Advait stood in front of the mirror, fixing his tie. His wound had healed, but it still reminded him of everything that happened. Drishti hadn’t let him leave the room for five days.

She cared for him deeply, but her rules had tested his patience. Today, she finally allowed him to go out.

Before stepping out, he turned to her. She stood near the door, her face clouded with worry. Advait stepped closer and hugged her briefly. “Jaldi aa jaunga,” he said softly, his voice calm yet assuring.

Drishti’s expression brightened. A wide smile spread across her face, and she nodded. “Take care,” she said as she walked with him to the door, watching him leave.

At the office, things were busy. People whispered as Advait walked through the halls, but he ignored them. In his cabin, he sat at his desk and quickly went through updates.

Sam had done well in his absence—the man who had attacked Advait was dead. They found out it was his father’s rival and so-called friend who had planned everything.

Soon, Tej Singh Rathore, his father, walked in. Advait sat up straight, knowing how these conversations usually ended—in an argument.

“I heard you’ve been working from your bed like some sort of detective,” Tej said with a mocking tone.

“Someone had to clean up the mess your friends created—or should I say, the mess you created yourself,” Advait replied calmly, though his eyes betrayed the anger simmering within.

Tej frowned and leaned forward, his voice hardening. “You’re walking a thin line, Advait. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Advait smirked, his confidence unwavering. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten anything. That’s exactly the problem.”

Tej reached into his pocket, pulled out some photographs, and threw them onto the table with a smirk. Advait’s gaze shifted to the photographs, but his reaction was far from what Tej had anticipated. Instead of fear, worry, or panic, Advait looked entirely unbothered.

“So now you’re playing the role of a photographer too? At least you’ve finally done something useful,” Advait remarked dryly.

Tej gritted his teeth, his temper flaring as he straightened up. In a louder voice, he barked, “The fire at Nandini’s house, my inability to make it to the office that day, and missing the one opportunity I had—all because of you. And let’s not forget the disappearance of the friend who gave your wife that gift. Why are you dragging me into all this?”

Advait leaned back in his chair, an expression of boredom crossing his face.

Tej said again. “That just means I’m not the only one playing dirty games. You’ve been at it longer than anyone else.”

Advait smirked. “Thanks for the lesson, though. You can leave now.”

Tej paused, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Advait. “Have you fallen in love with that woman your mother forced you to marry?”

That was the final straw. Advait’s control snapped.

“Love?” . “She’s the only reason I’m alive. My wife is the breath in my lungs. If this heart beats, it’s because of her. Without her, Advait Singh Rathore would have died long ago.”

His eyes, however, were blazing with fury as he slammed his hand on the table. “Shut up! Don’t you dare say another word about my wife or my mother. The next time you do, it’ll be your last day.”

For the first time, a flicker of fear crossed Tej’s face as Advait’s anger made the air around them heavy.

Tej stood up, his own anger rising. “Don’t forget, I’m your father—”

“Father?” Advait interrupted with a cold, maniacal laugh. “I don’t consider you my father. Do you understand that? You are already dead for me."

“Sam!” Advait called out sharply, and his assistant rushed into the room. “Get him out of here right now.

Tej tried to approach Advait, but Sam stepped forward and held him back. “If your mother finds out you spoke to your father like this, imagine how she’ll feel,” Tej said, his voice low and menacing.

Advait’s face hardened further. “Just leave. Tell whoever you want, do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Sam guided Tej out of the room, leaving Advait standing alone, his chest heaving as he fought to suppress the storm of emotions within him.

He pressed his thumb against his temples, rubbing them as if trying to ease the storm raging in his mind. With a heavy sigh, he sank into his chair, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his thoughts.

“Why did he come back into our lives? I wish he had never been a part of them.”

The bitterness in his voice deepened as he clenched his fists. “And to think I once saw him as a god, someone I wanted to emulate… It makes me hate myself just to remember. How could I have been so blind?”

In a sudden burst of anger, he grabbed the glass from the table and hurled it across the room. It shattered into tiny pieces, much like the facade of control he was desperately trying to maintain.

His eyes, burning red with restrained vulnerability, betrayed the inner turmoil he refused to show the world.

"What if he goes home and creates a scene about this?" Advait thought briefly but dismissed the idea just as quickly. I don’t care, he told himself, leaning back and resting his head against the headrest.

But then, a thought pierced through his defiance. Drishti... His eyes snapped open, the name stirring emotions he tried so hard to suppress.

“That’s why,” he whispered to himself, “I stepped back from marrying her willingly. Why I held back from confessing my love. I knew… I knew I’d never be able to give her a normal, peaceful life.”

His voice wavered as the weight of his truth bore down on him. “Not as long as Tej Singh Rathore remains in our lives.”

It was nighttime, and the dining table buzzed with laughter and chatter. The atmosphere was light, filled with the warmth of family conversations, but Drishti’s mind was elsewhere.

She sat quietly, her gaze repeatedly drifting toward the door. Her fingers nervously played with the edge of her dupatta as a thought tugged at her mind. He said he’d be back soon… but he still hasn’t come home.

“Drishti, today you sit down too,” Deepa said with a smile, motioning for her to join the group.

“Di…” Drishti’s words trailed off as her gaze fixed on the door, her eyes widening in surprise.

Everyone’s attention turned toward the door as they noticed Tej stumbling inside. Vihaan, breaking the silence, smirked and said, “Popcorn, bhabhi! Let’s watch this drama unfold!”

Anjali, who had been quietly sitting, shot a warning glare in Vihaan’s direction. But her expression quickly shifted to concern as she rushed toward her husband, though her reluctance was clear.

She didn’t want to go, but her responsibility as his wife pulled her towards him.

