Chapter 105 Crying Doll
But Shorya ignores her protests. He carefully places her on the bed, then gently picks up Vikram and lays him beside her. When Neeti tries to get up, Shorya places his hand firmly on her waist, stopping her.
Vikram sleeps peacefully between them, innocent and undisturbed. Shorya reaches over his son, his hand resting on Neeti’s waist as he pulls her closer. His voice softens, frustration melting away, “I’m sorry. I’ve had too much workload since morning. I was exhausted at the office, and when I came home, all I could think about was finishing the project. But when I saw the state of the files, I couldn’t control my anger.”
Neeti remains silent for a while, then whispers,
“It’s alright. I told you, I can take care of my child on my own.”
Shorya immediately replies, his voice firm yet gentle, “He’s not just your child. He’s my son too. I love him as much as you do.”
Neeti doesn’t respond. She simply turns her face away, choosing silence over words. Shorya sighs deeply, his fingers brushing through her loose hair with quiet affection.
But Neeti’s heart still carries pain and defiance. She pushes his hand away and turns to her side, shutting him out as she tries to sleep.
Outside the Chaudhary mansion, a sleek black luxury car suddenly comes to a halt. The guards at the gate grow alert, straightening immediately. As the door opens, Vihan steps out. His eyes look heavy with weariness, his face pale, his steps burdened with unspoken sorrow.
One of the guards rushes inside and informs Chaudhary Sahab, “Sir… Vihan sir has arrived.”
Chaudhary Sahab inhales deeply and pushes himself up from the chair. His eyes hold a strange mix of concern and wisdom, as if he already knows that an uncomfortable truth is about to surface.
At the same time, hurried footsteps echo from the kitchen. A young woman appears, dressed in a flowing blue frock, a white dupatta slipping off her shoulders. It is Rimjhim. Her face is pale, her eyes swollen and red from crying.
With trembling lips, Rimjhim cries out, “Papa, why has he come here now? Please send him away. I won’t go with him. I don’t even want to see his face.”
Chaudhary Sahab looks at her, his voice calm yet firm, filled with both understanding and helplessness, “Child, how long will you keep running? How long will you keep hiding the truth?”
Her eyes flare with defiance as she presses her lips together and replies, “I don’t know… but one thing I do know, I will never go with him. Papa, please don’t stop him here.”
Just then, a small, innocent voice breaks the tension. A boy of about four comes running inside, his big black eyes shining like marbles, his round cheeks glowing with innocence. He exclaims excitedly, “Dad has come, hasn’t he?!”
Rimjhim’s heart shatters into pieces. She turns helplessly toward her father. Tears threaten to spill as Chaudhary Sahab answers softly, “Yes, child. Dad has come.”
Her heart pounds painfully as she whispers, almost pleading, “Papa… don’t let him stay here. The secret I’ve been hiding… I don’t want him to find out.”
But Chaudhary Sahab’s gaze remains steady and piercing as he replies, “The truth you hide, Rimjhim… it can never remain hidden.”
With that, he walks out to the courtyard.
Outside, Vihan stands quietly. He immediately bends down to touch Chaudhary Sahab’s feet. Before he can speak, Chaudhary Sahab says, “Vihan sir, come inside.”
Vihan lowers his head silently and steps into the haveli. The moment he enters, the little boy runs to him and clutches his legs tightly. Bursting with joy, the child cries out, “Dad…!!!”
Vihan freezes. His body goes stiff, his breath catches. Slowly, he bends down and lifts the child into his arms. Tears well up in his eyes as he whispers, his voice trembling, “Viransh…”
The little one smiles brightly and says, “Dad, how is Ayansh? I miss him.”
Vihan’s throat tightens. His eyes glisten as he strokes the boy’s hair gently and replies, “He’s doing well, child… and he misses you so much.”
Viransh pouts, crossing his arms, “I’m very angry with you. You came to meet me after so many days.”
Viransh’s eyes sparkle with joy, and he is about to say yes when a cold, sharp voice cuts through the air, “No.”
Everyone turns. At the doorway stands Rimjhim, her face flushed red with anger and pain.
Vihan’s eyes lock with hers. Only he knows how much it has cost him to live without her all this time.
She steps closer, her voice low but laced with venom, “I will never go with you. Not now, not ever. Why don’t you just send me the divorce papers?!”
Vihan’s gaze doesn’t waver. His voice remains calm but resolute, “I came to take you back with me.”
Her anger flares, “I will not go!”
But Vihan’s tone grows firm, deep as thunder, “Rest tonight. In the morning… we leave for home.”
Rimjhim’s eyes widen in shock, “You… you’re staying here?!”
A faint smile curves Vihan’s lips, “Yes. Why not? This is my in-laws’ house, after all.”
Viransh squeals with joy, clapping his hands, “Yay! Dad will stay with us!”
Rimjhim’s face turns crimson. “No!” she snaps furiously.
Before the argument escalates, Chaudhary Sahab intervenes, his tone final, “Stay, Vihan babu.”
Rimjhim’s eyes widen in disbelief. She looks from her father to Vihan, fury simmering inside her. Vihan’s faint smile deepens, it feels like a small victory in a war that has just begun. Rimjhim can only glare at him, her chest heaving with unspoken rage.
And then, A strange sound pierces the air the chilling cry of a child, echoing like heartbreak through the haveli walls.
Rimjhim’s face drains of color. She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, as if the sound is ripping through her soul.
Vihan frowns in confusion and asks, “Whose… whose cry is that?”
Rimjhim blurts out quickly, “No one’s… it must be from the neighborhood.”
But suspicion darkens Vihan’s eyes. Without another word, he follows the sound.
Rimjhim panics and rushes after him, “No! You can’t go in there!”
But Vihan pushes her aside, determination burning in his eyes. He reaches the door, places his hand on it, and slowly pushes it open And what he sees inside freezes him in place.
Vihan’s breath stops. His eyes widen in shock.
Behind him, Rimjhim shuts her eyes tightly, as if wishing the ground would swallow her whole.
In front of him comes the faint, soul-touching sound of a little girl crying.
On the bed sits an innocent two-year-old angel. Tiny toys are scattered around her a doll, a small teddy bear, colorful blocks. And right in the middle of them all, she sits with her tiny hands cupping her cheeks, drenched in tears.
Her tears roll down like little pearls, sliding over her chubby, round cheeks before falling. Her tiny nose is red and swollen from crying, and her big, deep black eyes once full of sparkle now glisten with sorrow.
Dressed in a white frock, she looks no less than a little fairy, the frills falling gently over her small feet, enhancing her innocence. Her round baby face, glowing with pure innocence, could melt even the hardest heart in an instant.
TO BE COUNTINUE...!!!