The rising sun cast a rosy hue across the eastern sky, smearing it with gold and peach strokes like a masterful painting. Golden fingers of sunlight gently lit up the horizon, slipping through the tall trees and spreading warmth across the dew-laced earth. The just-risen sun shone softly on the narrow village paths, warming the dust-laced air and stirring life into a fresh, untouched morning. The world around the Rajput Mansion stirred into motion with a quiet kind of poetry.
The day had dawned crisp and clear. The dawn chorus of melodic birdsong drifted in, like nature's own symphony, echoing through the open fields. Morning in the village was a celebration of simplicity and grace. The beauty of that hour—raw and unfiltered—could make even the most hardened city heart melt into reverence. The air smelled of wet earth, cow dung, and wildflowers—a cocktail of purity that only a village could offer.
Villagers had already risen before the first light. Men moved with their ploughs, oxen in tow, singing softly while stepping into their fields. Young boys and girls giggled, their bare feet kicking up dust as they ran behind herds of goats and cows, clinking their metal lunch carriers with each step. Women, wearing bright saris and headscarves, gathered at the well with their brass pitchers, laughing as they drew water and balanced the vessels on their heads like queens. The temple bell rang thrice, breaking the spell of the morning silence and reminding everyone of the first prayer.
Inside the ancient yet regal Rajput Mansion, the first rays of the sun filtered through a tall stained-glass window and landed softly on a small bed decorated in Doraemon-themed bedding. A salmon-colored palm peeked out from under the soft blanket. Adyanshi rubbed her eyes lazily and stretched, the golden morning sun lighting up her cheeks like rose petals. She blinked twice, then slowly turned her head toward the large glass window that overlooked the village. Her eyes widened with awe at the sight of the awakening world beyond.
Click.*
The gentle sound of the door opening was followed by a velvety-soft voice.
"Good morning, my little princess," came the voice, soft as rose petals and warm as a hug.
It was Mr. Anshuman Rajput, her father—though she only knew him as her 'uncle'. He stood there with a tray in his hand and a smile on his face, his presence filling the room like warm sunshine. The faint, comforting aroma of his cologne mixed with the smell of rain on chocolate cosmos flowers wafted in, making the room feel even dreamier.
Adda turned and exclaimed joyfully, "Uncle! I knew you'd come to see me!"
Mr. Rajput smiled. "Let's get you freshened up, princess. After breakfast, you'll be going for your first school day with Mama—Mrs. Abhi."
Adda's face lit up with excitement. "Really?! Mama and I will go together?"
"Yes, sweetheart. You're going to join play school now. A new adventure begins today!"
But before the conversation could continue, something caught Adda's attention—a soft, pink, bunny-like nose peeking out from behind Mr. Rajput's back. She tilted her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. She quietly tiptoed forward and—snatch!—grabbed the bunny nose.
"Aha! It's a bunny! It's a bunny! I caught a bunny!" she shrieked in glee, laughing and hopping like she'd caught a treasure.
But then came a loud, squeaky cry: "Daaaaad! She's hurting me! Daaaad!"
It wasn't a bunny. It was a little boy, around three years old, with sleepy eyes and a shock of messy black hair. Adda blinked and gasped.
"You… you… WHAT are you?" she exclaimed, hands on hips.
The boy huffed. "I'm Aryan Anshuman Singh Rajput! I'm the only son of this family—and your little brother!"
Adda's eyes narrowed. "What are YOU doing in MY room?"
Aryan, with dramatic flair, crossed his arms. "This room is mine now. I like it. I will marry this room and live here forever!"
Without missing a beat, Adda delivered a playful yet solid karate kick that sent Aryan tumbling out of the room.
"Insane!" he shouted, running through the halls. "I'm going to tell Mummy! You're not the queen of this mansion!"
Downstairs, Mrs. Addyuggni gently stopped Aryan, holding his cheeks in her palms.
"Shh, my lion cub," she cooed. "She's your sister. Remember how you always asked me for a sister to play with? Now you have her."
Aryan's eyes grew round. "She's really my sister?"
"Yes," his mother nodded softly. "She doesn't know the truth yet. For now, she thinks you're just her cousin. It's important you stay close to her and help her understand things gently. You're her little brother, and you'll always be her protector."
Aryan looked down, then back up, determination shining in his eyes. "I promise, Mummy. I'll protect her. I'll share everything. I'll be her best friend forever."
"Aw, my growing-up child," Mrs. Addyuggni whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead.
Meanwhile, Adda had gotten ready. Dressed in a light blue frock and white shoes, her face glowed with the freshness of the morning. She skipped down the stairs, only to find Aryan—already dressed, standing on a stool—placing two breakfast plates on the table.
When he saw her, he chirped, "Senior sister! Let's have breakfast together!"
Adda raised an eyebrow. "Hey, Bunny. You're just a little mouse. Let me help you with that."
Aryan grinned like the sun, and the two sat down to eat. Adda looked at him as he poured her milk and broke a slice of bread.
She thought, Maybe this little bunny isn't that bad after all.
And thus, the morning in the Rajput Mansion didn't just shine with the village sun—it glowed with the light of newly blooming sibling love.