Author's pov:

The morning air was crisp as the group finally emerged from the hospital wing. Anjali walked slowly, her steps hesitant and shaky. 

Reeva stayed glued to her side, her arm anchored around Anjali's waist to provide support, but as they crossed the main lobby, Anjali's strength flickered.

 Her knees buckled, and she gasped as the world tilted.

Before she could hit the floor, Aryan was there. He caught her with a fluid, protective grace, sweeping her up into his arms before she could even protest.

"Kaha tha maine ki mai utha leta hoon... par tum meri baat kaha manti ho," Aryan murmured, his voice a mix of reprimand and absolute devotion.

Anjali leaned her head against his shoulder, her breath shallow.

 "Aryan, agar main chalungi nahi toh theek kaise hongi? Mujhe aadat daalni hogi."

Aryan adjusted his grip, holding her in a firm bridal style as he continued walking toward the exit.

 "chalne ke liye puri zindagi baaki hai, Jaan. Abhi ke liye tumhara kaam hai theek hona aur mera kaam hai tumhe theek rakhna.."

They reached the sleek black mercedes waiting at the curb. 

As Aryan prepared to settle her into the backseat, Anjali suddenly placed a trembling hand on his chest.

 He paused, looking down at her, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

"Aryan...umm voh mujhe Maa-Papa ka antim sanskar karna hai," she whispered.

The air around them seemed to freeze. Reeva and Jay exchanged a pained, uncertain look. 

After everything the Bishts had done, the lies, the four years of stolen life they didn't expect Anjali to want to honor them. 

But Aryan didn't hesitate. He looked into her eyes, saw the grief battling with the betrayal, and gave a small, understanding nod.

"Theek hai," he said softly. "Jo tum chaho."

They didn't go straight to the airport. Instead, the car moved toward the local morgue. 

Aryan handled the formalities with the same quiet authority he used for everything, ensuring the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Bisht were released.

The procession to the Ghat was silent. The only sound was the rushing of the Ganges against the ancient stone steps.

 Aryan carried Anjali down to the water's edge, seating her on a raised stone platform where she could witness the ritual without straining her body.

As the priests began the chants and the wooden pyres were built, a heavy somberness took over.

 Jay helped the workers arrange the wood, while Aryan stood like a sentinel behind Anjali, his hands resting on her shoulders.

When the time came to give the final Agni (fire), Jay and the priests assisted, but the intention was all Anjali's.

 She watched as the flames began to lick the wood, turning the last four years of her life into smoke and ash.

Reeva stood beside her, watching the orange embers fly into the grey sky. She couldn't keep the question inside any longer. 

"Anjali... itna sab kuch hone ke bawajood bhi, tu unhein Maa-Papa keh rahi hai? Unhone jo kiya..."

A single, hot tear escaped Anjali's eye, tracing a path down her cheek. She didn't look away from the burning fire.

"Unhone jhoot kaha, mana. Unhone zabardasti ki, woh bhi mana. Aur jo unhone kiya woh shayad maafi ke kabil bhi nahi hai, Reeva," Anjali said, her voice trembling but certain.

"Lekin pata hai kya? In chaar saalon mein, jab meri yaadash chali gayi thi, jab mere paas mera naam tak nahi tha... tab unhone mujhe ek pehchaan di thi. Bhale hi woh jhoothi thi, par unhone mujhe 'beti' kaha tha."

She looked at Reeva, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

"Har maa-baap chahte hain ki unka antim sanskar unki aulad kare. Unhone ek beti ki chahat mein mujhse mera sab kuch chheen liya... par badle mein unhone mujhe apna sab kuch de diya. Aaj agar main unhein yahan laawarish chhod deti, toh mujh mein aur unmein kya farak reh jata? Main unke gunaho ka hisaab nahi kar rahi... main bas us ehsas ko vida kar rahi hoon jo chaar saal tak meri sacchai thi."

She turned her gaze back to the pyre, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Woh mere asli Maa-Papa nahi the, par unhone mujhe us waqt sambhala jab main ek zinda laash thi. Yeh aag unke jhooth ko jala degi... aur piche reh jayegi sirf meri dua, ki agle janam mein unhein unki apni aulad mile, taaki unhein kisi aur ka ghar na ujadna pade."

