VOTE WITH PRIDE 😌
OR MAY YOUR WIFI LOSE ITS RIDE 📶

I am sitting on the sofa, my back sinking into the cushions, my head tilted upward as if the ceiling might have answers it has been hiding from me all this time.

It doesn't.

Arnav is standing near the window, laptop open, fingers moving with practiced ease as he works on a new project. Or at least pretends to. I can see it;the way his jaw tightens every few seconds, the way his eyes drift away from the screen, betraying him. He is here, but his mind is somewhere else. Somewhere fragile. Somewhere small.

Arin is sitting a little away, phone in his hand, scrolling endlessly. The screen lights up his face, but his eyes are hollow, unfocused. He scrolls without reading, taps without seeing. A distraction. A shield. A lie he is telling himself.

Rithvik is standing beside the bed.

My Rithvik.

The same boy who once couldn't even tolerate her presence. The same boy whose silence used to scream rejection. Now he is dipping a cloth into a bowl of hot water, wringing it carefully, testing the heat on his wrist before gently placing it on her forehead. Again. And again. As if this simple act could undo the cruelty of fate.

Kabir is sitting on the other sofa, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. His leg shakes, betraying the calm face he is trying so hard to wear. He looks worried-no, terrified-as if one wrong breath from her might shatter something permanently inside him.

Tuffy is sitting near the bed, alert, unmoving, eyes fixed on her face like a soldier guarding his last treasure.

And me?

I am watching them all pretend.

Pretend that they are busy. Pretend that this is normal. Pretend that the air in this room is not heavy with grief, guilt, and fear.

But every single one of us

Every single one

Is focused only on her.

Just twice in my life, I have met angels.

Once many years ago i lived my life with her and she became my life and because of that same angel, I have this house and these children today.

(A/N; Arrey vikram uncle is a green flag and a pookie husband 🎀💝)

And the second time.....
Was just a day before.

She was sleeping then.

Curled into herself, shielded by Tuffy on one side and a teddy clutched tightly in her tiny arms, unaware of the storm waiting to tear her world apart.

She looked so small, so impossibly fragile, like someone had placed a glass figurine in the middle of a battlefield.

I don't know how I closed my eyes that night.
I don't know how sleep dared to touch me.

Because the moment she called me

"Baba"

Something inside me cracked open.

I had told her I wasn't.

I had tried to correct her, gently, carefully, like one handles something precious.
But she had looked at me with those big, pure black eyes, so full of certainty, and

Said no.

Just no.

As if my denial meant nothing compared to what she had already decided in her heart.

I thought relationships were built slowly.

With time.

With logic.

With planning.

God, I was so wrong.

(A/N; Just like me and my anuvians, a few days back we meet and now someone call me didu ,someone friend )

From the moment I knelt in front of her.

From the moment I accepted a dog into my house without question.

From the moment I found myself shouting at my own children, demanding, telling them that I was going to adopt her-

It wasn't a single moment.

It was everything.

Every second layered on top of the other, quietly, mercilessly, until I realized-

I was already hers.

She is not like other seven-year-olds.

No.

She doesn't look seven. She doesn't feel seven. She feels like a four or five-year-old baby who has wandered into a world far too cruel for her softness. Tiny hands. Smaller feet. A cute little button nose. Soft, pure black eyes that reflect innocence so painfully it hurts to look into them.

Her hair;slightly messy, always falling into her face.
Her dimple;fuck that dimple;it appears like a blessing, like the universe reminding us that beauty still exists.

But the most terrifying thing about her?

Her heart.

A heart so kind, so painfully pure, it feels unreal.

She refuses to eat tomatoes because she believes they grow inside someone's tummy.
She avoids coriander because she thinks eating it will hurt it.
She worries about plants, animals, even toys.

And I keep asking myself-

What happened to this child?

What kind of life does this angel have to endure to deserve so much pain?

Her world shattered in a single day.

And she doesn't even understand how.

One day, I will have to tell her the truth.

That because of me, Neil didn't spend time with her.
That because of me, he came home late, injured, wrapped in bandages.
That because of me -

He is gone.

Forever.

How do I tell a child that her dashing chachu, her father died carrying the weight of my name?
How do I tell her that I took him away from her;not just from her days, but from her entire future?

I look at my sons.

Arnav-whose heart softened without a word.
Arin-who began caring without realizing when it started.
Rithvik-the same boy who once hated her, now standing here, wiping her forehead like she is something sacred.

Even Kabir-who bonded with her in just a day, whose worry now looks like love he never planned to feel.

Acceptance didn't come as an announcement.

It bloomed quietly.

Softly.

Naturally.

And maybe that's what scares me the most.

I snap out of my thoughts when I hear it.

A sound so low, so fragile, I almost miss it.

A whisper.

Barely a breath.

"Baba"

The word lands straight into my chest, heavy and unforgiving.

