08-07-2026, 01:02 AM
CHAPTER – 90
The Hyderabad heat had become a thick, heavy blanket over the city by late June, wrapping everything in a languid haze that made movement feel like a chore. In the sprawling house that had once echoed with the sounds of a full family, only two sets of footsteps now marked the passing of days. Kavya and Feroz had settled into a rhythm that was both comfortable and tinged with melancholy. Danish's calls from Delhi had grown shorter, more infrequent, his career demanding more of his time and attention. The house, with its high ceilings and numerous rooms, often felt cavernous without him.
Their evenings had become a ritual. After Kavya returned from her work at the architectural firm, she would change into comfortable salwar kameez and join Feroz on the veranda. The monsoon clouds would gather in the distance, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange as the sun set over the Hussain Sagar lake. Feroz would have prepared chai, the way Kavya liked it—strong with just a hint of cardamom. They would sit in the wicker chairs, sometimes talking about their day, sometimes simply watching the neighborhood come alive with the sounds of children playing and vendors calling out their wares.
In the quiet companionship they had built, a subtle bond had grown between them, transforming the conventional daughter-in-law and father-in-law dynamic into something more complex and tender. They had become protectors of each other in a way that defied easy categorization, their connection forged in the shared solitude of the large house.
That Tuesday evening, Feroz returned from his walk along the Necklace Road looking visibly drained. His usually erect posture had softened, and there was a grayish pallor to his skin that Kavya noticed immediately.
"Papa, you look exhausted," she said, rising from her chair as he approached the veranda.
Feroz attempted a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The humidity today is particularly oppressive. I think it's finally getting to me." He sank into his usual chair with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his sixty years.
Kavya brought him a glass of water, her fingers brushing against his as she handed it to him. His skin felt unusually warm. "You're burning up," she said, her concern evident in her voice.
"It's just the weather," Feroz insisted, though he leaned back with his eyes closed, a gesture of uncharacteristic vulnerability. "I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."
By midnight, Feroz's condition had deteriorated dramatically. Kavya was awakened by the sound of shivering from the adjacent room. She found him huddled under a thin blanket, teeth chattering despite the warm night air. His face was flushed with fever, and his breathing was shallow.
"Papa," she whispered, placing her hand on his forehead. The heat radiating from his skin startled her. "You have a high fever. We need to do something."
Feroz's eyes fluttered open, clouded with fever. "Just... just a cold, beta. Don't worry."
But Kavya was already moving, her maternal instincts kicking in. She helped him sit up, fetched the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet, and was alarmed when it read 103°F. After administering the fever reducer and applying a cold compress, she stepped into the hallway, her phone in hand, and called Danish. It was nearly 2 AM in Delhi, but she knew he often worked late.
Danish answered on the fourth ring, his voice thick with sleep. "Kavya? Is everything okay? What time is it?"
"Danish, it's Papa," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "He has a very high fever. I'm scared."
There was a pause on the other end, then the rustling of bedsheets. "High fever? Did you call the doctor? What did he say?"
"I called Dr. Rao, he said it's probably viral and to monitor him for 72 hours. But Danish, he looks so weak. I think you should come home."
Danish sighed heavily, and Kavya could hear the frustration in his voice. "Kavya, you know I can't just drop everything and come. We have the merger presentation on Friday. The entire team is counting on me. I've been working on this for months."
"Your father is sick, Danish! This is more important than some presentation!" Kavya's voice rose, her fear turning to anger. "He's all alone here with me, and I'm so scared."
"I'm not alone, Kavya, I have you," Danish replied, his tone defensive. "And you're not alone either—you have Papa. Look, just take good care of him, call me if anything changes, and I promise I'll come as soon as this merger is done. Probably next week."
"Next week? Danish, he could need you before then! Can't you explain the situation to your boss? Family emergency?"
"Kavya, please don't make this harder than it already is," Danish said, his voice strained. "You know how important this is for my career. For our future. Just handle it for a few more days, please. I promise I'll be there as soon as I can."
Kavya felt tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "Fine," she said coldly. "Handle it yourself. I have to go check on your father." She ended the call without waiting for his response, her hand shaking as she placed the phone on the table.
