Ghosh took out his car and drove straight to the headquarters of RAI.
After reaching there, he headed directly to Venkatesh's boss's cabin.
---
SP Satyamurti
A legendary officer.
A man who had executed countless dangerous missions in his time—missions whose stories were still told among agents as sources of inspiration.
Now, he was the head of RAI, an intelligence wing operating under RAW's jurisdiction.
He was also Venkatesh's boss.
Physically, he still looked broad-shouldered and powerful. Time had turned his hair and beard white, but when it came to fitness, he could still outmatch men half his age.
---
SP Satyamurti was seated in his cabin, working on his computer, when Ghosh entered.
"Good afternoon, sir," Ghosh said.
Satyamurti looked up with a hint of surprise.
"Ghosh? What brings you here?"
Ghosh got straight to the point.
"Sir, I want to know where Venkatesh is."
SP let out a deep sigh.
"He's in critical condition. Hospitalized. On the way back to headquarters, his convoy was ambushed."
Ghosh clenched his jaw.
"Wasim mentioned it too… that Venkatesh would be attacked."
SP nodded slowly, then asked,
"What about his family? Are they safe?"
"Yes, sir," Ghosh replied.
"I've kept them at the headquarters for now."
He hesitated for a moment before asking,
"But should we inform them about Venkatesh's condition?"
SP shook his head calmly.
"Let Venkatesh explain it himself. It'll be better coming from him."
After a pause, he added,
"And as for his hospitalization—his son already knows."
Ghosh gave a faint smile.
"Aarav is extremely sharp-minded. Just like his father. Maybe you should consider recruiting him someday."
SP chuckled lightly.
"Yeah… maybe in the future."
Ghosh then pulled out a pistol and placed it on the table.
"This is Venki's gun."
---
A Few Hours Later – Military Hospital
Slowly… Venkatesh opened his eyes.
For a few moments, everything appeared blurred.
Sounds echoed vaguely in his ears.
Then, gradually, his vision and hearing began to clear.
The first thing he saw was SK—grinning, waving his hand right in front of his face.
"Hello, Shastri! Can you see me? Shastri? Shastri?" SK said loudly.
Venkatesh tried to speak and motioned weakly for SK to come closer.
When SK leaned in, Venkatesh muttered in a faint voice,
"Yes… I can see you. I can hear you too. BSDK… stop shouting."
SK exploded.
"Damn it! I've been worried sick about you, and the first thing you do after waking up is curse at me?!"
Venkatesh smirked weakly.
"BSDK… didn't I tell you to go back to Delhi?"
A few hours earlier—after speaking to Aarav at the airport—Venkatesh had told him,
"SK, do one thing. Go back to Mumbai and handle everything there."
SK snapped back angrily,
"What the hell, man?!"
Even in pain…
Even on a hospital bed…
Venkatesh Shastri was still Venkatesh Shastri.
Present Time
Venkatesh looked at SK again and asked in a low voice,
"Is everyone okay? Did they reach headquarters safely?"
SK nodded.
"Yes. They're safe. Ghosh has kept them at his department's headquarters."
Venkatesh's eyes sharpened.
"And what about Wasim?"
SK exhaled slowly.
"He escaped. Managed to get away. We're searching for him right now."
Venkatesh let out a short, cold laugh.
"Run? Where will he run? In the end, he'll have to come back here—"
Suddenly, something struck him.
His expression changed.
He grabbed SK's wrist and said quietly but firmly,
"Listen… this has to stay between us."
SK frowned.
"What is it?"
Venkatesh's voice dropped to a whisper.
"I think there's a traitor among us. Someone is leaking our information to the enemy."
SK stiffened, then shook his head.
"Venki, what are you talking about? Who could that even be?"
He tried to sound calm.
"Just rest. You took a hit on the head—maybe it's messing with your judgment."
Venkatesh snapped, irritation flashing in his eyes.
"Hey! I'm perfectly fine."
He leaned forward despite the pain.
"Just think about it. How did they know our plans? Our movement? Our timing?"
The room fell silent.
And for the first time…
SK didn't have an answer.
Silence lingered in the room for a few seconds.
Then Venkatesh spoke.
"I have a plan."
---
Elsewhere, Shakshi's patience had completely worn out.
She had already called Venkatesh multiple times. Every attempt ended the same way—out of reach. With growing frustration, she finally dialed SK's number.
After a few tense rings, the call connected.
"SK," she asked immediately, not bothering with greetings, "where is Venkatesh?"
SK hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"He's… busy right now. I'll have him call you back."
"No," Shakshi snapped. "Give him the phone. Right now. I need to talk to him."
SK looked toward Venkatesh.
Venkatesh extended his hand without a word.
