The Ahir mansion, once alive with laughter and warmth, now felt cold and hollow. The echoes of the children's cries lingered in the grand halls, a haunting reminder of the storm Savita had unleashed. Meera's heart ached as she tried to hold on to each of her six children, but the chaos orchestrated by Savita left no room for mercy.
Aghav, the eldest, was quickly whisked away under the pretense of a "relocation for safety." His strong, protective hands reached out toward his siblings, but the aides held firm, shoving him toward a waiting car. "I'll find you!" he yelled, his voice breaking, as the doors slammed shut.
Vivaan, the second son, clung to Meera's gown, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Mama… don't leave me!" His cries were met with stern resistance from Savita's assistants. With one last desperate hug, Meera whispered, "Be brave, my son. Trust me, we'll be together again."
Aria and Anaya, the two daughters, were separated almost instantly. Aria was sent to a distant boarding school under the guise of "better education," while Anaya was placed with a family friend in a neighboring city. Both girls screamed for each other, their little hands reaching through the crowd, but the adults ignored their pleas.
Reyansh, the third son, was the smallest and most fragile. He hid behind Meera, refusing to move, his sobs shaking his tiny frame. "You'll be safe," Meera tried to reassure him, though her own fear threatened to swallow her. With a gentle but firm grip, the aides pried him from her arms and bundled him into another car.
Mukul, the youngest, still unborn, stirred within Meera's womb as if sensing the heartbreak around him. His mother's trembling hands stroked her belly, murmuring words of protection and love. "Hold on, my child," she whispered. "Your journey is only beginning. We will survive this."
Within hours, the children were scattered across different cities, each under the care of people sworn to secrecy. None of them understood the reasons behind the separation, only that their family, as they had known it, was gone.
As night fell, Meera was left alone on the outskirts of the city, her heart heavy with grief and determination. She had lost sight of her children, but she vowed silently that nothing—not Savita, not fate, not time—would keep them apart forever.
The world outside was vast and indifferent, yet within Meera burned a resolve stronger than any fear. Each child carried a piece of her heart, and no distance could ever sever that invisible bond.
And so began the silent, painful journey of Meera and her unborn son, Mukul, away from the walls of the Ahir mansion and into a world that would challenge them, shape them, and one day, force them to reclaim what was taken from them.