Morning light slipped through the tall windows of Aarya's room, gentle and familiar. For the first time in days, she woke without panic tightening her chest. The silence of her father's house was different from the silence she had known before—this one was safe.
She dressed simply and went downstairs.
Vikram was already in the dining room, reviewing documents while his tea cooled beside him. He looked up the moment he saw her, worry crossing his face before softening.
"Did you sleep?" he asked.
"A little," she replied, taking the seat across from him.
He nodded, accepting that answer as enough.
"I want to go away for some time," Aarya said after a pause. "Outside the country."
He closed the file in front of him immediately. "Where?"
"London. The villa."
There was no hesitation. No questions.
"Go," Vikram said. "Stay as long as you want."
She looked at him, surprised despite herself. "You don't need to know why?"
He met her gaze steadily. "You've never needed permission from me. Whatever decision you make, I stand with you."
Something warm tightened in her chest.
"I'll leave today," she said quietly.
"I'll have the jet prepared," he replied. "Take security. Take whoever you trust."
That was how he loved her—without conditions, without doubt.
Back in her room, Aarya closed the door and leaned against it for a moment. The choice settled inside her with unexpected calm.
Distance was not escape.
It was space to breathe.
She picked up her phone and dialed the first number.
"You disappeared," Riya said the moment she answered.
"I'm going to London," Aarya said. "I need you with me."
Riya didn't hesitate. "I'll pack. When?"
"Today."
"Good," Riya replied. "You shouldn't be alone."
After ending the call, Aarya remained still, staring at the screen.
There was one more call she had been avoiding.
Her thumb hovered over the name.
Devraj Malhotra.
In her previous life, he had been the quiet presence behind every storm. The one who never judged her jealousy, never questioned her anger, never left—even when the world turned cold. He had held her hand in hospital corridors, held her son when she couldn't, and helped her exact revenge without ever asking for her love.
If he had come back too…
She pressed call.
The line connected quickly.
"Say it," Devraj said calmly. "You don't call unless it matters."
Her voice lowered. "Dev… do you
remember?"
There was a pause.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
"Yes," he said softly.
Her breath caught. "You're back too."
"I woke up months ago," he replied. "I was waiting for you."
Aarya closed her eyes.
"I'm going to London," she said.
"I know," he answered. "I'll meet you there."
The call ended without promises, without drama—only certainty.
She placed the phone down gently.
For the first time since rebirth, she felt it clearly.
She was no longer running from the past.
She was gathering it.
Outside, the house continued its steady rhythm—guards at their posts, staff moving quietly, everything unchanged.
Somewhere else, Rudra still believed in patience and space, convinced she would return and ask for forgiveness.
Aarya did not look back.
This time, she was choosing her life.