She held the world together for him,
hands trembling, heart steady,
but his blame fell like winter
on a girl who only knew how to love.

(SHANGHAI, CHINA)

(BAI MANSION)

Minsheng stepped into the room—too carefully, almost timidly—as if he was scared to face her. And maybe he was. Because facing her meant facing emotions, and he had never done well with those. He was genuinely afraid. He still remembered the way she'd cleaned his wounds—the gentleness in her hands—even though he had never once cared for her.

How could someone be so kind? So painfully pure?

But that wasn't even the question that ate at him the most.

It was this—
How had someone like her ended up with someone like him?
A monster.

He exhaled in relief when he found the room empty. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his suit jacket. And then he heard it—the shower running. She was here. She was just behind that door.

He stared at the wall in front of him, emotions swirling in his chest—unwelcome, unfamiliar, unbearable.

And he kept replaying that one moment.
That one word he had whispered.

A word that could destroy everything he had built.
A word that could ruin the reputation he had carved out of fear and brutality.

Why... why had he said it?

"Aaram se."

Just two simple words.
But they carried weight.
Too much weight.

If his men heard it?
They'd think he was going soft. Weak.
And the news would spread.
And his enemies would strike—because weakness was blood in the water.

But beneath all that fear, all that logic, there was a question he couldn't outrun.

Why did he say it?
Why now?

Why... anything?

The door clicked open, and there she was. Kashi stood in a green saree, her hair still wet and clinging to the side of her face. Minsheng froze—not because of the saree, but because of her bare face. She looked younger, softer, almost peaceful in a way he hadn't seen in so long. It punched the air right out of him.

She stopped too when she saw him, but then she smiled. A gentle, warm smile that slowly spread across her lips. And that smile hit him straight in the chest. Why the hell was she smiling? Shouldn't she be slapping him or yelling? But instead she looked at him like he wasn't Bai Minsheng, The White Tiger—just a man standing in front of her.

He swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts away. His voice came out rough. "Good morning."

And fuck—her smile only grew. The way her eyes shined and the way she showed her teeth... God, it was adorable. He stiffened. Did he seriously just call her adorable? What the actual hell was wrong with him? He wasn't romantic or soft. He was Bai Minsheng—the White Tiger.

"Get your shit together, Minsheng," he muttered under his breath.

But Kashi heard something in his tone. "Aap theek hain?" she asked quietly, eyes scanning his face with real concern. That concern twisted something inside him.

TRANSLATION - ''ARE YOU OKAY?''

"Uh... yes. I'm okay," he forced out, even though he wasn't.

"Kashi... we might not be going today."
Her smile vanished in an instant. She had barely slept, too excited thinking about seeing her mother. And now this.

She kept herself steady—barely. "Why can't we go?" she asked, her voice thin but controlled.

"Yesterday at the airport... a flight got hijacked. The airport is closed." He hesitated, jaw tight. "I would've taken us on the private jet, but Gigi told me you don't like traveling in those." His voice stayed low, almost guilty. She looked like she might cry, and all because of him.

Why was he so uneasy that she couldn't go?
Why did it affect him too?

Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK.

What was wrong with him?

"For God's sake, get your shit together, Minsheng."
He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration twisting through him.

Fuck. Something was wrong with him.

He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration burning under his skin. "For God's sake... get your shit together, Minsheng," he muttered again.

Then he noticed she was still standing there—sad. And for once, he couldn't ignore it. He couldn't walk away like he always did.

So he forced himself to step back.
"Uh... aap taiyaar ho jaiye. I'll leave you alone."

TRANSLATION - '' YOU SHOULD GET READY.''

His voice was rough, and then he was gone.

Kashi stared at the place where he'd been standing. But she wasn't entirely sad. She knew he had tried. He really had. And even if he hadn't, she would never blame him.

But she wasn't heartbroken.
Because she'd seen it—
He had tried.
He had worked to get them on a flight.
He really had.

Of course.
Typical Kashi—mad in love.

She sighed softly, then headed to the vanity, pushing her thoughts away as she began to get ready.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

WILLIAM RESIDENCE

William sat in his study, settled deep into his armchair, absently flipping a pen between his fingers. Meilin rested against his chest, her cheek pressed over the fabric of his shirt, her hands splayed lightly over his heart. He felt at peace—he always did when she was near. After a day of endless meetings and negotiations, after the stress and the noise, this was all he looked forward to: ending his night with the woman he loved.

Meilin wasn't just his girlfriend. She was his peace. His anchor. His saviour—and he was hers.

He still remembered the first time he met her years ago—Minsheng's cousin, a shy little girl with two braids and a wide smile that showed all her teeth, even the broken ones. She had been a burst of colour in his life, a spark he desperately needed after losing his parents. She was always there for him. Always.

So when he learned she had a boyfriend back then, it had shattered him. She used to talk about the guy so casually, so happily. And it hurt—God, it hurt more than anything—because he loved her, and seeing her eyes light up for someone else felt like a knife twisting deeper each time.

But fate had brought them together. And tonight, she was in his arms.

His girlfriend.

"Meilin?" he murmured.

She turned her head slightly, those soft eyes lifting to him—his biggest weakness. "Hmm?" she hummed, and his smile widened. That tiny sound, the way she didn't need to say more...he adored it.

"Do you know Li—Minsheng's best man?" he asked. She nodded, still absentmindedly playing with the buttons on his shirt. God, she was cute. She was fucking adorable.

"Yeah, what about him?" she asked gently. Her eyes were so soft, so open, looking up at him. His heart tightened—how could one woman reduce him to this?

"You know Gigi arranged his marriage," he said quietly. "We might be going to India for the wedding."

"Oh really? That's nice. I mean...he won't be alone now." She smiled, but it wasn't the reaction he was hoping for. Still, he nodded, pretending it was enough.

"What's wrong?" she whispered. She saw it instantly—she always did. She had read him like an open book since the beginning.

"Nothing," Isaac said, brushing it off. But disappointment sat heavy in his chest. He wanted to know her thoughts about marriage. Her dreams. Whether she saw a future with him the way he saw one with her.

