Chapter 17: A Father’s Test
The days after that unforgettable temple night drifted by quietly, yet something subtle had changed in Niyati’s world. Her routine remained the same — work, responsibilities, endless to-do lists — but somewhere between the hours, she had begun to smile more often. The heaviness that once lingered in her eyes had softened. Vansh had unknowingly become the reason behind it.
They met often now — sometimes under the excuse of work, sometimes without a reason at all. On one gentle Sunday evening, they found themselves at a small café near the river. The soft lights danced across the water, a slow tune played in the background, and the air smelled faintly of coffee and rain. Between casual talks and quiet laughter, time seemed to fold itself into moments neither wanted to end.
From the other side of life’s stillness, someone else had been noticing these changes — Niyati’s father. For years, he had seen his daughter carry a strength far beyond her age. He had watched her swallow her tears, hide her emotions, and live for everyone else. She had forgotten how to be young, how to be carefree. But lately… there was light in her eyes again. A softness in her tone. And as any father would, he understood what that meant — she had begun to find joy again, and that joy had a name. Vansh.
That night, while Niyati was busy writing in her diary, her father sat quietly on the balcony, lost in thought. The moon had risen, pale and gentle, over the rooftops. He held his cup of tea for a long time before making a decision that came from both love and worry.
He picked up his phone, dialed a number, and spoke with calm authority.
“Beta, can you come home for tea tomorrow evening? Just you. Don’t tell Niyati. I want to have a word with you.”
Vansh was surprised. The message felt serious, but the tone was warm. The next evening, he arrived a few minutes early, dressed neatly, his usual confidence softened by nervousness. Niyati’s father welcomed him with his characteristic politeness, offering a smile that carried both affection and testing curiosity.
They settled on the balcony, where the sunset poured golden light across the garden. The air smelled of jasmine and wet earth. Between them sat two cups of tea, the steam rising like quiet thoughts waiting to be spoken.
After a long pause, her father broke the silence.
“Vansh, I’m glad you came. I wanted to talk to you… about Niyati.”
Vansh’s fingers tightened around his cup. He didn’t interrupt; he simply listened.
Her father’s eyes reflected pride and pain — two emotions that only a parent truly understands.
“My daughter,” he began, “has seen more storms than most people face in a lifetime. Since her mother passed, she has been the pillar of this house. I’ve seen her bury her own dreams for others. She never complained, never demanded anything for herself. But recently, I’ve noticed something different — a smile that comes from somewhere deeper. That smile returns only when you are around.”
His words landed like waves — gentle, but impossible to ignore. Vansh lowered his eyes respectfully.
“I don’t know what lies between you two,” her father continued softly, “but I need to ask you one thing as a father, not as her guardian or as your senior. What do you truly feel for my daughter?”
The question carried weight, but Vansh didn’t hesitate for long. He met the elder man’s gaze and spoke with quiet honesty.
“Sir… I have the utmost respect for Niyati. She’s someone who inspires me — her strength, her kindness, her silence that hides oceans of stories. Yes, I do have feelings for her. Deep ones. But I haven’t told her, because I don’t want to add pressure to her life. She’s been through enough already. I only wish to be someone she can count on, without expectation.”
There was sincerity in his tone that couldn’t be rehearsed. Her father listened carefully, observing every pause, every word. He had met many people in his life — he knew when truth spoke. And Vansh’s truth was clear.
After a moment, Vansh continued, his voice steady but emotional.
“If you trust me, sir, I promise that I’ll never walk away from her — not in joy, not in sorrow. Whatever life brings, I’ll stand beside her. She deserves a love that never makes her feel alone again.”
A hush settled between them, carried by the soft rustling of leaves and the fading light. For a while, neither spoke. Then Niyati’s father exhaled slowly, his face relaxing into a faint smile. He reached out, placed a hand on Vansh’s shoulder, and said quietly,
“That’s all a father hopes to hear — not big promises, just steady faith. I can see that your feelings are real. Don’t rush her; she’s learning to trust life again. When the right time comes, let her know what’s in your heart. She deserves a love that makes her feel safe.”
Vansh nodded, humbled and grounded. He rose, touched the elder’s feet, and thanked him — not just for the conversation, but for the faith it carried. As he stepped out into the twilight, the air around him felt different.
The talk hadn’t been a test of love — it had been a moment of acceptance. A quiet bridge built between two hearts that both cared for the same person in different ways.
As Vansh walked away, a soft smile curved his lips. He knew one thing for certain — this wasn’t just the beginning of a love story. It was the beginning of a promise, one that could heal the parts of Niyati that had long been silent.
And somewhere inside the house, unaware of what had transpired, Niyati looked out of her window, wondering why the evening sky felt more peaceful than usual — as if something unspoken had finally found its way home.