SK handed him the phone.
The moment Venkatesh spoke—
"Hello—"
"Where are you?" Shakshi fired back instantly. "Do you have any idea how many times I've called you? I've been calling since morning!"
Venkatesh lowered his voice instinctively.
"Yeah… sorry. I was a little busy."
---
In another room of the same building, Aarav sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed, his posture calm and deliberate—perfect meditation form.
Kirti sat nearby, watching him.
In her head, she had already labeled him an idiot. A drama king. An overacting specialist.
But for now, she stayed quiet.
Aarav had already told her and Shakshi about Afzal and Wasim—about their involvement, about the danger. He had deliberately left out one crucial truth: his father's real job. And the deeper reason why all of this was happening.
Kirti didn't seem to care much. Afzal had never been that important to her anyway.
But Aarav wasn't acting.
Not this time.
Ever since that blue screen message had appeared before his eyes, something inside him had changed. It felt as if an invisible thread—something that had bound him for years—had snapped.
As if shackles he never knew existed had finally broken.
That was why he was meditating.
Trying to feel his power.
Trying to understand what had been unlocked.
An hour passed.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
And then—
Aarav was no longer aware of his body.
In his inner consciousness, he was floating in a vast, endless darkness. An infinite internal space—silent, cold, and boundless, like a private universe hidden deep within his soul.
Something ancient stirred there.
And whatever had been sealed for years…
was beginning to wake up.
Kirti had been watching Aarav for a long time.
Too long.
Slowly, she stepped closer and reached her hand toward him—
And suddenly—
Aarav opened his eyes.
Kirti jolted back instantly, her heart skipping a beat.
"Hey! Are you trying to scare me or what?" she snapped, irritation masking her shock.
Aarav sighed.
Watching her exaggerated reaction, he silently labeled her low IQ and hopelessly stupid in his head.
Kirti caught the look on his face immediately.
"Oye, duffer!" she burst out. "I was just startled, okay?"
Then her tone shifted.
The anger faded, replaced by something heavier.
"…What do you think is going to happen to Mom?"
Aarav looked at her.
"Are you worried?"
"Of course I'm worried," Kirti said quickly. "Didn't you hear what that officer Ghosh said? He talked about interrogating her. What if they blame Mom for all of this?"
Aarav placed his hand gently on her head.
"Don't worry," he said calmly. "Nothing will happen to her."
Kirti's eyes suddenly filled with tears.
Before Aarav could react, she hugged him tightly.
"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry for everything."
The guilt she had been carrying finally broke free.
When she had found out about her mother's affair, instead of stopping it—or telling Dad—she had supported it. She had helped her just to go on dates with Afzal.
And now, everything was falling apart.
Aarav didn't say anything.
He simply stayed still, gently patting her head, letting her cry it out.
---
Elsewhere—
Shakshi asked in a trembling voice,
"Who is this Wasim? How did Harry suddenly become Wasim? What is really going on?"
"Don't lie, One of the army officers said
You already know everything."
Venkatesh took a deep breath.
Then he spoke.
"Wasim is a terrorist," he said quietly. "He surfaced a few years ago. His objective is the destruction of India."
Shakshi fell silent.
Deep in thought.
After a moment, she asked,
"Then why did he meet me pretending to be Harry?"
"We don't know that yet," Venkatesh replied. "But he definitely had a purpose."
"But why me?" Shakshi asked. "What do I have to do with any of this?"
Venkatesh closed his eyes briefly.
Then he decided to tell the truth.
"They weren't after you," he said. "They wanted revenge on me."
Shakshi froze.
"Revenge? On you? Why? You're just an office employee."
Venkatesh shook his head.
"That was a lie. I'm not an office employee."
He looked straight ahead.
"I work in intelligence. I'm part of Research and Analysis Wing."
Shakshi's breath caught.
In a barely audible voice, she asked,
"You mean… India's secret intelligence agency?"
"RAW."
Venkatesh answered with a single word.
"Yes."
Shakshi's shock turned into anger.
"So everything happening in my life," she said bitterly, "is because of you."
Venkatesh didn't argue.
"Yes," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry. For everything."
There was a brief silence.
Then Shakshi spoke, clear and cold.
"I want a divorce."
The call disconnected.
Venkatesh stared at the phone screen and exhaled slowly.
"Well… there goes the marriage."
SK immediately tried to lighten the mood.
"Forget it, yaar. Come on—let's drink."
Just then, a doctor walked in and said dryly,
"Why don't you take a little poison along with it?"
SK's mouth snapped shut instantly.
The doctor was a beautiful woman, around twenty-six or twenty-eight years old.
SK recovered quickly, flashing a sheepish smile.
