Aarzoo-Echoes of Wounded Heart

Prologue

They said Viren Jaisingh had everything a man could dream of. A sprawling empire built on his vision. Respect that stretched across boardrooms. Children who looked up to him like their world.

But the truth? He had built his empire on fractured foundations.

Two families. Two sets of children. And two women—one who loved him till her last breath, and another who loved him until she discovered the truth.

One glided with the light of his name, his empire,his wife and his three children-Arnav, Abhimaan and little Anvi

The other...hidden,fragile,forbidden. A woman who had loved him without even knowing his truth and a daughter -Avyuktha-whose first word has been silence.

The city lights shimmered like distant stars, indifferent to the lives buried beneath their glow. Viren Jaisingh sat alone in his study, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand, staring at the walls lined with accolades and photographs. Business, power, wealth—he had it all. And yet, for seven years, he had failed at the one thing that truly mattered: family.

"Papa... why didn't you come?" Arnav's young voice echoed in his mind. Memories of late nights, of rocking Abhimaan when he cried, of brushing Anvi's hair before bed—Viren had been there, sometimes, but never enough. He had been half a father, half a ghost, and the children had filled the void themselves. Arnav had become a parent to his younger siblings long before he had any right to; Anvi, the light in the shadows, guiding Abhimaan with a strength she had inherited from a father who was too busy to notice.

And then there was another world he had never seen.

In Sitara, a small home smelled of smoke and cold walls. A girl, fragile as porcelain but with the steel of a lifetime's pain in her spine, held a six-year-old boy close. "Shhh... Aarush, meri jaan... sab theek hoga," she whispered. Her mother had died giving birth to him, leaving Avyuktha to become both sister and mother. Every meal she shared with him, every bruise she endured for his safety, every sleepless night—her life was nothing but a series of sacrifices for him. And yet, despite the fear, despite the hunger, despite the darkness that surrounded them, she had survived.

And then the call came.

"Please... help them... or they won't survive. You have to act, now."

Two families. Two tragedies. One man.

Seven years ago...

A single newspaper headline had destroyed it all.

"Industrialist Virend Jaisingh spotted at family gala with wife and children."

The paper lay crumpled in Meera's trembling hand—his second wife, the woman who never knew she was second.

Her voice shook when she confronted him that night.

"You had... a wife? Children? All this time, Viren? And I... I was just—" her breath broke, "a shadow?"

"Meera, please, listen—"

But she had turned her face away, betrayal burning through her veins. "Don't. Don't you dare call me your wife again. From this moment... you are dead to me. And so are my children to you."

The doors closed that night. And Viren never saw Avyuktha again.

What he didn't know... was that Meera was carrying his second child.

Avyuktha learned too soon that the world was cruel. With every lie, every slap, every locked room, she built walls so high that no light entered. Her voice became silence. Her eyes, unreadable.