Aryan squeezed her shoulders, his heart swelling with respect for the woman she was. 

She had the heart of a queen—capable of immense love and even greater forgiveness.

As the sun began to dip behind the mountains, the rituals were completed. The past was finally, truly, turned to dust.

"Ab chalein?" Aryan asked softly.

Anjali nodded, wiping her face. She felt lighter, as if a weight she had been carrying for four years had finally been lifted. "hmm."

The drive from the Ghats to the Rishikesh airport was draped in a heavy, contemplative silence.

 The smoke from the funeral pyres seemed to linger in their clothes, a final reminder of the life Anjali was leaving behind. 

As the sleek mercedes pulled up to the private terminal, the reality of the parting began to sink in.

Aryan stepped out first, and with the practiced tenderness that had become his second nature, he lifted Anjali from her seat. 

He stood her on her feet for a moment, supporting her weight as they faced Reeva and Jay.

The air at the airport felt different—colder, more clinical. 

It was the boundary between the mountains and the city, between a borrowed past and a reclaimed future.

Reeva stepped forward, her eyes already swimming in tears. She looked at Anjali, now dressed in that radiant red silk, looking every bit the queen she was born to be.

 The "Jhanvi" who used to share tea and secrets in a small kitchen was gone, replaced by a woman who belonged to a world of skyscrapers and power.

"Toh... finally ja rahi hai tu," Reeva whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.

Anjali reached out, pulling Reeva into a tight, desperate hug. She buried her face in Reeva's shoulder, the fabric of her saree rustling.

"Main kaise tera shukriya ada karun? tune mere liye kitna kuch kiya hai"

Reeva sobbed openly now, clutching Anjali back.

 "Shukriya mat bol, pagal. Tune mujhe ek dost di, ek behen di. Rishikesh ki galliyan bohot khali lagengi ab. Jab bhi baarish hogi, mujhe yaad aayega ki kaise hum chai ke liye ladte the."

Anjali pulled back, wiping Reeva's tears with her thumb. "Bhulna mat mujhe."

Then, Anjali turned to Jay. He was standing a few steps back, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, trying to maintain his "tough guy" exterior, but his trembling lower lip betrayed him.

 Anjali walked toward him—shaky but determined—and wrapped her arms around him.

Jay stiffened for a second before melting, hiding his face against the top of her head.

"Dhyan rakhna iska, Aryan," Jay choked out, looking over Anjali's shoulder at Aryan. 

"Bohot mushkil se wapas mili hai. Is baar khona mat ise."

Aryan stepped forward, placing a firm, respectful hand on Jay's shoulder.

"kabhi nhi khounga.... Aur tum dono... ye yaad rakhna, ki kabhi bhi meri zarurat ho toh ek phone kar dena.. mai tum dono ke liye humesha rahunga"

The ground staff signaled that the jet was ready for boarding. It was time.

Anjali felt a pang of guilt for not asking them to come along, but she knew their lives were here—their roots, their memories, and reeva's daughter, Falak.

This was their home, just as Delhi was hers. 

She couldn't uproot them, no matter how much her heart wanted to stay anchored to the only people who had loved "Jhanvi."

"Jao ab," Reeva said, giving Anjali a gentle push toward the tarmac.

"Teri beti intezar kar rahi hai. Usey jaakar kahna ki reeva massi use milne jaldi aayengi"

Anjali nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

Aryan swept her up into his arms one last time, shielding her from the wind.

As he walked toward the stairs of the private jet, Anjali looked back over his shoulder.

She saw Reeva and Jay standing small against the vast backdrop of the mountains.

They were waving, their silhouettes blurring as the distance grew.

As the jet's door closed and the engines began to hum, Anjali leaned her head against the window.

She watched the peaks of Rishikesh disappear into the clouds.

 She was leaving behind the lies, the blood, and the monster, but she was also leaving behind the two souls who had kept her human when she was lost in the dark.

Aryan sat beside her, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. 

"Hum ghar ja rahe hain,jaan."

