THE IInd DECISION

51. Truth , I never wanted to know

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tune in with song Dastaan -e form om shanti om .

Ayan Pov:-

It was my mother.

My brain stopped. My hands went numb. I watched in horror as she approached us, a gun clutched tightly in her hand. Everything blurred, turning into a haze of disbelief.

Why was she here?
Why did she have a gun?
Why was it pointed at us?

Before I could process, she gave a slight nod, and within seconds, ten men swarmed in, capturing all of us—me, Ashi, my bodyguards. I couldn't move. My mind couldn't comprehend.

What was happening?
Why her?

Ashi was as shocked as I was. She turned to look at me, tears brimming in her eyes. Her face had drained of all color when Maa slowly redirected the gun toward her head. My heart stopped.

A sickening smile crept onto Maa's lips as she looked at me, then at the man beside her, who held out a set of papers.

Property papers.

She tilted her head, gesturing for me to sign. My hands trembled. My guards exchanged helpless glances.

"Maa..." I whispered, hoping for something—anything—but there was nothing in her eyes. No remorse. No hesitation.

"Sign it." Her voice was cold.

I had no choice. My fingers barely worked as I scrawled my name. The moment the ink dried, she erupted into laughter—loud, manic, unrecognizable.

This wasn't my mother.

"Finally! I got what I deserved! What I wanted!" she shrieked.

And then, her gun shifted—from Ashi's head to her stomach.

I stood frozen in horror.

She smirked, her gaze piercing through me. "Remember something, Ayan?"

I couldn't understand. My mind reeled.

She leaned closer, her voice sickly sweet. "Just like this... I killed her."

A wave of nausea hit me. My breath hitched.

"I killed Navya."

A silent tear escaped my eye. My body refused to move, refused to react.

She sank into a chair, exhaling as if relieved. "Ten years... ten long years it took me to get this," she said, tapping the property papers with her fingers.

"Maa..." My voice cracked.

She snapped her head toward me, eyes dark with rage. "I am not your mother!" she roared.

I flinched.

"That filthy man is your father. Not me. I was only seventeen when my family married me off—to a man who already had a child. I was a child myself! But I had to leave my studies, marry him, take care of a son who wasn't mine. He forced himself on me every night while I cried myself to sleep."

Her words sliced through me like a dagger.

She laughed bitterly. "And yet, despite it all, I tried. I thought... maybe it wasn't your fault. Maybe I could still be a mother to you. But then I found out..." Her expression twisted. "The entire property was in your name. I felt betrayed."

My stomach churned.

"So I killed him."

Her voice was eerily calm.