As Yuvika stood, her tears glistening in the soft glow of the room, her grandmother's gaze fell to the delicate bracelet encircling Yuvika's wrist. The silver chain caught the faint moonlight streaming through the window, its charm gleaming as if imbued with its own quiet magic.
Her grandmother reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over the bracelet. "Do you see this, my child?" she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and a hint of solemnity. "This isn't just a gift. It's the bond that ties us together, even across the veil of life and death. As long as you wear it, you can call me—anytime, in any way. It is our connection, Yuvika, a bridge between our worlds."
Yuvika looked down at the bracelet, her fingers trembling as they traced its intricate design. The weight of its significance settled over her like a comforting cloak. She had always cherished it as a token of her grandmother's love, but now she understood it was so much more—a lifeline, a promise, a miracle.
She raised her tear-filled eyes to meet her grandmother's. "I promise," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm with resolve. "I will never lose it. Never."
Her grandmother smiled, a radiant expression that seemed to illuminate the room. "Good," she said gently, cupping Yuvika's cheek in her ghostly hand. "This bracelet will keep us connected, no matter what. And remember, my child, I am only ever a call away. You are never alone, not while I am here."
Yuvika felt a renewed sense of purpose wash over her, mingling with the lingering sorrow in her heart. She clasped the bracelet tightly, her promise reverberating in her mind like an oath etched into her very soul.
"I won't forget, Grandma," she said, her voice steadier now, her tears slowing. "I'll keep you close, always."
Her grandmother's smile deepened, a blend of pride and affection. "That's my Yuvika," she said softly, her voice carrying the same warmth that had soothed Yuvika through her darkest days.
In that moment, Yuvika knew, despite the impossibility of their reunion, that she had been gifted something extraordinary—her grandmother's enduring love, unbroken even by the boundaries of mortality.
....
In the heart of their sprawling luxury apartment, Nikhil sat alone in the opulent living room, his mind spiraling in a relentless loop of frustration and disbelief. The space was a picture of modern grandeur—gleaming marble floors, towering glass windows that framed the city skyline, and furniture upholstered in the finest fabrics. Yet, despite the splendor around him, Nikhil's face was dark with resentment.
He leaned forward on the plush leather sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers tightly interlocked as if trying to physically contain the storm of emotions brewing inside him. His mother's last will played on repeat in his mind, each word a sharp reminder of what he had lost—or rather, what he had failed to gain.
All the properties. All the wealth. The company shares. They now belonged to Yuvika. His own daughter.
The thought soured in his mouth like bile. How could his mother have done this? How could she have overlooked him, her own son, in favor of Yuvika? He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, the veins on his temple throbbing with suppressed anger.
From the adjoining room, Soniya's voice called out, its tone light but laced with a calculated sharpness. She soon appeared, her stilettos clicking against the polished floor. Draped in an elegant designer gown, her every detail—from the pristine manicure on her hands to the glittering diamond necklace around her neck—spoke of wealth and extravagance.
She approached Nikhil, her perfectly shaped brows knitting together in feigned concern as she took a seat beside him. "You're still stewing over the will, aren't you?" she asked, her voice smooth yet probing.
Nikhil shot her a glare but said nothing, his jaw tightening.
Soniya leaned in closer, her perfume filling the space between them. "I mean, it's outrageous, isn't it?" she continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "Everything—everything—going to Yuvika? And what do we get? Scraps. Fifteen percent of the shares? A joke."
Her words were like gasoline on an already roaring fire. Nikhil's fists unclenched, only to grip the edge of the sofa with renewed intensity. "She's just a child," he muttered, his voice low but seething. "She doesn't know the first thing about running a business. All that wealth, all those responsibilities—it should've been mine. I built half of it with my own hands."
Soniya smirked subtly, satisfied that her words were striking their mark. "Exactly," she agreed, her voice turning sharper. "Your mother was blind to the sacrifices you've made, to everything you've done for this family. And now, she expects Yuvika to handle it all? It's absurd."
Nikhil let out a bitter laugh, his frustration boiling over. "She trusted a child over her own son," he spat. "Over me. What was she thinking?"
Soniya placed a manicured hand on his arm, her touch light but insistent. "She underestimated you," she said softly, though her words carried a sinister undertone. "But you don't have to let this slide. You've worked too hard for everything to be taken away from you. Yuvika doesn't deserve it—she can't even comprehend what she's been handed."
Nikhil stared at her, his expression darkening as her words sank in. His anger, simmering beneath the surface, was now teetering on the edge of eruption.
"You're right," he said after a long pause, his voice grim. "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
Soniya's lips curled into a satisfied smile as she leaned back against the sofa, crossing her legs elegantly. "That's more like it," she purred.
As the city lights glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the luxury of the apartment seemed cold and uninviting—a stark contrast to the fire of resentment burning within its walls.