Inside the grand Singhania Mansion, Abhimaan Singhania lazily scrolled through his phone, his fingers tapping idly as scattered photos of young women lay across the table. His usual pastime.
Across the room, his father, an old man burdened by time and secrets, sat in deep thought. His eyes fixated on his phone screen, rereading the same anonymous message:
"Your long-waited granddaughter attended the Holi party."
A restless sigh escaped his lips. That message had been enough to push him out of the mansion's shadows and into the lively chaos of the Holi celebration. He had gone in search of her, hoping for a glimpse, a clue—anything. But despite his efforts, there was no result. No girl, no certainty. Just another dead end.
Now, his youngest son had taken the matter into his own hands. Unlike his father, he was methodical, efficient.
With a determined look, he placed a USB drive on the table.
"I've gathered some videos and pictures from the party," he said.
Abhimaan looked up, finally interested. The old man's eyes flickered with a mix of hope and fear.
"Let's see if we finally have her."
Abhimaan plugged in the USB drive, his fingers drumming against the table as the files loaded. His father sat beside him, tension visible in his wrinkled hands. The screen flickered to life, showing images and videos of the Holi celebration—splashes of colors, laughter, and the vibrant chaos of the festival.
The investigation company had done its job thoroughly. A detailed report appeared on the screen, listing the names of attendees, their backgrounds, and solid proof of their identities. Abhimaan's eyes skimmed through the files until one name stood out—Mehendi Singhania.
His father leaned forward. "Who is she?"
"The daughter of our elder brother," the youngest son confirmed, scrolling through the collected proofs. Photos, birth certificates, and old records—everything aligned perfectly.
A stunned silence filled the room before the old man let out a shaky breath. His long-lost granddaughter. After all these years, there was finally a girl from their bloodline standing before them.
A smile touched his lips—warm, relieved. A part of their family had returned.
But the happiness was short-lived.
"We found her," Abhimaan muttered, eyes still fixed on the screen. "But there's nothing here about the one we truly lost."
The old man's smile faded. The granddaughter they had long searched for—the one whispered about in family secrets—was still missing, her trail as cold as ever.
Their joy was real, but incomplete.
Abhimaan leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the flickering screen. The proof was undeniable—Mehendi was their family's child. His elder brother's daughter. Yet, something didn't sit right.
He turned to his father, brows furrowed. "Sister-in-law was pregnant when she separated from Bhai." His voice held a hint of disbelief. "One thing is clear—they've been apart all these years, but not by law. They never divorced."
The old man remained silent, his fingers tracing the edge of his cane.
Abhimaan's frustration grew. "If they didn't want to be together, why didn't they just end it officially? What was the point of keeping this secret from Bhai?"
His father sighed, eyes distant, lost in memories too heavy to share. "Some relationships," he said slowly, "can neither be predicted nor explained. This is one of them."
Abhimaan studied his father's face, searching for answers, but found only weariness.
The past was complicated. Too many layers, too many unsaid words.
And yet, one thing was clear—if his elder brother had no idea about Mehendi.