"Hmm," she whispered, a final tear falling for the friends she left behind.

In delhi ;

The Taneja Mansion didn't just look like a house today; it looked like a bride. Marigold garlands draped from every balcony, and the scent of fresh sandalwood and lilies filled the air.

 But amidst the frantic running of decorators and the loud instructions of Aahan, a tiny four-year-old soul sat quietly on the grand velvet sofa, her small fingers twisting the hem of her lace frock.

Advika looked at the large portrait of Anjali hanging in the hall. For years, that photo was her only "Mumma." Then, she had seen her in Rishikesh—the lady who smelled like home but didn't know her name. 

Now, her Dadda had said Mumma was coming home forever.

"Chachi?" Advika looked up as Arushi sat down beside her, gently fixing the small clip in the girl's hair. 

Arushi's eyes were red; she had been crying and laughing in the same breath all morning. Anjali wasn't just her sister-in-law; she was the sister her heart had mourned for four years.

"Haan, meri jaan? Itni chup-chup kyun ho?" Arushi asked, her voice soft.

"Chachi... Mumma mujhe pehchan legi na?" Advika's voice was a tiny, fragile whisper.

 "Rishikesh mein toh Mumma ne mujhe phechana hi nhi tha. Agar abhi bhi unhone nahi pechana toh? Agar woh phir se bhool gayi ki main unki Adu hoon..toh?"

Arushi felt a lump in her throat. She pulled the little girl into her lap.

 "Nahi Adu, aisa nahi hoga. Tab Mumma thodi bimar thi na? Ab Dadda ne unhe  theek kar diya hai. Ab woh tumhe dekhengi toh bilkul nahi bhoolengi. Woh toh bas tumhare paas aane ke liye bechain hai."

Aahan walked over, looking exhausted but exhilarated. He knelt in front of Advika, taking her tiny hands in his. 

"Adu, tumne apni special drawing finish ki? Mumma ko dikhani hai na?"

Advika nodded, pointing to a messy but colorful drawing on the table. 

"Haan Chachu, par... Mumma gussa toh nahi hongi na ki maine itne saal unka wait nahi kiya aur so gayi?"

"Bilkul nahi, princess," Aahan smiled, kissing her forehead.

Just then, three-year-old Veer came running into the room, tripping over a flower garland.

"Adu! Adu! didu Bahar dekho, kiti saari lights lag rahi hain! Aaj toh bari-mumma aa rahi hain na? Hum chupa-chupi khelenge!"

Advika gave a small, shy smile.

"Haan Veeru par Mumma thaki hui hongi na? Pehle main unki godi mein soungi, phir hum khelenge."

Aahan's phone buzzed in his pocket. He patted Advika's head one last time and stepped away toward the balcony to answer.

"Haan bhai...?"

"Aahan, hum flight mein baith gaye hain. Ek ghante mein pahunch jayenge," Aryan's voice came through, sounding thick with emotion but stronger than Aahan had heard it in years.

"Haan bhai, okay. Sab ready hai yahan. Arushi ne bhabhi ki favorite dish banayi hai aur Adu ne toh poora ghar sar par utha rakha hai. Aap bas bhabhi ko leke jaldi aa jao," Aahan replied, leaning against the railing, looking at the city below.

There was a pause on the other end. Then, Aryan spoke, his tone deep and resolute. 

"Sun...umm main Anjali ka welcome sirf ghar se nahi karna chahta. Main chahta hoon poora Delhi roshan ho. Chaar saal ka andhera khatam ho raha hai, Aahan. Kuch aisa kar sakta hai ki diyon se decoration ho jaye? Airport se lekar ghar tak ka rasta, aur pura Delhi... mujhe har taraf roshni chahiye."

Aahan widened his eyes, looking at his watch.

 "Bhai... itne kam time mein? Pura Delhi roshan karna mushkil hai, but...uhh main koshish karta hoon. Hamari saari factories, hamare offices, aur jitne bhi Taneja Group ke buildings hain, wahan main abhi order deta hoon. Raste mein jitne bhi garib hain, unhe diye baante jayenge. I promise you bhai, jab tak aaplog land karogi, Delhi diwali ki tarah chamkegi."

