If there's an afterlife, maybe I'll see your mother again. Maybe she'll forgive me. But I doubt it. She always was smarter than me.
Be happy. Be brilliant. Be everything I was too coward to let you be.
Your father,Yash
Advika's hands shook as she finished reading. Tears streamed down her face—hot, angry, grieving tears for the relationship that could have been, should have been, but never was.
"Pull over," she whispered.
Sidharth did immediately, turning off the engine in an empty parking lot. She crumpled, great heaving sobs shaking her body, and he pulled her into his arms.
"He said he was proud of me," she gasped between sobs. "He called me remarkable. But it's too late. It's all too fucking late."
"I know, baby. I know." He held her tighter, one hand stroking her hair. "Let it out. Let it all out."
"I wanted..." She couldn't finish the sentence. Wanted him to love her. Wanted him to choose her. Wanted him to be the father she'd needed instead of the coward he'd been.
"You deserved better," Sidharth said fiercely. "You deserved a father who claimed you, who was proud of you, who showed you off to the world. You deserved everything, and he gave you nothing."
"He gave me the building."
"Twenty-three years too late. A piece of property doesn't make up for a lifetime of neglect."
"I know." She pulled back, wiping her face. "But it's something. It's acknowledgment. It's... closure, maybe."
"Is it? Closure?"
She thought about it. "I think so. He can't hurt me anymore. Can't disappoint me anymore. And he finally, finally saw me. Too late to matter, but he saw me."
"What do you want to do with the building?"
"I don't know yet." She looked at the letter again. "Keep it, I think. Maybe expand Sinfully Sweet back to its original location. Create something beautiful from the ashes of his guilt."
"That sounds perfect." He cupped her face, wiping away the remaining tears. "Your mother would be proud of you, you know. Of everything you've become."
"You think so?"
"I know so. Because I'm proud of you. Every single day, I'm in awe of your strength."
She kissed him then, pouring all her grief and gratitude into it. He kissed her back with equal intensity, a promise that whatever she felt, whatever she needed, he was there.
When they finally pulled apart, she felt lighter. Not healed—grief didn't work that way—but better. Like she could breathe again.
"Take me home," she said.
"Wherever you are is home," he replied, starting the car. "But yes, let's go back to the estate. To our home."
That Night
Advika stood in her personal sitting room, the letter in her hands, reading it one more time. Sidharth found her there, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. I think I actually am." She leaned back against him. "It hurts. But it's a clean hurt, you know? Like lancing a wound that's been infected for years. It hurts, but now it can heal."
"Good." He kissed the top of her head. "And for what it's worth, your father was right about one thing—you are remarkable. You always have been."
"So are you."