For the next three days, Kavya transformed into a dedicated caregiver. She woke before dawn to check Feroz's temperature and administer the fever reducer. Kavya prepared simple, nourishing meals—khichdi with minimal spices, clear vegetable soups, and herbal teas with ginger and tulsi. She fed him spoonfuls when he was too weak to hold the utensils, her touch gentle and reassuring. She had learned these recipes from her own mother, who had always insisted that food for the ill should be both healing and easy to digest.
During the day, she worked from home, setting up her laptop on a small table in Feroz's room so she could monitor him while handling her architectural drafting tasks. Between conference calls and design revisions, she would check his temperature, change the cold compress, or simply sit beside him, reading the newspaper aloud in a soft, soothing voice when he couldn't focus enough to read himself.
The nights were the most challenging. On the second night, Feroz's fever spiked to 104°F, and he became delirious, muttering fragments of memories and occasionally calling out for his late wife. Kavya stayed awake through the night, sponging his body with cool water, forcing him to sip water every few minutes, and speaking to him in calm, reassuring tones.
"You're safe, Papa," she whispered when he grew restless. "I'm right here with you."
At one point, around 3 AM, Feroz's eyes opened, clearer than they had been in hours. "Kavya," he said, his voice raspy. "You should be sleeping. You have work tomorrow."
Kavya shook her head, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. "Work can wait. You're more important." She hesitated, then added softly, "You've always been there for me, Papa. When I first came to this house, you made me feel welcome. You've been so kind. Now it's my turn to take care of you. Please don't push me away."
Something shifted in Feroz's expression at her words. The guilt in his eyes softened, replaced by a deeper emotion. He reached out and took her hand, his grip weak but firm. "You've become... so important to me, beta," he whispered. "More than you know."
By the fourth morning, the fever finally began to break. Feroz woke feeling weak but lucid, the fever having retreated to a manageable 100°F. Kavya was dozing in the armchair beside his bed, having stayed awake through most of the night. He watched her sleep for a few moments, struck by how peaceful she looked, her dark hair falling across her face, her features relaxed in sleep.
When she stirred and opened her eyes, Feroz squeezed her hand. "You're a good daughter, beta," he said, his voice still weak but clear. "Better than I deserve."
Tears welled in Kavya's eyes. She squeezed his hand back. "You've been more of a father to me than my own father ever was," she whispered, the admission feeling both terrifying and liberating. "From the moment I married Danish, you treated me with such kindness. I felt accepted by you. I still do."
Feroz's eyes filled with emotion too. He couldn't speak past the lump in his throat, so he simply nodded, holding her hand tighter.
Over the next week, as Feroz slowly regained his strength, their bond deepened in ways that neither could have anticipated.
In the evenings, once Feroz was strong enough to sit up for extended periods, they resumed their veranda ritual, but with a new level of comfort between them. Feroz would thank her repeatedly for her care, and she would simply smile and say, "We take care of each other now, Papa."
The house, which had once felt empty without Danish, now held a different kind of warmth—fragile, complicated, but undeniably real. They had created their own small world within its walls, a world built on mutual care, understanding, and an unspoken acknowledgment of how much they had come to mean to each other.
Meanwhile, in Delhi, Danish continued his busy life, unaware of how much closer his wife and father had become in his absence.
Their bond, now forged in the crucible of illness and care, had transformed into something deeper—a connection built on mutual respect, gratitude, and quiet companionship. They didn't know what the future held or how Danish might react if he ever learned the full extent of their relationship. But for now, sitting together on the veranda as the monsoon rains finally began to fall, that was enough.
The monsoon rains had finally arrived in Hyderabad, bringing with them a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. For ten days, Kavya and Feroz had settled into their new routine, their bond strengthening with each passing moment. The house no longer felt cavernous but filled with a quiet warmth that had nothing to do with the weather.
On the eleventh day after Feroz's illness began, the unexpected happened. Danish arrived without warning, standing at their doorstep with his suitcase in hand, looking weary and travel-worn. His flight had landed that morning, and he had taken a cab directly from the airport.
Kavya was in the kitchen preparing lunch when she heard the doorbell. Wiping her hands on her apron, she went to open the door, her heart skipping a beat when she saw her husband standing there.
"Danish! What are you doing here? You didn't call."
