Originally posted by: Aleyamma47
Chapter 10
A Storm at the Sakhujas'
After severing all remaining ties with his former life, Pritam shifted permanently into the Sakhuja household. But peace remained elusive. The battle over Rahul's custody with Vishaka only grew uglier. Tired of the legal tug-of-war and desperate to protect his son from further trauma, Pritam finally made a bold move—he took Rahul from Vishaka's house and brought him to the Sakhujas.
His sudden arrival with the boy left the entire Sakhuja family bewildered. Whispers floated around the breakfast table, eyes followed Pritam's every move, but he refused to answer a single question about Rahul's identity. His silence only deepened the mystery.
Unfortunately, secrets don't stay buried for long—especially in a tightly-knit mohalla.
Soon, curious murmurs turned into loud accusations. Neighbours, suspicious and self-righteous, began questioning Pritam's intentions. Rumours escalated—some claimed he was a fugitive, others insisted he had kidnapped the boy. Wherever Pritam went, prying eyes and pointed fingers followed.
One day, as Pritam stepped out with Rahul to buy groceries, the residents surrounded him like vultures. Their taunts were cruel, their tone accusatory.
"Whose child is this, haan?"
"What kind of man hides a child from everyone?"
"Kidnapper! Have some shame!"Rahul trembled in fear, clutching Pritam's shirt tightly, his little face contorted with terror. Pritam tried to calm him, shielding him from the onslaught of voices. But nothing worked.
Something inside Pritam snapped.
"Bas karo sab ke sab!" he roared, silencing the crowd. His voice thundered across the lane. "Shut up, all of you! I'm not a kidnapper—I'm IPS Pritam Choudhary!" he shouted, his voice heavy with raw pain, pointing at Rahul. "And this boy... this child... is my son!"
A stunned silence fell.
Gasps escaped. Eyes widened. Mouths fell open.
Nobody moved as Pritam scooped up a sobbing Rahul in his arms and walked silently back into the Sakhuja house. He climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavy with heartbreak, and once inside, slammed the door shut with finality.
Downstairs, the Sakhuja men stepped forward, condemning the mohalla's actions. "Shame on you all!" Sukhbir scolded. "You call yourselves neighbours? Is this how you treat someone who's done nothing but help this family?"
Despite the warning, the gossip mill didn't stop. And it wasn't long before word reached Vishaka.
The Past Comes Knocking
Days later, Vishaka stormed into the Sakhuja residence unannounced. Her eyes scanned the house furiously until they landed on Pritam.
"What are you doing here?" Pritam snapped, anger rising. "Get out before I lose my patience."
Before anyone could intervene, Amrita—pregnant and ever empathetic—stepped forward. "Pritam, calm down. She's a mother too. Let her speak. Maybe... maybe she just wants to see her son."
Her kindness, however, became a fatal mistake.
A Mother's Wrath, A Lover's Despair
The very next morning, Vishaka unleashed chaos.
Hired goons barged into the Sakhuja home, tearing apart furniture, shoving family members, and demanding the child. Pritam fought valiantly, but the men were many, and their plan, vicious.
One of them grabbed Amrita, pressing a gun to her temple.
"ACP Pritam Choudhary!" he sneered. "You want this woman and her unborn child alive? Then hand over Rahul—now."
The Sakhujas broke down in panic. "Pritam, save her!" Nimrat cried. "That child is our zindagi!"
Fuelled by desperation and rage, Pritam launched a counterattack. He managed to disarm the man threatening Amrita and shielded her in time. But in the chaos that followed, a single gunshot rang out.
Time slowed.
Pritam and Vishaka turned sharply—only to see Rahul clutching his chest, blood blooming like a red rose against his shirt.
"No!" they screamed in unison.
Rahul stumbled backward, gasping for breath, his tiny hand reaching out. By the time they reached him, it was too late. His eyes fluttered shut, his chest still.
Their world stopped.
Vishaka collapsed beside her son, cradling his lifeless body, wailing as though trying to call his soul back.
Pritam didn't move. He knelt silently, eyes fixed on Rahul's face. His lips trembled, but no words came. The man who had once fought drug lords and crime syndicates stood frozen—broken in a way that no bullet could have done.
Aftermath
Soon, police officers led by Nitin and Monty arrived. They arrested Vishaka and her hired men. Rahul's body was taken away for post-mortem and final rites.
Nitin and Monty knelt beside their shattered friend, urging him to speak, to cry, to move.
But Pritam didn't flinch. His eyes remained vacant, his soul trapped in the moment when he lost the only light he had left.
Rahul, his son, was gone.
And with him, a part of Pritam Choudhary had died too.
The Weight of Loss and the Gift of Life
In the days that followed the tragedy, the atmosphere at the Sakhuja house was a blend of grief and gratitude. Pritam, shattered by the loss of his beloved son, drifted into silence. He avoided eye contact, spoke only when necessary, and distanced himself from everyone—whether it was his loyal friends Nitin and Monty or his ever-supportive Mansoor Uncle.
