Raaste naye hain, par iraade mere purane,

Siyasat ke rang dekhe hain sab afsane.

Muskaan pe mat jaana, nazar sab pe tikti hai,

Sachche dil pe hi mera faisla likhti hai.

___________________________

Shivanshi POV -

Hayee.... I opened my eyes as sunlight hit my face. I sat on the bed, yawned and stretched my body a little to remove the remnants of sleep. I joined my hands in a form of prayer to God for granting me this beautiful morning. A smile formed on my lips thinking finally I am living my dream life just like how i dreamed of it. I wore my slippers and made my way to the balcony sitting on the swing and admiring the sky confessing my feelings to it as the sky listens to me. Well, it's my habit to talk about my feelings to sky, moon and stars as they are always with me to listen my talks endlessly. Then, I followed my morning routine and got ready in an bodycon inner dress with turtle neck and full sleeves hugging my body like a second skin upon it a sleek creme coloured coat, leaving my hair open, did a little makeup and applied lipstick, wore my accessories. Oh God... How can I forget my watch it is my lifeline. My dad gifted me this watch when I was in 10th standard on my birthday as I loved watches and it will help me in board exams. Till then, I always wear it specifically on special occasions as it gives me confidence. This is my first watch and I love it to extent.

(A/N - “Aapka obsession kya hai?

Shivanshi = watches

Aap = ?

Comment karo, dekhte hain kaun sabse zyada bigda hua reader hai!” 😆

Warning: Honest replies allowed. Fake sharafat nahi chalegi.”)

I was wearing my rings when he entered my room. I strode towards him, hugged him and chirped - Good morning Bhai sa ! He moved back slightly due to my force but reciprocated the hug and chuckled - Good morning Bachaa ! Ho gaye aap tayaar.

Shivanshi - Hanjii Bhai sa... Hum tayaar ho gaye. Hum kaise lag rahe hai ?

Shaurya - Bahut pyaari lag rahi hai aap anshu.

Shivanshi - Aap humse kuch kehna chahte hai Bhai sa ?

Shaurya - Uhm... Hanji bachaa dekhiye hume pta hai aap bdi ho gyi hai ab aap IAS Officer hai par apna khayaal rkhiyega pehli baar itni dur akele Jaa rhi hai voh bhi 2 saal ke liye. Humesha apna khyaal rkhiyega smjhi aap or kuch bhi ho aapka Bhai sa humesha aapke sath hai aap turant hume phone krke btayengi smjhi aap ?

Shivanshi - Hanjii Bhai sa! Hum samjh gye hum aapki baatein manenge aap chinta mat kriye or rahi baat khyaal rakhne ki toh aap apne liye ek jiju dhund lijiye fir Hume khud itna dhyaan nhi rkhna pdega na. I teased him and fled away from room as he will catch me in a minute.

Shaurya - Bahut bolne lagi hai aap bachaa rukiye ab aap gayi and dashed downstairs to catch.

Shivanshi - Ahh bs Bhai sa ab hum thak gye and plopped with him on the couch and rested my head on his shoulder.

He affectionaly patted Mt head and said "Bahut badmash ho gayi hai aap" I chuckled and said "waise Bhai sa.... Aap chahe toh bhabhi bhi laa skte hai". And like this, we again went on playing catching each other.

He finally caught me during our little game of tag, pulling me back by the wrist as I squealed. Before I could escape, he twisted my ear lightly.

“You are not getting away this time, Princess…” he warned, giving me a dramatic glare.

I instantly made my signature puppy face—the one that always melts him without fail.

“Aarey Bhai-sa… just think! Once Bhabhi comes into your life, you’ll get so many benefits,” I teased, blinking innocently.

His eyes narrowed.

“And what kind of benefits, Maharani Sahiba? Please enlighten me,” he said, still glaring.

I smirked.

“Bhai-sa, Bhabhi will give you lots and lots of kisses… hugs… and uhm… ahm…”

His eyes went wide, and he twisted my ear even harder.

“Ahhh—ohhh! Leave it, Bhai-sa! It hurts!” I yelped dramatically.

“You’ve become too spoiled,” he scolded.

I immediately switched back to my ultimate weapon—the puppy face.

And, of course, he melted in a second.

Because no matter how angry he pretends to be…

Bhai-sa ki dukhti rag main hi hoon: my puppy face.

Just when Bhai-sa was about to twist my ear into a spiral jalebi, a thunderbolt struck the entire palace.

A.K.A — Mummy’s Voice.

From the dining room came her legendary roar:

“ANSHU! SHAURYA! Kids, come for breakfast RIGHT NOW!

And if the two of you are not in front of me in five minutes—

I. AM. NOT. GIVING. YOU. FOOD!”

The walls trembled.

The curtains shook.

Even the pigeons outside paused mid-flight.

Bhai-sa and I froze like we’d been hit by a lightning spell.

Because when Mummy gets angry…

Even Google doesn’t have solutions.

Bhai-sa whispered, terrified, “This is it. Our end has arrived.”

“Mummy ka atank,” I breathed dramatically.

And in that very moment, the two of us sprinted toward the dining room like our lives (and breakfast) depended on it—

because honestly… they did.

