The hum of the ceiling fan blended with the distant chatter of the living room, but my eyes refused to stay open. I was still reeling from the embarrassment of that morning the door scene, Vidhi's teasing, and worst of all… him.
I hadn't even realized when I slammed the door shut, oblivious that someone might still be outside. And Vidhi, with her sharp little voice, cut me like a blade ,
"Cheeyyaa! Sach mein aap bhaiya ko bahar hi chhodne wali hai kya?"
I froze. My hand still gripping the wooden edge of the door, my heart stumbling.
What? Bhaiya?
Confusion swirled in me, and when I squinted—oh God—my stomach dropped. It wasn't Sonu bhaiya. Not the ever-vanishing driver-guardian who usually avoided stepping inside our house.
It was Vihaan Raj Mishra.
Flying Officer. The name itself carried a weight my family never let me forget. Their pride. Their choice. For me.
And there he stood, taller than my memory, framed by the morning light. Off-white t-shirt, dark blue shirt with sleeves folded, light denim brushing perfectly against sneakers. His fair complexion only sharpened the lines of his jaw, and for the first time ever, my own eyes betrayed me.
He actually looked… good.
But he didn't smile. Didn't even acknowledge me. He walked in with that air of detached arrogance, his silence louder than any greeting could have been.
I tried to shrug it off, tried to bury my racing thoughts under the mess of my hair and the old t-shirt and shorts I had stupidly worn. But his eyes ... God, those eyes , they flicked over me, sharp and disapproving, and suddenly I remembered I hadn't even combed my hair. My reflection must have screamed homeless disaster.
Embarrassment burned my cheeks. I darted to the bathroom, combed my hair, splashed water on my face, anything to wash away the humiliation. But the mirror was merciless.
I looked like a fool.
When I finally gathered courage to step back, the house was buzzing. I made tea, handed cups to everyone, trying to blend in with the noise of clinking porcelain.
And then—
"I'll have a black coffee. Without sugar."
The voice came from behind me. Calm. Low. I didn't need to turn. I knew.
I mimicked his words under my breath, scrunching my face the way he probably had when saying them. Huhh. This guy never misses a chance to get on my nerves.
Sometimes I swear he does it intentionally.
Still, I served breakfast, told Mom I was going to sleep, and slipped away.
Reema aunty caught me at the corner. "Padh rahi thi kya, beta?"
I just nodded. No explanations. Just escape.
By the time I reached my room, the clock blinked 8:12 a.m. My body gave in instantly. Exhaustion wrapped around me, and I drowned in it, the air conditioner humming a lullaby.
Hours blurred. When I stirred again, sunlight was gentler. I blinked at the clock. 11:00 a.m.
Something warm pressed against me. Vidhi.
She had crept in beside me, her small body curled like a kitten. The temperature had dipped, so I pulled my comforter over her. Instinctively, she snuggled closer, her head on my arm, clinging like a toddler.
For once, my restless heart softened. I let her be.
Her even breaths lulled me back, and without realizing, I too slipped back into sleep.
By the time the house finally calmed down, I had already drifted into a deep sleep. The chaos of the morning had worn me out, and while I rested in my room, Vihaan was in the living area with Papa and Uncle, discussing something in a low, serious tone. His voice carried authority, like he belonged to every room he entered. Even in my sleep, I somehow felt his presence lingering around the house.
Almost around 2 in the afternoon, I was pulled out of my drowsy slumber by mummy's gentle yet urgent voice, "Uth jao beta, aarti hone wali hai."
Half-asleep, I rubbed my eyes, hurried to the washroom, and took a quick bath. When I came out, mummy had already laid out a soft, pastel long frock for me, something simple yet elegant, smiling as she said, "Wear this, at least you won't look like some wandering homeless soul."
I slipped into it quickly, tying my damp hair into a loose braid. My heart skipped a beat the moment I heard footsteps echoing in the hall. They were here. The one I was waiting and missing at the same time.
Shashwat bhaiya had arrived.
