Dr. Pramod prescribed a relaxing medicine and Vijaypath was soon sleeping. They didn't talk much after Ritwik answered his question. He had the answer he needed and Ritwik didn't have anything else to say on that subject. They talked briefly about how the business was going but Vijaypath said he didn't want to talk about things he had to take care of daily. Ritwik assured his father he would resume his position as CEO as soon as possible, maybe even the following day, and Vijaypath was honestly relieved to know he shouldn't be worried about those many decisions and problems anymore.

As soon as his father was sleeping, Ritwik reached for the book in the inner pocket of his jacket before looking for a quiet place. Talking to his father about his night with Mishti had ignited memories he couldn't avoid. he wanted to feed those memories even more, so he sat on the cold floor. He would never forget that night and he was so mesmerized by the deep and powerful connection he had with the woman in his arms that he didn't realize at that moment she was a virgin. A few days later after Pragati's funeral, Malti insisted on changing the sheets especially because there was blood on them but Ritwik didn't want to let go of her scent. He wasn't ready to lose one of these last live memories of the woman he had experienced something so profound with.

And just when he finally read those words he realized that Mishti was very much alive somewhere and despite all the bad she did, their good times and the special things that happened between them were much more powerful. And all he had now were those memories and denying the need to relive them again by reading them was something he gave up a long time ago.

Every time Ritwik read that entry it resurrected memories of the most harrowing day of his life -the day he realized the woman he loved wasn't dead but her condition was worse than death. She had deceived him in the worst possible way but she was still very much alive somewhere. He felt disgusted, enraged, offended, and robbed. Initially, it seemed as though Mishti had tarnished what he once shared with Pragati. However, as time passed, the pain intensified, not because of the betrayal itself, but because it rendered any possibility of reconciliation with her utterly attainable. When Pragati had asked him to go slow and be gentle with her he thought it was because they hadn't had sex in a few weeks and maybe she thought it would be uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally, given her newfound stance on premarital sex. He assumed the agreement she had with her father was regarding marrying him to merge both families' companies but then something clicked in his head. When he read about her expecting it to hurt he remembered the red spots on his sheets. He hadn't noticed them until Malti mentioned because whether his bed was made or not – most time he wouldn't let the maid even get it made – he never faced the middle of it. He usually embraced the comforter and the pillows trying to feel her scent, to feel her presence.

He also didn't understand how she was talking about him in one moment and then just a few words later the entry was about her sister. But when he associated the blood, the way she described their first time and her first orgasm as if they were the very first of her whole life he understood it perfectly. He knew then Pragati was the one dying and whoever had been with him those weeks was there because Kunal wanted her to be there and pretend to be his fiancée. That was why she kept saying she was going to hurt him and leave him when she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. Blindfolded all this time, Ritwik's world explodes into painful clarity. The searing light of truth tore away the veil of his carefully constructed reality, leaving him exposed and raw.

The initial fury of betrayal melted away, leaving behind a hollow despair that threatened to suffocate him. He'd convinced himself it was all a cruel act, but the truth tore at him: she'd loved him as fiercely as he had her. Was it all a lie? Had the deep connection they shared been built on deception? No. As the anger subsided, a horrifying realization dawned. He had fallen for the woman he spent those weeks with, regardless of the name she wore. Now, he faces a chilling truth: how can you love someone when the very foundation of that love feels like a lie? It wasn't about a name or who he thought she was. It wasn't about a body or a mere spark. Back then, it felt like he was meeting someone entirely new, and the feelings he harbored for the 'New Pragati' were incomparable to anything he had felt for the 'Old Pragati.' He believed they were evolving into something profound and significant, yet they were also fresh and untainted. They began from scratch, and within a few weeks, they blossomed into the deepest and most authentic emotions he had ever experienced for someone. It was all about Mishti. It had always been Mishti. Even when he mistook her for Pragati, it was solely Mishti.

Her diary had been a lifeline, each page a whisper of her lost presence. But one entry cut deeper than the rest, unleashing a torrent of anguish that threatened to consume him. It was the realization of love so potent, so undeniable, yet tragically impossible. His love, her love, forever bound by circumstance but forever kept apart. This final entry, penned in the fading ink of the last brown section, became his epitaph of sorrow, a testament to a love that lived and died in the pages of a diary.

How could he ever think something bad from someone like that? She sought to ensure he understood he had another opportunity to experience something so profoundly beautiful. Her actions stirred the silent tears that had become all too familiar over the past few months. The words of his father and the truths he had uncovered about Mishti were enough evidence to convince him that she wasn't the person he initially perceived her to be. But still, he couldn't bring himself to trust her. They say trust begets trust, but Mishti's trail was paved with lies and deceit, and forgetting those things was difficult. He understood her actions were motivated by her father's wish, yet he expected her morals to stand firm to refuse his involvement in their agreement. It appeared evident to him that Kunal never intended for Mishti to assume Pragati's identity in marriage Then why didn't they just keep him in the dark about Pragati's whereabouts? If they wanted to lie, why couldn't they simply say that Pragati decided to take some time off somewhere? He would have a hard time believing it and afterwards staying without any information but it would have been so much easier to forgive and forget. Especially now.

