Chapter: The Foresaken Daughters

The car screeched to a stop in front of the Jaisingh mansion, the rough, grinding halt echoing the chaos thundering through Viren's chest. He stepped out even before the tires fully stilled, his breath harsh, shoulders locked, every muscle drawn so tightly it seemed as if his entire body was holding itself together through sheer force. The guards straightened at once, their faces paling under the suffocating heat of his glare. Viren did not slow down. He strode toward the back door with a fury that clung to him like a second skin, filling the air around him with a tension heavy enough to crush.

He ripped the door open in one violent pull, and Anvi instinctively shrank back, trying to fold into herself as if she could hide from the storm in his eyes. She had seen Viren angry, but the cold, breathless rage twisting his features now was something altogether different...sharper, darker, so intense it swallowed the space around him. Before she could even draw a proper breath, his hand shot out, clamping onto her ears with an unforgiving grip that made her whimper. The skin flushed a deep, furious red almost instantly, but he did not ease up. He dragged her out of the car with a force that made her stumble repeatedly, her shoes scraping helplessly over the gravel as she tried to keep up. Every misstep only drew his grip tighter. Every sob she fought to hold back seemed to feed the fire raging inside him as he pulled her across the driveway, her pain and fear completely drowned beneath the weight of his silence.

Once inside the mansion, whatever thin thread of restraint he had snapped without warning. His hand struck across her face with a crack so sharp it seemed to slice through the vast hall. Anvi hit the floor instantly, her cheek blazing with the violent imprint of his palm. Tears spilled uncontrollably as she clutched the side of her face, her breath collapsing into choked sobs that trembled through her small frame. But her tears only deepened his fury. He bent down again, gripping her ears with savage, merciless strength and yanked her back to her feet so abruptly her knees buckled and another cry tore from her throat. Pain shot through her head, sharp and blinding, but Viren's expression did not flicker. His hand rose again, his anger spiraling into something unrecognizable.

Before the blow could land, something small crashed into him with a desperate, uncalculated force that caught him completely off guard. He stumbled backward, his back hitting the floor with a dull thud, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face as he tried to process what had struck him. When he looked up, he saw Avyuktha standing in front of Anvi, her tiny body trembling violently, her chest rising and falling too fast as fear battled with a courage far too mature for her age. Anvi, panicked, grabbed her from behind, trying to pull her away, trying to create space between the man and the little girl who should never have had to become a shield.

Viren stared at Avyuktha for a heartbeat, his fury momentarily stunned by the shock of her defiance. Then rage surged again, raw and venomous. He pushed himself up and without a moment's hesitation, his hand lashed out. The slap landed on Avyuktha with a viciousness that should never have touched a child. Her head snapped to the side, her cheek reddening violently as her small body stumbled from the impact before collapsing to the floor with a thin, pained sound. The sight of her falling...so small, so fragile, so hurt....sliced through the silence like a knife.

The sound of sobbing, the sharp slaps, the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground, these sounds echoed through the mansion and reached the ears of Arnav, Abhimanyu, and Maan at the same moment. They stepped out of the room they were in, confusion turning into shock as the noises grew clearer. Aarush followed them, his eyes widening as they reached the edge of the hall and froze.

Viren's arm was raised again, poised mid air, ready to strike Avyuktha for a second time.

For a breathless moment, the entire mansion held still.

And then Arnav moved.

He ran before thought could form, before anything could register except the terror and fury crashing inside him. He reached Viren just as the man's hand began its downward arc, grabbing his wrist in mid air with a force that sent a shock through both their bodies. With a violent jerk, Arnav dragged Viren back so abruptly the older man stumbled, his feet scraping against the polished floor as Arnav pulled him several paces away from the girls.

Arnav's eyes immediately darted to Avyuktha, still curled on the floor, her cheek burning red, her body trembling visibly. Then to Anvi, her ears swollen and crimson, her cheek stinging under the brutal imprint of Viren's hand, her entire frame shaking with broken sobs she couldn't control. Something inside Arnav cracked so deeply it felt like a dam breaking.

