From this moment on, he wanted nothing more than her happiness. Her smiles were rare. Her joy was rare. And he would protect both, with everything he had.
Because doing that, even thinking of doing that for her, finally felt like peace.
He believed that now with stark clarity. Mishti was the missing piece of his life, the one he had always searched for without knowing it. And he would always look after her.
She had every right to hate him now. Every right to hurt him. Every right to deny him, to push him away, to turn every weapon he once used against her back on him and make his life unbearable.
And even then, he would not give up.
Rajat had asked him this a few days ago—what he planned to do even if he managed to take Mishti back with him to Mumbai, refusing to let her walk away from him again.
Now, he finally had his answer.
If avenging the Goels had been his sole purpose for nearly sixteen years, then from this moment onward, he had only one motive left.To keep this woman happy and to lay the world at her feet.
The mere acceptance of that truth made his heart flutter, his same so-called stone heart, the one she had once accused of feeling nothing.
Just then, as he stood there smiling to himself, she turned around, as if she sensed him. Even from a distance, she looked momentarily stunned, caught off guard by the sight of him smiling like that.
Usually, Karan would have masked it instantly. Composed himself. Looked away. Left the spot before she could read more than he allowed.
But this time, he didn’t.
Mishti, on the other hand, was stunned by witnessing this side of Karan today. It wasn’t the smile alone. It was the ease behind it.
Smiles from Karan Wadhwa were rare. Never… this. Never so unguarded that it reached his eyes and stayed there, as if he had nowhere else to be, nothing else to hide.
Her heart fluttered. This version of Karan… this softened man, looked like someone finally at peace. Someone who had stopped fighting something inside him.
Was she the reason?
The thought made her swallow hard. She recalled the other night; in his drunk confession, he had said it.‘You’re my peace.’The words had sounded reckless then. Almost unreal. She had dismissed them as exhaustion… or alcohol… or his momentary weakness.
But standing here now, watching him not look away, not hide, not retreat, she wondered if he had really meant it.
What if, somewhere along the way, she had become more than a wife he married for revenge… more than a pawn in a war she never chose… more than a name tied to a man he despised?
Because his recent actions… his soft flirting, the restraint, the care… they all pointed in the same direction. That he had feelings for her now. The kind she always desired from him.
But how was she supposed to forget the nights she had cried alone? The days she had questioned her worth in his life? The love she had given without knowing it was doomed from the start? Even if she forgave him… how could she ever let him forget? Forget that she was still Dilip Goel’s daughter. She will always be.
That no matter how far she ran from that truth, no matter how fiercely she stood against it, that blood would always be a scar in their story. A scar that could reopen. A scar that could never truly fade.
Tears instantly pooled in her eyes. And hence Mishti looked away first. Not because she didn’t feel Karan’s softened change towards her. But because feeling it risked pulling her back into loving him, and she didn’t know if she would survive that fall twice.
CHAPTER 38
Next Day
Tonight’s dinner had been planned exclusively for close family members—set outdoors, in the garden, beneath a soft moonlit sky. Golden fairy lights shimmered overhead, casting a warm glow on the long, twenty-four-seater dining table. A lavish buffet stretched across it, featuring an array of cuisines and every favourite dish of the bride and groom.
Yet none of that was the real highlight of the evening. Tonight’s true speciality was Mishti’s dessert.
Gajar ka halwa.
VK had explained about a ritual earlier, that from the bride’s side, something sweet must be prepared, something the bride loved. It symbolised the last meal, the final dessert the bride would eat as a spinster in her parents’ home, with her family. After this, every such moment would belong to her married life, her new home.
Avni had been wondering who would do this for her. That was when Mishti, excitedly, offered to do it. Even if Avni did not know this, Mishti was still her sister-in-law and doing this ritual for Avni was her right. She decided to prepare carrot halwa—Rajat’s favourite, and Avni’s too.
