The Bullet cut through the morning traffic, Ari's arms loose around Ishaan's waist. The city smelled of diesel and fresh vadapav. At a long red light near the flyover, Ari rested her helmet against his back and spoke, voice muffled but clear enough.
Ari: "I'm sorry about Ma… the way she talks to you. Yesterday she spent twenty minutes telling me what a useless husband you've become (late nights, taxis, parties). Then twenty thousand rupees arrived and suddenly you're her favourite person on earth. It made me feel sick."
She swallowed. "I hate that money flips her like a switch."
Ishaan kept his eyes on the signal, but his voice was soft.
Ishaan: "Don't feel bad. If money keeps the peace and keeps you from hearing poison every day, then let money do its job. I have enough now. What matters is you. For you I'll earn more, fight more, do anything."
The light turned green. Ari's arms tightened around him; he felt the small shake of her shoulders and the warm wetness of a single tear soaking through his shirt. She pressed her cheek harder against his back.
Ari (barely audible): "Sorry… and thank you."
He dropped her at Legacy Construction at 8:27. She climbed off, adjusted her bag, gave him a quick, shy smile, and disappeared inside.
Ishaan pulled out his phone and dialled Niti.
Niti picked up on the second ring, voice bright.
Niti: "Bhai! If you're coming over I'm skipping college today. I'll wait at home."
Ishaan: "Be there in forty minutes."
He reached the new building in Mahim by 9:15. The watchman saluted; the lift still smelled of fresh paint. Madhura opened the door in a simple cotton saree, hair neatly tied, eyes softer than he remembered.
Madhura: "Come in, beta. Breakfast?"
Ishaan: "Just ate, Ma. I have a free morning. Thought I'd steal Niti for a few hours… and you too, if you'll come."
Niti bounded out of her room in jeans and a yellow kurti.
Niti: "Please, Ma! One day won't kill my attendance."
Madhura hesitated, then nodded. "Let me change."
Ten minutes later the three of them walked to the parking lot. Madhura handed Ishaan the keys to the silver Hyundai Verna (the car the uncles had taken after Rajesh's death, now legally hers again). Ishaan slid behind the wheel, Niti claimed shotgun, Madhura took the back.
First stop: Phoenix Palladium.
Niti's eyes went round the moment they entered the air-conditioned glow. Ishaan pressed a Debit card into her hand.
Ishaan: "Anything you like. No limit today."
She squealed, disappeared into Zara, came back loaded with bags (tops, dresses, sneakers, earrings, a watch with a pink strap). At the saree section she picked a deep maroon silk for Madhura.
Niti: "Ma, this colour will look beautiful on you."
Madhura touched the fabric, eyes glassy, but let Niti add it to the pile.
By 1 PM they were hungry. Ishaan drove to the restaurant on the mall's third floor (glass walls, soft music, white tablecloths). They took a corner table with a view of the atrium fountain. Niti chattered about college friends, Madhura listened with the small, rare smile she saved only for her children. Ishaan sat back and felt the old promise settle warm in his chest: Look after them. For the first time in years it didn't feel impossible.
Across the walkway, four college boys in expensive sneakers and louder voices occupied a table. Their eyes kept drifting over (first to Niti, then lingering on Madhura).
One of them, hair spiked with too much gel, spoke just loud enough to carry.
Guy 1: "Damn, that dude's living the dream. Sugar mommy on one side, little sister on the other."
Guy 2: "Some people hoard everything, bro. No sharing."
Guy 3 (laughing): "I'd swap places with him in a heartbeat. Morning, noon, night (paradise)."
Their laughter scraped across the restaurant like nails on glass.
Niti's smile vanished. She shrank in her seat, cheeks burning. Madhura's rare softness hardened into something brittle; her fingers tightened around the menu until the plastic cracked.
Ishaan rose slowly and calmly, his chair scraping back. Before his mother could speak, one of the four boys interrupted her. "Don't be a hero," he sneered. "I don't mind being a villain, and I am good at it."
The boys were still laughing at their own ridiculous remark when Ishaan's tall, silent shadow fell across their table. His expression gave nothing away.