He helped Avyuktha up with a gentleness that contrasted painfully with the violence of the moment, and when he looked at Anvi again, something inside him ignited, a rage fierce enough to make his vision blur.

He turned back toward Viren with no hesitation, grabbing the man's collar with both hands, pulling him so close their breaths tangled in the heated air. His voice tore out of him in a raw, quivering roar.

"AAPKI HIMMAT KAISE HUI MERI BACCHIYO PE HATH UTHANE KI?!"

He shoved Viren back, releasing his collar so sharply it sent the man staggering.

For the first time in his life, Viren froze, not because he feared Arnav's strength, but because he had never seen this version of him before. Not a boy he used to intimidate. Not someone he could break with a shout.

But a man blazing with fury.

A father standing between his children and the world.

The shock lasted only a moment before Viren's ego and anger surged back to the surface. His voice exploded, raw and livid.

"BADTAMEEZ!"

He stepped forward, raising his hand, fully intending to slap Arnav with the same merciless force he once used without consequence.

The slap never landed.

Abhimanyu's hand closed around Viren's wrist with a grip so firm it halted every muscle in Viren's arm. He turned sharply, breath faltering for a second when he met Abhimanyu's eyes...cold, unwavering, filled with a warning so deadly it chilled the room.

Abhimanyu didn't need to raise his voice. His words were carved from ice.

"Mere Arni pe haath uthane ki sochiyega bhi mat, Mr. Jaisingh. Nahi toh mai apki umar ka lihaz bhi nhi karunga."

There was no rage in his tone. No tremble. Just calm, lethal certainty. That calmness alone made Viren's breath hitch. Abhimanyu released his wrist slowly and stepped back, his eyes flicking briefly to Arnav as if silently grounding him.

Arnav stood there, rage shimmering through him, chest rising sharply, eyes locked on Viren with an intensity that could scorch.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, deadly in its restraint.

"Himmat kaise hui aapki meri bachchiyon pe haath uthane ki?"

He stepped toward Viren, each step controlled but vibrating with fury.

"How. Dare. You."

The words didn't need volume. They carried enough fire to burn through the space between them.

Viren involuntarily stepped back.

Because for the first time in his life, he wasn't looking at a son.

He was facing a man ready to destroy anyone who laid a hand on his children.

Behind the storm raging between Arnav and Viren, another, quieter storm began unraveling in the corner of the hall, one made of small bodies trembling and old terrors stirring awake. The moment Aarush reached Avyuktha, he threw himself into her, clinging as though her tiny frame were the only anchor keeping him from sinking into the fear clawing up his throat. His hands gripped her with desperate strength, his whole body shaking as echoes of memories he thought he had buried clawed their way back, raised voices, harsh slaps, the kind of violence that stains childhood.

Avyuktha, even with her cheek burning and eyes swimming, wrapped her arms around him instinctively. Her voice came out in fragile, breathy whispers as she tried to steady him, her trembling fingers stroking his back, grounding him with whatever strength she could gather. Anvi wiped her tears quickly with the back of her hand and moved closer, the sight of Avyuktha's reddened cheek and Aarush's shaking shoulders twisting something deep in her chest. She pulled them both into her arms, forming a small, fragile circle...three hurt children holding onto each other as though the warmth between them was the only shield they had left.

Maan approached quietly, but the fire burning in his eyes matched the one roaring across the hall. He looked at Viren with a fury he didn't bother to hide, yet he kept himself rooted because he knew who stood in front of Viren now. He had seen Arnav like this before, years ago, and back then it had terrified him. Today, it didn't. Today, it satisfied him.

He reached the children and his entire demeanor shifted, his fists slowly uncurled, his shoulders softened. He slipped one arm around Aarush and Avyuktha, and placed the other gently on Anvi's back, pulling the three of them closer, forming a protective half-circle around their shaking forms. His mind hummed with the same violent anger boiling inside Arnav, but his heart stayed steady, anchored by the children pressed against him.

Because he knew exactly what was coming next.

He knew exactly what Arnav became when "bear mode" truly switched on.

And he knew Viren was about to face the full, unforgiving weight of it.

