By late evening, Vihaan's car rolled up to the wrought-iron gates of the Kothari mansion, the lamps from the day's veneration still glowing faintly in the humid air. The fragrance of incense and fresh marigold clung to the breeze, reminding him of what he had missed.
At the entrance, his younger cousin Yug bounded down the steps, grinning like he'd been waiting for this moment all evening.
"Bhai!" Yug called out dramatically. "You're finished. Aunt—sorry—your mother is going to skin you alive. She held a veneration today, the whole family gathered… and you, ACP Kothari, the eldest son, were nowhere to be seen."
Vihaan paused, loosening his grip on his cap. His throat tightened with guilt, though he masked it quickly. "It was an important case, Yug. You think I can walk away when a girl's life is at stake?" His voice was steady, but his eyes flicked toward the lit veranda. "Is she… really that upset?"
"Upset?" Yug clutched his chest as if struck. "She was ready to storm the police station herself. I swear, if the panditji hadn't distracted her with the prasad, you'd already be a missing person case."
Before Vihaan could scold him, Rani appeared behind them, her dupatta flowing as she strode down the steps. With the ease of an elder sister, though only a year younger than Vihaan, she reached out and pulled Yug's ear.
"Stop exaggerating, idiot," she said sharply, ignoring his yelp. "Mami's angry, yes—but she's your mother, Vihaan. You know her anger lasts only as long as her worry does."
Vihaan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He smiled faintly at Rani, then shook his head at both of them. "You two enjoy scaring me, don't you? Don't forget who the police officer is here. I deal with criminals every day."
"Criminals don't compare to mothers," Yug muttered, rubbing his ear. "Especially yours. Even the criminals would think twice before facing Veena Mami tonight."
Vihaan chuckled, though his heart was heavy. His mother was his anchor, his most precious bond in a life shadowed by duty and secrets. And the thought of having let her down—of her waiting through rituals with his seat empty—gnawed at him far worse than any case file on his desk.
He squared his shoulders, stepping past his cousins toward the hall where Veena waited, the glow of diyas flickering against the carved wooden doors. For all his titles, for all his courage, Vihaan knew—facing his mother's disappointment would be the hardest confrontation of the day.
The soft chant of evening prayers still lingered in the air as Vihaan stepped into the mansion's inner temple. The room glowed with warm lamplight, shadows dancing on the carved idols, the air thick with sandalwood and ghee.
At the center, Veena sat cross-legged before the altar, her posture regal even in her silence. A small diya burned in her hand, its trembling flame reflected in her tear-bright eyes.
"Ma…" Vihaan's voice was low, almost hesitant, as he approached.
But Veena did not look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the flame, her lips pressed in anger.
Vihaan frowned, his chest tightening. When he saw how close the diya had burned to her skin, he moved forward quickly, plucking it gently but firmly from her hand. "What are you doing? You'll hurt yourself!" he scolded, setting the lamp safely back on the altar.
Only then did she whirl on him, her voice sharp and trembling. "And what about you, Vihaan? Do you think only I can be hurt? You missed the veneration—your veneration. It was held for your protection, your wellbeing, and you didn't even care to come!"
Vihaan flinched at her words, the sting of guilt sharper than any reprimand. "Ma—"
"No." Her eyes burned with pain more than anger. "You don't care for my feelings. You don't care how I sit here, fearing every day for you. You are my son, my only son, and still you treat my prayers as nothing."
The lump in Vihaan's throat grew heavy. He knelt beside her, his hand reaching for hers. "I'm sorry, Ma. I am. But I was working on an important case… a girl's life is in danger. I can't turn my back on that. You've taught me that duty matters."
Her hand trembled in his, and though her anger softened, her fear did not.
"Then tell me," he said quietly, searching her eyes, "why are you so certain my life is in danger? Why does every veneration feel like a shield you're desperately trying to hold over me? What are you not telling me?"
For a heartbeat, Veena's composure faltered. Her mind betrayed her, echoing words that had never left her since that cursed night—
"Your betrayal will be his curse. He will come for me… Vihaan will wake me… and when he does, your world will drown in fire and fang."
Kaamini's voice slithered through her memory like venom.
Veena blinked hard, steadying herself, and forced her lips into a strained smile. "You're an ACP, Vihaan. Your job is dangerous by its very nature. I'm your mother—it is my right to be afraid for you. Don't read more into it than that."
But Vihaan's gaze was sharp, as though he could sense the edges of her lie. Slowly, he said, "You know I'm not… ordinary, right?"
Her breath caught, but she hid it behind firmness. "You are as ordinary as any man, Vihaan—so long as you keep wearing that bracelet."
He glanced down at the thin silver band circling his wrist, the one Veena had made him wear since childhood. He had never questioned it before. Not truly. Not until now.
And for the first time, the weight of it pressed against his skin like a chain.