R A Y A A N

The door clicked shut behind them.

The penthouse felt quieter than ever before. Not heavy. Just still. Like the world had paused to give us this moment. Alone.

Vanisha’s laughter still echoed faintly down the hall, carried away by the warmth of family that had once been broken and now somehow mended.

And Arvi stood there, looking so heartbreakingly beautiful, her eyes tired, red from crying, but glowing with something else peace, maybe. Or the beginning of it.

I didn’t say a word.

I just walked toward her, slipping my arms around her legs and back in one swift movement, lifting her into my arms in bridal style.

She gasped softly, hands clutching my shoulders. “Rayaan…”

“Shh,” I murmured, my gaze locked with hers. “Let me carry you. Just for a while.”

I took her into my room our room now and gently lay her down on the bed like she was something fragile. Something precious. And she was. She always had been.

I hovered over her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, watching her chest rise and fall. My thumb traced her cheek, then her jaw, and when I pressed my lips there softly, slowly she sighed.

Her eyes fluttered closed as my lips moved to her ear, brushing against the shell of it. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” I whispered, my voice rough with emotion. “To hold you. To touch you like this. Without guilt. Without anger. Just love.”

Her breath hitched.

I trailed kisses down her neck, lingering at the curve where her pulse raced beneath her skin. “Tell me to stop,” I said, voice trembling against her. “And I will. Just say it. I’ll stop.”

She opened her eyes. There was no hesitation in them now.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered. “Not this time.”

My heart stuttered. And then I kissed her not with urgency, but with years of ache, longing, and all the unspoken words we never got the chance to say.

Her fingers slid into my hair, and as our bodies moved in sync, her gaze drifted to the curve of my neck. She stilled.

There, just barely visible in the soft lamplight, was the pendant she had once placed around my neck with trembling hands on my birthday.

Her breath caught. Her fingers brushed against it, reverent.

“You… you still wear this?” she asked, voice raw, eyes shimmering.

I leaned in, my forehead resting against hers. “Every day,” I whispered.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

And when she whispered my name like a prayer between kisses, I knew this wasn’t just a return.

That night wasn’t about passion alone.

It was about reunion.

About reclaiming each other.

It was slow. Tender. Deep.

And when she whispered my name, again and again, between gasps and kisses, I knew this was home.

This was healing.

This was us.

——

I leaned back in the chair of my study room with a sigh. It was late. Too late. But sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight. It rarely did anymore.

The door creaked open, a soft click breaking the silence.

I turned, already knowing who it was.

Arvi.

She stood there, framed in the doorway like a dream half formed her hair slightly opened, eyes heavy with sleep, one of my shirts hanging loosely on her. She looked like she had just stumbled out of bed, and yet, she managed to steal my breath effortlessly.

“Hey,” I said, voice low. “Baby, why are you awake? You should sleep more.”

She padded toward me silently, barefoot, as if still caught between sleep and wakefulness. Then, without a word, she climbed into my lap, tucking herself against my chest like it was the only place she wanted to be. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, her cheek pressing against me.

“I didn’t want to sleep alone,” she mumbled.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

She nodded sleepily, then after a beat, she asked, “Did Vanisha come home?”

I shook my head gently. “No, sweetheart. She’s staying with them tonight.”

Arvi just hummed, like that was all she needed to know.

Her breath slowed, matching the rhythm of mine. I rested my chin lightly on her head, letting the silence settle around us again. It wasn’t heavy anymore. It was comforting. Peaceful.

She shifted slightly in my lap, nestling closer like she belonged there which she did. Every part of her fit perfectly against me, like the missing piece I hadn’t even realized I’d lost until I held her again.

“Come on,” I murmured, brushing my lips against her temple. “Let’s go to bed.”

I stood up with her still in my arms she made a soft sound of protest, half asleep, half annoyed and carried her to our room.

I sat on the edge of the bed, cradling her in my lap again as she blinked up at me, cheeks warm from sleep.

“You want anything?” I asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face.

She gave a tiny smile, eyes half-lidded, and whispered, “Yep.”

My brow arched. “Yeah? What?”

“You,” she said simply, and leaned in.

"Let me have you then."

Our lips met soft and slow, like a secret passed between us. Her fingers curled against my chest, and for a moment, nothing else existed.

Then she pulled back just enough to murmur, “And also… ice cream.”

I laughed, low and surprised. “Seriously?”

She nodded innocently. “Midnight craving. You’re the husband. You provide.”

I groaned, already rising. “ you’re cute.”

She grinned and flopped onto the bed, curling into the sheets with a smug little hum.