Tej, heavily intoxicated, swayed on his feet, his steps unsure and erratic.

"Sambhal ke!" Anjali said, her voice tinged with worry as she caught his arm, trying to steady him.

Tej, however, just glared at her, a drunk, mocking laugh escaping his lips. "Sambhal ke?" he echoed, his voice slurring. "I don't need anyone to hold me."

“What happened to my son?” Dadi exclaimed, rising from her chair to go .

Vihaan tried to suppress his grin and muttered, “She’s acting like her son didn’t just stumble in drunk. Isn’t it obvious?”

Riddhima shot him a sharp look and mumbled, “Enough already.”

“Beta, sit down,” Urmila said firmly as she approached Tej.

Tej slumped onto the sofa, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. His gaze shifted toward the dining area, his drunken state making his words incoherent. “Whe... Where is that…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning aimlessly.

“Drink some water,” Anjali said, her voice full of worry as she handed him a glass.

Tej glared at her, his drunken tone dripping with suspicion. “Your son wants to kill me, and you’re giving me water? Did you mix something in it?” He laughed bitterly, taking the glass with trembling hands.

Drishti watched Tej, her mind drifting to a memory that still stung. She remembered the day Tej had accused her of throwing water on him, leading to a scolding from Advait. The thought made her chest tighten, but before she could dwell on it further, Deepa’s voice pulled her back to the present.

“I knew it; Advait must have said something to him,” Deepa remarked, shaking her head knowingly.

Drishti blinked, coming out of her thoughts. Her eyes darted around the room, noticing how relaxed everyone seemed despite the tension in the air.

“Why is everyone so relaxed here?” she murmured, clearly unsettled.

“Drishti, just sit down today,” Riddhima said, urging her to join them.

“But…” Drishti began, only to stop mid-sentence as Tej’s slurred voice cut through the room again.

“There he is, your precious son!” Tej shouted, pointing a shaky finger toward the door. “Make your choice today—either he stays in this house, or I do!”

All eyes turned to the door as Advait entered. His expression remained neutral, but a smirk tugged at his lips when he saw his father’s drunken state. His gaze then shifted to the dining area, where his family sat, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes met Drishti’s. Her face betrayed a mix of fear and worry, her unease palpable.

Ignoring Tej entirely, Advait walked toward the dining table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, briefly glancing at Drishti before reaching for Deepa’s young son, lifting him into his lap with ease.

He poured himself a glass of water, his movements calm and deliberate. As he sipped, he gently played with his nephew’s tiny fingers, an image of composure amidst the chaos. Drishti couldn’t take her eyes off him, though her gaze kept shifting nervously between him and the hall where Tej still stood.

Breaking the silence, Deepa asked, “Did something happen to Mr. Rathore?”

Advait shook his head dismissively.

“But…” Vihaan began, only to be interrupted by Advait’s firm yet casual tone.

“Serve the food, I’m hungry,” he said, cutting through the lingering tension like it didn’t exist.

Drishti continued to watch him, her thoughts swirling, while the rest of the family tried to act like everything was normal.

Deepa left the room with her son after a few minutes, leaving only Vihaan, Amaira, Riddhima, Advait, and Drishti behind.

Advait sat at the table, quietly eating, while Drishti remained standing behind him, her hands nervously fidgeting.

“Drishti, why aren’t you eating? When will you eat?” Riddhima asked, heading toward the kitchen.

“But, Chachi, wo...” Drishti hesitated, glancing toward the hall where Anjali and Urmila were still trying to manage Tej, who was completely drunk.

Advait turned his head slightly to look at her, his voice sharp and loud enough to echo into the hall. “If you want to live in this house, you better get used to all of this.”

“Humein khana nahi hai,” Drishti murmured softly, avoiding his gaze. Hearing her, Advait clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening.

Riddhima smiled lightly, patting Drishti on the shoulder. “Alright, suit yourself,” she said before heading to the kitchen.

Moments later, Urmila approached Advait. He glanced up at her, already anticipating what was coming. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he muttered, “Here we go. Say whatever you need to. What’s left now?”

Urmila first looked at Drishti, then back at Advait. “He’s your father, Advait. How can you threaten him like that? And that too, with something as extreme as… death?”

Advait stood, his movement abrupt enough to make Amaira and Vihaan jump to their feet, fearing he might explode in anger. But, to their surprise, he didn’t. Instead, he chuckled lightly and looked at Urmila with a mock-innocent expression.

“Dear Dadi,” he began, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “All I said was that, to me, he’s dead for me. Now you tell me, where exactly did I threaten to kill him in that?” He widened his eyes as if genuinely confused, feigning innocence.

Urmila stomped out of the room in frustration. Advait let out a soft chuckle, his amusement breaking the silence. Everyone else in the room, whose mouths had been agape in shock, exchanged glances, unsure of how to react.

Drishti, who had been holding her breath, finally sighed in relief. At least he didn’t shout, she thought. She hated it when he raised his voice, even though she understood his reasons. But tonight, his calm demeanor felt... different, almost unsettling.

Advait turned to leave, but Drishti stepped in front of him, making him halt mid-step. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes trying to say in a stern voice, “You’ve become too innocent and quiet lately, haven’t you?” Her words were directed more toward Vihaan and Amaira, who stood nearby, watching intently. They both nodded in agreement, adding to her playful accusation.

Advait’s lips curled into a warm smile. Without saying a word, he reached out, gently pinching her cheeks before patting them lightly. “Cute,” he murmured, his tone teasing. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he walked away, still smiling.

Drishti stood frozen for a moment, feeling her cheeks flush a deep red. She touched her face where his hands had been, her heart pounding in a way she wasn’t prepared for. Vihaan and Amaira exchanged knowing smirks.

.