Riyana slept off peacefully, exhausted from everything that had happened over the past several days.
Mrs. Asma sat beside her, gently patting her head, watching her sleep with concern.
"Mr. Sohan?" Surinder called.
Everyone turned toward the entrance.
There stood Surinder, accompanied by several servants carrying beautifully wrapped gifts.
"Greetings," she said again with a warm smile.
The servants behind her bowed respectfully.
"Welcome. Please come in," Mrs. Rashi said.
Surinder stepped inside with the others.
"How are you all?" she asked.
Sohan nodded.
"We are fine. What brings you all here?" he asked.
"Well, these are gifts from us for the engagement party, from Kaal, as tradition, and also more workers to reduce the stress. I heard Mrs. Riyana passed out. Sorry I didn't come on time. I went to the other cities and villages to invite more of our family members that arrived yesterday," Surinder explained.
"Oh," Sohan said.
"Here. These are for Mrs. Riyana. I heard she loves to dance, and Kaal mentioned that she and Mhaira have the same passion for dancing. Gift them beautiful silver anklets and golden ones too," Surinder said to the servants.
The servants immediately presented the jewelry.
"Thank you. She is asleep. Her health is bad at the moment," Sohan said.
"Oh. I pray the Goddess gives her strength," Surinder said.
There was a moment of silence.
"Excuse me, but do you give us, the bride family, a daaj (dowry) list?" Sakshi asked.
Surinder frowned.
"No. I don't. Nobody in my family does that. If they do, I punish them mercilessly," she said firmly.
Everyone looked at one another.
"Who is Dayan?" Mr. Noman asked.
"She is my late husband's elder sister," Surinder replied.
The room immediately became quieter.
"She came here and insulted my wife. Riyana has made us swear not to tell Nikolai, but please, until the wedding day, don't tell him," Sohan said.
Surinder's expression changed.
"I am deeply sorry. My deepest apologies. Please don't call off the wedding. Kaal just got Mhaira and Mila back," Surinder said, folding her hands and pleading with them.
Sohan quickly shook his head.
"Calm down. We will not. Thank you for the gifts," he said.
Surinder folded her hands again in respect.
Then she turned and left.
As soon as she stepped outside, she took out her phone and dialed Nikolai's number.
The phone rang.
Meanwhile, Nikolai and the others had been on the roads for twelve hours.
It was almost nightfall.
Mila was sleeping peacefully on Lily's lap.
Nikolai's phone rang.
He answered.
"Hello. Good evening, Great Grandmother," he said.
"Kaal, we have a trouble," Surinder said.
"What happened?" Nikolai asked.
"I went to gift Mrs. Riyana and also told them that she is extremely sick. The Muards looked very, very worried about her, and the reason is because someone from our family has insulted her badly."
Nikolai's expression immediately became serious.
"I want to find out," Surinder continued, "but they are all under an oath."
Nikolai remained silent.
"Kaal, I realize that Dayan, your great-grandfather's late husband's sister, has come for the wedding. But she also brought a girl with her for you. Kaal, I think she wants to destroy this wedding. She is very dangerous," Surinder said.
Nikolai's heart tightened.
"I am not losing my wife and daughter again. I am coming," he said.
"Nikolai—"
"Please find out what she did and what the Muards are hiding. And send that girl back. If I come there, I swear I will ruin them."
There was determination in his voice.
"And I also got a mansion for myself," he added.
"Of course. All the wedding will be there. Don't worry about it. Nobody will bother you," Surinder replied.
"Goodnight," Nikolai said.
"Goodnight, my child."
The call ended.
Nikolai stared ahead.
His jaw tightened.
He had already lost Lilith and Mila once.
He would never allow anyone to take them from him again.
The Sprinters were packed.
The group began making tents for the night.
Everyone gathered together.
Food was being prepared, conversations filled the air, and the enormous convoy had formed a temporary camp around them.
The tents were arranged closely together, almost like an indestructible bubble covering the whole area.