"Come on...tell me," she whispered, gently turning his face toward hers by holding his chin. His breath caught. God, the way she took control—it undid him.

"Well...I just wanted to know your views on marriage," he admitted, voice low. "How you feel about it."

The moment the words left his mouth, he saw her pull back—like his question had burned her. Her gaze darted away. Her shoulders stiffened. The topic wasn't just uncomfortable for her—it was something she feared.

He cursed himself silently.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

Why would he bring up something that made her shut down like this? What kind of boyfriend was he to push her like that?

"I'm sorry, darling," he whispered quickly. "We don't have to talk about it. Just...please don't shut me out."

His hands hovered near her waist—aching to hold her but unwilling to force her to stay. He waited. Even if it broke him.

"I just don't like talking about it," she finally said, eyes lowered.

His heart ached. He hated that he had caused even a flicker of pain in her.

"Okay, darling," he said softly. "We won't talk about it. You have my word."

She nodded and eased back onto his lap. He let out a long breath of relief, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her close. The idea of losing her—of her walking out of his life one day—made him sick. Truly sick.

And yet, deep in the back of his mind, an unwelcome thought lingered. Her discomfort wasn't temporary. It wasn't about timing.

It was about marriage itself.

He pushed the thought away and held her tighter, running his fingers through her hair as if he could protect her—and their future—from everything, even the things she couldn't say.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

CHEN RESIDENCE

Edward sat in the living room, his fingers moving with quiet precision as he braided Inaayat's hair. She sat cross-legged on the floor on a small mat, happily munching on the donut he'd bought her last night—after she manipulated him into it, of course. She always did.

Just like her mother.

Even the memory of Shanaya—his ex-wife—made his movements still for a second. Every minute spent with his daughter brought her back to him in flashes he didn't know how to deal with. But at least his little princess... she wasn't going anywhere. She wouldn't leave him.

"Dadda, why did you stop?" Inaayat pouted, tugging his arm insistently.

"Sorry, Princess. Dadda got lost for a second. It's almost done, honey. Don't worry."

He finished the braid, tying a small rubber band neatly at the end. She stood up immediately, showing it off with a proud little giggle before running off to play.

TING... TING... TING.

His phone buzzed with a message from Kashi. He frowned slightly as he opened it.

'Ghar aa jaiye bhai, Gigi ne meeting rakhi. And don't worry about breakfast—I'm making. Bring Inaayat as well.'

A meeting? At this hour? His brows dipped lower.
What now?
Did Minsheng do something again?

That bastard.

He sighed and pocketed his phone before calling out, "Darling! Come on, get ready—we're going to Kashi Mausi's house!"

Within seconds, Inaayat appeared, eyes sparkling. To her, going to Mausi's house meant unlimited food, no rules, and Kashi spoiling her beyond imagination.

"OKIE DADDY!" she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement before darting toward her room.

Edward couldn't help it—a smile tugged at his lips as he followed after her. "Wait, Princess! Daddy has to help you change!"

Her giggles echoed through the house, bright and pure, bouncing off the walls like sunlight. And just like that... every worry, every stress, every memory that hurt—faded away.

Because that one laugh?
It made everything worth it.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

BAI MANSION

Kashi stood in the kitchen, making breakfast—really making it after so long. Now that things finally felt a little steadier, a little safer, she found herself wanting to do this. Her hands worked efficiently as she prepared the dough for aloo paranthas, his favourite. She hoped he'd like them... hoped he'd like them from her hands.

Nervousness twisted in her stomach; excitement and insecurity clung to the air around her.

Behind her, the maids hovered uncertainly, exchanging glances. No Bai lady ever stepped into the kitchen for actual cooking—this was their domain. Yet here Kashi was, stubborn as ever, sleeves rolled up and doing everything from scratch.

"Mrs. Bai, you really don't have to..." one of the maids ventured.

Kashi smiled without looking up. "Come on, don't worry. I won't burn the kitchen, I swear."

The maids laughed, shaking their heads as they returned to their tasks. They knew she wouldn't move even if they begged. Kashi Bai could be gentle, but she could also be immovable when she wanted something.

An hour later, she placed a plate of hot, fresh aloo paranthas and steaming chai into the maids' hands—the perfect combination, and perfect only because he liked it so much. She just hoped he'd like it coming from her.

A small voice suddenly rang through the kitchen. "Mausi, I'm here!"

Kashi turned even before she heard the footsteps. Inaayat—tiny, adorable, impossible not to smile at—ran straight into her open arms. Kashi crouched, scooping her up and hugging her tight, her heart warming instantly at the little girl's touch.

Behind them, Edward stood silently. His eyes softened. It had been a long time since he'd seen Kashi smile like that. And that told him everything—Minsheng hadn't done anything to ruin it this time.

Edward quietly slipped out, heading straight to Minsheng's study—the place the man always retreated to. A few places defined him completely: the boardrooms, his study, and his club where he drowned himself in baijiu away from the world.

Edward found him standing by the window, staring outside, shoulders stiff with unspoken thoughts. The memories of their fight flashed through Edward's mind—the harsh words, the lines crossed—but he didn't regret it. Someone had to say those things. Minsheng needed to hear them.

Minsheng turned and froze when he saw him. For a moment, everything—the anger, the guilt, the truth—rushed back. But he pushed it all down. He deserved what Edward had said. After everything he'd done to Kashi, and worse, after how she had still treated him with kindness he didn't deserve... yes, he deserved every word.

But today wasn't the day to revisit that. Not when he'd seen her genuinely happy this morning. Not when he didn't want to ruin it by being himself.

"Where's Inaayat?" he asked quietly, his voice softer than usual—almost careful.

"She's downstairs with Kashi," Edward replied just as softly. They didn't speak of the fight. Neither of them wanted to open that door today.

"We should go down then," Minsheng murmured, matching Edward's neutral tone.

And just like that, two best friends—men who once told each other everything and talked for hours—could barely stand in the same room.

Downstairs, Kashi stood in the living room with little Inaayat settled comfortably on her lap. Both of them smiled into the phone screen, and then came that voice—soft, familiar, unmistakable.

