Shivanshi's Pov -

“Betu…”

Mummy’s voice floated straight into my ears.

I instantly stood up like a well-trained soldier.

“Yes, Mumma?”

She looked at me carefully. “Did you pack everything properly?”

“Yes, Mumma. I’ve packed everything.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Go and cross-check once more. Make sure nothing is left in your room.”

“Okay, Mumma.”

I had just turned around when my brother’s voice echoed from the hall, loud and dramatic as always.

“MUMMAAA—”

“I’m coming!” she replied, already annoyed.

Both of us walked into the living room.

Papa was sitting on the sofa, completely relaxed, reading his newspaper—

as if that was the only thing existing in the universe.

(Just Papa and his eternal love for newspapers, guys.)

My brother stood right in the center of the room, surrounded by my luggage—

suitcases, trolleys, backpacks—

basically looking like I was migrating, not going for two years.

He turned toward me, horrified.

“Bachaa… you’re only going away for two years. You’re not shifting permanently.

Seriously, Anshu—five trolleys and backpacks? What exactly are you planning to do there?”

Anshu:

“Main jaanti hoon. Isiliye sirf essential cheezein li hain.”

Bhai sa:

“Essential? Yeh dus bags kis angle se essential lag rahe hain aapko?”

Anshu:

“Har bag ka apna importance hota hai. Aap samajh nahi paoge.”

Bhai sa:

“Kapde alag, shoes alag, skincare alag—

aap packing kar rahi hain ya exhibition laga rahi hain?”

Papa:

“Usse exhibition nahi kehte. Planning kehte hain.”

Bhai sa:

“Papa, aap bhi?”

Papa:

“Bilkul. Kal ko agar kuch reh gaya toh complaint mere paas aayegi.”

Mummy:

“Par itna samaan—”

Papa:

“Inu, beti hai humari.

Poora ghar le jaana chahe toh bhi theek hai.”

(A/N - Inu is the nickname given to Nandini by her sweet husband Arvind ji)

Anshu (innocently):

“Dekha Bhai-sa? Papa understands me.”

Bhai sa (defeated):

“Mujhe bas ek baat bata dijiye…

return ticket ke liye jagah bachi hai ya nahi?”

Papa:

“Ticket reh jaaye toh bhi chalega.

Samaan rehna nahi chahiye.”

The moment he said that, we all turned to him in pure horror, eyes wide open,

wondering if he was serious or had officially lost it.

“Achha bas, bas… tu ruk,” Mumma said softly, already getting up.

“Main tere liye dahi-shakkar lekar aati hoon.

Usse pehle ek baar apne Mahadev se bhi mil aa.

Sabse zyada toh tujhe wahi miss karenge.”

The moment she said that, the house fell silent.

No laughter.

No teasing.

Just quiet smiles… the kind that hurt.

Everyone looked happy, yet unbearably sad.

Because I wasn’t just leaving a house—

I was leaving home… for two whole years.

Mumma.

Papa.

Bhai-sa.

They still loved me like I was a little child, pampered me with so much care that sometimes I wondered how I would ever survive without them.

Their lips smiled…

but their eyes didn’t.

Their eyes held words they weren’t saying.

Tears they weren’t letting fall.

I smiled too—

soft, distant, slow.

A smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

Because I was breaking inside,

holding myself together just enough

to not cry in front of them.

I turned and walked toward the mandir.

I sat down in front of Bholenath, close to the Shivling, and for a moment…

I didn’t want to say anything at all.

Then, slowly, my heart spoke.

“Bholenath… aap toh antaryami ho, sarvadarshi ho. Aap toh sab jaante hain na, Prabhu. Main aapko bohot miss karungi, Mahadev. Mujhe pata hai aap hamesha mere saath rahenge, par phir bhi hum roz aapki pooja nahi kar paayenge na. Aur mujhe pata hai… aap bhi humein utna hi miss karenge jitna hum aapko. Aaj aapke hi aashirwad se, aapki hi kripa se, hum is mukaam tak pahunch paaye hain. Apne sapno ki taraf ek aur kadam badha rahe hain.

