Dil Ka Safar or Arranged in Ashes

A private jet touched down at the executive terminal, engines settling into silence as evening approached. Inside the terminal's exclusive waiting area, Arshad Sivra stood with his wife Zoya, both watching the private jet bridge with anticipation.

Shayan emerged first, walking steady after the long flight. Juya slept on his shoulder, dark curls spilling over his white shirt. Aniya guided Shaan her younger brother down the bridge, her small hand holding his. Nashita followed, carrying the grace she'd shown since the family's loss two years ago.

"Careful with the step," Shayan cautioned, his voice pitched low.

His oldest daughter lifted her chin, showing the family's good manners. "I'm watching him, Baba."

The family's steps echoed across the shiny floor of the terminal. Security guards kept their distance, watching but staying back in their dark suits.

"Welcome home, son." Arshad's voice filled the space between them.

"Father," Shayan said, holding still to not wake Juya. "Mother."

Zoya stepped forward, tears in her eyes. "Dadi!" Aniya forgot all her grown-up manners and ran to her grandmother, pulling her brother along. Their grandmother hugged them both while Juya stirred on her father's shoulder.

"My darlings," the older woman murmured, pressing gentle kisses to their foreheads, her silk dupatta rustling softly. She reached for her youngest grandchild, but the toddler turned her face into her father's neck, small fingers gripping his shirt.

Zoya nodded, understanding in her eyes. Shayan's hand moved in small circles on his daughter's back until her grip loosened, sleep claiming her again.

"Welcome home again." His father's hand settled on his son's shoulder, his stern features softening at the scene before him.

"You must be exhausted." His mother straightened, keeping one arm around Aniya. Her attention shifted to the teenager who had maintained her quiet position nearby. "And you, looking after them so well during the flight."

Nashita smiled. "They were very good, Aunty."

"The cars are ready." The patriarch's voice carried its usual authority, though his hand remained on his son's shoulder. "We've prepared everything at home."

The four-year-old boy tugged at his grandmother's silk sleeve. "Dadi, can I show you my new airplane?"

"Of course, beta, once we're home." She smoothed his travel-mussed hair. "Your rooms are all ready."

The family moved toward the exit in natural formation. Father and son led, speaking in low tones. Behind them, their grandmother guided the older children while the teenager walked alongside, posture perfect despite the journey.

Security flanked their path to the waiting cars. Evening air carried summer warmth, city lights beginning to twinkle.

The sleeping child stirred on her father's shoulder but didn't lift her head. His hand moved in small circles on her back, settling her.

Three black vehicles waited in formation. Drivers stood at attention while staff loaded the last car.

"We'll ride together." Arshad gestured to the middle vehicle. "Take the children in the first car with their grandmother."

"I want to stay with Baba." The boy's voice carried his exhaustion.

"The children should rest properly for the drive." His grandfather's tone remained firm.

Nashita stepped forward, offering her hand. "Come, I'll tell you about the new toys in your room."

Their grandmother opened the car door. "Your cousin Zeeshan picked them specially."

The father transferred his sleeping daughter with careful movements. After settling the children, the adults moved to their car.

"Everything is prepared," the older man spoke. "We'll discuss matters after you rest."

His son gave a single nod. The convoy pulled into evening traffic, heading home.

 ***

Night pressed against the windows of the wood-paneled office. The heir to Azaren Energy bent over the documents, his jersey pajamas rustling with each movement. The leather chair creaked beneath him - the same chair he'd abandoned five years ago when he chose love over family tradition.

Across the room, his father observed. Family photos adorned a shelf—newer portraits of small faces mingling with older ones, capturing frozen smiles and tender moments. "The Singapore expansion." The older man's finger struck the paper. "Your absence cost us time."

"Moving back from abroad isn't simple." Weariness roughened Shayan's voice. "The children needed time to say goodbye to everything they knew." His finger tapped the market projection. "But now we'll restructure. Bring in fresh perspectives. The eastern sector's numbers prove it."

Arshad poured tamarind juice, spices perfuming the air. Crystal glasses caught warm lamplight, amber liquid glowing inside. Both sat untouched. "The competitors' proposals?"

"Predictable." A dismissive hand swept across the analysis. ''We'll outpace them next quarter."

Numbers and projections filled the quiet between them, broken only by the whisper of turning pages and the low hum of air conditioning. The head of the Sivra family closed the Singapore portfolio and studied the amber liquid. Beyond the windows, Delhi's lights dotted the horizon past their shadowed grounds.

"The children handled the flight well."

The pen stilled over market reports. "They're used to airports by now."

"Juya wouldn't let anyone else near her at the airport." Arshad's voice softened. "She even turned away when her grandmother offered to hold her."

The mention pulled the younger man's gaze from the papers. His father rose and moved to the window, leaving his untouched drink behind. "She needs stability," he said. "They all do."

"They have it," came the firm reply.

"A household needs proper management. The children need more than just their father's attention."

From his seat, Shayan studied his father's reflection, noting the careful way he stood with hands clasped behind his back. Business papers lay forgotten on the desk, family photos drawing the eye in the warm light.

"Their aunt tries, but she's still a child herself." The elder turned, each word weighted. "It's time to consider more permanent arrangements."

''….''

"The Vasant was interesting today." He returned to his desk with measured steps. "Had lunch with an old friend. We discussed our companies, our legacy."

His son lifted the glass, the spiced drink sharp on his tongue.

"His daughter has done remarkably well." The father's tone stayed casual. "Completed her medical studies. A soon-to-be pediatrician at Prakash Medical Institute. Quite accomplished for her age." He studied his untouched drink. "The kind of professional achievement our family values."

The wall clock marked time. Something in the elder's tone made the younger man's fingers tighten around the crystal.

"The children deserve more than what they have now—structure, guidance, a real home," came the deliberate words.

Shayan's glass struck the desk.

"Rimsha Verjani." Arshad's voice dropped. "Remember?" His eyes cut into his son.

His jaw tightened. The scene flashed back—crystal glasses glinting, elaborate flower arrangements, his mother directing servants with practiced grace. Then his entrance with Dilisha, their announcement shattering that perfect evening.

"I remember everything, Baba."

"She was to be your bride then. And you..." The older man's jaw clenched and relaxed. "Everything happens in its own time, according to God's will."

"Another arranged meeting?" he asked, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "So, the Vasant lunch wasn't just business after all."

"Life gives second chances—both for alliances and for your children," Arshad replied, leaning forward. "But you still need to prove yourself. The Board of Directors and I need assurance of your reliability." His gaze sharpened. "The Verjani name still carries weight. And she's single, focused on her career... a doctor."

The clock ticked between them. Behind his eyes, Shayan saw Aniya testing boundaries, Shaan seeking direction, Juya's fingers clutching his sleeve. "Does she agree?"

"She won't refuse, with the right... approach."

"That doesn't quite answer my question." His voice stayed calm. "A woman of her status?" Now his tone hardened. "Accepting the man who rejected her for another woman—and now comes with three children?"

"You think too much." His father waved a hand, his eyes steady on him. "Are you willing?"

"I'll consider it." Shayan's fingers pressed against his neck. "But I need to know she accepts my children first." His eyes locked with his father's.

The older man stood, a faint smile on his lips. "Duty often speaks louder than the heart."

"I'll have the papers prepared." His voice was as firm as when discussing Singapore. "Review them tomorrow, after you've rested."