Viren's voice sliced through the charged silence as he jabbed a shaking finger toward Avyuktha, his face twisted in rage. "Iss battameez ladki ne dhakka diya mujhe," he barked, the venom in his tone splattering through the room. His glare snapped to Anvi next, eyes sharp with accusation. "Aur ye..." he thrust his finger at her, hand trembling with fury, "ye tumhari pyaari chutki..."

He turned fully to Arnav, breath heaving, anger ramping higher with every word. "Pata hai kya gul khila ke aayi hai college mai? She punched a girl and broke her nose! Ye sab karne jaati hai ye college....gundi ban rahi hai tum logo ke sar chadhane ki wajah se!"

Anvi flinched at the accusation, but Arnav didn't budge. He stood still, too still, his silence far more dangerous than any shouted threat. His jaw ticked sharply, eyes locked on Viren with the calm, lethal patience of a predator waiting for its prey to walk willingly into its own doom.

But Viren wasn't finished. He leaned forward, voice turning cruel, oily, almost triumphant. "Ruko beta, main saari gundagardi nikalta hoon tumhari. Aaj se tum college kya, ghar se bahar kadam bhi nahi rakhogi. Aur the day you turn 18, I am getting you married."

Arnav's fists curled, knuckles whitening, but he still chose silence, letting Viren speak himself into the noose tightening around his own neck.

And then Viren said the one line that shattered everything.

His face twisted into an ugly sneer as he spat, "Sahi kehti hai Suchitra... ladki jaat ko zyada sir pe chadha lo toh aise hi sir dard deti hai. Maine pehle hi galti kar di isko paida karke. Pet mein hi maar dena chahiye tha isse."

The words hit Anvi like a physical blow.

She froze.

Just... froze.

Her breath stalled in her chest, her mind going dangerously blank before memories she had buried deep, memories she prayed had died, ripped their way back open.

Whispers from childhood.

Mocking laughter from relatives.

"You know na your father didn't want you?"

"Viren ko toh ladki bilkul pasand nahi."

"Unke hissaab se yeh toh galti thi... bas ho gayi."

She had grown up hearing it, his resentment, his disappointment but somewhere in the past few months, she had started letting herself believe things had changed. That maybe the flowerpots he bought her, the occasional gentle tone, the random questions about her day meant the bond was healing. She had held onto that tiny spark of hope like a child holding a cracked toy, pretending it wasn't broken.

But hearing him now, hearing him say he should have killed her before she was even born made something inside her collapse.

Her chest tightened painfully.

Her ears rang.

Her eyes burned, but no tears came; it was a kind of hurt that stole even the ability to cry.

She stared at Viren as if seeing him for the first time and losing him all at once.

Her heart didn't just crack.

It crushed.

And in that exact moment, when the last thread of restraint inside her snapped apart

Arnav moved.

He lunged forward with a force that felt like years of pain finally unchained. His hand fisted Viren's collar in a brutal grip, jerking him close enough for their foreheads to almost collide. His voice shook with a rage sharpened by every wound Viren had ever carved into him, every insult aimed at his daughters, every scar born of silence.

"Meri bacchi ke baare mein ek shabd aur nikala aapke muh se toh yaha se zinda nahi laut payenge aap, Mr. Jaisingh."

The words didn't echo...they struck.

The walls themselves seemed to fall silent, as if even the mansion knew better than to breathe in that moment.

Viren shoved him back, his breath uneven, chest rising and falling like a man trying to prove he still held authority in a space where he had already lost it.

"Bhoolo mat, baap hoon mai tumhara!" he snapped, pushing Arnav again as if repeating the word could force respect back into a bond he had long destroyed.

His gaze shifted toward Avyuktha with a sharp, cutting coldness. He stepped toward her, the disappointment on his face twisting into something uglier.

"Aur ye... isse toh mai batata hoon. Himmat kaise hui iski mujhe dhakka dene ki?"

He looked her over with a disdain that made her stomach twist.

"Galti kar di maine tujhe yaha laake... galti kar di maine."

