The room was still trembling with the weight of Mukul's revelation when he slowly stepped away from Aghav's side and turned toward the patriarch of the Ahir family. His eyes, once soft with brotherly love, hardened into steel.
Rajveer Ahir sat upright, his jaw set, but the flicker of unease betrayed him. Around him, the Ahir family members shifted uncomfortably, as if they too felt the storm gathering in Mukul's words before he even spoke.
Mukul's voice was steady, each syllable striking the air like a hammer.
"Savita Ahir," he said, "is under my custody."
A sharp gasp rippled across the hall. Seraphina's children looked at each other in shock; Elara's hand flew to her lips, and Kael stiffened. The Ahir elders leaned forward, their faces pale with disbelief. Even Rajveer's eyes widened, if only for a moment, before narrowing in wary calculation.
"If you want her back," Mukul continued, his gaze never wavering, "then all of you—every member of this family—must come to Raichand Villa. And there, you will bow your heads before my mother and my siblings. You will ask forgiveness for the twenty-two years of pain you allowed, for the hatred you turned a blind eye to, for the silence you kept when her screams echoed."
His words carried no arrogance, only truth forged from wounds. The silence that followed was deafening.
Rajveer clenched his fists on the armrest of his chair. "You speak boldly, boy," he said, his tone tight. "Savita is my wife. Do you think you can use her as a bargaining chip?"
Mukul's lips curved into a faint, cold smile. "I don't think, Patriarch. I know. She caused pain that nearly destroyed us. And now, she will face the reckoning. If you want her safe, you will do what should have been done decades ago—you will bend before truth."
The elders exchanged uneasy glances. Some lowered their eyes, ashamed. Avni, Rajveer's younger sister, spoke softly, almost pleading, "Mukul… must it be this way? We love Meera and her children. You know that. Only Savita stood against them."
"Yes," Mukul answered, his tone softening but only slightly. "I know most of you cherished my mother, even when she was cast out. But your silence gave Savita power. Silence is also a crime."
Those words stung sharper than any blade, and the weight of guilt settled heavily in the hall.
Aghav's hand flexed at his side, torn between fury and pride at his younger brother's resolve. Seraphina, though pained by the harshness of the demand, understood the necessity. Her eyes softened with respect as she looked at Mukul.
Rajveer exhaled slowly, his chest rising with restrained anger. "And if we refuse?" he asked.
Mukul's voice dropped lower, colder. "Then I don't know what I'll do. For twenty-two years, I learned to live with pain. Don't force me to learn what I'm capable of when I stop forgiving."
The air turned heavy. Even Rajveer, a man used to control, felt a shiver run through him.
Then, just as suddenly, Mukul's expression shifted. He turned away from the patriarch and the elders, walking back toward his brother and sister-in-law. His face softened again as he looked at Aghav, at Seraphina, and at the six children whose innocent eyes had witnessed more than they should.
"Come," Mukul said gently, almost tenderly now. "Let's go home—to Raichand Villa. There, you will meet Mother. You will meet the others. Today, after twenty-two years, we will show her that one missing piece of her heart has returned."
Seraphina nodded, her tears shimmering but her smile radiant. Aghav placed his hand firmly on Mukul's back, pride swelling in his chest. "Yes," he said, his voice steady, "let's go to Mother."
The Ahir family watched in silence as the brothers turned to leave. The elders looked at one another, torn between shame and the fear of losing Savita forever. Rajveer's jaw tightened, his pride wrestling with guilt, but his eyes followed Mukul's retreating figure with something unspoken—perhaps fear, perhaps regret, perhaps the faint beginning of respect.
And so, with the heavy silence of the Ahirs behind them, Mukul led his elder brother, his sister-in-law, and his nieces and nephews toward the dawn of a long-awaited reunion.