Just as we reached the dining room, sliding in like Olympic sprinters, Mummy stood there with her hands on her hips — the ultimate sign of incoming doom.

Her glare alone could fry parathas.

“There you two are,” she said, eyebrows raised high enough to reach heaven.

“Do I look like I have the whole day to run behind grown children?”

Bhai-sa nudged me. “Say something nice. Save us.”

I whispered back, “Aap hi toh bade ho… I’m the minor discount.”

Before he could strangle me again, Mummy snapped,

“Shaurya, Anshu — SIT. Before I decide ki breakfast cancel kar doon.”

We sat. IMMEDIATELY. Lightning speed. Breaking all world records.

Chair bhi hila diya humne.

Mummy slammed a bowl on the table dramatically.

“Every morning I call you both ten times. TEN!

Are you kids or alarm-resistant superheroes?”

Bhai-sa cleared his throat. “Maa, woh actually—”

“Don’t actually me!” she yelled, pointing her spatula like a royal sword.

I tried making a puppy face, but Mummy just narrowed her eyes further.

“Don’t even start, Princess. Puppy face ka effect mujh par nahi hota. Save it for your Bhai-sa.”

Bhai-sa looked betrayed. “Mummy, even you know she manipulates me.”

“Good,” Mummy said proudly. “That means she’s smart. Now eat.”

We both exchanged looks.

This is why arguing with Mummy is useless.

She always wins.

Plot twist?

She knows she always wins.

As we finally started eating, she added one last punchline:

“And listen… if tomorrow tum dono late aaye na—

I swear, breakfast will be replaced with plain boiled karela.”

We gasped in unison.

“Karela??” we shouted.

Mummy smirked like a villain making a dramatic exit.

“Exactly. Now behave.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how even mighty royals bow down before the ultimate ruler of the household:

Mummy.

Just when we were recovering from Mummy’s Karela Threat™, Papa walked in — calm, composed, and carrying his newspaper like he was entering a meditation retreat instead of a battlefield.

Mummy immediately turned her laser eyes on him.

“Arvind ji, aap bhi dekh lijiye apne bachon ko! Roz subah inhe bulao toh jaise pahadon se echo laana padta hai!”

Papa blinked slowly.

The man had the audacity…

THE AUDACITY…

to sip water like he hadn’t heard World War III siren.

Then he said, in his calm royal baritone,

“Arre Nandini… thoda saans toh lene do bachchon ko. Subah subah itna cute chaos bhi accha lagta hai.”

Mummy narrowed her eyes.

“Cute? CHAOS? Yeh aapko cute lagta hai?”

He folded his newspaper.

Smiled.

And leaned slightly closer.

“Aap gussa hoti hain na… to bohot cute lagti hain.”

My spoon fell.

Bhai-sa choked on paratha.

The table plant died dramatically.

Mummy froze.

BLUSH.

Full blush.

Cheeks turning pink like gulab jamun just dipped in syrup.

“Bas bhi kijiye, bachche dekhe bina baat nahi kar sakte?” she muttered, trying to sound angry but failing miserably.

Papa, shameless as always, added,

“Main kya karoon… meri queen roz aur khubsurat hoti ja rahi hai.”

I swear, Mummy’s glare melted into flustered confusion.

“Arvind ji! Stop this— sit properly and eat!”

Papa sat.

Victorious.

Smirking.

Like he had single-handedly disarmed a nuclear bomb using flirt.

Bhai-sa muttered under his breath,

“This is cheating. He used Romance Attack to escape Mummy’s wrath.”

I nodded seriously.

“And it worked.”

Mummy, pretending to be unaffected, served him paratha with unnecessary force.

“Lijiye, kha lijiye. Khali flirting karne se pet nahi bharta.”

Papa winked (YES, WINKED) and said,

“Aap paratha khaiye… mera aapko dekh kar hi pet bhar jaata hai.”

Mummy’s blush Level: Volcano about to erupt.

“Don’t talk nonsense in front of the children!” she hissed.

Papa: “Toh akele mein baatein karun?”

Mummy: deadly stare

Kids: screaming internally

I covered my face.

“Bhai-sa… I think I just aged 10 years.”

He whispered, “I think Papa enjoys scaring us more than Mummy does.”

Papa simply smiled mischievously and started eating, while Mummy kept pretending she wasn’t blushing like a newly married bride.

And that, ladies and gentlemen…

Breakfast was saved.

Mummy’s atank defused.

Papa victorious.

Children traumatised.

Household: back to normal.

Cliffhanger:

Shivanshi collided into someone in the empty airport corridor—

a tall man, face hidden in flickering lights.

She couldn’t see him…

but he saw her.

Too intently.

Just before disappearing into the shadows, he whispered her name,

“Shivanshi.”

Her blood ran cold.

She hadn’t told him her name.

When she looked down, a sleek men’s watch lay on the floor where he’d stood.

Her breath caught.

Who was he—fate, or danger?

As the stranger vanished into the airport shadows after whispering her name, Shivanshi’s eyes fell on the men’s watch he’d dropped.

Her heart skipped.

He knew her… but she didn’t know if he was destiny or danger.