Avyuktha felt something inside her twist sharply when Viren spat those words, as if he had finally confirmed the very fear she had carried since childhood, that she had never been wanted. Her breath wavered, but the memories that rose weren't loud; they came quietly, insidiously, like ghosts pressing their cold hands on her shoulders.

She remembered being six, too young to understand death, too young to understand abandonment, yet somehow forced to understand both in the same night. She remembered how her tiny fingers trembled as she pressed the phone against her ear, her voice barely holding steady when she asked him to come because her mother was bleeding too much. She hadn't even known what blood loss meant at that age; she just knew the doctor uncle looked scared, and that the one person who was supposed to stand between life and death for them... simply didn't show up.

That same night, while other children were tucked into warm beds with stuffed toys and bedtime stories, she stood barefoot in a corridor that smelled of medicine and fear, clutching her baby brother because she was all he had. The weight of Aarush wasn't heavy, but the responsibility was crushing, settling spine-deep into her far-too-small body. From that night on, she stopped being a child and became something closer to a shield...fragile, but still standing.

Her relatives had fed them because it was the decent thing to do, but decency had limits, and she learned that quickly. She learned it the first time her stomach growled after giving half her food to Aarush. She learned it when she washed the floors with water that smelled of old cloth and bitterness, when her small hands scrubbed utensils bigger than her face, when she folded clothes until her knuckles ached, all because she needed to prove she wasn't a burden. Children her age ran around playing gilli danda in the alleys; she stood on her toes to reach the stove and cook dal thin enough to last two days. Other kids whined for toys, but she learned to be grateful for a cracked plate and a thin blanket.

Her life became a strange kind of routine, waking up before sunrise, feeding Aarush, soothing him when he cried for a mother who was slipping away, and going to sleep only when she was certain he had everything he needed. Sometimes she would collapse next to him, too tired to even dream. At an age when children fought over crayons and chocolates, she fought exhaustion, hunger, and the ache of responsibilities far too big for her trembling hands.

And through all of it, one truth followed her like a shadow, that it was Viren's absence that carved this life for her. His choices had turned her childhood into a battlefield, and she fought every single day without a weapon, without armor, without even the reassurance that someone loved her.

She thought she had buried this pain. She thought she had stitched herself together enough to forget. But when Viren's voice dripped with disgust and he blamed her for Aarush being kept away, everything she had locked away burst open. Each memory surged like a tide she couldn't stop, the nights she cried silently so Aarush wouldn't wake up, the mornings she pretended not to be hungry so he could eat more, the countless times she wished someone, anyone, would come for them.

But no one did.

And now, the very man who left her to survive on scraps of affection and scraps of food was standing in front of her, throwing her pain back at her as if it meant nothing.

Her chest tightened violently. Her heartbeat thudded into her ribs, not in fear but from the force of everything she had suppressed for years. Viren's hatred didn't shock her, she had expected that. What tore her apart was the casualness with which he discarded her existence.

The hallway around her blurred, but her memories sharpened, each one slicing through her like finely honed knives. She could still feel the sting of the relatives' words, the exhaustion settling behind her eyes, the dull ache in her stomach, the terrified pounding in her heart the night her mother slipped away while Viren never came.

And all of it poured into her stare now, not as a dramatic explosion, not as wild anger, but as a deep, raw agony that refused to be silenced anymore.

She took a breath now, steadying herself, her voice edged with pain but carried by a strength that came from years of hurting quietly.

"Tab kyu laaye aap hame yaha?" she asked, her words not sharp but deeply tired, pulled from a place inside her she never opened.

"Hum jee rhe the na waha pe bhi... kyu laaye aap hame yaha?"

There was no accusation in her voice, just a genuine confusion that had lived inside her since the day he appeared out of nowhere and brought them here.

"Jab hame aapki zarurat thi tab aap nhi aaye... ab kyu laaye hai hame yaha par?"

Her voice wavered, her eyes stinging, but she didn't look away. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to speak without stopping midway, without swallowing the words back down.

She glanced at Arnav, her throat tightening.

"Aapko pata hai maine inhe phone kiya tha..."

The words slipped out softer than she intended, like they came from a younger version of herself, the one still waiting by the door that night.