"How is my pretty girl, hmm?"

Edward froze mid-step. He would know that voice anywhere.
Shanaya.

Well—not his Shanaya anymore. Legally, she wasn't his anything. The only thread that still bound them was the small girl giggling on the couch.

Inaayat's laughter filled the room as she proudly narrated her day—how much fun she'd had with her dadda, and now at Kashi-mausi's house. But Shanaya's next question made Kashi pause.

"Uh... Kashi, is Edward there?"
Her tone was soft, almost hesitant.

Kashi looked over her shoulder, her eyes flickering briefly to Minsheng before settling on Edward. Then she turned back to the screen and nodded. "Yes, he's here. I'll give him the phone."

She rose, set Inaayat gently on the couch, and handed Edward the phone.

He stood frozen for a second. And then there she was—Shanaya on the screen, hair tied up in a messy bun, a small bindi on her forehead, looking effortlessly beautiful in that way only she knew how to be.

"I was about to call you," she said, snapping him back into the moment. He could see the tension on her face, and like always, it punched straight through him.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, already moving toward the washroom for privacy. The tightness in her jaw, the quiet look in her eyes—he knew this wasn't a conversation meant for an audience.

Shanaya pressed her fingers to her temples before finally speaking. "I need you to provide protection to someone."

"Protection? To who?" His brows furrowed. Was she in trouble? Was it one of her cases again?

"I've taken a case... it's a ten-year-old girl. Aadhya Malhotra. Middle-class family. She was assaulted by a nineteen-year-old boy."

Edward didn't react outwardly. He'd heard about too many similar cases—Shanaya was a criminal lawyer; stories like this weren't new.

"But there's more," she continued, her voice thinning. "The boy is the son of a politician. And you know how that works—they'll pressure the family, threaten them, do anything to make them withdraw the complaint. And that little girl might never get justice." Her throat tightened. "So I need you to provide her protection. Please."

His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. He knew exactly what politicians like that could do—he'd seen worse.

"Politicians," he muttered, disgust dripping from every word. "They think they can do whatever they want because their daddy has power. It's bullshit."

Then, softer but firm: "Consider it done."

Shanaya's exhale was visible, like she'd been holding her breath for hours. She always trusted him with the things that mattered.

"And get some sleep," he added, a corner of his mouth pulling into a half-smirk. "You look like hell."

There it was—that familiar spark between them, bright for a second.

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you for the compliment though," she muttered, equal parts playful and sarcastic.

"Okay bye. And take care of Inaayat."

"I will."
And with that, she hung up.

Back in the living room, Inaayat was now standing on Minsheng's lap—tiny hands on her hips—scolding him dramatically about where he had disappeared all this time and why he hadn't brought her anything.
He sat there quietly, taking every word from this little munchkin, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Uncle... will you buy me a new Barbie set?" she whispered in his ear, lowering her voice like she was sharing top-secret information.

He leaned in, eyes playful. "Yes, baby. I'll buy you anything you want. Just don't tell your dadda."

Inaayat giggled, delighted, and wrapped her little arms around his neck, peppering his cheeks with kisses. And for a moment—just one—he allowed himself to feel it. That warmth. That purity. Something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Vishakha and Yansong finally entered the dining room, followed by Jun and Yunji, and slowly everyone settled into their chairs.

CREAK.

The door opened and Isaac walked in with Meilin beside him, their arms linked. They offered smiles to the family and took their seats. Isaac's eyes briefly flickered toward Minsheng, as though checking if everything was alright, before he focused on the table again.

Edward sank into his chair too, handing Kashi her phone back. She stood up to serve everyone—something she normally didn't do, but today the breakfast was hers, and she wanted to. The maids moved around, pouring tea into delicate cups.

"I've called you all here for a reason," Vishakha said, her voice low but commanding, her eyes moving from one face to another.

Everyone looked up—even little Inaayat tried to mimic her serious expression, brows furrowed in a deep, adorable frown.

"But we will wait until Minsheng's father and Li arrive."

Minsheng stiffened instantly. His father.
The one man he never wanted to see, never wanted to face. Pain and abandonment rose inside him like a tide—years of loneliness flashing in front of his eyes like a horror montage he wished he could erase.

He forced himself to stay composed. But Kashi saw it. She always saw it. She just didn't understand why the mere mention of his father broke him like this. Even her father-in-law had never spoken about Minsheng in this entire past year.

''Gigi, I'll go get Baba," Kashi said softly.

She took the hallway, reached the door, and knocked gently. "Baba?"

"Come in, beta."
That gentle, familiar fatherly voice came from inside, and she stepped in.

Bai Minghao stood before the mirror, adjusting his tie. The room was neat—too neat—like no one ever slept there. Which was true. Kashi knew he barely slept: always working, drinking, or disappearing into some club.

"Baba, Gigi is calling you downstairs," she said.

He turned toward her then—tall, sharp, intimidating—but to her, he had always been warmth disguised as a storm.

"I'm coming. You go ahead," he said with a nod.

She turned to leave, but something on the wall caught her eye. A portrait. A beautiful woman—grace in her posture, softness in her smile.

Minsheng's mother. Bai Minghao's wife.
Pallavi.

Kashi had never met her, but she wished she had.

Minghao followed her gaze. His expression softened—sad, tender, reverent.

"You know, beta," he began quietly, "you're exactly like Pallavi. That kindness that never dies. That stubborn heart that keeps believing in a man who might not see you... yet refuses to let the world break you."

Kashi's breath caught. She hadn't expected those words—not from him, not today. And yet they touched her deeply.

"I'm glad I'm like Maa," she whispered. "And I hope, Baba... your son sees it too. One day."

Minghao walked over and gently patted her head, the gesture warm and fatherly. "He will, sweetheart. Don't worry."

He gestured toward the door. "Come on. Let's go."

Kashi nodded, her heart lighter— by the reassurance she didn't know she had needed so badly. And with that small strength, she followed him downstairs, ready to keep going, ready not to give up.

