Raghav had stopped sleeping.
Meera's pillow still carried her scent.
He hadn't allowed the staff to remove it.
Every night, he stared at the ceiling.
Every night, the same question burned:
Why was he the only one not allowed to know?
That evening, he didn't knock.
He walked straight into the grand hall.
"Where is my wife?"
The servants froze.
Savita didn't.
She sat upright, hands folded over her cane.
"Lower your voice."
"No."
The word echoed against marble.
Rajveer stood slowly from his seat.
"Raghav—"
"No, Father." His eyes never left Savita. "This ends today."
Savita's gaze sharpened.
"You question your mother?"
"I question the lies."
The room felt smaller.
Arjun stepped forward instinctively.
Anjali held her breath.
"Tell me where they are," Raghav said, his voice breaking despite his effort. "Or I will search every corner of this country."
Savita's fingers tightened around the cane.
"They left."
"Meera would never leave."
"She chose to."
Silence.
Raghav laughed once.
It sounded hollow.
"You've done something."
Savita stood.
For the first time, she raised her voice.
"I did what was necessary to protect this family!"
"From what?" Raghav shouted.
No answer came.
Only silence.
And in that silence, something broke.
"I'm done waiting," he said.
He turned and walked out.
No one stopped him.
Not even Savita.
The rain started before midnight.
Raghav drove without destination.
His mind replayed Meera's last smile.
Reyansh's laughter.
Anaya's tiny fingers holding his thumb.
Headlights flashed in the opposite lane.
Too bright.
Too close.
The horn blared.
The road curved.
Tires screeched.
Metal collided.
For a moment—
Everything went white.
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and fear.
Rajveer stood outside the ICU.
Arjun's knuckles were raw.
Anjali's eyes were swollen.
Vikram stared at security footage on his phone.
"Brake failure," he whispered.
Arjun's head snapped up.
"What?"
"It wasn't the rain."
Inside the ICU, machines beeped steadily.
Raghav didn't move.
Savita stood at the far end of the corridor.
Alone.
Her face was unreadable.
But when no one was watching—
Her hand trembled.
Just once.
Far from the city, Meera woke suddenly in the middle of the night.
Her heart was racing.
Her hand flew to her stomach.
The child stirred.
Strong.
Alive.
And somewhere in the distance—
Thunder rolled again.