The auditorium was packed.
Fashion. Finance. Media.An award night celebrating "India's Icons of the Year."
And somehow, I was among the honorees.
No surname attached.No family backing me.
Just me.
Kalyani Sharma."Voice of the Unseen.""Symbol of Modern Grit."
I wasn't nervous.
I had already walked through worse than stares and flashbulbs.
I stepped onto the stage when they called my name.
The lights warmed my skin.Applause rose from the crowd.Not pity applause. Not novelty applause.
Respect.
I accepted the award, said nothing extravagant.
Just:
"Thank you for seeing me as I've always seen myself."
And walked off.
But I didn't even make it past the velvet curtain before I froze.
Because standing there — waiting — was Kabir Mehra.
The same brother who had dragged my suitcase down three floors.
The same man who said, "You were a mistake."
Now?
He was standing in a simple black suit.No cameras. No entourage.Just a folded piece of paper in his hand.
"Kalyani," he said softly.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Before you tell me to leave, I just—"He stopped.
Then did something I never expected.
He knelt.
Right there, in his polished shoes, on a carpet meant for the elite.
He knelt.
"Not for forgiveness," he said quickly."Not for sympathy. Not even for your attention. I just needed you to know... I see it now. I see you now. And I'm sorry."
He held out the note.
I didn't take it.
Because I didn't need an apology gift.Or a grand gesture.
I already had something greater.
The dignity to walk away without anger.
And so I said, "You can stand now. I don't need anyone kneeling. Just… learning."
Then I left him there.
Still kneeling.Still watching.Still late.