Two Days Later...Two Days Later...
7:00 AM, Morning...At “The Daffodil Door” Café, India
The café was silent. Every table was empty—except one.
A waiter approached that table and handed menus to the two men seated there.
They were… Shekhar and Aniket.
Shekhar calmly flipped through the menu.
Aniket, on the other hand, was doing something else entirely—he was sneakily watching his father from the corner of his eye, like a spy on a breakfast mission.
After a moment, Shekhar asked without looking up, “Has this menu changed recently?”
The waiter, smiling nervously, nodded. “Yes, sir. We removed a few less popular dishes and replaced them with some new and exclusive ones.”
Shekhar closed the menu and placed it on the table. He turned to Aniket. “What do you want to eat?”
Aniket, who was still stealing glances at Shekhar, suddenly panicked and diverted his eyes to the menu.
“I don’t like anything on this menu,” he replied.
Hearing that, Shekhar turned toward the waiter. His eyes were… intense.
And the poor waiter? He practically shrank in place. After all, this wasn’t just any customer—this was Shekhar Rajput, the new owner of this very café. A fact Aniket didn’t know. Shekhar had bought it just yesterday, for three times its price.
And even though Shekhar hadn’t fired anyone or changed a thing, his expressions alone were enough to make the staff panic. The waiter was now wondering—what did I do this time?!
Aniket finally looked up from the menu—only to find Shekhar staring at him, his expression now unreadable.
Then, in a surprisingly casual tone, Shekhar asked, “Want some kachori?”
Aniket blinked. “But that’s not even on the menu.”
“It can be. On special request,” Shekhar said, turning back to the waiter. “Right?”
The waiter caught the hint and jumped to attention.
“Absolutely, sir! We make kachori… especially for special guests.”
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Aniket gave a small smile. “Then bring me that, please.”
“For me too,” Shekhar added quietly.
The waiter nodded like his life depended on it and practically sprinted away—his soul clearly left somewhere between the counter and the kitchen.
Once again, silence.
Aniket’s eyes wandered to the daffodils arranged beautifully in a vase on the table. He thought to himself:
“Mom’s favorite flowers… (he glanced around the café) Everything in here is just the way she liked it.
And today, I’m eating her favorite breakfast—with Dad.
Something about this moment feels special.
Who’s behind all this?
Who’s my Secret Santa—the one who read my letter and made the impossible happen?”
Breaking the silence, he asked Shekhar, “So… what happened to your manufacturing unit in the US? Weren’t you supposed to be there for a whole month?”
Shekhar looked out the window briefly. “Finished the work early. Why? Not happy I came back?”
Aniket stared at him, slightly stunned.
His father never asked questions like this. In fact, their conversations had always felt… well, corporate. Distant.
But this question—this one felt personal.
For a moment, Aniket searched his father’s eyes, as if hoping to find the love he’d spent years pretending he didn’t need. But Shekhar, too, was a master of hiding pain. Just like his son, he wore his calm like armor.
Shekhar asked again, “Well? Are you glad I came?”
Aniket leaned back and sighed. “That’s a question I should be asking you, Dad.
It’s been six years since I came back home from hostel.
And not once did you really look at me. Not even once.”
His voice softened. “Were you still angry?
Because I went to Bhutan to meet Mom without telling you?
Or did you just… not want me to come back?”
Then he heard Shekhar’s voice—but it wasn’t the usual firm and rigid one. It trembled slightly, soft and low.
“I was happy… very happy that you returned.
But… I was scared.
Scared that if I looked into your eyes, I’d see the same hatred I saw in your mother’s when she left me.
She probably never forgave me… did she, Aniket?”
Aniket looked at him—his strong, composed father, now staring down at the floor like a broken man.
Aniket slammed his palm gently on the table and spoke, “That’s not true. It was never true.
Mom never hated you… she loved you deeply. I stayed with her for two months, and then visited her every year.
Until her last breath… she kept blaming herself—for not being able to forget the past, even though she wanted to.
She knew it wasn’t your fault.
But even with that truth, she could never come back.
Maybe… maybe the shadow of the past was too dark to escape.”
Shekhar whispered, “How do you love someone who lied to you—even if they did it to protect you?
Once she knew the truth… it was over.
I left everything behind for her.
But the underworld… it didn’t leave me.
And because of it… We lost our younger son.
That’s when she found out the truth. That’s when she left.
I never had the courage to go back and ask her to return.”
Aniket stayed silent.
He’d seen the same pain in his mother’s eyes, long ago. Back then, he was too young to speak. But today… he wasn’t going to stay quiet.
“Dad… let’s start again.
Let’s stop punishing each other for what we couldn’t change.
Let’s move forward—with the good memories. With smiles.”
Shekhar looked at him—and for the first time, saw not just his son, but the reflection of the woman he once loved.
Love in his eyes. A soft smile on his lips.
He stood up, gently placing a hand on his son’s forehead. “A new beginning… even if it's late, it has finally arrived.
I’m lucky… lucky that you're my son.”
Aniket’s head lowered again. There were tears in his eyes—but a smile on his face.
His hands gripped his shirt like a child, holding onto a moment he never thought would come.
And someone else was smiling too.
Inside the café’s security room, Aditya sat in front of a screen, watching everything unfold through the CCTV. A proud grin stretched across his face.
“You did it, Aniket… I’m so happy for you,” he whispered.
He leaned back in the chair with a sigh of contentment.
In the corner of the room, two bulky men were tied up, watching the same screen. Their faces were swollen, bruised… but for some reason, they were crying happy tears too.
Aditya looked over at them sheepishly. “Sorry, guys. I know I tied you up and all, but it was for a good cause.”
He stood up and began untying them.
“Also… I’m deleting this recording. So if you’re planning to report me—please don’t. Just suffer in silence.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash.
“Here. For the medical bills. Don’t say I’m heartless.
Oh, and if you breathe a word of this to your owner… He’ll probably kill you.
Worse than I almost did.”
Meanwhile, back at the table, Shekhar and Aniket shared breakfast quietly—with peace in their eyes and something new blooming between them.
And Aditya?
He slipped away, quietly and cheerfully, like a true Secret Santa.
Sometimes, facing the past takes everything you’ve got.But one honest effort… just one, can bring even the most broken hearts into the light again.Aniket still doesn’t know…who his Secret Santa is.Will he ever find out?