"Doctor uncle ne bola tha mumma ka bahot blood loss ho gya hai... unhe blood chahiye... maine call kiya tha inko..."

Her breath shuddered. She wiped her tears quickly, almost angrily, the way people do when they've been taught crying is a waste of time.

Her next words weren't shouted; they simply broke through her.

"LEKIN YE NHI AAYE."

It wasn't the volume that made everyone stop, it was how much truth slipped through her voice.

She looked back at Viren, her hands trembling, the weight of everything she had lived crushing down on her all over again.

"KYU NHI AAYE AAP... aur ab kyu aaye hai... kyu hame yaha leke aaye hai?"

She wasn't asking because she wanted an answer.

She was asking because no answer would ever make sense.

But Viren, instead of seeing her pain, only saw a target for his anger.

"Aarush ke liye aaya mai... samjhi?"

His words landed heavy, each one stripping away whatever little hope she might have still held.

"Tere liye nhi aaya mai... mai mere bete ke liye aaya."

Her body stilled.

Her fingers slowly loosened at her sides.

"Aur teri wajah se mere bete ko 6 saal apne baap se door rehna pada. Sirf teri wajah se."

It felt like the ground had slipped from beneath her.

Her lips parted, a faint, stunned sound escaping.

"M... mtlb..."

She stepped back without realizing, her knees weakening. Aarush's small hand clung to her dress, but she couldn't even look down.

Viren's face hardened, his voice cold.

"Tujhe sach jana hai?"

She nodded, broken and terrified, still wanting the truth even if it would tear her apart.

But Arnav knew Viren. Knew the venom behind every word, every expression, every pause. He had learned it over years of surviving the same man, watching the cruel precision with which Viren could wound, manipulate, and dominate. He stepped forward, solid and unshakable, a wall forming instinctively between Viren and the children. "Yaha se jaiyee aap," he said, no tremor in his voice, no need for raised volume. It was steel, firm, commanding in a way that demanded compliance without a single shout.

Viren's eyes flared, anger tightening the lines of his face, but Arnav did not falter. He stepped fully between the man and the children, the subtle weight of his presence enough to make even Viren pause, however briefly. "Jaiye aap yaha se... waise bhi aapko humlogo se ya humlogo ki life se koi matlab nahi hai... toh jaiye yaha se."

Every word came deliberate, sharp with a truth that Viren could neither deny nor control. "Mai apne baccho ko sambhal lunga. You don't need to give a damn about our lives... just like you did in the past."

The words were a blade, and they cut through Viren in ways no shouting ever could. The jaw clenched, teeth grinding so hard that the muscle in his face throbbed. He shoved forward, lashing out with the one identity he thought held power over Arnav. "Baap hoon mai tumhara!" he roared, a desperate anchor thrown against a storm he could no longer steer. "Aur bhoolo mat, ye jis ghar se jaane ke liye tum mujhe keh rhe ho vo mera hai, samjhe?"

Viren's voice carried history, but Arnav's mind was already miles ahead, remembering every sacrifice he had made to survive the absence of the man who claimed him. He remembered the nights after Sudha's death when he had been barely seventeen and suddenly everything had fallen onto his shoulders. The children had needed him...Anvi with her quiet longing, Abhimaan with his fragile sense of self and there had been no father, no guide, no one to lift the unbearable weight.

At seventeen, Arnav had learned to wake before the first light, preparing breakfast for the siblings who refused the meals the maids tried to make. He had learned to braid hair, to tend scraped knees, to fix clothes too big or torn for them to wear properly. He had learned to study for hours after household chores and work, his own childhood slowly dissolving into the constant care of the younger ones. Every morning he woke early, not out of duty alone, but because he knew the only way to preserve them was to sacrifice himself. He had cooked, cleaned, organized, and guided; he had kept a household running, while also managing his own schooling and the fledgling beginnings of a business he barely had time to nurture, yet somehow managed to grow against all odds.