Downstairs, Li was already seated beside Vishakha. She had practically forced him into the chair despite all his protests. In his mind, he didn't deserve to sit among them—he was only Minsheng's loyal man, nothing more.
But to this family... he was much more than that, and Vishakha made sure he knew it.

When Kashi and Minghao came down the stairs together, the tension in the room shifted sharply. Thick. Heavy. Unmistakable.

Minsheng's jaw tightened so hard it looked like it might crack. His gaze fixed on the man across the table—his father. The man who had given him his name, his bloodline, and nothing else. The man he resented with every fiber of his being.

But then he saw the soft smile on Kashi's face. And he reminded himself: she was happy. The room was peaceful. He wasn't going to destroy that by reacting. So he swallowed everything down even though the darkness in his eyes said more than enough.

Everyone took their seats. Minghao greeted his parents—Vishakha and Yansong—before sitting down, studiously avoiding Minsheng's gaze. The silence settled like a thick fog.

Then Vishakha spoke.

"So, tomorrow afternoon we will all be leaving for India. We were supposed to leave today, but because of the hijack situation at the airport, the flight was delayed. And... we have finally confirmed Li's marriage with Jaanaki—a girl I met last year in India. So everyone, pack accordingly."

A beat of stunned silence followed.

Then Yunji burst to life, practically bouncing out of her chair.
"Oh my god! Finally a marriage in the family. Byeee everyone, I need to PACK!"
And just like that, she ran off.

Laughter softened the room's stiffness. Edward and Isaac extended their congratulations. Everyone offered Li warm wishes—while Li himself kept his eyes lowered, mind still struggling to comprehend that he was actually getting married.

"Gigi," Kashi whispered gently, "should I go shopping with Yunji? Buy sweets and clothes to give to Jaanaki's family?"

Vishakha shook her head with a warm smile. "No, beta. We'll arrange all that once we reach India."

Minsheng remained quiet. He already knew this trip was going to be long. No work. No distractions. Just a wedding, a family, and... feelings he wasn't ready to face.

Breakfast began. Plates shifted. Maids poured tea.
Kashi held her breath—waiting. Hoping. She had cooked today, and all she wanted was for everyone to like it.
But mostly... for him to like it.

Inaayat was the first to speak.
"Wow, Mausi, it's really tasty! I LOVE it with butter!"
She lifted her half-eaten parantha proudly before stuffing it into her mouth.

The room filled with soft laughter and easy compliments.

But Kashi's eyes kept drifting to Minsheng.

He kept his head down, deliberately avoiding meeting her gaze—like if he looked up, something would slip out. Something he wasn't ready to admit. But the subtle twitch at the corner of his lips, the faint struggle in his expression... she saw it.

He was trying so hard to stay neutral.
Too hard.

And that was all the confirmation she needed.

A smile spread over her face—soft, relieved, warm.
He liked it.
He really did.
He just... couldn't say it.

Across the table, Vishakha and Yansong watched them both. Then exchanged a knowing look—a gentle smile shared between two people who had seen this begin long before either of them had.

A beginning.
A familiar one.
One they welcomed quietly.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

DEEWAN MANSION

MUMBAI,INDIA

Kalyani stood in the living room practically glowing, her happiness spilling through every breath she took. Little Veer—Aksh's son and her pride—sat nestled comfortably on her lap, tiny fingers tugging at the edge of her saree as he played.

She was happy.
Too happy.

Her daughter—her Kashi—was finally coming to India. The thought alone made her feel like the happiest woman alive. She could hardly contain her excitement; it bubbled in her chest, in her hands, in the way she kept pacing around the room giving instructions like a general preparing for a festival.

"Put fresh flowers everywhere," she reminded the maids, waving her hands enthusiastically. "And prepare all her favourite dishes for tomorrow. I want everything perfect."

She paused only to add, in a softer, emotional whisper, "And don't forget to clean Kashi's room."

Her eyes softened. That room had been untouched for so long—waiting. Much like her heart.

Veer looked up at her then, big curious eyes blinking up at his grandmother, trying to understand this sudden excitement bursting from her.

He tugged her saree gently, pulling her out of her thoughts. Kalyani smiled down at him, her voice turning warm and tender.

"Your Kashi bua is coming home, my raja. Hmm?" she said, brushing his cheek with her fingers.

Veer broke into a wide grin, clapping his chubby hands together as if he understood every emotion radiating from her. Maybe he did. Children always felt love, even when they didn't understand it.

Just then, soft footsteps approached from the staircase. Kalyani turned to see her son—Aksh—coming down, composed as always in his Armani suit. The picture of discipline and control... except when it came to one person.

"Dadda!" Veer squealed.

He leapt off Kalyani's lap and bolted toward his father. Aksh's face softened instantly. He bent down and scooped his son into his arms in one swift motion, settling the little boy securely against his chest.

Veer wrapped his arms around Aksh's neck, looking up with pure adoration. And Aksh—who rarely let emotion show—closed his eyes for a moment as he pressed a kiss to his son's forehead.

He inhaled the soft baby scent, the warmth, the innocence.

This boy—this tiny, beautiful boy—was the only untouched purity left in his life. The only thing he allowed himself to love without fear. And in that split second, the stoic businessman vanished, replaced by a father who would burn the world down before letting anything happen to his child.

His arms tightened around Veer instinctively, protectively, as if shielding him from every evil he'd ever known.

Kalyani watched them with a soft smile, her heart full in a way only a mother's heart could be.
Her daughter was coming home.
Her son was happy.
Her grandson was glowing.

For the first time in a long time, her house felt like a home again.

Upstairs, in the quiet of their room, Ansh stood before the mirror fixing his hair—each movement careful, practiced, almost mechanical. His reflection stared back at him with the same blank composure he'd worn for years.

Then the door opened.

He stilled.

Kalyani stepped in, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. She looked... radiant. Not in a loud, attention-seeking way, but in the soft, elegant way he had fallen for years ago. Her beige saree draped perfectly around her, the bangles on her wrists chiming lightly with her movements, and the mangalsutra resting at her neck—a symbol he had once treasured, once protected.

