Maan took a deep breath and entered his home. It was a simple 5-bedroom villa, nothing grand about it, but what made it very special was that it was the only legacy passed on to them by their father. His father had been an IPS officer who lost his life in a shootout. Maan remembered the day his father's colleagues came to give the news. It was just another day for them. The house had then been only a two-bedroom cottage. He and Mahi had been playing in the garden while their mother was sitting on a rocking chair on the backyard, knitting a sweater for the child she carried in her womb.

He remembered racing to the jeep excitedly to greet his father, but his father did not come. A couple of officers got down and made their way to his mother. He could never forget the look of abject dejection in her eyes as they broke the news to her. She was shattered. Her eyes darted towards them immediately. Mahi was still playing in the mud, completely clueless about what was happening. But he could understand something was very wrong.

His mother swayed; he rushed to her side as the officers helped her. One of the lady officers who had come with the others took him aside and gently broke the news to him. He was eleven, old enough to understand the meaning of death but not old enough to deal with it. He remembered breaking down in tears. His father had been his hero. Losing him was a big blow to him. Mahir had only been 5, Manav was still in their mother's womb. Their world changed in that one minute.

He had cried for days, praying for his father to come back; he never did. They had to learn to live without him. Their worlds changed overnight. His father had been the sole earning member of their family; with him gone, their finances took a big hit. They had no grandparents, but they did have a very big extended family. None offered support. His mother had to struggle to even make ends meet. His father's pension was not enough to feed three hungry boys. His mother worked as a day nanny to make sure their family was provided for. If they did not have the roof over their heads, it would have become impossible for their mother to provide for them. He would always be grateful to the house. It gave them hope when they had none left. He prayed for hope again.

"Aa gaya Maan?" His mother's gentle voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Muh haath dho le, khana laga deti hoon."

He looked at her as she made her way to the kitchen. He wondered how she gave so much without asking anything in return. A mother's selfless love was always priceless. He followed her to the kitchen. It was his mother's favorite place. She had spent countless hours there cooking and baking for them. They had all huddled there in the evening, just to watch her cook. She worked all day, the only time they got with her was when she was at home after her shift. They wanted to spend every moment with her and she with them.

Mahi was the one who had spent the most time with her. Though they all loved her, it was Mahi who loved her the most. Ironically, it was Mahi who fought the most with her. He knew she missed Mahi very much, but he had yet to hear her voice her complaint. When he refused to come back, something in her broke. Her smile had been missing for two years. He wished he could give back what she desired, but he was about to give her more pain.

He braced himself for her disappointment and gently turned her around.

"Ek minute, Maan, main bas khana garam kar doon..."

"Baitheye, Maa." Maan did not let her finish and pulled a chair for her.

"Kya baat hai, Maan? Itna pareshaan kyun lag raha hai? Sab theek hai na, beta?" Her voice was filled with worry. Maan held her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. That made her tense further.

"Maan, kya hua, bata beta. Mujhe dar lag raha hai."

Maan gently broke the news to her. He knew no matter how much he tried, she would get hurt in the end, and she did. Her warm amber eyes filled with tears. She wiped them quickly. Mitali Singh Khurana rarely ever cried. At 45, she had seen everything. Pain, struggles, and humiliations were not new for her. Life had taught her to become resilient. She never gave up hope. That was what he admired in his mother. No matter what life threw at her, she faced it bravely.

"Nitya ko pata hai yeh baat?" She asked the one question, which no one in her place would think about. She always put others before herself.

Maan shook his head. He was dreading facing her. He did not know how to tell her the truth.

"Main baat karta hoon usse. She will take it better from me."

Maan did not argue. He was grateful. He hardly shared any relationship with Nitya. Whatever love they once felt for each other was now shadowed under resentment. They were both equally responsible for the state of their relationship, they were both aware of it, but neither was willing to work on it.

Mitali got up to make the call. Maan walked away. He was not ready to talk to his wife. Not when he was shaken so bad. He needed time to make peace with what Mahir had done.

Maahir waited for Maan to come back. It had been four hours since he had left. Once the minister left, Maan had not spared him a single glance. He had walked away without a word. Mahir was restless. He knew he should not have forced his bhaiya's hand, but he was helpless. He could not go back home on his own. He needed an excuse. Nitya would not take it well if he made his way back home. She would blame his bhaiya outright.

There was a reason why he had come back. The last phone call with Manny had left him in shock. He had told him that his bhaiya and bhabhi were filing for divorce. He could not stay back and do nothing. Nitya was the love of his bhaiya's life. He knew how much he had loved her once. He refused to believe that a love like that would fade out. When he had taken the decision to stay away, he had not anticipated that his bhaiya and bhabhi would pay the price for his mistakes.

