After a week of that quiet distance, Ansh made a wish.
A small one.
A harmless one.
"Papa," he said one evening, eyes shining,
"can we go out like normal family?
Only three of us. No bodyguards."
Rayen looked at Sneha instinctively.
She hesitated—just for a second.
Then she nodded gently.
"For Ansh," she said softly.
And so, for the first time in years, Rayen Raizada stepped out without shadows following him.
No armed men.
No black cars.
Just the three of them.
They went to a simple place—nothing extravagant. A small open café near a park, children laughing nearby, couples walking hand in hand.
Ansh ran ahead excitedly.
"Mama! Papa! Come fast!"
Sneha smiled and followed, her dupatta fluttering lightly in the breeze. She looked… different outside these walls. Less guarded. More human.
Rayen noticed how people looked at them—not with fear or curiosity, but warmth.
A family.
Ansh dragged Sneha toward the ice cream cart.
"Chocolate for me," he announced proudly.
"Vanilla for Mama. Papa can eat anything."
Sneha laughed despite herself.
"Why vanilla for Mama?" she asked.
Ansh shrugged seriously.
"Because Mama is sweet but quiet."
Rayen felt something twist in his chest.
They sat on a bench later, Ansh between them, swinging his legs happily.
For a while, no one spoke.
Just the sounds of life around them.
Then a little girl ran past and accidentally bumped into Sneha. Before anyone could react, the child's mother hurried over.
"I'm so sorry," she said quickly, then smiled.
"You have a beautiful family."
Sneha froze.
Rayen waited for her to correct it.
She didn't.
She just smiled politely and nodded.
"Thank you."
But her hand tightened slightly around Ansh's.
Rayen saw it.
He saw how she accepted the word family not as a truth—but as a borrowed coat she was afraid to wear too long.
Later, as Ansh played nearby, Rayen spoke quietly.
"You've been distant," he said.
Sneha didn't deny it.
"I'm just… adjusting," she replied.
"To what?" he asked.
She looked at Ansh.
"To my place," she said calmly.
The answer unsettled him deeply.
Because that day—walking beside her without power, without protection, without walls—
Rayen felt something undeniable:
This wasn't responsibility anymore.
This was fear.
Fear of losing the woman who had already begun leaving—
not with her feet, but with her heart.
And for the first time, Rayen realized:
If he stayed silent any longer,
this ordinary outing might be remembered as the last time they looked like a family at all.
But that ordinary outing—
that fragile moment where they pretended to be normal—
turned into their biggest mistake.
It started with a sound that didn't belong.
A sharp crack.
Not fireworks.
Not a car backfiring.
Gunfire.
Rayen reacted before thought could catch up. He pulled Ansh toward his chest, turning instantly, eyes scanning, body already shielding.
But then he saw it.
They weren't aiming at him.
They weren't aiming at Ansh.
Every muzzle—
every movement—
was aligned toward Sneha.
"Down!" Rayen shouted, pushing Ansh behind the bench.
Sneha froze for half a second—not from fear, but disbelief.
Me?
The first bullet grazed Rayen's shoulder as he stepped in front of her.
The second tore through his side.
Blood soaked into his shirt almost immediately.
And in that instant, Rayen's mind shattered.
Ridhima.
Her scream.
The explosion.
Her body collapsing while shielding Ansh.
Not again.
"I won't lose you," he growled through clenched teeth, positioning himself fully in front of Sneha now, his back toward the attackers, arms wide enough to shield both her and Ansh.
More shots.
Pain exploded through him—his ribs, his thigh.
Sneha screamed his name.
"Rayen!"
She tried to pull him back, but he wouldn't move.
"Don't touch me—stay behind me!" he barked, voice raw.
Ansh was crying now, shaking violently.
Sneha dropped to her knees beside him, wrapping one arm around the child while the other tried desperately to hold Rayen upright.
A man lunged toward her—too fast.
Rayen turned instantly, striking him hard—but the impact sent Rayen stumbling. His head slammed into the edge of the bench.
Blood poured down his forehead.
He swayed.
Another attacker rushed in.
Rayen stepped in front of Sneha again—
and took the blow meant for her.
This time, the world tilted.
Sneha saw it.
She saw his knees buckle.
Saw his vision blur.
And something inside her snapped.
She grabbed his phone from his pocket with shaking hands.
"Unlock it," she cried.
"Rayen, look at me—unlock it!"
He was barely conscious, breathing ragged.
"Sneha… Ansh…"
"Look at me!" she shouted, tears streaming. "You promised you won't die on me—unlock it!"
With trembling fingers, he unlocked the phone.
Sneha didn't hesitate.
She called his men.
She called the police.
She called the ambulance.
Her hands were slick with his blood.
Another gunshot rang out—this time it hit her side. Pain ripped through her, but she didn't scream. She just pulled Ansh tighter, shielding him with her body the way Rayen was shielding them.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
The attackers retreated, melting into chaos.
Rayen collapsed fully now, his head striking the ground, blood everywhere—gunshot wounds, blunt trauma, deep gashes.
Sneha cradled his face.
"Stay with me," she sobbed, forehead pressed to his.
"Please… I stayed. I didn't leave. Don't you dare leave me now."
Ansh clung to her, crying.
"Mama… Papa wake up…"
Sneha kissed Rayen's blood-soaked forehead, voice breaking.
Her tears fell onto his lips.
"Just breathe Rayen .
Please… just breathe."
And as the sirens grew louder, one truth burned painfully clear in both of them: