It had been five years.
Five long years away from home… and away from Sarthak.
Years filled with studying, working, chasing dreams, and slowly building a life of my own.
And now, finally, I had made it.
Soon, my name would be written as Dr. Samira Mishra.
I had my own house, my own income, my own identity.
Everything I once dreamed of… was real.
Today, I was going home.
In my bag were small gifts—carefully chosen for the child I believed Sarthak and Aarne had together.
Just the thought of meeting that little life filled my heart with warmth and a strange, quiet nostalgia.
After landing, I stood at the airport, scanning every face in the crowd.
Then I saw her.
Manya—still careless, still dramatic—standing there in pajamas, holding a crooked banner with my name written in bold colors.
The moment she spotted me, she ran forward without hesitation and wrapped her arms tightly around me.
"You're back! I missed you so much, Sammy! Didn't you miss me?" she said, her voice already breaking.
"I missed you… so much," I whispered, holding her just as tightly.
"Come on, let's go home. I want to meet my nephew or niece. I even brought gifts."
She pulled back, confusion flickering across her face.
"What baby? Who has a baby?"
I laughed softly.
"Sarthak, obviously. It's been five years… they must have married by now.
Just tell me—is it a boy or a girl?"
But Manya only shook her head.
"Let's just go home."
Something in her tone felt strange.
But I ignored it.
When I stepped inside the house, my heart was beating too fast.
And then I saw him.
A small boy… standing beside Aarne.
His eyes, his smile—so painfully familiar.
For a moment, it felt like time had folded in on itself.
My chest softened.
I walked forward, lifted him gently into my arms, and handed him the remote-controlled car I had brought.
"This is for you," I said quietly.
"You look just like your father."
Aarne's expression changed instantly—shock, then something unreadable.
"No… that's not true," she said slowly.
"We're not married. You misunderstood.
He's my child… with Abhinav.
I only came to welcome you. I don't live here."
The words didn't make sense.
Nothing made sense.
Why hadn't Sarthak married?
Why had he waited?
My thoughts tangled together as I quietly walked to my room.
A soft knock broke the silence.
When I opened the door, Sarthak was standing there.
Perfectly dressed, sleeves slightly rolled, blazer resting over his arm, tie loosened just enough to look tired instead of careless.
But it wasn't his appearance that shook me.
It was his eyes.
The same intensity… the same pull I had tried to forget for five years.
"Hello, brother," I said gently. "How are you?"
He stepped closer.
"Who is your brother, Samira?"
His voice was low, controlled, but filled with something deeper.
"I waited years to hear my name from you… and you call me that."
The distance between us disappeared, one quiet step at a time.
"I loved you then," he said softly.
"I never stopped."
The room felt smaller.
The air felt heavier.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't speak.
All the years between us… suddenly felt meaningless.
He didn't rush.
He didn't force anything.
He only reached for my hand—slowly, carefully—like he was afraid I might disappear again.
"Sammy," he whispered, "you were always mine… not in possession… in promise.
And I was always yours."
Something inside me finally broke open.
Not pain.
Not anger.
Just the quiet release of holding too much for too long.
I let the silence answer for me.
Later, sitting beside each other in the stillness of the room, he told me everything.
The engagement had only been a plan… a way to uncover the truth about our parents' death.
A way to protect me.
A truth he never got the chance to explain—because I had already left.
"I lost you before I could tell you," he said.
"And I regretted it every single day."
I looked at him, searching for doubt… but finding none.
"The child?" I asked softly.
"Abhinav and Aarne's son," he replied.
"A misunderstanding… and a life she chose to raise alone."
I breathed out slowly, the last weight in my chest fading away.
"Then… I forgive you."
For a moment, he just looked at me—like the world had given something back to him.
"Really?" he asked quietly.
I nodded.
And this time, when he smiled… it felt like coming home.
That night wasn't about passion.
It wasn't about the years we lost.
It was about two people sitting close in silence…
learning how to begin again.
And for the first time in five years,
my heart felt peaceful.