Inside one of the tents, Brandon sat alone.
He opened an old diary.
His fingers slowly turned the pages.
Then he stopped.
There was a picture of him and Nino.
He smiled faintly at the picture.
His eyes became glassy.
He touched the photograph with his fingertips.
He picked up a pen and began writing beside it.
A tear dropped onto the paper.
Another tear followed.
"Bro, come on. Let's go eat," Enzo said.
Brandon quickly wiped his tears.
"What's wrong?" Enzo asked as he sat beside him.
"It's Nino. I really want her," Brandon admitted.
"Then tell her what happened. And tell her about that lady," Enzo said.
"I don't know what to say to her. She's now different. She's just not how I loved her, not how she was," Brandon said.
Enzo sighed.
"Let's go eat," Brandon said.
They left the tent.
Neither of them realized that Nino had overheard everything.
She stood silently nearby.
Her anger toward Brandon grew even stronger.
But deep in her heart, despite everything that had happened, she still loved him.
Six days later, they were still on the roads.
The journey continued.
They stopped at different places.
They got more fuel.
They bought food.
They rested whenever necessary before continuing.
Inside one of the Sprinters, Mila was sucking on her pacifier.
"We are almost there," Nikolai said while rubbing Mila's hair.
Lilith looked at him and Mila.
He adored his daughter.
"Dada, wook," Mila said, pointing outside.
Nikolai looked where she was pointing.
A farm stretched across the countryside.
"Bigggg," Mila whispered.
Nikolai smiled.
"Very big," he said.
Nearby, Vishal sighed.
Ramira was asleep.
They were close to his town.
Vishal picked up his phone and then dropped it.
The convoy stopped.
They went into a restaurant.
"Order food," someone said.
Everyone began ordering.
Vishal ate quietly while Ramira rubbed her face, still filled with sleep.
After finishing his meal, Vishal cleaned his mouth and stood up.
Nikolai nodded at him.
"Bye, guys," Vishal said.
Ramira immediately held his hand.
"Where are you going, Vishal ji?" she asked.
He looked toward the road.
"Home," he whispered.
He kissed her forehead.
"You see my soon," he said.
She nodded.
Vishal lit his weed and began walking.
Everyone watched him.
They watched until he was completely out of sight.
Two hours later, Vishal arrived at Bhagalpur by foot.
He continued walking.
He walked until he reached a magnificent royal mansion inspired by the heritage and elegance of Bhagalpur.
The estate was enormous.
Grand sandstone gates opened into a sweeping marble driveway surrounded by manicured gardens, ancient-style fountains, flowering trees, and tall sculpted hedges.
The mansion rose three majestic floors.
Its imposing ivory sandstone and warm golden exterior was decorated with intricate Indian architectural carvings.
Grand arched windows covered the walls.
Carved balconies extended from the upper floors.
Ornate jharokhas gave the mansion an unmistakable Indian royal character.
Towering columns stood proudly along the entrance.
Massive wooden entrance doors were decorated with traditional brass detailing.
The gates opened.
Vishal continued walking.
The entrance opened into a breathtaking double-height foyer.
Polished white marble floors reflected the light.
Enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
Hand-carved pillars stood throughout the foyer.
Luxurious Persian rugs covered portions of the marble floor.
At the center stood a magnificent staircase with golden railings.
The mansion contained an enormous royal living room with silk-upholstered sofas, carved wooden furniture, antique mirrors, marble fireplaces, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens.
The formal dining hall featured a long handcrafted dining table.
Elegant crystal chandeliers hung above it.
Silver serving pieces were carefully arranged.
The walls were beautifully decorated.
The mansion had multiple luxurious family lounges, private libraries, music rooms, prayer rooms, entertainment rooms, study rooms, guest suites, and grand reception halls.
The master suite occupied an entire private wing.
It contained a vast bedroom, a luxurious sitting area, private dressing rooms, a magnificent marble bathroom, and a large private balcony overlooking the estate.
