Chapter 9
I stared at the letter.
Shaking with rage.
“They’re insane,” I said.
“Fucking insane.”
Maya read over my shoulder.
Her face went pale.
But she didn’t cry.
She didn’t flinch.
She just took the letter from my hand.
Folded it slow.
“Call the lawyer,” she said.
Her voice was steady.
Strong.
“The same one who did the restraining order. Tell him we’re ready to fight.”
I looked at her.
Proud didn’t even cover it.
The scared, quiet girl I’d found in the hospital corridor was gone.
In her place was a woman who knew her worth.
Who knew how to fight.
We called Mr. Horvath, our lawyer.
He came over the next day.
Read the lawsuit.
Laughed.
Actual, loud laughter.
“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“They have no case. None. We have the text messages. The phone call recording. The news camera footage of them lying. The restraining order. The judge will throw this out before it even gets to trial. In fact… we can countersue. For malicious prosecution. For harassment. We’ll win easily.”
Maya nodded.
“Countersue,” she said.
“Every penny they ask for, we ask for double. And I want it on record. I want everyone to know what they did. I never want them to be able to do this to anyone else ever again.”
The next two months were a blur of lawyer meetings, court dates, paperwork.
Lakshmi and Priya showed up to every hearing.
Dressed in expensive clothes, fake crying, lying through their teeth.
They called Maya a liar.
Called me a manipulator.
Said we’d faked the texts, faked the recording, faked the whole thing.
Every time they lied, Maya held my hand tighter.
But she never looked away.
Never backed down.
The trial lasted three days.
On the third day, the judge called both sides to the bench.
She was the same judge who’d signed our restraining order.
She looked at Lakshmi and Priya.
Disgust clear on her face.
“I have seen a lot of things in this courtroom,” she said.
“But I have never seen two women so cruel, so greedy, so willing to hurt their own flesh and blood for money and attention. The evidence against you is overwhelming. You harassed your daughter. You defamed these two good people. You wasted this court’s time.”
She banged her gavel.
“The original lawsuit is dismissed with prejudice. The countersuit is granted. Lakshmi and Priya will pay Arjun and Maya 100,000 euros in damages, plus all legal fees. And I am extending the restraining order. Permanently. If either of you comes within 1000 meters of the plaintiffs, you will go to jail. Do I make myself clear?”
Lakshmi screamed.
Priya cried.
The bailiffs led them out.
They didn’t look back.
We walked out of the courthouse into the bright sun.
Maya took a deep breath.
Let it out slow.
“It’s really over,” she said.
“Like, over over.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“Over over. They can never hurt you again. Never.”
Ananya and Rohit were waiting on the steps.
Cheering when they saw us.
We went out for dinner to celebrate.
The fanciest restaurant in Budapest.
We ordered champagne, steak, dessert.
Laughing, talking, making plans for the future.
That night, when we got home, there was an email waiting for us.
From the adoption agency we’d applied to three months before.
We’d almost forgotten about it.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Maya leaned over my shoulder.
Holding her breath.
Dear Arjun and Maya,
We are pleased to inform you that your adoption application has been approved.
We have a 3-month-old baby girl in need of a home.
She is healthy, happy, and waiting for her forever family.
If you are interested, please contact us immediately to arrange a meeting.
Maya screamed.
Threw her arms around my neck.
Crying, laughing, kissing me all over my face.
“A baby,” she sobbed.
“Arjun, we’re gonna have a baby.”
I held her tight.
Tears streaming down my own face.
“Yeah, baby. We’re gonna have a baby.”
We called the agency the next morning.
Set up a meeting for the day after.
We spent the whole day shopping.
Crib, clothes, diapers, bottles, stuffed animals.
Turned the spare bedroom into a nursery.
Soft yellow walls, Winnie the Pooh stickers, a mobile that played lullabies.
Maya hung a photo of her dad above the crib.
“For grandpa,” she said soft.
I kissed her shoulder.
“He’d be so proud of you, baby. So proud.”
The next day, we drove to the agency.
Our hands were shaking the whole way.
When the social worker opened the door, she was holding a tiny baby girl.
Wrapped in a pink blanket.
Big brown eyes, a tuft of black hair on her head.
She looked up at us.
And smiled.
Maya gasped.
Put her hand over her mouth.
The social worker handed her to Maya.
Maya held her gentle, like she was made of glass.
The baby snuggled into her chest.
Made a small, happy sound.
“Her name is Lila,” the social worker said.
“But you can change it if you want.”
Maya shook her head.
Tears streaming down her face.
“Lila is perfect,” she whispered.
“Her name is Lila.”
I leaned down.
Looked at my daughter.
My wife.
My family.
Everything I’d almost lost.
Everything I’d fought so hard to get back.
And I knew.
No matter what life threw at us next.
May you like
We’d be okay.
Together.