She walked toward him, the gentle rustling of her saree breaking the silence and pulling him out of the trance he'd fallen into. And then he saw it.

A smile.

A real one.

Warm. Soft. Full.

When was the last time he'd seen that smile directed toward him?
God... it had been years. Too many years. She smiled for their children. She smiled for the world.
But for him?
She had stopped long ago.

She stopped a step away from him, and even with all the distance their marriage had piled between them, she couldn't hide the joy lighting up her face.

"Kashi is coming to visit us," she whispered.

Ansh's heart softened instantly. His eyes widened just slightly, surprise flickering through them before something gentler settled in.

"She's coming? When?" he asked, voice lower, almost careful—as if the moment was fragile.

"Tomorrow." The word left her lips with a smile so bright, so full, it warmed something deep in him he had forgotten existed.

For a heartbeat, he didn't see the years of silence between them.
He only saw his wife—smiling, glowing, alive.

And he hoped—truly hoped—that this joy, this light, this smile... would stay.
Just like that.
Always.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

RAJPUT MANOR

MUMBAI, INDIA

Nisha sat in the living room, happily pressed against Isha—her sister-in-law. Both women were smiling into the phone screen, their excitement too big to contain as they talked to Kashi.

"Guys... I'm coming tomorrow," Kashi whispered, almost shy, and instantly both women lit up.

"Oh my god, finally," Isha said dramatically, clutching her chest in mock shock while Nisha giggled beside her.

"Kashi, tu jaldi aaja please. You don't even know how much I've missed you," Nisha murmured, and Kashi felt her eyes sting. One whole year... but moments like this made every day of that wait worth it. She had people who loved her, waited for her—and today that meant everything.

TRANSLATION - ''KASHI JUST COME FAST PLEASE. YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I HAVE MISSED YOU.''

Just then, Mrinali and Viraj walked into the living room. Their eyes immediately fell on Isha and Nisha huddled over the phone. Curious, they stepped closer—and there she was. Kashi. A smile spread across both their faces. She looked so mature now, so grown up... yet it felt like only yesterday she was the little girl who ran around the house, pulling them to the dance floor and making everyone laugh.

Nisha handed the phone to them.

"Namaste Chachu, namaste Chachi. Kaise hain aap dono?" Kashi said softly, her voice full of respect.

TRANSLATION - ''HOW ARE YOU DOING UNCLE AND AUNTY.''

Mrinali's face warmed with a smile. "We're good, beta. How are you?"

"I'm good," she replied.

"And how is Chachu?" she asked playfully.

Viraj leaned in with a broad smile. "I'm good, Kashi bacha. How is everyone there?"

"Good, Chachu. And you can ask them yourself tomorrow," she whispered, and both their smiles grew—because suddenly it hit them. She was really coming home.

"Oh my darling, we will wait for you," Mrinali said, her voice trembling. A whole year without Kashi... yet before that, she had been the heart of every gathering—the one who arranged parties, dragged everyone to dance, cracked jokes until they laughed breathlessly.

"Roiye mat, Chachi. I'm coming tomorrow," Kashi whispered softly, and then with a smile, she hung up.

Mrinali slowly handed the phone back to Nisha, still lost in thought. "Oh my... how fast time passes. Kashi has grown so big and mature."

"Yeah... it's true," Viraj said quietly, nodding.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

RAJPUT AND . CO

Arsh stood in his cabin, deep in conversation with his secretary. His voice was calm, his expression stern—every inch the perfect businessman he had always been.

RING... RING... RING...

His gaze drifted to his phone. And then he froze.

Her name flashed on the screen.

Kashi.

He didn't think twice. With a quick flick of his hand, he dismissed his secretary, eyes already fixed on the ringing phone.

He answered.

"Arsh?"

Her voice was soft—cheerful, but hesitant. God, he hadn't heard her in so long.

"Kashi," he breathed. A whisper. Almost fearful. As if speaking too loudly might break the fragile moment he had waited a year for.

"I'm sorry, Arsh," she whispered, guilt woven into every syllable.

His eyes softened instantly. He knew exactly what she meant, what she needed to say, what he had secretly needed to hear.

"Why are you apologising, Kashi?" he asked gently.

"You know why... about yesterday. I scared you, didn't I? I'm so foolish—I mean, who calls their best friend after a year and then cries? It worried you. I know it did."

A smile tugged at his lips. Even now, she was apologising for being human.

"Apology accepted," he said softly.

He could almost picture her smile—eyes crinkling, fingers flicking her forehead at her own recklessness. Yes, she had scared him yesterday. More than she knew.

"You know what?" her sudden excitement snapped him out of his thoughts. His brows lifted, waiting.

"I'm coming tomorrow, you dumbass. You better be at the airport."

Her voice tried to sound stern, but all he heard was pure playful joy.

"Yes, Ma'am. I got you," he replied, mimicking a soldier taking orders.

"Okay, okay. I shouldn't trouble you. I have my own work to do. Byeee."

And just like that—she hung up.

But there was no tension. No awkwardness. No heaviness.

For the first time in a year, two best friends had found their way back to each other.

And Arsh felt lighter than he had in a long, long time.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

BAI MANSION

Kashi stood in her room, folding sarees one by one, placing them gently into her suitcase. A smile tugged at her lips—soft, constant, impossible to hide. It had been there since morning and it hadn't wavered even for a second.

She felt lighter today. Freer. Apologising to Arsh, talking to everyone, seeing their excitement... it filled her chest with a warmth she hadn't felt in so long. Every call, every voice, every "we can't wait to see you" made her heart flutter with an excitement she couldn't contain.

And then—him.

Her smile deepened, a blush creeping up her cheeks as the memory of him flashed before her eyes. The way he had tried to hide his face yesterday, his failed attempt at keeping a neutral expression, acting all nonchalant as if she didn't affect him.

God... it was too cute.

Her gaze drifted to the clock.

5 PM.

"Oh shit," she muttered. She was late.

She still had to make dinner for him. She had already prepped everything—his favourites. Just needed to start cooking.

