The showroom's tension lingered as Simi pulled out her phone, dialing her manager with a brisk tone. "I'm heading back—manage the shop properly," she instructed, her voice cutting through the noise. Deep lunged forward, intent on stopping her. "Simi, you can't just leave!" he protested.
She whirled on him, her resolve unyielding. "If I can let you try your sham mystic, I can let him try as well. Move out of the way—he's my father, and I can take anyone to meet him!" Her voice was strong, resolute, brooking no argument.
Turning to her driver, she ordered, "Bring the car out." She gestured to Ishaan. "Come with me." They stepped outside, where a sleek black sedan awaited. As they drove off, Ishaan caught sight of their destination—a grand white mansion with sprawling gardens and 10-12 cars gleaming in the parking lot. "Just seeing this place," he thought, "I can tell she's richer than Ari's family."
Simi led him directly to her father's room, the opulence of the home a stark contrast to the tension within. Inside, her mother and grandmother were already present, their faces etched with worry. Deep had followed, having called his scam mystic with urgency. "Aunty!" he called to Simi's mother, his voice dripping with false concern. "Simi's being eccentric—she found a scam guy to treat Uncle. He might harm him—stop her!"
Simi's mother, hearing Deep's words and seeing Ishaan with her daughter, stepped forward, blocking the way. "Simi, what is all this commotion?" she asked, her tone a mix of confusion and alarm.
"Mother, just trust me for now," Simi pleaded, her eyes earnest. "I feel Father can be treated…"
"It's Parkinson's disease, Simi," her mother interrupted, her voice trembling. "You know how it is—he can't even move out of his bed now."
"I know, Mom, but let me try," Simi insisted. "What's wrong with trying?"
"But…" Deep interjected, his smirk returning. "He might make it worse!"
"You keep quiet!" Simi roared, her fury directed at him. "This is my family matter!"
Her grandmother, though old and frail, spoke with a strong, authoritative voice that silenced the room. "If my son can be cured, let her try…" she said slowly, her words carrying weight.
Simi nodded, opening the bedroom door with a determined hand. But before they could enter, the scam mystic came running from behind, The bedroom door hung ajar as the scam mystic burst forward, his robes flapping wildly. "Stop!" he shouted, his voice shrill with panic. "I feel it's a trap—he's here to harm Mr. Singh!"
Ishaan, who had remained silent until now, turned to face him, his expression calm but firm. "What kind of harm will I do? Tell me," he said, his voice steady and unafraid.
The mystic sneered, pointing an accusatory finger. "You will feed him some wild plants, and temporarily his condition might be a bit better, but he will get worse soon. Then you'll run away after getting paid!"
"First of all," Ishaan said, a faint smile breaking through, "I'm not getting paid. And I won't feed him anything."
The mystic's eyes narrowed. "Then you will place some cream on him or inject him with something!"
"No," Ishaan replied, shaking his head. "I won't do that either. I will just touch his forehead."
"What rubbish!" the mystic scoffed, throwing his hands up. "You will touch his forehead, and he will be cured? Are you joking?"
"Yes," Ishaan said, his tone growing confident, "it is just like you said—I will touch his forehead, and he will be cured."
"Nonsense!" the mystic barked, his face reddening. "This is absurd!"
"Okay then, let's make a bet," Ishaan proposed, his gaze unwavering. "I will cure him with a touch. If I can't, I will do as you say."
Deep, overhearing this, smirked with confidence, certain Ishaan was another fraud like the mystic. "Then you will bow down and apologize to me!" he declared, crossing his arms.
"Sure," Ishaan agreed, his voice calm.
"But if I win," Ishaan continued, locking eyes with Deep, "your engagement with Simi will break."
Simi's head snapped toward Ishaan, a hint of happiness flickering across her face. "Yes, that's what I want as well," she said, her voice resolute.
Deep, now cornered, hesitated, his smugness faltering. "Fine. I agree," he muttered, his tone laced with reluctance.
The room fell silent, the stakes hanging heavy as Ishaan prepared to face the challenge, the strange power within him ready to prove itself.