the most beautiful celebration of love.

Khushi, Zoya, Nisha and Vikrant were busy in the house, running around, finalizing last-minute details. Khushi's parents had come to town for the wedding, making sure every tradition and ritual was perfectly executed. But amid all the preparations, there was an underlying excitement—this wasn't just a wedding; this was a celebration of love, overcoming barriers, and the coming together of two families who had once been strangers to one another.

Khushi, in a beautiful saree of deep red and gold, helped Zoya with the finishing touches on her lehenga. Zoya had chosen a rich emerald green lehenga with gold embellishments, which glimmered as she moved. Her hair was elegantly styled in soft curls, adorned with small, delicate jasmine flowers, and her makeup was flawless, giving her a timeless beauty.

"Are you sure this is all real?" Zoya whispered, looking in the mirror, her voice trembling with both excitement and nerves.

Khushi smiled and gently squeezed her hand. "It's real, Zoya. Everything you've ever wanted. The love, the happiness—it's all real."

Meanwhile, Arnav stood with his grandfather in the garden, watching as the preparations for the wedding ceremony continued. Arnav, in his traditional sherwani—a deep navy blue with gold embroidery—was trying to maintain his usual composed demeanor, but the tension in his chest was palpable. He was so happy for Zoya and Aditya, but there was also a sense of pride that he couldn't ignore. 

The moment had arrived. Guests filled the garden, where a stunningly decorated mandap awaited. The traditional Hindu Kanyadaan ceremony was about to take place. In Hindu culture, the Kanyadaan is the giving away of the bride, but for Zoya, it held even more significance. As a Muslim woman, this ceremony was a symbol of her acceptance into Aditya's family, representing the bond between her and his parents.

Khushi, with a glowing face, walked Zoya to the mandap, her heart swelling with pride. Zoya had always been like a sister to her, and today, watching her marry Aditya, Khushi couldn't help but feel the bittersweetness of the moment. Her hand rested on Zoya's shoulder, and as they approached the mandap, Khushi's eyes met Arnav's.

Arnav's gaze softened, and there was something about the way he looked at Khushi—something deeper than admiration. She smiled back at him, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. But then she quickly turned her attention back to Zoya. The Kanyadaan ceremony began.

It was Shashi who will be doing the rituals as bride's father, standing beside them, placed his hands gently on her head. The priest chanted sacred mantras, blessing the couple. Then, in a beautiful act of love, Khushi placed Zoya's hand in Aditya's, symbolizing the transfer of responsibility, love, and trust.

Zoya's heart pounded as she gazed into Aditya's eyes. The crowd around them seemed to fade, and in that moment, it was just the two of them. She knew that despite the challenges they had faced, this was where she was meant to be. With Aditya.

Aditya's hand trembled slightly as he took Zoya's hand, and in that instant, his entire being was filled with overwhelming emotion. He could hardly believe this was really happening.

"I promise to love you, protect you, and stand by you forever, Zoya," Aditya whispered.

Zoya smiled softly, her voice barely a whisper. "And I promise to do the same, Aditya."

The priest gave them his blessings as the Kanyadaan ritual came to an end. But the tears in Zoya's eyes and the smile on Aditya's face told the real story — the story of their deep and unwavering love.

As the Kanyadaan ceremony concluded, the atmosphere shifted. The Nikah, the Muslim marriage ceremony, began with the Imam arriving at the mandap. The entire family, along with close friends, gathered around as Zoya and Aditya stood before the Imam, ready to take the vows that would officially bind them together in the eyes of their faith.

Khushi, though still emotional, stood with pride as Zoya and Aditya exchanged vows. Arnav, now standing behind them, watched the two with a sense of reverence. He had been a witness to their journey, and now, to see them standing together, stronger than ever, filled his heart with happiness.

The Imam spoke of love, commitment, and sacrifice — values that both Zoya and Aditya understood deeply. As they exchanged the Mahr, symbolizing Aditya's commitment to Zoya, Arnav felt a deep sense of fulfillment. This wasn't just about love—it was about respect, understanding, and the beauty of two people from different backgrounds finding common ground.

"Zoya bint Aamir, do you accept this man as your husband, with all the rights and responsibilities that come with it?" the Imam asked.

"I do," Zoya replied with confidence, her eyes locked on Aditya, her heart brimming with love.

"Aditya Roy, do you accept this woman as your wife, with all the rights and responsibilities that come with it?" the Imam asked again.

"I do," Aditya said, his voice thick with emotion.

The Nikah was now complete, and Zoya and Aditya were officially husband and wife.

The final part of the ceremony took place in front of the family and friends. Zoya and Aditya exchanged rings, a simple but profound gesture that sealed their vows.

As Zoya slid the ring onto Aditya's finger, she smiled softly, her heart full. And when Aditya placed the ring on Zoya's finger, it was like the final piece of the puzzle had clicked into place. They were now bound by love, tradition, and commitment.

With the exchange of rings came a beautiful prayer for their happiness, prosperity, and the strength to overcome any challenges life would throw their way. As the guests cheered and clapped, Khushi stepped forward, holding Anya by her side. She had always been a part of Zoya's life, but today, as Zoya embarked on her new journey, Khushi felt like she had given her friend the greatest gift of all: happiness.

Later, during the celebrations, as the guests danced and laughed, Arnav found himself in the garden, watching Anya as she played with her new toys. The little girl was now running around, her giggles filling the air, her smile lighting up the entire garden. Arnav couldn't help but smile as he watched her, his heart full of love.

"Anya," he said gently, walking over to her. She stopped and looked up at him, her eyes bright.

"Yes, Papa?" she said, her voice innocent and sweet.

Arnav knelt down to her level, his gaze soft. "I'm really proud of you today. You've made me so happy."

Anya smiled and ran into his arms, hugging him tightly. "I'm happy too, Papa."

In that moment, as Arnav held his daughter, he felt a sense of completeness that he had never known before. This wasn't just a wedding for Zoya and Aditya; it was a celebration of love, family, and new beginnings. It was everything Arnav had ever dreamed of. And with Khushi by his side, he knew they could face whatever came their way—together, as a family.

As the night drew to a close, Zoya and Aditya stood together on the terrace, looking out at the city. The lights twinkled in the distance, and the music from the party below drifted up to them. Their hands were intertwined, and they knew, in their hearts, that they were beginning a beautiful new chapter together.

Back at the party, Arnav, Khushi, and their families joined in the celebration, dancing and laughing. The whole room buzzed with joy, the love between Zoya and Aditya shining brightly in everyone's hearts.

Arnav and Khushi shared a quiet moment, watching the couple.

"You've got a good family now, haven't you?" Khushi said softly, her voice full of affection.

Arnav smiled, his eyes full of warmth as he looked at her. "Yes, Khushi. I finally do. And I'm proud of it."

As the music played on, Zoya and Aditya's love story continued, and Arnav and Khushi's hearts beat together in harmony, knowing they had found their own place in the world. A place filled with love, family, and hope for the future.

Arnav took a deep breath, his heart light with joy as he looked at Khushi. He had found his family, just as she had found her strength and her place in his heart.

And as the sun set on this beautiful day, Arnav realized that love truly knew no boundaries — not cultural, not familial, and certainly not from the past. It only had the power to unite.

A FINAL GOODBYE.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!