Danish stepped inside, dropping his suitcase by the door. "The merger presentation went well. Better than expected, actually. My boss was so pleased he told me to take a few days off. I thought I'd surprise you." He looked around the house, noticing how tidy everything was. "How's Papa? Is he fully recovered now?"
Kavya's expression hardened slightly. "He's much better, thank you for asking. Though you would have known that if you'd called more often or bothered to listen when I told you how sick he was."
Danish sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Kavya, don't start. I told you I was busy with work. I couldn't just drop everything."
"Drop everything?" Kavya's voice rose. "Your father was delirious with fever, Danish! He could barely recognize me some nights. I was alone here, scared, taking care of him, and you were worried about a presentation?"
"I was worried about our future!" Danish shot back, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. "That presentation could have meant a promotion, more security for us. For you and me."
"Your father is family, Danish! Family is supposed to come first!"
"And you think I don't know that?" Danish's voice matched hers now. "Do you think it was easy for me to stay in Delhi knowing my father was sick? But I had responsibilities there too!"
Their argument was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Feroz emerged from his room, looking much better than he had in days, though still slightly pale. "What's all this shouting? Danish? You're home?"
Danish immediately softened his expression when he saw his father. "Papa! I'm so glad to see you looking better." He moved to hug his father, who embraced him warmly.
Feroz pulled back slightly, looking from his son to Kavya and back again. "I didn't know you were coming today, beta. You should have called."
"It was a last-minute decision," Danish explained, his eyes flickering to Kavya. "I wanted to surprise you both."
Feroz sensed the tension between them. "Everything alright?" he asked, looking at Kavya.
"Everything's fine, Papa," Kavya said, forcing a smile. "Danish was just telling me about his successful presentation."
The rest of the day passed in a strained sort of normalcy. Danish shared stories about his work in Delhi, Kavya prepared lunch, and Feroz listened patiently, though Kavya noticed he seemed more reserved than usual. The easy camaraderie that had developed between her and Feroz in Danish's absence was now replaced by a careful formality.
That evening, as the three of them sat on the veranda watching the rain, Danish tried to bridge the gap that had formed between him and Kavya.
"I'm sorry about our argument earlier," he said softly, reaching for her hand. "I know I should have been here. I've been feeling terrible about it."
Kavya withdrew her hand gently. "It's not just about not being here, Danish. It's about how you dismissed my concerns, how you made me feel like I was overreacting."
"I was stressed," Danish explained. "The pressure was immense. But that's no excuse. I promise I'll make it up to you. To both of you."
Feroz watched them silently, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Your work is important, Danish," he said finally. "But family is important too. Kavya took very good care of me when I was sick. She barely slept, barely ate, always making sure I was comfortable. She didn't have to do all that, but she did."
Danish looked at Kavya with new understanding. "I didn't realize... I mean, I knew she was taking care of you, but..."
"You don't realize a lot of things when you're caught up in your own world," Kavya said, her voice softer now but still carrying an edge of hurt. "While you were worrying about your presentation, I was wondering if I'd have to take Papa to the hospital in the middle of the night. While you were celebrating with your colleagues, I was feeding him soup with a spoon because he was too weak to feed himself."
Danish looked genuinely remorseful now. "I'm so sorry, Kavya. Really. I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"
Kavya hugged him back, but her embrace felt a little tighter than usual, almost desperate. “It’s okay. I’m glad you came.”
In his own room, Feroz lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Knowing his son was home — sleeping with Kavya just a few rooms away — made the guilt feel suffocating. Yet he couldn’t deny the quiet ache he felt knowing Kavya was with Danish tonight.
The weekend passed with surface-level happiness. Danish took Kavya out for dinner, spent time with Feroz, and tried to reconnect. But both Kavya and Feroz felt the growing distance — the secret they shared had created an invisible wall that even Danish’s presence couldn’t fully hide.
When Danish left for Delhi on Sunday evening, he hugged Kavya tightly at the airport.
“I’ll try to come sooner next time,” he promised.
Kavya smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Take care of yourself.”
As Danish’s flight took off, Kavya returned home to a house that now felt both familiar and strangely different.
Feroz was waiting for her on the veranda with two cups of tea.
They sat together in silence for a long time — the bond between them quieter, deeper, and more complicated than ever.
