One of the reasons Chennai based Samridhi Ganesan hates her life is because of Dhruva's presence in it. Dhruva's overprotective nature or his passion for Martial Arts doesn't please her one bit.
Army officer Shiva crosses paths with the fearless re...
AN: Sorry for the super delayed update. Four epilogues, two each for each pair of protagonists. I've wanted to post from so long but couldn't complete it. Life's been rough, ah.
Anyway, I hope everyone who read the story is looking forward to the epilogues. I will try my best to roll them out as soon as possible.
^Please note the chapter is highly unedited and yes, I added the pictures for aethetics sake. ^
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On a serene morning in Madurai, Amma and Ammachi awaken to the sound of glass shattering. They rush to the veranda only to witness a glass pane of antique living room window smashed to bits.
The sun has barely risen. Dhruva, Samridhi and a bunch of kids are playing in the garden. Amma is in disbelief. She's never seen Dhruva and Samridhi on the same team.
"Amma, we decided to do everything together. Even fun things we didn't do before."
"Let me guess, this is Ridhi's idea. Dhruva, you mustn't indulge every wish of hers."
"Amma, it's fine... I love fulfilling her wishes. In fact, I want to live for it..."
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Amma is exasperated and touched. Her daughter is fortunate. But she can't say the same for the young man she raised thinking he's her son.
Ammachi calls Dhruva a loser. Everybody, including Samridhi, burst out laughing. Their relationship suddenly changed. They redefined their bonds as a family. But it doesn't feel strange at all. Amma and Ammachi have contented smiles on their faces.
Two weeks later,Dhruva, Samridhi and Amma return to their palatial home in Chennai, bringing along Ammachi as their guest. Ammachi's old eyes are full of nostalgia as she looks at the house. She hasn't set her foot here in ages.
Krishnan Villa.
Dhruva changes the nameplate outside their home. Samridhi stands with him in the decision. It's time to use Appa's real name. She must consider changing what she writes at the end of her name.
Then one fine Saturday morning, seated at the breakfast table, Ammachi whines, hems and haws. She will return to Madurai if she's not seeing her grandkids getting married any sooner. "I'm eighty-five. Marry while I'm alive," she tells Dhruva and Samridhi.