Aap hamesha humare saath chalna, Prabhu.

Aur agar hum kabhi bhatak jaayein, agar aapka haath chhod dein… toh aap humara haath thaam lena. Parantu hamesha humare saath rehna. Aapke bina hum kuch nahi hain.

Hum kuch bhi nahi kar paayenge. Humara jo kuch bhi hai… sab aapse hi hai.”

As those words left my heart, tears slipped out of my eyes.

One…

then another…

then many.

I hugged the Shivling tightly and cried—

pouring out every emotion, every fear, every ounce of love I had inside me.

When my tears finally slowed, I stood up, fixed my dupatta, wiped my eyes, and forced them back.

One last look at Shiv ji.

One silent goodbye.

Then I walked toward the living room.

Every step felt heavy.

Every wall…

every corner…

every corridor whispered memories.

My childhood.

My mischief.

Pictures of Bhai-sa and me.

Our family photographs.

Everything reminded me of what I was leaving behind.

In my heart, I whispered,

How will I live without all this, Shiv ji?

I went to Mumma.

She fed me dahi-shakkar with trembling hands.

I bent down and touched her feet.

She placed her hand on my head and said,

“Khush raho… khoob tarakki karo…

duniya ki har khushi tujhe mile.”

Her voice broke.

And so did she.

Tears rolled down her cheeks—and mine followed instantly.

I hugged her tightly, holding on like I didn’t want to let go.

We stayed like that for a minute… two.

Seeing us cry, Bhai-sa came forward and wrapped his arms around us.

Papa followed, pulling all of us into a single embrace.

Papa hugged me and blessed me softly.

Bhai-sa’s eyes were wet now.

“Anshuu… bachaa,” he said, voice shaking,

“aapko pata hai na—

chahe aap kitni bhi badi ho jao,

aap hamesha humari bachaa rahogi.

Kuch bhi ho… kabhi bhi ho…

ek baar bhi mat sochna.

Hum bas ek call door hain.

Samjhi aap?”

I nodded through my tears.

“Ji, Bhai-sa… hum samajh gaye.”

He turned away quickly, loading the luggage into the car trunk—

pretending his eyes weren’t wet.

And then…

we all left for the airport.

Together.

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.

(Author - Kon ho sakta hai yeh - uska koi shubhchintak ya fir shivanshi ka koi dushman )

Shivanshi picked up the watch with hesitant fingers and slipped it into her bag, unsure why she felt the need to keep it, before forcing herself back into reality—ticket checking, security scans, boarding passes flashing, voices calling flight numbers—all happening like a blur she barely registered. Soon, she was guided toward her flight, her steps heavy as she entered the aircraft and found her seat by the window. As she settled in, the announcement echoed softly through the cabin, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard. We request you to fasten your seatbelts as we prepare for departure.” Shivanshi reached for the belt, but her fingers fumbled, refusing to cooperate. “Need help?” a calm voice said beside her. She turned—and froze. The man sitting next to her had hazel deep-brown eyes that held an unreadable warmth, a sharp jawline softened by innocent features, messy hair falling effortlessly over his forehead. He was dressed casually in a simple T-shirt, black jacket, trousers, and sports shoes—yet something about him felt dangerously composed. As he leaned slightly closer to help her, Shivanshi’s heartbeat calmed for reasons she couldn’t explain, a strange thought whispering through her mind—why did i suddenly feel comfort with him, who is he ?

Cliffhanger:

He is neither a stranger…

nor just a coincidence.

He isn’t someone Shivanshi should trust easily—

yet he isn’t someone meant to hurt her either.

He is connected to her fate in a way

she doesn’t remember,

but he never forgot.

A silent protector to the world.

A dangerous obsession in his own shadows.

Shubhchintak… or dushman?

Maybe both.

Because sometimes the most dangerous people

are the ones who make you feel safe.