Scallion Oil Noodles (葱油拌面)
Drunken Chicken (醉鸡)
And of course... the dessert.

Shanghai-Style Mooncakes (沪式月饼)

With that warm feeling still swirling in her chest, she finally rushed downstairs. Her steps were quick, almost impatient. She pushed open the kitchen door—only to find everything already laid out exactly how she had arranged earlier. The bowls of chopped scallions, the ginger, the sauces, neatly placed; the chicken marinating in Shaoxing wine; and the pot of noodles she had set to boil a little while ago now bubbling softly.

"Oh no," she whispered, darting forward.

She turned off the stove immediately—the noodles were just right, not mushy yet. Relief washed over her.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she reached for the apron hanging by the counter. She slipped it on, pulling the straps around her waist and tying them tightly at the back so it wouldn't touch her saree. The movement was fluid, practiced—she had done this hundreds of times before.

The maids paused quietly, watching her. Their eyes soft, almost reverent. It wasn't just admiration—they respected her. The way she worked, the way she carried herself, the way she cared.

And today, she moved with a purpose, a certain glow around her.

Kashi took a deep breath, steadying herself, and then began.

She drained the noodles carefully, letting the steam warm her face. In another pan, she heated the oil—waiting for that perfect shimmer before she threw in the scallions, the sizzle echoing around the kitchen. The aroma rose instantly, rich and warm, filling the room with the familiar scent of comfort.

She stirred gently, tasting, adjusting, her brows furrowed in that little concentrated way she had since childhood.

Next came the drunken chicken—checking the marinade, massaging the flavor in deeper, wrapping it precisely before steaming it. Every movement carried care. Thought. Memory.

Then she reached for the mooncake dough she had prepared earlier. Rolling it out with slow, careful movements. Pressing the patterns. Placing them on the tray with a softness like she was tucking something precious to sleep.

She worked effortlessly—yet with so much heart that it felt like every dish was stitched with emotion.

The maids exchanged glances, unable to help the tiny smiles tugging at their lips.

She was a woman glowing with purpose, with love she hadn't admitted yet, with a tenderness she poured into every dish she made for him.

And she didn't even realize just how beautiful she looked in that moment.

Then she heard footsteps.

Kashi looked back, a strand of hair slipping across her face, only to see Jun standing at the foot of the kitchen—arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and that smirk.

That smirk that had "I'm-here-to-annoy-you" written all over it.

"Jun," she sighed, narrowing her eyes, "what do you want now?"

He didn't answer immediately.
He just strolled inside, slow and dramatic, leaning his shoulder against the counter like he'd been waiting all day for this moment.

"Bhabhi," Jun began, shaking his head in mock disappointment, "why—why—are you making dinner for that grumpy husband of yours?"
He lifted the bowl lid to sniff it and gasped.
"You're wasting premium quality food on that old man."

Kashi bit back a laugh. God, this boy.

Then Jun leaned closer, whispering like he was sharing the world's most classified secret.

"Bhabhi... he doesn't deserve it. But your cute devar absolutely does."

The maids stifled giggles.
Kashi burst out laughing—full-hearted, warm, the kind that bubbled out of her without meaning to.
And in that laughter, there was relief... comfort... a lightness she hadn't felt in so long.

"Well," she said, placing her hands on her waist, "my cute devar could simply tell me he wants to eat."
She tilted her head playfully.
"Besides, I always cook extra for my cutu devar."

TRANSLATION - ''DEVAS = BROTHER IN LAW''

Jun froze for a second.

Just a second.

The mischief in his eyes flickered—replaced by something softer, almost protective.
He swallowed, taking the warm bowl she handed him like it was something precious.

He loved her cooking.
He loved her warmth.
And for a fleeting moment, the realization hit him hard—this woman was always taking care of everyone, always giving, always pouring love into places that often didn't pour back.

But he didn't show that.
Couldn't.
If he did, she'd worry.

So he hid it behind a grin.

"Bhabhi," he said, lifting the bowl dramatically, "let me tell you something important."
He tapped his spoon on the side of the bowl as if making a judge's verdict.
"If that grumpy, ancient husband of yours doesn't fall at your feet after eating tonight's dinner..."

He pointed the spoon at her chest, eyes narrowing with exaggerated intensity.

"...you better kick his ass."

He paused.

"Or I will."

Kashi burst into laughter again, shaking her head, the sound echoing warmly through the kitchen.

And Jun—though he kept his smirk—felt something shift inside him.
Something protective.
Something fiercely loyal.

Because in his heart, behind all the jokes and teasing, he knew:

No one should ever make Kashi feel like she wasn't enough.
And if someone did?

Jun would burn the world down before he let his BHABHI be hurt again.

And just like that, he was gone — leaving Kashi standing there, confused yet deeply moved.

For all his teasing and wicked smirks, Jun always knew exactly when someone needed comfort... even when they didn't ask. Especially her.

He understood people... understood her. Sometimes better than she understood herself.

She really was lucky to have him as her brother-in-law. A warmth spread in her chest to have Jun as a family  - her cute Devar.

Kashi glanced at the clock — nearly 8 PM. Her hands still trembled slightly from nerves, but everything was done. All that remained was setting the table.

The dining area was alive, buzzing with warmth and noise. Vishakha and Yansong were discussing tomorrow's departure to India, their voices dipping and rising with excitement. Jun and Yunji were, as always, bickering like it was oxygen. Minghao sat in his seat, phone pressed to his ear, his tone sharp and professional even in a home full of chaos.

Kashi walked among them, serving dinner with careful hands.
The aroma spread instantly, warm and inviting — and God, her heart raced.
What if they didn't like it?

What if he didn't?

"Gigi... please try and tell me how it is?" she whispered to Vishakha, fidgeting with the corner of her saree, biting her lower lip. Her stomach twisted with nerves — excitement, insecurity, hope all tangled tightly together.

Vishakha took the first bite — and her eyes widened. The flavours burst in her mouth like firecrackers.

"Oh my— wow, Kashi bacha, I'm not even lying. This is delicious." Vishakha almost moaned at the taste, completely taken by surprise.