Since Kriti spoke to him about Mishti and then his father, Ritwik found himself dwelling less on his desire never to forgive Mishti. He still didn't know if he could, but he was coming to terms with what he wanted to do. He wondered if he ever wanted to meet someone new and perhaps experience a connection similar to what he shared with Mishti, but he couldn't replace her that easily. He wanted to be happy and was beginning to entertain the idea of love once more, he harbored a fear of history repeating itself. He was already invested in someone, and he wished there was a path to both forgiveness and forgetting. Forgetting seemed to be more important than forgiving.

Perhaps all he needed was to see her, yet he questioned whether he could handle it. Kriti's words resonated with him. He needed to face her eventually and he needed to prepare himself to be as open and honest as she had suggested. He knew most of the things that Mishti thought of herself for what she did to him. He had an insight into her thoughts, but he was certain there was more to her story, and she likely underwent significant changes since the days she penned those entries. He wondered how she was. There was no way to describe how lost and desperate he felt when his father told him that meeting Mishti was out of the question, even if he wanted to. Initially, his first thought was that he had lost her as well. Thinking about it now he realized how ironic it was for him to think he lost her. She was never truly his, even though she had given him everything she had – including herself. And though he now knew she was alive, it left him feeling disoriented because he lacked the means to reach out to her.

Even if he decided to follow Kriti's suggestion, Ritwik knew there was a significant possibility he wouldn't. He didn't even know where to start because he knew so little about Mishti. Why hadn't his father taken the initiative to investigate the phone number? It would have been simple to keep a record. Ritwik understood he was respecting Mishti's need for space, but what if something happened to her? Or to her parents? Or even to his father? If his father had been the sole contact during her prolonged absence, she would likely want to be informed if his father ended up in the hospital, especially after something as serious as a stroke. Unable to bridge the physical distance, Ritwik plunged back into the world of her words, seeking comfort in her voice.

"Vijay uncle!" Mishti burst into the hospital room, tears streaming down her face.

"Mishti," he answered sleepily, barely managing to open his eyelids as she entered. Her timing was impeccable.

"Baba ji meher kare, I had a bad feeling about you since Thursday, and I finally decided to call. I spoke to Malti Tai, and she mentioned you weren't available. When I inquired further, when I could talk to you she asked questions about who I was until I explained I was a distant relative from your sister Manjeet's side. Eventually, she informed me about your condition. How are you? What did the doctors say?" Mishti continued to sob, and Vijaypath's eyes welled up in response. He missed her nearly as much as he missed Ritwik. He wished Mishti had come sooner, while Ritwik was still here. As far as he knew, Ritwik had left the hospital. The medication he was on was weak, allowing him only an hour or two of sleep, as the doctor didn't believe he could tolerate anything stronger.

"I'm improving, Mishti, probably thanks to your prayers. You still pray for me every day. I miss having you around so much. How is Rudrakash?" Vijaypath replied sincerely. He couldn't understand how she had managed to capture his heart so quickly. It had taken Arohi months, but his fondness for Mishti was almost immediate. She seemed to embody everything he and Mamta had dreamed of in the daughter they never had the chance to raise. They had hoped for a larger family, but complications during Rishabh's labor led to Mamta undergoing a hysterectomy. He was certain his late wife would have adored Mishti even more than he did.

"Rudrakash didn't come with me. I didn't think it would be a good idea because... and well, it wasn't. And of course, I pray for you every single day. Initially, I wasn't going to come, but then I realized it was just you and Rishabh here. Yesterday, I called again to ask if Ritwik was with you. When she assured me it was still only you and Rishabh, I had to take a flight and come here..." She reached for his hand and squeezed it, feeling her heart breaking inside her chest as she noticed how his usual firm and strong grip had diminished to just a touch.

"Did she tell you Ritwik is still in Ireland?" He asked, observing her body language and noting the difficulty she had hearing his son's name. Her eyes immediately dropped, already sad, perhaps due to his condition. He also noticed her slight head movement to the side, as if it hurt her.

Yes, Malti Tai seemed to find it strange that I asked repeatedly about Ritwik—whether there was any news of him if he had returned from Ireland. However, she assured me there was no news on him," Mishti gathered herself the best she could before talking about Ritwik. even though she had rehearsed the conversation with Malti Tai multiple times. Thoughts of Ritwik still occupied her mind, but uttering his name proved challenging, and she had no idea if it would ever be easy or at least natural for her to do so.