He had understood, years before, the depth of Viren's hatred for daughters. He had known that if left unchecked, Viren would inevitably lash out, destroy, humiliate, and break what little hope had survived in them. And now, hearing the man begin to speak with venom aimed at Avyuktha, Arnav could not, would not...stand by. The rage that had been measured, tempered, and cultivated over years of restraint finally found its moment, not as blind anger but as a precise, protective force.

"Ye ghar aapka nahi hai, Mr. Jaisingh. Ye ghar meri maa ka hai. Samjhe?" The words were quiet, steady, and lethal in their calm. There was no need for volume; the truth itself carried weight, pressing Viren backward.

Arnav's eyes settled on him with a terrifying stillness, the kind that spoke of years spent protecting the powerless while the world had let them fall. "Think yourself lucky that you are my father... because if someone else had stood here in your place, raising a hand on MY DAUGHTER, I would have torn his soul from his body without a second thought."

There was no drama in the voice, only the smooth, cold precision of a man who had spent his life learning to control his own fury so he could wield it exactly where it mattered. Nothing in the room dared to breathe against it.

Viren's disbelief sharpened into venom, his voice trembling, clawing at authority he no longer truly possessed. "Tu iss ladki ke liye mujhe apne baap ko iss ghar se jaane ke liye bol raha hai... haa? Tu yaha jo khada hai na vo sab meri wajah se khada hai, samjha? Tune life mai jo bhi kiya hai sab meri wajah se tu kar paaye." His finger jabbed at Arnav's chest, rage dripping from every syllable. "Tujhe apne haathon se paala possa, itna bada kiya... aur tu mujhe jaane ke liye bol raha hai."

Arnav's lips curled into a humorless, bitter sound that held no amusement, only the weight of years spent watching the man destroy what little was theirs. "Kis bete ki baat kar rahe hain aap, Mr. Jaisingh? Zara hame bhi milwaiyega usse."

"Kyuki mai..." his voice fell low, stripped bare of every mask, "Mai toh hamesha tarasta reh gaya apne baap ke pyaar ke liye." His gaze swept to Maan and Anvi, the silent survivors of Viren's absence, and then to the trembling pair of shadows, Aarush and Avyuktha, standing as small, fragile testaments to years of neglect. "Aur inko toh aapne paida karke chhod diya."

The words struck like steel, blunt, unforgiving, carrying the weight of truth sharpened over a lifetime. "Aap ek nihayati ghatiya insaan hai, Mr. Jaisingh. Aapse zyada ghatiya insaan maine apni life mai nahi dekha. I won't be surprised if someday some kid knocks on my door and says he is my brother from another mother... kyuki aap ho hi ek NIHAYATI. GHATIYA. INSAAN."

Viren's composure cracked entirely, screaming futile justifications, revealing every ugly corner of his failures. "Sudha se meri shaadi majburi mai hui thi... maine usse kabhi pyaar nahi kiya. She was just my wife for name sake. Aur Meera se maine pyaar kiya tha. She was the love of my life."

He turned to Avyuktha, venom spitting from his tone. "Aur iski wajah se sab kharab ho gaya... sab cheez. Ye manhoos... jaha jaati hai waha manhoosiyat failati hai." The words hit her harder than any slap ever could, and for a moment the weight of years collapsed her body inward, dragging back every night she had spent trying to keep herself and Aarush alive when the world had abandoned them.

But Arnav's intervention was immediate, smooth, and unrelenting. He did not wait for fear to paralyze him. "Just shut up and get out right now. Meri bacchi ke baare mai ek shabd nahi nikalna chahiye aapke muh se... nahi toh do pair ki jagah chaar kandho pe jayenge aap yaha se. So just get out."

Before Viren could respond, Avyuktha stepped forward, small but unbroken, her hand finding Arnav's. It was a tether, a silent plea, a bridge between past trauma and present protection. "Mujhe sach janana hai, Bhaiya..." she said, her voice soft, trembling

Arnav's entire body softened at once. His hand tightened around hers, and his voice lowered, gentler than anyone had ever heard him speak, carrying the weight of everything he had carried in silence for so long. "Nahi, Avu... jo beet gaya usko leke kyu baithna. Chhod ye sab, baccha... andar jaa..."