The Hyderabad heat had become a thick, heavy blanket over the city by late June, wrapping everything in a languid haze that made movement feel like a chore. In the sprawling house that had once echoed with the sounds of a full family, only two sets of footsteps now marked the passing of days. Kavya and Feroz had settled into a rhythm that was both comfortable and tinged with melancholy. Danish's calls from Delhi had grown shorter, more infrequent, his career demanding more of his time and attention. The house, with its high ceilings and numerous rooms, often felt cavernous without him.
Their evenings had become a ritual. After Kavya returned from her work at the architectural firm, she would change into comfortable salwar kameez and join Feroz on the veranda. The monsoon clouds would gather in the distance, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange as the sun set over the Hussain Sagar lake. Feroz would have prepared chai, the way Kavya liked it—strong with just a hint of cardamom. They would sit in the wicker chairs, sometimes talking about their day, sometimes simply watching the neighborhood come alive with the sounds of children playing and vendors calling out their wares.
In the quiet companionship they had built, a subtle bond had grown between them, transforming the conventional daughter-in-law and father-in-law dynamic into something more complex and tender. They had become protectors of each other in a way that defied easy categorization, their connection forged in the shared solitude of the large house.
That Tuesday evening, Feroz returned from his walk along the Necklace Road looking visibly drained. His usually erect posture had softened, and there was a grayish pallor to his skin that Kavya noticed immediately.
"Papa, you look exhausted," she said, rising from her chair as he approached the veranda.
Feroz attempted a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The humidity today is particularly oppressive. I think it's finally getting to me." He sank into his usual chair with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his sixty years.
Kavya brought him a glass of water, her fingers brushing against his as she handed it to him. His skin felt unusually warm. "You're burning up," she said, her concern evident in her voice.
"It's just the weather," Feroz insisted, though he leaned back with his eyes closed, a gesture of uncharacteristic vulnerability. "I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."
By midnight, Feroz's condition had deteriorated dramatically. Kavya was awakened by the sound of shivering from the adjacent room. She found him huddled under a thin blanket, teeth chattering despite the warm night air. His face was flushed with fever, and his breathing was shallow.
"Papa," she whispered, placing her hand on his forehead. The heat radiating from his skin startled her. "You have a high fever. We need to do something."
Feroz's eyes fluttered open, clouded with fever. "Just... just a cold, beta. Don't worry."
But Kavya was already moving, her maternal instincts kicking in. She helped him sit up, fetched the thermometer from the bathroom cabinet, and was alarmed when it read 103°F. After administering the fever reducer and applying a cold compress, she stepped into the hallway, her phone in hand, and called Danish. It was nearly 2 AM in Delhi, but she knew he often worked late.
Danish answered on the fourth ring, his voice thick with sleep. "Kavya? Is everything okay? What time is it?"
"Danish, it's Papa," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "He has a very high fever. I'm scared."
There was a pause on the other end, then the rustling of bedsheets. "High fever? Did you call the doctor? What did he say?"
"I called Dr. Rao, he said it's probably viral and to monitor him for 72 hours. But Danish, he looks so weak. I think you should come home."
Danish sighed heavily, and Kavya could hear the frustration in his voice. "Kavya, you know I can't just drop everything and come. We have the merger presentation on Friday. The entire team is counting on me. I've been working on this for months."
"Your father is sick, Danish! This is more important than some presentation!" Kavya's voice rose, her fear turning to anger. "He's all alone here with me, and I'm so scared."
"I'm not alone, Kavya, I have you," Danish replied, his tone defensive. "And you're not alone either—you have Papa. Look, just take good care of him, call me if anything changes, and I promise I'll come as soon as this merger is done. Probably next week."
"Next week? Danish, he could need you before then! Can't you explain the situation to your boss? Family emergency?"
"Kavya, please don't make this harder than it already is," Danish said, his voice strained. "You know how important this is for my career. For our future. Just handle it for a few more days, please. I promise I'll be there as soon as I can."
Kavya felt tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "Fine," she said coldly. "Handle it yourself. I have to go check on your father." She ended the call without waiting for his response, her hand shaking as she placed the phone on the table.