Each guest bedroom was individually designed with traditional Bhagalpur-inspired textiles, handcrafted furniture, elegant lighting, and luxurious marble bathrooms.
The mansion also contained a grand indoor swimming pool surrounded by marble columns, tropical plants, and relaxing seating areas.
There was a private cinema.
A fully equipped gym.
A spa.
A sauna.
A games room.
A grand ballroom.
And a private banquet hall.
The kitchen was enormous and professionally equipped.
It had separate preparation areas, storage rooms, staff kitchens, and a luxurious family breakfast room.
Outside, the mansion was surrounded by extensive gardens.
There were rose gardens.
Lotus ponds.
Fountains.
Marble statues.
Shaded walking paths.
Private courtyards.
A magnificent central fountain stood directly before the mansion, creating a spectacular view from the main entrance.
The estate also contained a private guest house, staff quarters, security buildings, a large garage complex, and a luxurious covered parking area.
The entire property combined Bhagalpur heritage with modern royal luxury, creating the atmosphere of a timeless Indian palace designed for an extraordinarily wealthy family.
The gates were opened.
Everywhere was decorated.
Vishal walked in through the long path.
His footsteps echoed against the marble.
He continued forward.
Meanwhile, inside the magnificent mansion, a lady in her mid-thirties was giggling with one of the servants.
Her name was Nirmala.
She looked toward the wall.
There was a picture of her and her son.
She smiled at it.
For a moment, her expression softened.
Then a maid suddenly ran inside.
"There is a man outside," the maid said.
Nirmala looked at her.
"A man?"
"He is smoking and standing right outside the house. He's wearing all black," the maid explained.
"Huh?" Nirmala said.
Nirmala stepped outside.
The others followed.
They looked toward the entrance.
And there he stood.
Vishal.
He was standing directly outside the house.
He was dressed from head to toe in black.
A simple, well-fitting black blazer draped over a black turtleneck.
The same dark color continued down to his trousers.
A black belt finished the look.
Everything was streamlined and stylish.
His hair was messy and down.
He was still smoking.
Nirmala slowly walked toward him.
"Who are you looking for?" she asked.
Vishal looked at her.
Then he looked at the family standing behind her.
He blew out the cigarette smoke.
"I walked all the way here," he whispered.
He blew the smoke away.
"I guess your son's wedding is grand, huh?" Vishal said, looking around.
"Yes, it is," Nirmala replied.
Vishal stared at her.
"I wonder if you would have taken your first son with you from Russia. Will his own wedding be this grand?" he asked.
Nirmala froze.
"You know my child?" she whispered.
Vishal chuckled.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rubber band.
He gathered his messy hair and tied it back.
"It's a shame you don't recognize your own son, Ms. Nirmala," he said.
Her eyes widened.
She stared at his face.
Then her eyes moved to the birthmark.
The birthmark she remembered.
The same birthmark.
Her lips trembled.
"Vishu?" she whispered.
Vishal stared directly into her eyes.
His expression was calm.
His grey eyes held years of questions.
Years of pain.
Years of abandonment.
Years of memories.
"Good afternoon, Mother," Vishal said.
Nirmala stopped breathing for a moment.
The entire family fell silent.
The sky suddenly flashed.
Lightning illuminated the darkening horizon.
A loud clap of thunder followed.
After so many years, the child she had abandoned to save herself from an abusive husband was standing right in front of her.
Her son.
Her first child.
Vishal.
He stood there staring into her eyes.
And she stared into his grey eyes.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them spoke.
The years between them seemed to disappear for one brief moment, leaving only the mother and the son who had been separated for so long.
Nirmala's eyes filled with tears.
"Vishu…"
Vishal's expression did not change.
He had walked all the way to Bhagalpur.
He had come home.
But whether this mansion could ever truly become his home again was a question only time could answer.
The thunder rolled across the sky once more.
And for the first time in years, Nirmala stood face-to-face with the son she had abandoned.