It was late at night when Om returned to his uncle's house. After finishing dinner, he quietly went to his room and sat down in a meditative posture, trying to calm his mind. But just as he began to focus, a thought struck him—his grandfather's belongings… and along with that, the letter his father had written… and the photographs he had found.
The moment the thought hit him, his concentration shattered.
He instantly opened his eyes and got up, quickly rushing to the clothes he had worn earlier that day. Digging into the pocket, he pulled out the envelope that held both the letter and the photographs. A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at it.
"Thank God I didn't give these clothes to Aunt for washing… otherwise the letter and the photos would've been ruined by now… and I would've lost my last chance to see Grandpa. Maybe these are his photos… or maybe not… but there's only one way to find out."
Without wasting another second, Om began opening the envelope.
But just then—
His phone, lying on the table, started ringing again.
This time, he ignored it.
He continued pulling things out of the envelope. Within a few seconds, the ringing stopped. Om had already taken out the letter and was just about to pull out the photographs—
When suddenly, the phone rang again.
This time, it irritated him.
He placed the envelope back on the table, picked up the phone, and muttered in annoyance while looking at the screen,
"Who the hell doesn't have peace at this hour…?"
But the moment his eyes fell on the screen—
His expression changed instantly.
Shock.
"Indrajeet Joshi…"
For a second, he just stared at the flashing name.
Why is Uncle Joshi calling me at this hour?
Something must be serious…
Without delaying any further, Om answered the call.
"Hello?"
As soon as he spoke, the conversation on the other end began—and from the look on Om's face, it was clear that whatever he was hearing… it wasn't normal.
Serious. Urgent.
Within seconds, Om responded,
"Okay… I'm coming right now."
He cut the call immediately.
Without another thought, he left the envelope on the table and rushed downstairs, still in his night clothes.
As he entered the hall, his uncles were sitting there. Without stopping, he said,
"Uncle, I'll be back, okay?"
Before either of them could respond, Sharda quickly walked up to him, concern visible on her face.
"Om, son… where are you going at this time? It's already very late!"
Om made a few excuses, trying to convince them. But in the end, he had no choice—Harsh insisted on coming along.
Soon, both of them were in the car, heading toward Joshi's bungalow.
As Om drove, he glanced sideways.
Harsh was staring at him… intensely.
His eyes were shining, a wide smile spread across his face, as if he was looking at something he deeply admired.
It made Om slightly uncomfortable.
Without looking at him again, he said,
"Why are you staring like that?"
Harsh instantly replied, excitement bursting through his voice,
"Nothing, bro… just looking at you. It feels like a dream come true! I'll get to see your work… I want to become like you!"
Om smiled.
Not because the words were childish—but because he felt relieved. His younger brother wasn't walking down the wrong path.
But then—
A thought of Savita crossed his mind.
His expression turned serious.
"Harsh… can I ask you something?"
Harsh grinned.
"Of course… go ahead!"
Om looked at him, his voice softer now, carrying emotion.
"Do you miss your mom? Do you feel what happened was wrong? Do you… want to go back to her? Look, answer only if you want to… I'm not forcing you."
Harsh listened quietly.
Then he smiled faintly and said,
"That's a lot of questions for one topic, bro… but I know you're asking for me."
Om's face grew tense as he looked at him.
Harsh's smile faded slightly. His eyes turned serious as he stared ahead at the road.
"Honestly… yes, I miss her. And I want to forgive her… I want her to be with us again. But I also know what she did… those weren't just mistakes, they were sins—against Dad, against Isha, against the family… and especially against you."
His voice grew heavier.
"I know some things aren't easy to forgive. And forgiving without consequences… just means giving her another chance to hurt us again."
He turned to Om, his eyes slightly moist.
"Brother… I do want Mom back… but she has to change. She has to regret what she did. She has to understand what it means to be a mother… only then she'll deserve that place again."
Om went silent.
A wave of emotion passed through him.
In that moment, he realized—Harsh wasn't a kid anymore.
He had grown up.
Taking a slow breath, Om smiled slightly and increased the car's speed.
"Hmm… alright. And listen, from tomorrow—you're going to the office. You'll start learning the work. You're older than me… we can't just sit at home forever. And I don't want Uncle to feel his son is useless."
Harsh nodded in agreement.
But Om wasn't done yet.
He asked another question,
"And… how are things going now between you, Dad, and Isha?"
Harsh sighed.
"I'm trying… They've accepted me wholeheartedly. But when I look at them… I feel guilty. After everything they went through, how can they forgive me so easily? That's what hurts the most… their forgiveness… it's suffocating me from the inside."
His voice dropped.
Om glanced at him, then said calmly,
"Harsh… life has ups and downs. You have to accept them. And now that you understand your mistakes… I don't think you need to overthink this."
He gave a faint smile.
"Life is short, man. And you have people who love you… so learn to live it. Anyone can cry… not everyone knows how to move forward."
Harsh looked at him—and slowly, his mood lifted again. Within moments, he was back to his usual playful self, talking like before.
After a while, the car slowed down…
And finally stopped.
In front of a massive bungalow.
Harsh stepped out, looked at it—and his eyes widened in shock.
"Holy shit…"