I turn my head.

Her eyes are half-open, unfocused, searching. Her lips tremble as she repeats it, weaker this time, like she's afraid it might disappear if she doesn't say it fast enough.

"Baba..."

And in that moment

Nothing else exists.

Not my guilt.
Not my past.
Not my power.

Only that word.

BABA.

Vikram's heart jolted the moment he heard that faint, almost broken whisper-"Baba"-coming from the bed.

He rushed forward without a second thought. Rithvik froze, the cloth still in his hand hovering over her forehead. He stepped back, silently, instinctively giving space, knowing that the moment was hers, and she needed him;the real him, the one she called Baba.

Kabir followed immediately, alert and cautious, while Arnav and Arin set their gadgets down-laptops, phones, monitors-all paused, all secondary now. Nothing mattered except the small figure trembling in the bed.

Tuffy's bark broke the silence, frantic but soft, a mix of worry and relief. He had sensed it. She was awake. She was here. Alive.

Avanya's eyes fluttered open slowly. Not fully, just enough to let the dim morning light sting her pupils.

The adjustment was harsh, painful almost;the way eyes do after long darkness, unconsciously shut off from the world.
She squinted, blinked repeatedly, trying to make sense of the shapes, the colors, the shadows around her. Each blink a small, tentative claim back to reality.

"Baba" she murmured again, softer this time, almost afraid to speak. Her tiny voice cracked through the tension in the room.

Vikram's hand was already on her forehead, warm and steady. He slid it down along the soft curve of her hair, brushing it back gently, over and over, letting her feel the safety, the familiarity.

"Yes, princess," he murmured softly, his own voice shaking just enough to betray the weight of the last days. "Baba is here."

She turned her face slowly toward him, just enough to see the contours of his face. His one knee bent on the bed, the other resting on the floor, his posture open, inviting, solid.

She flinched, hesitated, then slowly crawled forward, hiding her face in his lap, folding herself against him as if the world could not touch her there.

"Baba..." she whispered again, this time adding, "I need Dashing Chachu" Her tone was low, hesitant, fragile.

The trauma clinging to her words like shadows.

Vikram's hand lingered over her hair, stilling after those repeated motions. For two minutes he didn't move. He didn't speak. He simply held her, letting her heartbeat sync with his, letting the silence between them speak louder than words ever could. Then he spoke softly, carefully:

"Okay, princess, we'll call him but first.... first you have to stand up. We'll feed your little tummy, make you strong, then we can go."

She shook her head stubbornly, voice tiny and quivering, "No....now....now, Baba..."

Vikram froze. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to argue with the weight of trauma pressing on such a small frame.

She moves her eyes here and there and on seeing Kabir, a small sparkle appears in her eyes.
But as her gaze shifts from Kabir to Arin, Rithvik and Arnav, her sparkle turns into fear and she hides her face on Vikram's lap.

Rithvik instinctively took a step back, looking toward Arnav and Arin. No words were exchanged, only gestures. The boys came turn backward slowly and left careful not to break the fragile bubble of trust that had taken so long to grow.

Vikram gently tilted Avanya's face toward him, making sure she saw only him. His voice was soft, coaxing, low but steady:

"Look, princess, there is no one here. Only Baba, only your bhaiyu.... see? Nothing to be afraid of."

(A/N; Bhaiyu means brother)

Her eyes, still heavy-lidded, scanned the room. Slowly, cautiously, she took in the familiar figure, the gentle face, the steady presence. And then, with enormous effort, she pushed herself to stand. Her body trembled; legs weak, knees unsteady, hands clutching at Vikram for support.

"Baba" she whispered, voice tiny, faltering, "Hold me"

Vikram didn't hesitate. He bent, lifted her into his arms, holding her against his chest, feeling her weight, her fragility, the trembling of her small frame.

Her hands clung to him, fingers buried in the folds of his shirt, head resting on his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently, brushing away the remnants of fear with every movement.

"I have got you, my princess," he murmured. His thumb traced the soft curve of her temple. "I have got you. No one can hurt you here."

She lifted her head just enough to whisper, voice trembling, "Baba, my head,my shoulder, my hand,my feet....it hurts"

Vikram's chest tightened. He brushed her hair away from her forehead again, careful, tender. "Oh, my princess.....I know, I know it hurts. But we'll fix it. We'll make it better. Right now, just trust me. Okay?"

Her eyes filled with tears, trembling, but she didn't resist. She barely breathed, barely moved. Trauma held her in its icy grip.

"Magic," he said softly, seeing the fear in her eyes. "We'll use some magic. A special magic to make all the pain go away. And when you eat it, you'll feel strong again like the princess you are."

She blinked slowly, nodding. Her tiny voice barely audible, "Really,Baba?"

"Yes," he said firmly, soothingly. "Really. But before the magic, first we eat something. Your bhaiyu... he made something for you. Something to help your body, to help your mind. Then.... then we'll play, with Tuffy."

