The room fell into a deep silence.
Neither of them spoke for several moments.
The evening light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the living room. The folder lay unopened on the table, forgotten for the moment.
Akshatha slowly lifted her eyes to meet her father's.
There was nervousness...
Hope...
And a question she wasn't sure she had the courage to ask aloud.
"Dad..." she said softly.
"You asked if you were there in my previous life."
Nagaraju gave a gentle nod.
"You were."
She took a slow breath.
"And... just like me..."
"...you have been reborn."
The words hung in the air.
Nagaraju did not react immediately.
He simply looked at her.
His expression remained calm, but behind his eyes countless memories seemed to flicker. For a brief instant, everything that had felt unusual over the past few years—his instincts, his certainty about investments, the strange familiarity he felt toward people and places—began fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.
He had never been able to explain why some decisions felt less like guesses and more like recollections.
Now...
Perhaps there was a reason.
Akshatha continued quietly.
"I knew from the beginning."
"I recognized it little by little."
"You remembered things no one had told you."
"You made choices that shouldn't have been possible."
"And every time I saw you... I became more certain."
Nagaraju's eyes never left hers.
Neither of them smiled.
Neither of them cried.
It was as if words had become too small for what they were trying to understand.
Finally, Akshatha whispered,
"Our lives have changed."
A long silence followed.
Then she spoke again.
"Dad... I don't want to follow the same path anymore."
"I've already lived one life."
"I know where it leads."
"I don't want to repeat every mistake."
"I want to choose differently this time."
Nagaraju understood immediately.
She wasn't talking only about career.
She was talking about life itself.
About destiny.
About using a second chance wisely.
For a long moment, father and daughter simply looked at each other.
No words.
Only understanding.
In Akshatha's eyes, Nagaraju saw the burden she had been carrying alone—the weight of remembering another lifetime while pretending to be an ordinary child.
In Nagaraju's eyes, Akshatha saw something she had hoped for but never expected.
Acceptance.
Not suspicion.
Not fear.
Acceptance.
It felt as though they were having an entire conversation without speaking.
Her eyes seemed to ask:
Do you believe me?
His answered gently:
I do.
Her eyes asked again:
Will you still see me as your daughter?
His response never needed words:
Always.
Another question lingered in her gaze:
Can we build a different future?
His calm expression carried the answer:
That is why we've been given another chance.
The silence between them was no longer empty.
It was full of trust.
After what felt like several minutes, Nagaraju finally spoke.
"Then we won't live as prisoners of the past."
His voice was steady.
"If God has truly given us another life..."
"...it wasn't so that we could simply repeat the old one."
He glanced briefly at the unopened folder.
"It was to make better choices."
Akshatha nodded slowly.
"That's what I believe too."
Nagaraju smiled faintly.
"Then we'll walk forward."
"Not chasing the past..."
"...but learning from it."
He looked at his daughter with quiet pride.
"Then let's make it different."
Neither of them spoke again.
They didn't need to.
In that quiet room, father and daughter shared an understanding that no one else could see.
Not through long explanations.
Not through dramatic promises.
But through a single meeting of their eyes—where the past was acknowledged, the present was accepted, and the future was silently chosen together.
Nagaraju looked at his daughter for a few moments, surprised once again.
"So," he said with a smile, "when were you planning to tell me the rest of your plan?"
Akshatha smiled sheepishly.
"I was hoping you'd ask."
He folded his arms.
"Go on."
She took a deep breath.
"Appa... we need to travel to New York."
His eyebrows rose.
"New York?"
"Yes."
"And why exactly are we going all the way to New York?"
She answered without hesitation.
"I want to sign with IMG."
For a second, Nagaraju simply stared at her.
He had expected Mumbai.
Perhaps Bangalore.
Even Delhi.
But New York?
That was another level entirely.
He walked over to the window before turning back.
"Akshatha..."
"We have Mumbai."
"The fashion industry here is growing."
"There are respected agencies."
"You can build your portfolio here first."
He smiled lightly.
"Why cross half the world before taking your first step?"
Akshatha had expected the question.
She nodded.
"That's a fair question, Appa."
She stood up and joined him by the window.
"Yes, I can begin here."
"And if I work hard, I can build a career."
She paused before continuing.
"But I don't want to build only a local career."
"I want to build an international one."
Nagaraju remained silent.
She continued carefully.
"If I start with a strong international agency..."
"The opportunities become much broader."
"I'll have access to bigger clients."
"Better training."
"Higher standards."
"And exposure to different markets from the beginning."
She looked directly at him.
"I don't want to reach there after spending years trying to move from one agency to another."
"I want to start where I ultimately want to be."
Nagaraju listened carefully.
There was no childish excitement in her voice.
No fantasy.
She spoke as though she had already thought through every stage.
He smiled faintly.
"You've planned this thoroughly."
She laughed softly.
"I've had... more time to think than most people."
He understood what she meant.
She wasn't only speaking about this life.
He nodded slowly.
"Why IMG?"
Akshatha answered almost immediately.
"Because they're among the best."
"They work globally."
"They've developed international careers."
"They can open doors that smaller agencies simply can't."
She stopped herself before saying more.
She knew far more than she should.
She couldn't reveal every detail without exposing how much she remembered from her previous life.
Nagaraju noticed the hesitation but didn't press further.