The Car's tires hummed against the sun-warmed asphalt as Maira navigated the mountain road. Mihir sat angled toward his window, the passing evergreens blurring in his periphery while his attention kept drifting left - to where Maira's hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, her fingers tapping an absent rhythm.
Until recently, she was just my PA - whom I couldn't stand and wanted to get back at but now I feel incomplete without her,why so?.*
A sharp curve forced the Car to lean. Maira's knee bumped against the gearshift, jostling Mihir's leg in the process. He should have recoiled. Once, he would have.
Instead, he found himself counting the freckles dusted across her knuckles.
"See something interesting?" Maira's voice startled him.
Mihir realized he'd been staring. He opened his mouth for a cutting remark when sunlight through the windshield caught the gold flecks in her eyes - and the words died in his throat.
Sunlight streamed through the windshield, painting warm stripes across the Jeep's dashboard. Mihir had just registered the faint scar on Maira's temple - *his* scar, healed but still visible - when her voice cut through his thoughts, dry as desert wind.
"If you stare any harder, Kashyap, you'll give me the evil eye." Her eyes stayed fixed on the winding road, but a smirk played on her lips. "And I'm currently busy trying to save *you* from one. Bit counterproductive, don't you think?"
Mihir stiffened. He hadn't realized *how* intently he'd been studying the way sunlight turned strands of her hair molten gold. "I wasn't staring," he muttered, shifting his gaze pointedly out the passenger window. The dense forest blurred past, a green smudge against the glass.
A soft laugh escaped her. "Liar." She adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, the leather creaking softly. "You were looking. Like you're trying to solve a puzzle."
He kept his face turned away, but the tips of his ears burned. "Maybe I'm just wondering how someone so infuriatingly stubborn hasn't driven us off a cliff yet."
"Admiring my driving skills? How flattering." Her tone was light, teasing, but beneath it lay something steady, something that had anchored him through the storm. "Relax, Mihir. You can look. I don't mind." She finally glanced sideways, just for a heartbeat. Her eyes held a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun. "Just try not to curse me while you're doing it."
The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken things
The Car rolled to a stop before the towering Kashyap mansion, its marble façade glowing in the late afternoon sun. The moment the engine cut, the heavy oak door swung open-and there stood Sapna, her silk sari fluttering in the breeze, her eyes already shimmering with unshed tears.
Mihir froze in the passenger seat, his fingers tightening around the door handle. A decade of distance yawned between him and the woman who had once sung him to sleep. His muscles locked, instinct screaming at him to retreat-
Then he felt Maira's gaze.
She didn't speak. Didn't need to. The memory of her words from some time ago echoed in his mind, soft but unrelenting: *"She's still your mother, Mihir. Give her a second chance."*
Sapna took a hesitant step forward, her hands fluttering like wounded birds. "Beta..."
Something in Mihir's chest cracked.
Slowly, he stepped out of the Car.
For ten years, he had refused to let her touch him. For ten years, he had blamed her-for the pain she caused him for neglecting him. But now, as Sapna rushed forward, her arms outstretched, Mihir did the unthinkable.
He let her hug him.
And then-after a heartbeat of stiff resistance-he hugged her back.
Sapna gasped against his shoulder, her fingers clutching the back of his shirt like she was afraid he'd vanish. Mihir closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of rosewater and cardamom-*home*-and for the first time in a decade, he didn't pull away.
Over Sapna's shoulder, he met Maira's gaze.
She stood by the Car, arms crossed, sunlight catching the satisfied curve of her smile. No words passed between them. None were needed.
Some wounds, it seemed, could begin to heal.
The Kashyap ancestral hall hummed with latent energy, the air thick with the scent of crushed reeva root-bitter and electric, like ozone before a storm. At the room's heart stood Mihir, flanked by his family, his shadow stretching long in the flickering lamplight.
Kailashi stepped forward, the crystal vial of Jeevan Ras liquid catching the light. "This will tear the darkness from your soul," she said, her voice stripped of its usual sharpness. No order. No threat. Only terrible, quiet certainty. "There is no other way."
Mihir's throat worked. He had spent a decade fearing this moment-not the pain, but the vulnerability fearing he might hurt everyone if he can't defeat the darkness.
A warm hand brushed his. Maira, standing close enough that their shoulders nearly touched. She said nothing. Didn't need to. Her presence alone was a silent vow: *I'm here. Even for this.*
Sahir moved to Mihir's other side, the scholar's fingers already sketching protective sigils in the air. "I know you can beat the darkness ," he murmured. "We won't let it hurt you."
Kailashi turned to Maira and Sahir, pressing a small silver bowl into each of their hands. Inside, the Reeva dust shimmered like crushed stars. "Draw the circle," she instructed. "Unbroken. Unwavering."
Maira knelt first, her fingers steady as she began tracing the first arc. Sahir mirrored her on the opposite side, their movements synchronized. The dust clung to the floor as if drawn by invisible hands, forming a luminous ring around Mihir.
With every line they drew, the air grew heavier. The lanterns flickered.
And Mihir, standing at the heart of it all, watched Maira's hands-the same hands that had pulled him from darkness-now etching his fate into the earth.
Kailashi extended the vial. The liquid inside swirled like molten gold, alive with the essence of the sacred tree. Mihir took it, his fingers steady despite the storm in his chest.
One breath.
Then he threw it back.
The effect was instantaneous.
Mihir's knees hit the marble as light erupted from his mouth, his eyes, the spaces between his fingers-a brilliance that seared without burning. The darkness fought back, tendrils of inky smoke writhing beneath his skin as the Jeevan Ras burned through him like celestial fire.
Through the white-hot agony, he heard Maira's voice, anchoring him to this world:
"*Stay with us.*"
And so he did.