I don't know what got into me—I instantly ran forward and hugged him tightly, burying my face against him like a little girl. His familiar warmth, the steady rhythm of his breath, and the calm authority he carried made me feel safe instantly. True to his habit, his large hand rested gently on my head, patting me with brotherly affection before he bent down and pressed a soft kiss on my forehead. It was such a small gesture, but I loved it every single time.
And then, as if to shatter that tender moment, I caught Vihaan's sharp gaze from the corner of the hall. His eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed with that all-too-familiar mixture of annoyance and disbelief. He exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes, muttering a very deliberate "Tss…" under his breath.
It was infuriating.
It was childish.
It was Vihaan.
But no matter how much it annoyed me, I couldn't stop myself from sneaking glances at him.
We all gathered in the pooja room. The air was heavy with the fragrance of incense sticks and the faint ringing of temple bells. The rituals went on quietly, with the family seated close, heads bowed, lips whispering prayers that felt heavier than words. When it finally ended, the house slowly drifted back into the rhythm of murmurs, footsteps, and clinking utensils.
By evening, we were all settled in the dining room. The table was long, carved of heavy wood that had witnessed countless family dinners and arguments over the years. Mummy and Reema aunty were busy in the kitchen, their laughter mixing with the sound of ladles striking vessels. Vidhi was in her own world, humming while busy doing her own thing - arranging the cushions of the sofa in different order again and again.
The dining table carried the weight of men - Papa, Uncle, Shashwat bhaiya, Ashutosh bhaiya , Nakul bhaiya, Nishant bhaiya, and Vihaan ,all seated with a seriousness that immediately silenced my restless heart.
The discussion turned toward Harsh's case.
Shashwat bhaiya's tone was steady yet edged with steel as he explained,
"This isn't as simple as it looks. Techno Ninjas , our rival company has orchestrated this entire trap. That's why Harsh is still in custody. They want to drag our name through the mud, ruin our credibility. But…" his gaze sharpened, his words slicing the air, "I'll make sure the truth comes out. Harsh will be fine. He will come out soon."
The certainty in his voice brought a flicker of relief, yet my chest tightened painfully. My baby brother—chaotic, reckless, irritating, yet mine—was trapped in a place I couldn't even imagine him being. He might make mistakes, but he didn't deserve this. My throat ached with suppressed tears, and I clenched my fists under the table to stop myself from breaking down in front of everyone.
I glanced at Shashwat bhaiya again. Most people only knew him as the founder of one of the largest IT empires in the world, with branches spanning across continents. To them, he was a powerful man, almost untouchable. But to me, he was family—stern yet loving, terrifying when angry, but the strongest shield one could hope for. His rage was legendary. I had seen hardened businessmen tremble when his eyes turned cold, when his silence grew heavier than any shout. That version of him haunted me… and yet, today, I needed that version to fight for Harsh.
Beside him sat Nakul bhaiya—my father's brother's son. After losing his parents in that tragic accident, he had become inseparable from our family. He carried the poise of a Supreme Court lawyer, sharp-minded, quick-witted, and always ready to dissect every word like it was evidence in a trial. He didn't need to speak much; his mere presence radiated authority.
Then came Nishant bhaiya, the heart of the trio, though his life was far from conventional. While others wore suits and ties, he wore headsets and lit up screens. A professional gamer, an online champion known worldwide, and someone who had turned his passion into a livelihood. His charm was effortless, his humor contagious, yet I knew he hid his scars behind those playful smirks.
And finally, Ashutosh bhaiya—Shashwat's childhood best friend and now his business partner. He wasn't blood, but he was more than family. His loyalty to Shashwat was unshakable, his intelligence a quiet force. Together, they were unstoppable, a duo that no rival dared to challenge openly.
As I sat there, surrounded by these men—my pillars, my protectors, my storm-bringers—I couldn't help but feel both safe and suffocated. They carried power in their silence, and it weighed on me, reminding me of everything at stake.
And yet, amidst all that seriousness, I caught Vihaan watching me again. Not with annoyance this time, but with something quieter, unreadable.
Maybe curiosity.
Maybe concern.
Or maybe it was just my heart betraying me again.