His one wrong decision cost his family their happiness. He was overwhelmed by guilt, but he was raised by a man who taught him to look forward, not back. He refused to let the guilt overpower him. He might not be able to change what he had done, but he could change the future. The truth needed to be revealed. He knew he was not ready, neither was Ira, but his family was ready. Two years back, he had put Ira's sentiments above his family's feelings and stepped back. Now it was time he put his family before Ira. It would not be easy for any of them, but it was the right thing to do. Doing the right thing may not be easy, but it always brought joy in the end. Pari was proof enough.

He picked up the little angel from the crib. He had requested the hospital to provide one, and they had offered the best. Pari was very comfortable. He hugged the baby to his chest. His heart overflowed with love. He had hurt his family, but she had been worth their pain. Sadly, he knew his family would also agree. It was Ira who was reluctant to face the truth.

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his gloomy thoughts. He saw her number and smiled. He had been waiting for her call all day.

"Kaise ho, Princess?" he smiled even if she could not see him. Adhira had the effect on him. Over the past two years, her happiness had become his priority. He just wanted to see her smile again, the way she did before all hell broke loose. He missed his Ira.

"Bataya kyun nahi, Mahi?" Her voice was filled with sadness. "Kaise nehi tuje goli chalaye aur yeh baat mujhe tumhare secretary se pata chal raha hai?"

He could feel her hurt.

"I tried calling, Princess. Tera phone not reachable tha. You know me, Princess, I will never do that to you."

He could hear her sigh.

"I know," she sounded so sad that he wanted to leave everything behind and go back to her, but he knew he could not.

"Kaam hua?" He changed the topic.

There was no answer.

"Ira..."

"Nahi."

Mahir was disappointed; he had been putting up too many hopes. They had been too close. But he did not show it.

"It's okay, Princess. We know everything, right. Aaj nahi to kal..."

"Aur kab, Maahi? Do saal beet gaye hain," her voice became heavy with tears, "aur nahi ho pa raha mujhse. I can't..."

"Don't go there, Ira. You have been so brave till now; you cannot give up now. We will definitely succeed. Don't give up hope. Think about Pari......"

"I miss her, Maahi. Get her back to me, please......"

"We agreed, Ira. You agreed. Nitya deserves to know about her. Let me do this. We have hurt them enough. Please."

There was silence from the other end.

"Aaj nahi to kal sach pata chalna hai na, Ira? To aaj kyun nahi yaar? Bhaiya has already seen her."

Ira gasped, "kya?"

Mahi told her what happened.

"I was not planning on doing it that way, but..... I am not sorry, Ira. I wanted them to know. They have a right to know."

"I know, Maahi, I know I am being selfish, I am sorry."

"Rona nahi yaar," he sighed when he heard her sob, "we are in it together, remember? Bas tu rona nahi. I will make everything right for us. Nitya ko main sambhal lunga. She is a firecracker...."

"Maahir."

"I mean a firecracker, but so am I. Whatever craziness she is doing now is not acceptable, Ira. Bhaiya loves her a lot...."

"So does she, Maahi. Jiji ko pyaar jatane nahi aata. She is not like your family, Maahi. Unhe bas zimmedari nibhana aata hai, life never gave her a chance to let go and live. You know that. Mom dad ke jaane ke baad saare zimmedari unke upar aa gaye. She did not break, Maahi; she stood strong for me. The situations forced her to become tough. Unka pyaar jatane ka tareeka thoda alag hai bas."

"Toda nahi Ira, bahut alag hai. Badey ko microscope leke dhundna hoga unke bato mein pyaar."

"Maahir...."

"Are kuch nahi bol raha main tere behen ko, princess, woh mere bhabhi bhi hai. And I intend for her to remain as Mrs. Maan Khurana."

"She is much more than Mrs. Maan Khurana, Maahi. If you give her a chance, you will know the real Nitya. Once you know her, you will not be able to stop yourself from loving her."

"Ya right. For that, she has to first let me live. Do you think she would shoot me as soon as she sees me, or will she let me live for a few hours, just to slowly roast me on a flame?"

Ira fell silent. Mahir felt like kicking himself. He really had a very unruly mouth and no filters. Ira was Nitya's sister. He had to respect that.

"Sorry, bad joke."

"Jiju kaise hain?"

It was Maahi's turn to fall silent.

"Baat nahi ki unhone?"

"Unke jagah koi aur hota to mudke bhi nahi dekhta mujhe, Ira. I can take his anger. It's okay. I will deal with him my way. He has always been the understanding one. It is my turn now."

"Can I wish now?"

"No," Maahi's voice was firm. Every year it was his bhaiya who wished him first. That was one tradition he did not wish to change. One day soon, his badiya would understand why he had to walk away and would forgive him wholeheartedly. That day he would celebrate. He just had to be a little patient.

"Then I will make a wish for Maahi. I wish that this would be the last birthday you celebrate without your family. Bhagwan kare duniya ke saare khushiyan tujhe mile, Maahi...... I......"

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. He saw his bhaiya and smiled, "Bhaiya aa gaye, Ira, I will call you back."

He disconnected the call without waiting for Ira's answer. Maan walked inside and handed him a bulletproof vest.

