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The sun rose slowly over the village, casting a soft golden light across the rooftops and fields. Birds sang gently, and the wind carried the smell of morning dew and blooming flowers. It was peaceful—something Chirag hadn't felt in years.
He opened his eyes to find himself lying in a warm bed, the sunlight peeking through the wooden window. For a moment, he didn't move. He just lay there, listening to the quiet sounds of life outside and the steady breathing of someone beside him.
Siya.
She slept next to him, her hand still resting over his chest, as if guarding his heart even in dreams. Her silver hair glowed in the morning light, and a small smile played on her lips.
Chirag couldn't help but smile too.
This moment—this calm, this safety—was something he had never dreamed he would have again.
He gently moved her hand and got up, walking to the window. He looked outside and saw children playing, old villagers watering their plants, and shopkeepers opening their stores.
The same village that once threw him out now smiled because of him.
"Strange, isn't it?" Siya's voice came from the bed, sleepy but warm.
Chirag turned to her. "What?"
"How peace feels after a storm."
He chuckled and sat beside her. "It feels... unreal."
Siya reached for his hand. "It's real now. We made it real."
They sat in silence for a while, just holding each other. There was no need for words. Everything they had been through—the pain, the loss, the battles, the blood—it all brought them here.
But Chirag's heart still held questions. His journey hadn't ended. Not really.
Later that morning, the village gathered in the central square. A small celebration had been arranged—not grand or flashy, but sincere. Villagers decorated the square with simple flowers, and a long wooden table was filled with homemade food.
Chirag and Siya arrived together, hand in hand.
Everyone stood up, clapping and smiling. The head of the village—now older, and no longer the same cruel man—stepped forward.
"Chirag," he began, voice shaking slightly, "I speak for all of us when I say... we failed you. Years ago, we turned away a child who needed love. We feared what we didn't understand. And because of that, we nearly lost everything. But today, we see clearly. You are our protector. Our miracle. And Siya—your courage and sacrifice gave us a second chance. We owe you both our lives."
The crowd nodded, many wiping tears from their eyes.
Siya looked at Chirag, and he gave a small nod.
He stepped forward and spoke, his voice steady but kind.
"I don't ask you to forget what happened. I don't want you to pretend it didn't hurt. But I do ask you to remember something else: that anyone can change. That love can rebuild what hate destroys."
There was silence for a moment, and then loud applause broke out.
Children ran up to Chirag and Siya with flower crowns and placed them on their heads. It was a sign of deep respect in their culture—something once reserved for warriors or wise elders.
Siya knelt down to hug the children, while Chirag simply smiled.
Later, as the celebration quieted, Chirag walked to the edge of the village and sat beneath a tall tree. He looked at the horizon, the sky clear and wide.
Siya followed him.
"You're thinking again," she said, sitting beside him.
"I guess I still feel like something's missing."
She looked at him gently. "What is it?"
"I became so strong, Siya. So powerful. I can't help wondering… was that power really meant for me? Or did I just take it because I was angry?"
Siya was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Maybe it doesn't matter how you got it. What matters is what you do with it now."
Chirag nodded slowly. "Then maybe I should use it to protect others. To make sure no one else suffers like we did."
"You don't have to carry that weight alone," she said, holding his hand. "We'll do it together."
Chirag looked at her. "Always?"
She smiled. "Always."
They sat there under the tree, watching the wind move through the grass.
Behind them, life in the village went on—calm, beautiful, hopeful.
And for the first time in his life, Chirag wasn't running from something. He wasn't chasing power or revenge.
He was simply building a future.
A new chapter.
A new beginning.
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