"Jaldi milte hai" Aryan whispered and hung up.

Aahan turned back to the room, a determined look on his face. He looked at Arushi, who had heard the conversation.

"baby, sabko phone lagao," Aahan commanded. 

"Aaj Taneja Group ki saari power dikhani hai. Humare raam ki sita vapas aa rahi hai aur unka swagat kisi diwali se kam nhi lagna chaiye"

Advika watched them, her little heart thumping. 

She didn't understand about power or factories, but she understood one thing: her world, which had been gray for so long, was about to be filled with light.

The hum of the private jet's engines was nothing more than a gentle lullaby as they crossed the clouds into Delhi's airspace. 

Aryan sat back in the plush leather seat, his body completely still, terrified that even a heavy breath might disturb the woman sleeping on his chest.

Aryan's POV

I looked down at her, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.

She looked so peaceful. The harsh, panicked lines that had lived on her face in Rishikesh were gone, replaced by the soft glow of the cabin lights. 

Her head was tucked perfectly into the hollow of my shoulder, her hand clutching my shirt even in her sleep—as if her subconscious was still afraid I might vanish.

"Kaise bataun tumhe ki tum mere liye kya ho," I thought, my fingers hovering just an inch above her hair, hesitant to touch perfection.

In every fictional story I'd read or movie I'd seen, they talked about heroes who would burn the world down for their love.

 I used to think that was an exaggeration. But looking at her now, I realized I wasn't a hero.

I was just a man who had been wandering in a graveyard for four years, and she was the miracle that had brought me back to life.

She was my beginning and my end. Every scar on my soul, every sleepless night, every tear I had shed—it all felt worth it just to have her heart beating against mine again.

I felt like a loser in love, a man completely defeated by the beauty of the woman in his arms.

 I would willingly lose a thousand times over if the prize was this moment.

The pilot's voice came through the intercom, soft and low: 

"Sir, we are beginning our descent into Delhi. The city is... well, you should see for yourself."

The slight change in the plane's altitude caused Anjali to stir. 

Her long lashes fluttered against her cheeks before she slowly opened her eyes. 

She looked up at me, dazed and sleepy, her voice a soft, beautiful murmur.

"Hum pahunch gaye?"

I smiled, my heart doing a somersault just at the sound of her voice.

 I leaned down, pressing my forehead against hers.

"Pahunch gaye, Jaan," I whispered. "Dekho bahar."

I guided her gaze toward the window. As the jet broke through the clouds, the sight below was breathtaking.

 Delhi didn't look like a city anymore; it looked like a galaxy that had fallen to earth.

Thousands upon thousands of diyas and lights lined the streets, the rooftops, and the monuments were ablaze with golden light, creating a glowing path that stretched from the airport to the heart of the city.

Anjali gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Aryan... yeh sab... ?"

I pulled her closer, my lips lingering near her ear. 

"Maine kaha tha na, tum meri duniya ka noor ho. Jab meri biwi wapas aa rahi hai, toh pure desh ko pata chalna chahiye ki aaj meri sita ka vanvas khatam hota hai."

Anjali looked at me, her eyes shimmering with fresh tears.

 "Aryan, tum kitne pagal ho... itna sab kuch karne ki kya zaroorat thi?"

"Pagal toh main humesha se tha," I chuckled, brushing a tear from her cheek.

"Lekin yeh sirf roshni nahi hai, Anjali. Yeh har us gham ka jawab hai jo tumne aur maine saha hai. Yeh diyo ki roshni batati hai ki andhera chahe kitna bhi gehra kyun na ho roshni se kabhi nhi jeet sakta."

I looked out at the glowing city, feeling a sense of absolute triumph.

"Rishikesh mein tum 'Jhanvi' thi, ek toota hua sapna. Par is roshni mein tum sirf Anjali ho... meri Anjali. 

Swagat hai tumhare apne shehar mein, Mrs. Taneja."

She didn't say anything. She just hid her face in my chest again, sobbing quietly—not out of sadness, but because she finally realized that the nightmare was truly, officially over.