The apartment was silent after the shocking news.
Neither Sathyamoorthy nor Lakshmi Rajyam had spoken for several minutes.
The television remained switched off.
Neither of them wanted to hear another false announcement.
Suddenly, Sathyamoorthy's phone vibrated repeatedly.
News notifications.
Live broadcasts.
Videos from across Andhra Pradesh.
He hesitated before opening one.
Then he looked at Lakshmi.
There is a live memorial gathering.
Lakshmi closed her eyes briefly.
Open it.
The live stream began.
Thousands of people had gathered outside the State Secretariat.
Candles filled the streets.
Party workers stood with folded hands.
Ordinary citizens were crying openly.
Across the stage, a large portrait of Lakshmi Rajyam was decorated with flowers.
She watched quietly.
There were no tears.
Only silence.
Political leaders spoke one after another, praising her work and calling her a leader who had changed countless lives.
Every word sounded like the end of a life that had never actually ended.
Then the camera shifted.
A young man stepped onto the stage.
He had just arrived from Los Angeles after hearing the news.
It was Satyanarayana.
Lakshmi's breathing stopped for a moment.
Her hands trembled.
My son...
He stood before the portrait of his mother.
His face showed exhaustion from the long journey.
His eyes were red.
He looked as though he had not slept at all.
He folded his hands before the photograph.
Then gently placed a white flower beneath it.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
The crowd remained completely silent.
Finally, he gathered himself.
He thanked everyone who had supported his mother throughout her public life.
He spoke about how she had always believed public service should come before personal recognition.
His voice broke more than once, but he continued.
Inside the apartment, Lakshmi could no longer look away.
Every word from her son reached her like a wound.
She had imagined many reunions with him.
None of them looked like this.
She whispered softly,
He believes I am gone.
Sathyamoorthy sat beside her.
He knew there was nothing he could say to lessen that pain.
The live broadcast continued.
After finishing, Satyanarayana remained standing quietly before the portrait for a long time.
He lowered his head in silence.
Lakshmi wiped the tears from her face.
For the first time since arriving in Chennai, she cried openly.
Not for her political career.
Not for the attack.
Not for the conspiracy.
For her son.
She looked at Sathyamoorthy.
I cannot let him carry this grief.
He deserves to know the truth.
He deserves to know that I am alive.
Sathyamoorthy nodded slowly.
He understood.
But he also understood the danger.
If you reveal yourself now, everyone searching for you will know you're alive.
The people behind the attack will also know.
Lakshmi remained silent.
She knew he was right.
Yet every instinct as a mother urged her to reach her son immediately.
She looked once more at the frozen image on the television screen.
Satyanarayana was still standing before her garlanded portrait.
A quiet determination replaced her grief.
Then we find a way.
Not a reckless way.
Not one that endangers others.
But a way that lets my son know the truth before this lie destroys him.
Sathyamoorthy closed his notebook.
Then our next step is no longer just exposing the conspiracy.
It's making sure Satyanarayana learns the truth safely.
Lakshmi nodded.
For the first time since the false news of her death spread, she had a clear purpose.
Not returning to office.
Not reclaiming power.
Simply reaching her son.
Because before she could become a Chief Minister again...
She first had to become a mother whose son knew she was still alive.