Epilogue — Home

Five years later.

The Dreewan Mansion was no longer the quiet, disciplined place it once was.

Now it was chaos.

Beautiful chaos.

"Papa!"

"NO!"

"THAT'S MY TOY!"

A loud crash echoed through the living room.

Veeresh Dreewan, feared businessman, respected mafia king, and one of the most powerful men in the country, closed his laptop and sighed.

Three small tornadoes were running through the house.

His children.

The three people who had completely destroyed whatever peace remained in his life.

And he wouldn't trade them for anything.

His eldest son was Aarav Dreewan, five years old.

Stubborn.

Protective.

And exactly like his mother.

The second son was Ayaan Dreewan, four years old.

Smart.

Quiet.

Dangerously observant.

Exactly like his father.

And the youngest was Zoya Dreewan, three years old.

Named after the girl whose memory would always remain part of their family.

She was the princess of the house.

And everyone knew it.

Especially Veeresh.

The moment she looked at him with tears in her eyes, all rules stopped existing.

Meanwhile, across the city, Mannat Inn had become one of the most successful restaurant chains in the country.

What began as a single restaurant had expanded into multiple locations.

People loved the warmth.

The food.

The atmosphere.

Every branch carried the same philosophy.

A place that felt like home.

And at the center of it all stood Poornima.

Founder.

Owner.

Dreamer.

The woman who built it from a sketchbook.

"Salvatore!"

A familiar voice echoed through the mansion.

Veeresh looked up immediately.

Only one person called him that.

Poornima walked into the room carrying files.

Even after all these years, she still had the same energy.

The same smile.

The same ability to make him forget everything else.

"Your daughter stole my phone."

"OUR daughter."

Poornima rolled her eyes.

"Don't start."

Veeresh smirked.

"You spoil her."

"You're the one who bought her a pony."

"She wanted it."

"Exactly my point."

Life had changed in ways neither of them could have imagined.

Because eventually...

Poornima's memories had returned.

Slowly.

Piece by piece.

The accident.

The juvenile home.

The pain.

The suffering.

Zoya.

Everything.

Every truth.

Every wound.

Every lost memory.

It all came back.

And Veeresh had been terrified.

Terrified that she would break again.

Terrified that she would drown in the past.

But she didn't.

Because by then she was no longer the broken girl running from memories.

She was healed.

Strong.

Loved.

Surrounded by people who stood beside her.

She cried.

She grieved.

She remembered.

And then she moved forward.

Not because the past stopped hurting.

But because it no longer controlled her.

One evening, years earlier, after her memories returned completely, Veeresh had asked the question that haunted him.

"What if you hate me for how this started?"

Poornima had laughed.

Actually laughed.

Then she held his face and kissed him.

"You idiot."

"Poornima."

"You made mistakes."

She smiled softly.

"So did I."

Then she whispered the words he would never forget.

"But every version of me chose you."

The old Poornima.

The Poornima who forgot.

The Poornima from Scotland.

Every version.

Every time.

She chose him.

"Papa!"

Aarav's voice interrupted the memory.

The boy came running.

"Dad, some boy was looking at Zoya in school."

The room became silent.

Veeresh slowly looked up.

"What?"

Across the room, Poornima nearly laughed.

Because here it was.

The famous Dreewan jealousy.

Ayaan immediately joined.

"He gave her chocolate."

Veeresh stood up.

"He did WHAT?"

Poornima burst out laughing.

"She's three years old, Salvatore."

"That doesn't matter."

"It matters."

"It doesn't."

Poornima laughed harder.

Even after years of marriage, Veeresh remained unbelievably possessive.

Of her.

Of the children.

Of everyone he loved.

The funny part?

Poornima wasn't any better.

A month earlier, a woman had flirted with Veeresh during a business event.

Poornima had smiled politely.

Then spent the next week accompanying him to every meeting.

Every lunch.

Every event.

Everywhere.

When Veeresh pointed it out, she denied everything.

Completely.

"I am not jealous."

"Poons."

"I am not."

"You scared the poor woman."

"Good."

And that ended the discussion.

That night, after the children finally fell asleep, the mansion became quiet.

For once.

Veeresh stepped onto the balcony.

A familiar place.

Years ago he had stood there alone, looking at the stars and wondering if Poornima was alive.

Now he heard footsteps behind him.

Then familiar arms wrapped around his waist.

Poornima.

She rested her head against his shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?"

Veeresh looked at the night sky.

Then at the lights of the city.

Then back toward the house where their children slept peacefully.

His empire was larger than ever.

His business stronger than ever.

His influence greater than ever.

Yet none of it compared to what waited inside.

His family.

The one thing he never believed he would have.

"I was thinking," he said quietly.

"About what?"

He turned toward her.

About the woman who changed everything.

The woman who taught him love.

The woman who gave him a home.

The woman who chose him again and again.

Veeresh kissed her forehead.

Then smiled.

"You."

Poornima smiled back.

The same smile that had stolen his heart years ago.

"Good answer, Salvatore."

He laughed.

And pulled her closer.

Below them stood an empire.

Behind them slept their children.

Between them existed a love that survived memory loss, tragedy, distance, mistakes, and time itself.

And for Veeresh Dreewan, that was everything.

The End. ❤️