"They eventually did return. Kriti took Ritwik for a weekend getaway, and they intentionally disconnected from their phones and emails," Vijaypath disclosed, opting for honesty. Maybe Ritwik was still around and only went to the cafeteria and he wanted to prepare Mishti for a potential encounter, although he acknowledged that his son required even more preparation.

"How did it happen?" Mishti purposefully changed the subject, she didn't want to cry even harder than she already was and she knew talking about Ritwik would lead to more tears and if her experience of only thinking about him were any evidence, it would happen quite fast.

"I knew this old heart was going to give up on me sooner or later," the old man offered a smile, but Mishti felt her own heart sinking.

"You shouldn't eat all those fatty things, Vijay uncle. I suppose you'll have plenty of time to enjoy the best food in Heaven in the company of Mamta Aunty," she reprimanded him, albeit softly. She couldn't be too harsh on him, even if she had wanted to be. He had always been kind and sweet to her, even when she expected him to be stern and hate her. He was one of the kindest people she knew, and she couldn't bring herself to be harsh. She was too soft for that.

"Well, maybe I should keep eating my Punjabi food so I can go to Heaven sooner and finally savor this wonderful cuisine you're telling me about," he winked, then choked a bit, coughing up spit. Seeing her concern, he quickly reassured her it was just his saliva going down the wrong pipe.

"It's not just about Rishabh and Rit..., Vijay uncle. They need you... and even though I know I have no rights, I still need you... a lot..." she struggled to express, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of losing him was unbearable. He was the only person she confided in, the one she sought advice from before making decisions - and there had been many in recent months. He was the one person she allowed herself to trust and rely on. Losing him would be like losing her anchor.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mishti. Perhaps that was Waheguru ji's way of finally bringing Ritwik back," he said sincerely.

"Is he... back?" she whispered. She was so shocked by his condition that she hadn't inferred from his previous words that Ritwik would return after they finally made contact with him in Ireland. But, of course, he would. The one time they had spoken about Ritwik before she left, Vijaypath had told her how afraid he was of Ritwik never forgiving him or returning. Mishti had tried to comfort him and offer reassurance, but deep down, she felt even worse, knowing she might have contributed to the rupture of the strong father-son bond.

"Yes, but..." Vijaypath tried to reassure her, but he was interrupted.

"Nahi Nahi Baba Ji, I should leave. I shouldn't have come... but I was so worried I would never see you again, that you'd never have a chance to..." she couldn't finish the sentence. The thought alone was enough to overwhelm her with emotions, and she knew she shouldn't go through it now.

"It's okay, Mishti," Vijaypath attempted to reassure her, but she was already heading towards the door, muttering words he couldn't quite understand. Then she abruptly fell silent and rummaged through her purse, searching desperately for something. After a moment, she located a pencil and an old receipt, hastily jotting down a message.

"Please keep me updated, alright? Here's my number. If you can't reach me, contact Arohi. I want her to have my number in case of emergencies," Mishti pleaded as she handed him the slip of paper.

"Mishti, you don't have to go," he tried again, but she shook her head firmly.

"It's not fair to him, Vijay uncle. He should never have to look at my face again in his life, especially amidst his father's recent stroke. He doesn't need to endure this pain again. Please, take care of yourself and don't abandon them, don't abandon him, okay? He won't make it without you, Vijay uncle. I know he needs you; he loves you deeply. I've already told you, he's forgiven you, and I'm sure he came here as quickly as he could. Please, don't leave him alone," she pleaded, her eyes expressing powerful conviction.

"I've already told you, I'm not going anywhere."

"Are you truly okay? Please, tell me it was just a scare." she sank back into the chair she had occupied earlier, allowing the tears she had been holding back to flow freely. "I know... I was supposed... to be... the one... comforting you... offering reassurance, but..." her words were interrupted by sobs.

"It's okay, it's okay, Mishti. I promise to eat more responsibly from now on, alright?"

"I never explicitly asked you to do this, and perhaps that was Waheguru ji's warning for me to finally address it. Vijay uncle, I love you deeply, almost as if you were my father. I am at a loss for words to express my thankfulness for everything you've done for me over the past months. Your forgiveness was one of the few things that kept me going. You're his father, and your forgiveness is the closest thing I'll ever have to his. Vijay uncle, I cherish you immensely. While I now have Rudrakash, I couldn't have made it this far without you, and I'm uncertain if I can continue without your support." With tenderness, she reached out to stroke his cheek, and tears welled in his eyes.

"Perhaps this isn't the best time to share this with him, considering it goes against his medical advice to become emotional," a deep voice interrupted the moment, causing Mishti to freeze.

"Ritwik," she whispered, barely audible.