"I was just joking," he said, smoothly switching to flirt mode. "I don't drink every day. Only occasionally. You know… a little alcohol is good for health, they say."
The doctor raised an eyebrow.
Venkatesh closed his eyes.
And somewhere deep inside the hospital walls—
Every story was quietly beginning to fracture.
The doctor ignored SK completely.
Glancing through Venkatesh's medical reports, she said calmly,
"Your body is healing unusually fast. If everything continues like this, you can be discharged in two days."
Venkatesh offered a faint smile.
"Thank you, doctor."
She nodded once and walked out without another word.
The moment she left, Venkatesh turned to SK.
"Call the team. All operations will be handled from here. Set up everything."
SK nodded immediately.
Within minutes, the hospital room began to transform.
Equipment was brought in. Screens were installed. A large board was fixed directly in front of Venkatesh's bed. One by one, photographs, documents, and newspaper clippings were pinned onto it.
Maps. Faces. Names.
After some time, the setup was complete.
A man entered the room, saluted Venkatesh sharply, and pointed at the map on the board.
"This is Sultanpur," he began. "The village chief here is Altaaf."
His finger tapped a marked name.
"He's the biggest landlord in the region. He has strong connections with political leaders in Kashmir. In short—he's a man with influence."
The finger moved again.
"Maksood is his cousin. During the India–Pakistan partition, one part of the family stayed in India while the other went to Pakistan. Different countries—but they've maintained contact ever since."
He paused.
"In two days, Altaaf's daughter is getting married."
"And Maksood is invited."
Venkatesh's eyes sharpened.
"And according to our intelligence," he said, "there's going to be a meeting at this wedding. Related to an upcoming terrorist attack."
"Yes, sir," the man confirmed. "We can monitor them from this location."
He pointed to a hill just outside the village on the map.
Venkatesh raised a hand, stopping him.
"One minute. What do you mean monitor from outside? Can't we enter the village?"
The man shook his head.
"No, sir. The locals are already hostile. If police or army personnel enter the village, it could trigger a violent reaction. The entire area is classified as a red zone."
Silence settled over the room.
Venkatesh asked sarcastically,
"So what—are we supposed to stand outside and magically figure out what's happening inside the meeting?"
The man said nothing.
Venkatesh exhaled sharply.
"We'll have to go inside. That's the only way this works."
The man hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"If that's the case… there's only one officer who can help us."
Venkatesh looked up.
"Who?"
Before the man could answer, SK spoke.
"Suman Tiwari."
For a brief moment, Venkatesh froze.
Just for a second.
Then his expression hardened.
"Find another plan."
SK sighed. He had expected this reaction.
He knew exactly why Venkatesh reacted that way to the name.
Suman Tiwari.
Forty years old.
Exceptionally dangerous.
Razor-sharp intelligence.
She was, in every sense, the female version of Venkatesh.
Beautiful—but deadly. The kind of woman whose looks could disarm you long before her mind destroyed you. Even at forty, she looked no older than twenty-eight.
Once upon a time, she and Venkatesh had been partners. Field partners. Equals.
There had been something more too—something unspoken. Venkatesh had liked her. Maybe more than he ever admitted.
Then something happened.
No one knew what.
They stopped talking. Completely.
They never met again.
Twenty-two years had passed since then—and Venkatesh had spent every one of those years avoiding her name.
SK cleared his throat.
"Bro… I forgot to mention something."
Venkatesh glanced at him.
"She's already part of this mission team."
Venkatesh stared at SK for a moment.
Then, after processing the information, he immediately picked up his phone and dialed his boss.
The call connected.
SP Satyamurti answered cheerfully,
"Arey Venky! How are you now?"
Venkatesh replied coldly,
"Forget 'how are you.' Why didn't you tell me earlier that Suman is part of this mission?"
On the other end, Satyamurti chuckled lightly.
"Now, now—don't thank me."
Venkatesh's jaw tightened.
"Suman is the best officer I could find," Satyamurti continued casually. "She's been operating in that area for almost two years. Knows the terrain, the people, everything."
Then, with unmistakable amusement, he added,
"And you two have some… history, don't you? Old romance and all."
"Enjoy, my boy."
The call disconnected.
Venkatesh stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, completely silent.
SK looked at him.
"Brother… what's the real problem?"
Venkatesh muttered under his breath,
"She's trouble. The dangerous kind."
Just then—
A sharp, familiar female voice cut through the room.
"Really?"
Venkatesh stiffened.
Slowly, he turned toward the sound.
Standing at the doorway—
Calm. Confident. Unapologetic.
Was Suman Tiwari.
And just like that—
The past, which Venkatesh had avoided for twenty-two years,
had finally caught up with him.