A week later, their London penthouse glowed with warmth and happiness. The soft fragrance of flowers filled the air, candles flickered in the corners, and the sound of tiny giggles occasionally broke the silence.

Poornima, dressed in a soft pastel saree, held her daughter close. Her eyes sparkled with motherly love as she looked across the room — Veeresh was gently rocking their son, humming softly under his breath, something only she ever got to see.

Their friends and close ones had gathered for the naming ceremony. Ray teased,

> “So, our captain — ready to reveal the names of the future Rajawats?”

Veeresh smirked slightly, his trademark confidence mixing with newfound pride.

He looked at Poornima, silently asking for her nod. She smiled back and said,

> “You say our son’s name, I’ll say our daughter’s.”

Veeresh stood beside her, looking at the tiny boy in his arms — so small, yet carrying his world.

> “His name is Adwait,” he said softly.

“Because he’s my peace — the oneness that I searched for all my life.”

Everyone smiled, clapping lightly. Poornima’s eyes welled up, her heart full.

She looked at their baby girl, who was sleeping peacefully against her chest.

> “And her name,” Poornima said gently, “is Inayat — a blessing, a gift. Because that’s what she is — our Inayat.”

The guests smiled, some tearing up as the names echoed softly in the room — Adwait and Inayat Rajawat.

Veeresh wrapped an arm around Poornima, pressing a kiss to her temple.

> “Two names,” he whispered, “but both a part of us.”

Poornima looked at him with a quiet smile.

> “Our Adwait and Inayat — our forever.”

As the evening went on, laughter and love filled the house. Veeresh held both babies, one in each arm — a picture Poornima would never forget.

The once-lonely man who built walls around his heart now stood surrounded by everything he ever needed — love, family, peace.

Under the golden lights, Poornima watched him cradle their children and realized —

they were no longer two broken souls; they were home.