I padded downstairs, the house dark except for the soft light in the kitchen. The fridge door creaked open, and I grabbed the tub of her favorite vanilla with caramel swirls. Spoon in hand, I made my way back up, heart feeling oddly light.

I walked back into the room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp spilling over her face. She was lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, waiting barefoot, and entirely too pleased with herself.

I held up the tub. “One vanilla caramel swirl, as requested.”

She sat up, eyes lighting up like a child’s. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” I said, smirking as I unscrewed the lid and dug the spoon in. I scooped a generous bite and held it out to her.

She leaned in, lips closing around the spoon, eyes locked on mine the whole time. I don’t think she even tasted the ice cream.

“Good?” I asked softly.

She nodded, already going in for another bite, but I pulled the spoon back just in time.

“Ah ah,” I teased, holding it just out of reach. “Say please.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “You’re so annoying.”

I grinned, fed her another bite anyway. A little drip of melted ice cream slipped from the corner of her lip, and before she could wipe it away, I leaned in and kissed it off.

Her breath hitched.

And just like that, ice cream was no longer the sweetest thing in the room.

——

I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt as I walked down the stairs, the scent of something sweet wafting from the kitchen. The soft hum of morning filled the air, bird song outside the windows, the low clinking of cutlery, and laughter somewhere in the distance.

And then I saw her.

my everything.

Standing in the center of the living room, wrapped in a soft peach saree that shimmered gently in the sunlight. Her hair was down, cascading in waves, a tiny bindi adorning her forehead, and that serene smile playing on her lips like everything in the world was finally, finally right.

Something shifted in me. Something deep and quiet and full.

She walked toward me, her bangles tinkling softly. “Good morning, Rayaan,” she said, voice honeyed, eyes glowing.

I didn’t reply. I just reached out, gently holding her by the waist and pulling her in until there was barely space between us. “Good morning, sweetheart,” I murmured, my voice rough with affection.

She laughed quietly, resting her hands on my chest.

And that was when we heard the exaggerated ahem.

Turning our heads, we saw Nia, Vivaan, Vanisha, and little Ansh standing at the threshold of the hall, grinning like they’d caught us red handed.

“Well, well,” Nia said, raising an eyebrow. “Should we come back later or…?”

Arvi flushed, trying not to laugh. “Is this your child?” she asked, teasingly nodding toward Ansh, who was perched in Vivaan’s arms.

Vivaan rolled his eyes. “Hmm. Unfortunately, yes.”

She chuckled, then leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek and pulled him on her lap

Vanisha ran forward, tugging at my hand. “Dad, I told a story to Ansh and we made a castle out of cushions! I was the queen!”

I scooped her up, kissing her forehead. “My princess is always a queen.”

We all moved to the dining table, the clatter of plates and chatter filling the space. Laughter echoed as Arvi served everyone, Nia scolded Vivaan for sneaking bites early, and Vanisha told dramatic tales only a five-year-old could invent.

And for the first time in years, breakfast wasn’t just a meal.

It was a memory in the making.

It was home.

After breakfast we went to shopping and right now we are in mall Vanisha clung to me, her tiny arms wrapped around my neck, head buried in my shoulder. Her hair smelled faintly of strawberry shampoo, and her soft hums as she looked around made something heavy in my chest ease. It was rare peace like this. And rarer still, a smile on my face that wasn’t for business or cameras.

We had stopped by the toy store in the mall on a whim. She had pointed at it with her little finger, eyes wide, and I couldn’t say no. How could I?

Her small hand reached out from my arms and touched a soft, purple unicorn on the display shelf. “This one,” she whispered, voice light but certain.

I looked at the toy, then at her glowing face.

I turned to Karan, my head of security, and said flatly, “Pack the entire shop. Everything. Send it to My Mansion by tonight.”

Vanisha clapped her hands, squealing in delight, unaware of the storm brewing beside me.

Arvi.

Her jaw dropped. “Wait are you serious?” she hissed, stepping closer. “Rayaan, she doesn’t need that much. She just picked one!”

I raised an eyebrow, still holding Vanisha. “And she’ll get that. And every other toy in this place. What's the point of all this,” I gestured around us, “if it can’t bring her joy?”

“But” she looked genuinely stunned, as if trying to find logic in my madness, “It’s not about how much you give. You can’t just buy an entire shop because she liked one toy!”

I shrugged, eyes on Vanisha. “I can. And I did.”

Arvi stared at me like I’d grown two heads. “Rayaan…”

Her voice was softer now, not angry just confused. But I didn’t meet her eyes.

If giving Vanisha a thousand toys could bring back even a flicker of the light we lost then I’d do it a thousand times over.

Even if Arvi never understood why.

A/N

Chapter 62 updated on Scroll.Stack

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