For the next three days, Kavya transformed into a dedicated caregiver. She woke before dawn to check Feroz's temperature and administer the fever reducer. Kavya prepared simple, nourishing meals—khichdi with minimal spices, clear vegetable soups, and herbal teas with ginger and tulsi. She fed him spoonfuls when he was too weak to hold the utensils, her touch gentle and reassuring. She had learned these recipes from her own mother, who had always insisted that food for the ill should be both healing and easy to digest.
During the day, she worked from home, setting up her laptop on a small table in Feroz's room so she could monitor him while handling her architectural drafting tasks. Between conference calls and design revisions, she would check his temperature, change the cold compress, or simply sit beside him, reading the newspaper aloud in a soft, soothing voice when he couldn't focus enough to read himself.
The nights were the most challenging. On the second night, Feroz's fever spiked to 104°F, and he became delirious, muttering fragments of memories and occasionally calling out for his late wife. Kavya stayed awake through the night, sponging his body with cool water, forcing him to sip water every few minutes, and speaking to him in calm, reassuring tones.
"You're safe, Papa," she whispered when he grew restless. "I'm right here with you."
At one point, around 3 AM, Feroz's eyes opened, clearer than they had been in hours. "Kavya," he said, his voice raspy. "You should be sleeping. You have work tomorrow."
Kavya shook her head, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. "Work can wait. You're more important." She hesitated, then added softly, "You've always been there for me, Papa. When I first came to this house, you made me feel welcome. You've been so kind. Now it's my turn to take care of you. Please don't push me away."
Something shifted in Feroz's expression at her words. The guilt in his eyes softened, replaced by a deeper emotion. He reached out and took her hand, his grip weak but firm. "You've become... so important to me, beta," he whispered. "More than you know."
By the fourth morning, the fever finally began to break. Feroz woke feeling weak but lucid, the fever having retreated to a manageable 100°F. Kavya was dozing in the armchair beside his bed, having stayed awake through most of the night. He watched her sleep for a few moments, struck by how peaceful she looked, her dark hair falling across her face, her features relaxed in sleep.
When she stirred and opened her eyes, Feroz squeezed her hand. "You're a good daughter, beta," he said, his voice still weak but clear. "Better than I deserve."
Tears welled in Kavya's eyes. She squeezed his hand back. "You've been more of a father to me than my own father ever was," she whispered, the admission feeling both terrifying and liberating. "From the moment I married Danish, you treated me with such kindness. I felt accepted by you. I still do."
Feroz's eyes filled with emotion too. He couldn't speak past the lump in his throat, so he simply nodded, holding her hand tighter.
Over the next week, as Feroz slowly regained his strength, their bond deepened in ways that neither could have anticipated.
In the evenings, once Feroz was strong enough to sit up for extended periods, they resumed their veranda ritual, but with a new level of comfort between them. Feroz would thank her repeatedly for her care, and she would simply smile and say, "We take care of each other now, Papa."
The house, which had once felt empty without Danish, now held a different kind of warmth—fragile, complicated, but undeniably real. They had created their own small world within its walls, a world built on mutual care, understanding, and an unspoken acknowledgment of how much they had come to mean to each other.
Meanwhile, in Delhi, Danish continued his busy life, unaware of how much closer his wife and father had become in his absence.
Their bond, now forged in the crucible of illness and care, had transformed into something deeper—a connection built on mutual respect, gratitude, and quiet companionship. They didn't know what the future held or how Danish might react if he ever learned the full extent of their relationship. But for now, sitting together on the veranda as the monsoon rains finally began to fall, that was enough.
The monsoon rains had finally arrived in Hyderabad, bringing with them a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. For ten days, Kavya and Feroz had settled into their new routine, their bond strengthening with each passing moment. The house no longer felt cavernous but filled with a quiet warmth that had nothing to do with the weather.
On the eleventh day after Feroz's illness began, the unexpected happened. Danish arrived without warning, standing at their doorstep with his suitcase in hand, looking weary and travel-worn. His flight had landed that morning, and he had taken a cab directly from the airport.
Kavya was in the kitchen preparing lunch when she heard the doorbell. Wiping her hands on her apron, she went to open the door, her heart skipping a beat when she saw her husband standing there.
"Danish! What are you doing here? You didn't call."