Kashi froze. Then she lit up. She almost jumped.

YES. Victory. She'd won.

But then she remembered where she was — a dining table full of people — and immediately shrank back, cheeks flooding with embarrassment. She quickly lowered her gaze and let everyone continue eating.

Yansong chuckled warmly. "Don't hide, princess. It's okay to react over something you worked hard for."

She smiled again, even wider this time. God, today was her day — everything felt light, bright, good. She couldn't even hide her happiness anymore; it poured out of her, adrenaline humming through her veins.

"Bhabhi, this is really very tasty," Yunji managed between mouthfuls. Laughter and chatter swelled around the table.

"Kashi, why aren't you eating?" Vishakha asked, noticing her untouched plate.

Kashi stiffened. A pause. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor.She stared at the floor — almost as if saying it out loud would expose her deepest secret. Then she whispered, her voice tiny:

"Uh... Gigi... jab woh aayenge tab hi main khaungi."

TRANSLATION - ''UH...GIGI...I WILL EAT WHEN HE WILL COME.''

Vishakha and Yansong exchanged a look — soft, knowing, amused. Their smiles said everything. Maybe things really were getting better.

"Bhabhi, you're blushing," Yunji announced loudly.

Kashi went rigid, eyes wide.
Jun snorted. "She really is."

Kashi froze as Jun immediately nodded in agreement, stirring more laughter around the table.

"No, I am NOT!" she squeaked, mortified, her whole face now a deep, burning red.

And with that, she did the only thing her overwhelmed heart allowed her to do — she turned and ran.

Giggles erupted behind her in the living room, but she didn't stop — not even for a second.
She practically flew up the stairs, her breath uneven, embarrassment burning down her neck.
The moment she reached the bedroom, she shut the door quickly, leaning her back against it as if the whole world might follow her inside.

Her chest rose and fell too fast.
She pressed a trembling hand over her heart, trying to tame its wild rhythm.

God... even the thought of him eating the dishes she had made — his favourite dishes — was enough to make her pulse stutter and race like this.

Of course it was.
This was typical Kashi.

Her foolish, hopeless heart didn't need much. It would start beating too fast even if Minsheng was simply standing in front of her... even if he just breathed the same air as her.

And tonight wasn't any different.
If anything, it was worse — because for the first time, it actually mattered.

11:00 PM

Hours had slipped by, one after another, yet Kashi remained seated in the living room — hands clasped tightly in her lap, bangles resting against her wrists like soft reminders of the day's hopes.
Her body felt heavy, exhaustion sinking into her bones, but she refused to give in to sleep.

Not tonight.
Not when she had prepared all his favourites.
Not when, after a whole year of distance and wounds and silence, things were finally—finally—starting to get better.

Not when he had begun to care again.

She wouldn't let this day end without seeing him. She wouldn't let it be ruined.
Not now... not when her heart had dared to hope.

Her eyelids kept fluttering, each blink longer than the last, but she fought to keep them open. Cooking twice in a day had drained her — she never did that, never pushed herself this much, but today she had. Today she wanted to.

And so she waited.

She let her head fall back against the sofa, eyes drifting toward the entrance every few seconds. The house had grown silent — everyone upstairs already asleep, the warmth and noise of dinner gone. Only she remained awake, wrapped in the soft glow of a dim lamp and her own stubborn hope.

But she didn't regret it.
Not a second.
Not a breath.

Because when it came to Minsheng... she never regretted anything.
Every worry, every late night, every small pain — it was all worth it for him.
Always had been.

Slowly, another hour crawled by.
The clock ticked.
The night deepened.
And yet... still no sign of him.

Her chest tightened. The air felt colder.

Where was he?
Why wasn't he home yet?

A quiet ache pressed at the back of her throat — fear, disappointment, longing all twisting into one.

Was he really not coming?

Around 1:00 AM, the mansion door finally creaked open.

Kashi jolted upright, her breath catching mid-air.
Her heart recognized him before her eyes did — that presence, that quiet heaviness, that familiar ache she carried like a second heartbeat.

Minsheng stepped inside — exhausted, shoulders weighed down, suit jacket hanging open. The faint scent of cold night air clung to him; his tie was loose, hair slightly messy... and yet God, even in this state, something about him made her chest tighten painfully, almost unbearably.

He noticed the dim lights and assumed everyone had gone to sleep.
Of course he did — no one had ever waited for him in all these years.
And he had convinced himself he didn't want anyone to.

He looked devastatingly handsome — and painfully distant.
Like always.

Kashi stood up instantly, too fast, her saree whispering against the silence of the empty living room.

His gaze lifted — and every movement inside him simply... stopped.

There she was.

Wrapped in a red saree that made her look like a flicker of fire in the dark.
Bangles shimmering softly.
Hands tightly clasped, fingers twisting the hem of her saree.
Sindoor glinting like a fragile promise.
And the mangalsutra at her neck—

His entire body froze.

Something flickered in his exhausted eyes — something unfamiliar, unwelcome, unstoppable.

He didn't expect her to be awake.
He didn't expect her to wait.
He didn't expect... her.

Why?
Why would she wait for a man who had done nothing but break her heart?

What kind of woman had a heart like this?

"Aap... aa gaye?" she whispered, her voice so soft it felt like it could shatter him.

TRANSLATION - ''YOU ARE HERE.''

Before he could gather the strength to respond, she hurried to the kitchen — anxious, flustered, eager. He blinked, rooted to the floor, unable to understand this strange feeling crawling up his ribs.

A moment later she returned — breathless, eyes full of worry — offering him a glass of water with both hands.

And it hit him.

This was the same glass he always half expected her to smash on his head.
The same glass she was now offering with care... with gentleness... as if he were just a normal man.

As if he mattered.

He froze again.

His fingers were still at his suit jacket, half-unbuttoned, half-undone — and she was offering him water in the middle of her trembling devotion.

Why?
Why would she do this for him?

She should hate him.
She had every right to.
But she kept choosing kindness.
She kept choosing care.
She kept choosing him.

He swallowed hard — the tightness in his throat almost unbearable — and reached for the glass.

