"Cheers," Ashwath and Anand clinked their glasses of whiskey, the sound echoing in the room, a toast to their shared moment amidst the chaos of life.
"At last, we're sharing a drink together," Anand said, his smile illuminating his face, a rare moment of joy in their troubled world.
"We'll make it a weekly ritual," Ashwath agreed, his voice tinged with determination born from the weight of their shared burdens.
"Give me your gun; I'll take care of that bastard myself," Anand declared, his eyes flashing with fiery resolve, a father's protective instincts unleashed.
"We have protocols to follow, Dad. I would've taken matters into my own hands if I could. But I'll risk suspension if I do," Ashwath explained, his words a testament to the internal conflict raging within him, torn between duty and vengeance.
"I'll take the consequences. I'll kill him and go to jail," Anand insisted, his voice steady, his love for his family eclipsing any fear of repercussions.
"I'll ensure he suffers," Ashwath vowed, his tone unwavering, a promise of justice forged in the depths of his soul.
"Stop hiding your pain, son. You may fool the world, but not your father," Anand said, his voice soft yet piercing, a reminder of the unbreakable bond between them.
"It's nothing like that, Dad. I'm fine. Being with you makes me feel better," Ashwath reassured him, his words masking the turmoil within, a son shielding his father from his own anguish.
"Then why do you always turn down a drink?" Anand inquired, his gaze searching, delving into the depths of his son's troubled heart.
"I do want to, Dad. But I'm determined to bring down everyone responsible for this crime. I can't bear to see anyone else lose their loved ones," Ashwath explained earnestly, his resolve unyielding, fueled by a desire for justice that burned brighter than any thirst for vengeance.
"I've always wanted to tell you something, son. Every father's dream is to say, 'I'm proud of you,'" Anand said, his voice trembling with emotion, a father's love pouring forth in a torrent of unspoken words.
"And every son's dream is to say, 'I love you, Dad.' I couldn't ask for more from God," Ashwath replied, his voice choked with emotion, a son's gratitude and love overflowing in the presence of his father's unwavering support and guidance.
As Anand's voice morphed into the innocent cadence of a young girl's, echoing "Papa, Papa" in an endless loop, Ashwath jolted awake, his heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and alarm. But as reality dawned and he felt Nisha's small hands nudging him, calling out "Papa, Papa," his panic melted away.
Sweat glistened on his brow as he lay there, still processing the sudden transition from the haunting echoes of the past to the comforting presence of his daughter. Yet, as he gazed into Nisha's adorable face, all his worries and fears dissipated.
In that moment, Ashwath wrapped his arms around Nisha, pulling her close, seeking solace in her innocence and warmth. Despite her attempts to wriggle free, he held onto her tightly, finding comfort in her presence as they both drifted back into a peaceful slumber.
"Get up, I need to go to school," Nisha insists, her voice breaking through Ashwath's sleepy haze.
"Are you ready?" he asks groggily, his mind still fogged with sleep.
"Yes, I told you I wanted to tell you something," Nisha reminds him eagerly.
"Yeah," Ashwath responds, his interest piqued.
"Yesterday, I won first place in the running competition at school. But you weren't there to see," she says, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Sorry, dear. There's just so much work," Ashwath apologizes, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart.
YOU ARE READING
THE END
Action" What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from." -T.S. Eliot In the enigmatic town of Kshaya lurks a figure shrouded in infamy: SHAITAN, the most wanted criminal whose true id...