Danish stepped inside, dropping his suitcase by the door. "The merger presentation went well. Better than expected, actually. My boss was so pleased he told me to take a few days off. I thought I'd surprise you." He looked around the house, noticing how tidy everything was. "How's Papa? Is he fully recovered now?"
Kavya's expression hardened slightly. "He's much better, thank you for asking. Though you would have known that if you'd called more often or bothered to listen when I told you how sick he was."
Danish sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Kavya, don't start. I told you I was busy with work. I couldn't just drop everything."
"Drop everything?" Kavya's voice rose. "Your father was delirious with fever, Danish! He could barely recognize me some nights. I was alone here, scared, taking care of him, and you were worried about a presentation?"
"I was worried about our future!" Danish shot back, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. "That presentation could have meant a promotion, more security for us. For you and me."
"Your father is family, Danish! Family is supposed to come first!"
"And you think I don't know that?" Danish's voice matched hers now. "Do you think it was easy for me to stay in Delhi knowing my father was sick? But I had responsibilities there too!"
Their argument was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Feroz emerged from his room, looking much better than he had in days, though still slightly pale. "What's all this shouting? Danish? You're home?"
Danish immediately softened his expression when he saw his father. "Papa! I'm so glad to see you looking better." He moved to hug his father, who embraced him warmly.
Feroz pulled back slightly, looking from his son to Kavya and back again. "I didn't know you were coming today, beta. You should have called."
"It was a last-minute decision," Danish explained, his eyes flickering to Kavya. "I wanted to surprise you both."
Feroz sensed the tension between them. "Everything alright?" he asked, looking at Kavya.
"Everything's fine, Papa," Kavya said, forcing a smile. "Danish was just telling me about his successful presentation."
The rest of the day passed in a strained sort of normalcy. Danish shared stories about his work in Delhi, Kavya prepared lunch, and Feroz listened patiently, though Kavya noticed he seemed more reserved than usual. The easy camaraderie that had developed between her and Feroz in Danish's absence was now replaced by a careful formality.
That evening, as the three of them sat on the veranda watching the rain, Danish tried to bridge the gap that had formed between him and Kavya.
"I'm sorry about our argument earlier," he said softly, reaching for her hand. "I know I should have been here. I've been feeling terrible about it."
Kavya withdrew her hand gently. "It's not just about not being here, Danish. It's about how you dismissed my concerns, how you made me feel like I was overreacting."
"I was stressed," Danish explained. "The pressure was immense. But that's no excuse. I promise I'll make it up to you. To both of you."
Feroz watched them silently, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Your work is important, Danish," he said finally. "But family is important too. Kavya took very good care of me when I was sick. She barely slept, barely ate, always making sure I was comfortable. She didn't have to do all that, but she did."
Danish looked at Kavya with new understanding. "I didn't realize... I mean, I knew she was taking care of you, but..."
"You don't realize a lot of things when you're caught up in your own world," Kavya said, her voice softer now but still carrying an edge of hurt. "While you were worrying about your presentation, I was wondering if I'd have to take Papa to the hospital in the middle of the night. While you were celebrating with your colleagues, I was feeding him soup with a spoon because he was too weak to feed himself."
Danish looked genuinely remorseful now. "I'm so sorry, Kavya. Really. I was wrong. Can you forgive me?"
Kavya hugged him back, but her embrace felt a little tighter than usual, almost desperate. “It’s okay. I’m glad you came.”
In his own room, Feroz lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Knowing his son was home — sleeping with Kavya just a few rooms away — made the guilt feel suffocating. Yet he couldn’t deny the quiet ache he felt knowing Kavya was with Danish tonight.
The weekend passed with surface-level happiness. Danish took Kavya out for dinner, spent time with Feroz, and tried to reconnect. But both Kavya and Feroz felt the growing distance — the secret they shared had created an invisible wall that even Danish’s presence couldn’t fully hide.
When Danish left for Delhi on Sunday evening, he hugged Kavya tightly at the airport.
“I’ll try to come sooner next time,” he promised.
Kavya smiled, but her eyes were sad. “Take care of yourself.”
As Danish’s flight took off, Kavya returned home to a house that now felt both familiar and strangely different.
Feroz was waiting for her on the veranda with two cups of tea.
They sat together in silence for a long time — the bond between them quieter, deeper, and more complicated than ever.
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