"We need to move now," he told him coldly. "We will go through the staff exit. I parked my car there. Get ready."

"Yehi baat thoda muskurake nahi keh sakte aap?"

"Is that an order, sir?"

Maahir took a step back as if Maan had slapped him. "Isse acha to aap ek thappad hi laga dete bhaiya," he did not hide his hurt. He wanted his bhaiya to feel what he had been feeling. Words cut deep.

"Kis haq se, sir?"

Maahir closed his eyes. He thought he was prepared, but nothing could prepare him for Maan's indifference. He had been kidding himself.

"Aapko nahi pata kis haq se?" Maahir looked up.

"Haq hota Mahir to aaj hum ajiboye ke tarah nahi khade hote. Get ready. We need to move you out. You are my responsibility, Maahir, and I do not run away from my responsibility."

"Unlike me?"

"You want to put words in my mouth, Maahir, I will not stop you. Do what you please. For now, just get ready. I will wait outside."

He walked to the door but stopped. He realized that Maahir could not wear the vest without help. He was still in a hospital gown; he would need to change. He looked around for the bag he had sent for Maahir. It contained a pair of fresh clothes. He found the bag on the coffee table and picked it up.

Maahir saw him pull out a T-shirt. The man did everything and yet pretended to not care. Did he think he was dumb enough to buy the act? He was still hurt, but it gave him hope. He was ready to grasp at anything. He was too desperate to reach out.

"Do you want me to call the nurse?" Maan handed him the T-shirt.

"Kyun? Main aapke zimmedari hoon na, Mr. Khurana? To nibhao apne zimmedari. Make sure it does not hurt."

Maan glared at him.

"Bohot dard ho raha hai bhaiya, sach mein. I am not able to move my arm," he emphasized dramatically. He had always been a brat. That was the boy his bhaiya knew. If he had forgotten that about him, it was time to remind him. For a second, he saw the concern flare in his bhaiya's eyes before he masked it quickly. Maahir smiled inwardly. Maan Singh Khurana could pretend all he wanted, but he could not mask his feelings before him. They knew each other too well to play such games.

Maan stepped forward and helped him change. Though he was being very gentle, Mahir hissed in pain as his arm was moved up to help with the T-shirt. Maan sighed; he had asked his subordinate to get a change of clothes. He should have emphasized a shirt. There was no way Mahir could wear a T-shirt.

"It's okay bhaiya, kardo aap. It's not hurting that bad," Mahir forced down the pain.

Maan looked at him. He could see the telltale signs of pain. There was no time to go and get a change of clothes. He unbuttoned his own shirt. They were of the same size. From experience, he knew his clothes would fit Mahir perfectly.

Mahir smiled, remembering the countless times he had sneaked into his bhaiya's wardrobe to steal his shirts. Though his closet was overstocked, he had no patience to keep it organized, whereas his bhaiya kept things meticulously organized. It made his college life very easy. His smile faded when he saw the deep gash on Maan's ribs. His hand went to trace the nasty scar. It looked like someone had slashed his skin.

"Kaise hua yeh?" he looked up at his brother. Manny had not told him about any accident or attack.

"Bhaiya....."

Maan grabbed the T-shirt and covered himself immediately. He did not give Mahir the answer he wanted. He had not told his family about the attack. He did not want Mahir knowing about it either.

He quickly helped Mahir with the shirt and buttoned it, ignoring his question.

"Chale?"

Mahir grabbed his hand, "pehle batao kaise lage aapko chot. Manny ne mujhe kuch kyun nahi bataya? How did you....."

"Nothing happened Mahir. You will not ask anyone about it, clear?" His voice left no room for argument.

Mahir looked at him startled, "aapne kise ko nahi bataya?"

"Nothing happened Mahir, let us keep it that way. Chal. We are getting late."

Before Mahir could argue, Maan picked up Pari. The baby let out a wail of protest; she hated being picked up when she was sleeping.

"Cradle her to your chest," Mahir grabbed the blankets and handed them to Maan. He showed him how Pari preferred to be held. The baby stopped crying and snuggled into Maan's warmth.

"She is a little cuddler bhaiya. Just like Manny. Aapko yaad hai woh bhi aise he......"

He trailed off as he saw the way Maan was looking at Pari. He could see the love shining in his eyes. His bhaiya was so upset with them for running away and detesting their family, and yet he could not stop himself from loving Pari. His eyes misted. It was that love that made it easier to deal with his harshness. A man who loved so deeply could not hate anyone even if he tried to. He did not need proof of his brother's love.

Mahir made his way out of the hospital with renewed hope. He was ready to face his family again. Nitya could hate him all she wanted; he did not care. All he wanted was his bhaiya's happiness. Nitya Roy Khurana had no idea what was coming for her. She had only known the brat who had made her college days miserable; it was time to acquaint her with her husband's brother who could do much worse to protect his brother. If she loved his bhaiya just as much as his bhaiya did, he would do everything in his power to bring them together again. Nitya could do her worst. He was prepared! It was game on for him!