He tried to shield her, to hold her from hearing the poison that was about to spill. He knew Viren better than anyone, knew every rotten corner of his mind, every malicious word, every twist of cruelty that could destroy a person. He knew that the truth would not just hurt Avyuktha; it would shatter her. And still, when she refused to let go, when she shook her head, tears blurring her vision, her tiny fingers gripping his, he froze.

"Please..." she whispered, broken and desperate. That single, fragile word silenced the entire room. It was a plea not just for answers but for closure, for the chance to finally understand why her life had been hollowed out piece by piece. She had always known she was different, unwanted. The whispers, the stares, the jabs, the slaps, the endless nights of unasked, for responsibility, they had all clung to her like bruises that refused to fade. The world had told her she was "manhoos," cursed, a mistake, and for the first time, her father's venom confirmed what her mind had been trying to ignore: that perhaps they had been right all along.

Viren's lips curled into a humourless, poisonous smile, his gaze dripping contempt as he looked at her, as though her very existence offended him. His voice dipped low, mocking, and the words came like knives. "Tujhe sach janana hai?" he asked, the cruel laughter in his tone twisting the air around them. "Mai batata hoon."

Arnav stepped forward instinctively, every protective instinct screaming, ready to shut Viren down, to crush the man before he could poison his children further. But Avyuktha's hand tightened around his, her grip desperate, trembling, silent yet commanding. He froze, chained by her need to hear, by her need to finally face the truth herself.

Viren's gaze burned into her as though even looking at her was an act of disgust. "You were a mistake, Avyuktha... a blood mistake... I never wanted you." Every word coated her in venom she didn't deserve.

He continued, cold and remorseless, "Mai aur Meera ek dusre se bahot pyaar karte the. But one day she told me she was pregnant... I wanted to kill you in the womb itself, and I wished I did." He sighed, a slow, hollow sound, as if reminiscing over the "greatest regret" of his life. "But she kept you... aur tu itni manhoos nikli ki tune usse hi maar diya..."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Aarush whimpered softly, shrinking into himself. Maan's fists clenched until his knuckles cracked, the anger threatening to break through. Abhimanyu's jaw tightened, the calm before the storm settling like a mask on his face. And Anvi, standing frozen, looked as if the air itself had been ripped from her lungs.

Avyuktha's knees shook violently under her, but she didn't move. The word "manhoos," whispered to her, thrown at her by relatives, neighbors, even strangers, the label that had haunted her entire life, now felt like a cruel confirmation of the truth. The girl who had grown up too fast, who had cooked, cleaned, carried a newborn when she herself was still a child, who had labored for food and shelter, who had been forced to survive with barely enough to eat while the world ignored her, now felt the full weight of Viren's hatred crush her chest. Her legs felt like lead. She wanted to run, to escape so far that her legs would finally give out, to disappear into a world where she had never existed. But she didn't. She stood, motionless, emotionless on the surface, even as her heart shattered.

Viren's venom didn't stop. "Pyaar karta tha mai usse, samjhe?" he snapped at Arnav, as if the twisted justification of his past demanded recognition. "Lekin uss bewakoof aurat ko jab pata chala ki meri pehle se ek patni aur bacche hai aur usne mujhe chhod diya... aur jab isne call kiya, I was burning in fury." His words sliced at Avyuktha, each one a reminder that her very existence had been unwanted. "Aur tu... tujhe toh maine jaan boojh ke chhoda tha."

He counted his reasons like items in a ledger, devoid of humanity. "Pehli baat, tu manhoos thi, tere paida hote ke sath mujhe losses hone lage the and every other day your mother and i would have a fight because i was not paying attention to you. Doosri baat, mai tere liye apni family break nahi kar sakta tha... I knew if Sudha knew the truth, she would have divorced me and took my sons along with her... and I can't afford that, my sons are my legacy and you meant nothing to me. Aur teesri baat, mujhe nahi pata tha ki Aarush exist karta hai... Nhi toh mai apne bete ko 6 saal dur nahi rakhta... mehlo mai palta mera baccha..."

