Poornima cradled her newborn son in her arms, her eyes soft with tears. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling an overwhelming mix of grief and joy.

He looked exactly like Pavan—the same delicate features, the same curve of his tiny lips—and for a moment, she let herself miss him deeply. Yet, as she gazed down at her child, a smile broke through the tears. Life had given her a gift to cherish, a part of Pavan she could hold forever.

Veeresh stood nearby, his sharp eyes softened as he watched her. Adwait entered, his voice careful. “Sir… Pavan’s stepmother is claiming the baby.”

Veeresh’s jaw tightened. His hand went to Poornima’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “That will never happen. I promised your husband… and I will keep my word. Nobody—nobody—will take our baby.”

Poornima’s tears lingered for a moment longer, then she smiled, a mixture of relief and gratitude.

The next morning, Poornima was discharged from the hospital. The Rathore Mansion had been prepared for her return, warm blankets, soft lights, and a gentle calm that welcomed them.

Veeresh stood at the doorway as they entered, his eyes scanning her tired but radiant face. “Did you choose a name?” he asked.

Poornima smiled faintly. “Aarav. Pavan had selected it before…”

Veeresh looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms, then back at her. “Then Aarav it will be. A part of him always stays with us.”

Poornima blinked back tears. “Thank you… for everything.”

Veeresh gave a rare, soft smile, the first one that didn’t carry restraint or caution. “You don’t need to thank me. This is ours—our family.”

In that moment, for the first time, Poornima felt truly safe, knowing that in Veeresh’s quiet, commanding way, he would protect her and their children from the world.