Meanwhile, the Sakhujas, though devastated by Rahul's untimely death, found solace in the fact that Amrita and her unborn child had survived the ordeal. For Amrita, the events had shifted something deep within her. She began to see Pritam not just as the aloof tenant or the rough-edged saviour, but as a man—vulnerable, broken, yet extraordinarily selfless.
However, for Pritam, it was too late.
With Rahul gone, he had lost his reason to stay, his zindagi. He threw himself back into work, resuming dangerous missions, perhaps to numb the pain or to punish himself. Then, one morning, he announced his decision to move out of the Sakhuja home.
The news struck the family like a thunderclap.
Angad, Kabir, Soni—even Dadaji and Beeji—were heartbroken. Over time, they had come to see Pritam as one of their own: a silent protector, an unexpected brother, a pillar in moments of crisis. But it was Amrita who took it the hardest. She couldn't shake off the guilt of having misunderstood him, judged him too quickly, or unknowingly contributed to his pain.
She had to stop him. Somehow.
The Unexpected Journey
On the day Pritam was set to leave, Amrita carefully orchestrated the house's emptiness. She sent Kabir and Angad off to work early, Soni to her college, Nimmo and Guneet to their shop, Dadaji and Beeji to a nearby photo studio, and Kamli on a market errand.
With the house finally quiet, Amrita began ascending the stairs to Pritam's room, determined to speak from the heart. But as she reached halfway, she suddenly winced in pain—labour pains had begun. A sharp cry escaped her lips.
Pritam, halfway through packing, heard her and rushed out. So did a few concerned neighbours.
He spotted her clutching the railing in distress. Alarmed, he shouted, "Where is everyone?!"
"They're not home," Amrita grimaced. "But instead of yelling, how about getting me to the hospital, Mr. IPS?"
The neighbours chuckled and urged Pritam to hurry.
With no choice, Pritam grabbed the car keys from a helpful neighbour, helped Amrita downstairs, and drove off.
Of Traffic, Tears, and Tiffs
Delhi traffic, of course, had other plans.
Stuck in an endless jam, the atmosphere inside the car turned into a familiar battlefield of words. Much like the unforgettable omelette episode, Pritam and Amrita found themselves bickering non-stop.
"If you'd told someone earlier, this wouldn't have happened!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, should I have sent a notice to you and the traffic police?"
"You're impossible."
"And you're late—as always!"Their witty banter continued even as they reached the hospital in haste. The reception desk, witnessing their rapid-fire arguments, mistook them for a typical squabbling couple.
"She's in labour?" a nurse asked.
"Yes, but—" Pritam tried to explain."Perfect! Sir, we need you inside with her," she said, pushing a hospital gown into his hands.
"Wait, what?! I'm not her—"
"Sir, there's no time!"Labour Room Chaos
In the labour room, things only escalated.
Pritam, visibly flustered, muttered, "Great. Now I'm officially your forced husband too!"
"Shut up!" Amrita yelled, sweat beading on her forehead. "If you're done with your drama, help me!"
Pritam groaned. "Just hurry up, please—I have things to do."
That was the last straw.
With all her might, Amrita delivered a tight slap across his face.
The room froze.
"Do you think I'm some express train you can just speed up?!" she shouted.
Pritam clutched his cheek, muttering under his breath, "Madam Jasoos always wanted to slap me—was just waiting for the right moment..."
Then, a miracle happened.
A baby's cry pierced the room.
Both froze—eyes wide, hearts full.
The doctor, smiling, wrapped the baby and placed him gently into Pritam's arms.
As Pritam looked into the newborn's eyes, his own welled up. Memories of Rahul flooded his mind. But instead of sorrow, he felt something else—a strange, healing warmth.
An unexpected bond.
An invisible thread tying him to this little life.
The Turning Point
Soon, the Sakhuja family stormed into the hospital, teary-eyed, joyous, and relieved. It was a moment of celebration, a moment that united everyone.
Still overwhelmed, Pritam gently handed the baby to the family and turned to leave. But before stepping out, he paused.
From across the room, he turned back to glance at the baby once more.
Something shifted in him.
He wasn't ready to say goodbye—not to this family, not to this child, not again.
Rahul may have left him, but this little champ had unknowingly brought him back to life.
Home Is Where the Zindagi Is
That evening, Pritam returned to the Sakhuja house—not as a tenant, not as a protector, but as someone who had found his zindagi once again.
And though Amrita had never said a word to stop him from leaving, she didn't have to.
Because sometimes, life doesn't stop people with words. It sends a new life to hold on to.
And that little champ did just that.
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To be continued.
You write so well 👏
Really liked Pritam story with Amrita and Ansh 
Please continue this story..
I want Pritam to begin a new life with Amrita and her son Ansh.. both of them deserve a second chance in life 
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