Chapter 55

Like toh Karo mitro. Okay 👍 niche jaakar star me chaanta mardo ek baar Okie. Imagine he is your Pados wali chuglikhor aunty. 

Ashvik: the…they told me bhai…sab bata diya unhone mujhe…kyu nhi bataya bhaiya…ki main…ki main…uss Darinde…ka beta hu…kyu nhi kaha …aapne ….mai itne samay tak aap sab ko hate karta raha jabki aapne mere sath jaisa bhi Sulook kiya mai…uske layak hi bhaiya…usse bhi bura ….i…am … sorry.

Abhimanyu: No…no Ashvik…it’s not true baccha please don’t say that.. I was wrong…so..so wrong baby…I cannot see you without remembering the past …but baby , the moment you were in danger naa…Meri jaan nikal gai thi…I love you very much baby…I am sorry for making you feel like that….

They again held each other tightly and Ashvik was just sobbing uncontrollably in Abhimanyu’s arms ..

The gate Opened and Armaan came in holding something in his hands .
The hug didn’t loosen—

if anything—

it held tighter.

—

Ashvik’s sobs came in waves now—

deep—

shaking—

like something buried for years had finally cracked open.

—

“…I’m sorry…” he kept whispering.

“…I’m sorry bhaiya…”

—

Abhimanyu pulled him closer.

Almost desperately.

“Stop apologizing,” he said, voice breaking.
“You didn’t do anything wrong… not then… not now…”

—

Ansh wiped his face roughly—

turning away—

because if he looked any longer—

he might break too.

—

And then—

the sound of the gate.

—

Footsteps followed.

—

The door opened.

—

No one noticed at first.

—

Until—

the air shifted.

—

Heavy.

—

Different.

—

Ashvik’s sobs slowly quieted—

not because the pain was gone—

but because something…

something familiar—

something important—

had entered the room.

—

Abhimanyu’s grip loosened slightly.

His eyes lifted.

—

And then—

he stilled.

—

“…Armaan.”

—

Ansh turned immediately.

—

And there he was.

—

Standing at the entrance.

Silent.

Still.

—

But this time—

there was no storm around him.

—

Only… something quiet.

—

In his hands—

wasn’t a weapon.

Wasn’t a phone.

—

It was a small wooden box.

—

Old.

Worn at the edges.

Held carefully—

almost reverently.

—

Ashvik noticed it too.

—

His brows furrowed slightly.

—

Because something about it—

felt familiar.

—

But it couldn’t be.

—

It wasn’t allowed to be.

—

Armaan stepped forward slowly.

Each step measured.

—

No one spoke.

—

Because everyone in that room knew—

what that box was.

—

And more importantly—

who it belonged to.

—

Ashvik’s breathing hitched.

—

“…no…” he whispered instinctively.

—

Memories flashed.

Rules.

Warnings.

Distance.

—

“Don’t touch it.”
“Stay away from this.”
“This isn’t for you.”

—

His fingers curled into his sleeves again—

a habit he didn’t even realize he still had.

—

Armaan stopped in front of him.

—

For a moment—

he said nothing.

—

Just looked at Ashvik.

—

Not as someone fragile.

Not as someone broken.

—

But as someone…

who deserved to know.

—

Slowly—

he knelt down.

—

The box still in his hands.

—

Ashvik instinctively leaned back just a little.

—

“…I’m not allowed…” he whispered.

—

That—

hurt more than anything else in the room.

—

Armaan’s jaw tightened slightly.

—

“…you were told that,” he said quietly.

—

A pause.

—

“…I was wrong.”

—

Silence.

—

Heavy.

—

Unbelievable.

—

Ashvik blinked.

Once.

Twice.

—

“…what…?”

—

Armaan exhaled slowly.

Then—

very carefully—

he placed the wooden box in Ashvik’s lap.

—

The contact alone made Ashvik freeze.

—

Like he was holding something forbidden.

Something sacred.

Something he might be punished for.

—

His hands hovered—

not touching it fully.

—

“…I can’t…” he whispered.

—

Armaan’s voice came softer this time.

—

“You can.”

—

Ashvik looked up at him.

Eyes uncertain.

Almost scared.

—

“…she was your mother too.”

—

That—

shattered something.

—

Completely.

—

Ashvik’s breath caught.

—

“…no…” he shook his head weakly.
“I was never— you never—”

—

“I know.”

—

Armaan didn’t interrupt harshly.

Didn’t correct him with authority.

—

Just truth.

—

“I kept her away from you,” he admitted.

—

The room stilled again.

—

Even Abhimanyu and Ansh didn’t move.

—

Because this—

this wasn’t something Armaan ever said out loud.

—

“I thought…” he continued slowly,
“…if I kept that part away… it would be easier.”

—

A bitter pause.

—

“For me.”

—

Ashvik’s vision blurred again.

—

“…not for me…” he whispered.

—

Armaan nodded once.

—

“I know.”

—

And this time—

there was no defense.

No justification.

—

Just acceptance.

—

Slowly—

Ashvik’s trembling fingers touched the box.

—

Lightly.

Carefully.

—

Like it might disappear.

—

Or worse—

be taken away again.

—

“…what’s inside…?” he asked, voice barely audible.

—

Armaan’s gaze softened—

just slightly.

—

“Open it.”

—

A pause.

—

Ashvik hesitated—

then slowly lifted the lid.

—

Inside—

a soft piece of fabric.

A delicate pendant.

And a photograph.

—

A woman.

Smiling.

Warm.

—

Ashvik froze.

—

His fingers shook as he picked up the picture.

—

“…she…” his voice broke.

—

He was looking at someone…

who looked like him.

—

Same eyes.

Same softness.

—

“…she looks like…” he couldn’t finish.

—

“…you,” Abhimanyu whispered behind him.

—

Ashvik’s lips trembled.

—

“…she was kind?” he asked softly.

—

Armaan’s answer came without hesitation.

—

“The kindest.”

—

Ashvik let out a shaky breath.

—

“…would she… hate me…?” he whispered.

—

That—

made something snap.

—

Armaan’s hand moved instantly—

gripping Ashvik’s wrist—

not harsh—

but firm.

—

“Don’t.”

—

Ashvik flinched slightly—

but didn’t pull away.

—

“Don’t ever say that again,” Armaan said quietly.

—

His voice wasn’t loud.

—

But it carried something deeper.

—

“She would’ve loved you the most.”

—

Silence.

—

Ashvik’s tears fell silently now—

but they weren’t chaotic anymore.

—

They were… different.

—

“…really…?” he whispered.

—

Armaan nodded once.

—

“…you’re her son.”

—

And for the first time—

—

Ashvik didn’t feel like something unwanted.

—

Didn’t feel like a mistake.

—

He gently clutched the photo to his chest—

like he was holding onto something he had been denied his entire life.

—

Behind him—

Ansh wiped his eyes again.

—

Abhimanyu looked away—

unable to watch without breaking.

—

And Dante—

watched only Ashvik.

—

Because right now—

this moment—

—

This wasn’t about pain.

—

This was about belonging.

—

And slowly—

piece by piece—

—

Ashvik was finally getting it back.

To be continued ✨🔚🩷