The words fell like stones, dropping into a pit too deep for her to climb out. Avyuktha didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't cry...she simply stood, hollow, lifeless, her breath trapped somewhere deep inside. The world seemed to have disappeared for her, leaving only the man who had abandoned her, and the truths that had shaped every hardship she had endured.

Arnav's jaw tightened, every muscle in his body screaming with anger at the cruelty laid bare before them. The girl who had been forced to grow beyond her age, who had survived a childhood of relentless labor and silent suffering, who had carried the weight of her younger brother and herself alone, now stood in front of them, fragile but unbroken in the shell she had built. His voice dropped low, sharp with lethal calm. "Enough... now get out. Don't ever come in our lives again."

Viren's fury erupted, but Arnav did not flinch. "You all are my children and I will come in your life, Arnav! You can't stop me," he roared, the arrogance in his voice still believing he held power.

Arnav let out a short, cold laugh, stripped of any warmth, the sound sharp as ice cutting through the tension. "Oh, try me." Each word fell deliberate, measured, lethal. "I am giving you a warning, Mr. Jaisingh. Don't return... You know I hold nearly sixty percent of the company you love more than your own life."

Viren's face drained of color, a flicker of disbelief crossing his eyes. He spat, venom dripping from his words, "Tu iss manhoos ke liye mujhe dhamki de raha hai... tujhe pata nahi kitni manhoos hai ye... tujhe bhi kha jayegi ye."

The words ignited something inside Arnav, years of rage, betrayal, and relentless protectiveness exploding in an instant. "JUST SHUT UP!" His roar shattered the suffocating silence, echoing like thunder in the hall. Without hesitation, he seized Viren's wrist, yanking him back from the children with a force that left no room for argument. "Maine pehle hi bola tha...meri bacche ko aur kuch bola, toh mujhse bura koi nahi hoga."

Maan, Anvi, and Abhimanyu remained rooted, their own anger simmering, restrained by the raw intensity of Arnav's fury. Step by step, he drove Viren toward the gate, each movement heavy with the invisible weight of his stolen childhood, of every sacrifice he had borne alone...every sleepless night, every chore done in place of absent parents, every meal he had prepared for siblings who refused to eat what the maids made, every tear swallowed in silence.

At the gate, one final shove sent Viren sprawling, and the heavy sound of the latch slamming echoed through the house like a verdict, the past could wound, but the present, the future, belonged to those who had survived it.

Avyuktha stood frozen, trembling, her mind raw, every cruel word Viren had ever thrown at her now colliding with this moment of truth. The word "manhoos," whispered, scorned, had followed her for years, and now it landed with finality. The realization that she had truly been unwanted, despised, and abandoned by the man who had given her life hit her like a physical blow. Her chest tightened, her legs wanted to give out, but she remained rooted, small and broken in body yet unyielding in the fragile shell of composure she had built.

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Thanks for reading, lovelies!

Before you go, answer these for me:

1. One word for this chapter. GO.

2. Drop a ‘💔’ if your heart hurt. Drop a ‘🔥’ if you felt the rage.

3. Tell me the first emotion you felt while reading this.

4. Rate the chapter’s intensity out of 10.

5. Okay, REAL question, what punishment does Viren deserve after this?

6. Your choice: Viren in pain, Viren in regret, or Viren exposed?

7. If I handed YOU the pen, how would you write Viren’s downfall?

8. Tell me your suggestions, what are the ways the siblings can start healing from all of this?

9. If you were guiding these kids, what emotional steps would you make them take toward healing?

10. What healing journey do you imagine for each sibling...Arnav, Avyuktha, Anvi, Aarush and Maan?

To be honest, this chapter was a lot.
Even for me.
And I’ll admit it, I genuinely don’t know where to begin with their healing arc because the damage Viren left behind runs so deep.

So your suggestions matter. A lot.
Tell me how you think their healing should start, what moments they deserve, and what kind of softness they should get after all this pain.

I know the past few chapters have been heavy and intense, but I promise I’ll balance it out with lighter, fun scenes soon. The healing will stretch through the next few chapters and honestly… throughout the whole story, because that’s how real wounds work.

I’m really excited to hear your thoughts. Comment away. 💛✨