Their fingers brushed.

A second.
A breath.
But it was enough.

Her breath hitched.
His pulse stumbled violently.

He gulped the water in one go.

For the first time in years, his thirst disappeared — not because he drank but because someone cared enough to give.

And then came the pain.

Sharp.
Twisting.
Real.

Because the more she cared, the more monstrous he felt standing in front of her.
The more her innocence revealed the darkness inside him.
The more her devotion made him realize how undeserving he was of even a fraction of her warmth.

His jaw clenched.
The water felt like fire in his veins.
His fists curled at his sides, knuckles turning white, breath trembling dangerously.

Why did she care?
Why couldn't he stop hurting her?
Why couldn't he be the man she believed he was?

What was wrong with him?
Or worse... what was wrong with her for loving a man like him?

But Kashi saw none of the war raging inside him.

All she cared about was feeding him.
Hoping—praying—that he might like the food she made.

"K–khana laga du?" her voice slipped out in a soft whisper, shy and full of excitement.
Her eyes sparkled with hope.
Her fingers twisted her saree.
Her entire heart was in that question.

TRANSLATION - ''SHOULD I SERVE DINNER.''

"Khana?" he whispered back, the word slicing through memories he'd buried long ago — memories of no one asking, no one caring, no one waiting.

TRANSLATION - ''DINNER''

It hurt.
It really hurt.

And then he looked at her face — bright, hopeful, nervous — and something inside him simply gave up.

He couldn't say no.
He couldn't crush her hope.
Not tonight.
Not when she tried so hard.

He nodded slowly.
His voice came quieter than he meant.

"Yes... I am hungry."

She moved quickly—too quickly.
One moment she was beside him, the next she was setting the dishes on the table with a hopeful glow in her eyes, the kind he hadn't seen directed at him in years.

She was happy.
Happy... for him.

And that alone unsettled something in him.

"Baith jaiye..." she whispered, pulling the chair for him like he was someone worthy of gentle hands.

He sat stiffly, exhaustion lining every part of him—but that wasn't what made his pulse spike.

It was the smell.

The steam curling upward.
The familiar scent of his favourite noodles.
The warmth.

Too familiar.

His chest tightened before he even understood why.

Kashi stepped back, fingers intertwined, waiting for him to taste it—waiting for something good to finally begin.

He lifted the fork.

Steam rose.

And suddenly—

A flash.
A memory he didn't invite.

A bowl forced in front of him when he was barely eight.
A servant trembling.
A man behind him whispering, "Trust no one. Not even those who feed you."
The burn in his throat.
The blood he vomited.
The way he clawed at the ground while everyone watched.
The sound of laughter.
The betrayal that never left.

The present blurred with the past.

And the fear hit him like a knife.

His hand shook.
His throat closed.
His vision tunneled.
Every instinct screamed danger danger danger.

He froze.

Kashi's smile faltered. "Minsheng...?"
She didn't understand the storm breaking behind his eyes.

Then it happened—the thing he spent years controlling and burying:

fear turned into rage.

His breath stuttered.
His jaw locked.
His fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened like bone.

"You think you can feed me this?" he snarled.

Kashi flinched, startled. "What—?"

"You think you can poison me?"

Her world stopped.

No—shattered.

She stumbled back, tears already forming. "No... no, I would nev—"

"I don't need your pity." His voice cracked—just barely—but rage swallowed the softness before she could hear it.

His fist slammed the wall beside her head, dust falling over her hair as she cowered, trembling, heartbroken.

"DON'T THINK YOU CAN END ME! I AM BAI MINSHENG. NO ONE KILLS THE WHITE TIGER!"

He was breathing hard—almost panting—and for a second the madness in his eyes flickered.

He realized what he'd said.
Realized who he'd said it to.
Regret hit him so hard he felt physically sick.

For a moment—just one—his lips parted to take it back.

"Kashi—"

But fear choked the apology in his throat.
Fear of vulnerability.
Fear of the past.
Fear of needing her kindness.

So he hardened again.
He kept going.
He kept hurting her because he didn't know what else to do with the terror blazing under his skin.

She ran.
Up the stairs.
Sobs breaking out of her like something fragile being smashed.

The door slammed.

Silence.

Minsheng stayed rooted to the floor, chest heaving, hand still pressed against the cracked wall—hating himself, hating the memory, hating the fear...

And hating that the one person he hurt was the only one who had ever cared enough to feed him out of love.

Guilt stabbed him hard, deeper than any blade ever had—but the rage and trauma swallowed it whole, twisting it into something darker.
And just like that, he'd pushed away the only person who had ever truly cared for him.

He turned away, retreating to his study with heavy steps, every footfall weighted, shoulders stiff as though carrying an entire lifetime on them.
Echoes of his past kept flashing in his mind—sharp, sudden, merciless—like a migraine carved straight into his bones.
He couldn't shake it.
He couldn't stop it.
He couldn't undo the damage.

And worst of all—
he had hurt a woman who did not deserve even a fraction of his anger.

He reached his study door and didn't bother turning the handle. He kicked it open, the loud crack echoing through the empty hallway. He stumbled inside, breath ragged, eyes darting straight to the wine cabinet.

He grabbed a bottle—didn't care which one—and yanked it open with a violent jerk.

The first swallow was long, desperate.
Half the bottle emptied in a single drag, the burn searing his throat—but he welcomed it.

Pain was easier than remorse.

His heart... that was what hurt more.
Because the moment the alcohol slid down, all the memories he had spent years burying clawed their way back up.

He was a man known for domination.
For fearlessness.
For never bending, never breaking.

But tonight—
he felt vulnerable.
He felt alone.
He felt like the little boy who once lay on a cold floor, struggling to breathe as poison burned through his veins.

His throat tightened painfully.
His eyes stung—an unfamiliar, unwelcome pressure building behind them.
The tears didn't fall... but they shimmered beneath his lashes, betraying him.

And it was the closest Bai Minsheng had come in years—decades—to breaking.
To crying.
To admitting he wasn't as unshakeable as the world believed.

To admitting he was still human.

                 ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

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