She slowly nodded, resting her head on his shoulder again, small and fragile.

Kabir's smile faded slightly, frustration mixed with relief. She should have been excited, giggling, bouncing in delight like a normal child. But trauma silenced that. Every small movement, every gesture was careful, measured. Every word weighed down with the burden of fear.

"Okay, princess" Vikram whispered, voice trembling slightly. "We'll do it together. We'll eat, we'll heal, and then we'll play. And no one.....no one will hurt you again."

She nodded, faintly, trusting him with the remnants of her fragile world.

"Okay" she whispered finally, voice small but determined, a thread of her own strength emerging from the trauma, enough to begin taking the first step toward healing.

Vikram held her a little tighter, feeling her small heartbeat against his chest, and whispered, almost to himself, "Yes, my princess Baba is here. Always."

As soon as Arnav, Rithvik, and Arin stepped out of Vikram's room and entered the study beside it, Rithvik quietly closed the door behind them. The soft click of the latch seemed unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

Arin crossed his arms, eyes flashing with frustration.

"Why..... why the hell did we leave her like that, bhai? I mean , we just stood there, watching her tremble. She..... she looked like she was about to vanish into herself,What the hell, Rithvik bhai ?" His voice was sharp, threaded with anger, but also worry, the words spilling out faster than he could stop.

Rithvik held up a hand, calm but firm, his tone clipped, professional, like a doctor briefing a critical case. "First sit. Then we talk."

Arin opened his mouth to argue further, but his gaze met Arnav's icy glare. That one look made him pause, swallow the rest of his words, and slowly nod before sitting across from them.

Arnav leaned back slightly, folding his arms.

"Rithvik explain. What was the reason? That expression on her face, the fear. It was.....terrifying." His voice was quieter now, but heavy with concern.

Rithvik cleared his throat, a tight lump forming as he struggled to steady himself. "Bhai she's in a traumatic state."

His words were deliberate, measured, clinical, but the underlying emotion seeped through.

Arnav and Arin both nodded simultaneously, murmuring, "Yes, we already know that."

"I know you do," Rithvik continued, swallowing again. "But listen. If we had stayed there;right outside her space, she would've been retraumatized. Her history, her mind associates people like us;anyone she doesn't know fully with fear. Right now, she only trusts two things: Kabir and Dad. Only them. Everyone else is a threat in her mind. Her comfort is limited, and forcing our presence could have made her withdraw completely."

Arin frowned, biting his lip. "But.... but why only Dad and Kabir, bhai?why no-not me yaar she met them just twice today. That's hardly enough—"

(A/N; (Isn't this the same Arin who called Avanya a troublemaker two days ago?)

Rithvik shook his head slowly. "Because they made her feel safe. They made her feel accepted. They let her feel valuable. We..... we've always unintentionally or intentionally made her scared. That's her mind, Arin. And her heart.....her heart chose them. That's who she trusts right now. And as her.....as her family, we have to respect that."

Arin's face softened, understanding dawning, though a flicker of guilt lingered in his eyes.

Rithvik paused, drawing a steadying breath. "Apart from that there's something else you both need to understand. Her condition is delicate. Trauma manifests unpredictably-she might withdraw suddenly, panic at small triggers, or become silent for hours. She might refuse to eat, to move, even to speak. Any sudden noise, any aggressive gesture, any perceived threat could push her back. We have to give her time, space, and control over her environment. We have to watch her vitals - physical and emotional and intervene only gently. Nothing forced, nothing rushed. Speak softly, move slowly. Monitor her, yes but without imposing. Let her choose comfort. Let her choose trust."

Arnav and Arin listened intently, nodding, absorbing each word like a prescription. Arnav's voice was low when he finally spoke, "We.... we will do it. We'll be careful. We'll give her what she needs."

Arin's tone was softer, almost vulnerable. "I..... I never realized how much fear she carries....how fragile she is. We'll follow your lead, bhai Whatever it takes."

Rithvik nodded, slight relief flickering, but his voice remained clinical, unwavering. "Good. Because any lapse , any misstep could undo what Dad and Kabir have built today. She is a child. A small, terrified child. And we need to treat her as such."

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then, the study door creaked open suddenly. Kabir entered, eyes scanning the room rapidly. Without a word, without hesitation, he knelt in front of Arnav. His head bowed, chest heaving, sobs breaking through.

All three froze, shock etching their faces. Arnav instinctively placed a hand over Kabir's head. "Kabir what happened?"

Kabir couldn't answer. He only sobbed harder, letting the tears fall freely. His body shook, raw emotion spilling out. After several moments, Arnav tried again. "Kabir tell me. What is it?"

Through broken gasps and muffled sobs, Kabir whispered, voice cracking, "Bhai.....she's changed..... she's not my sunshine anymore"

The words hit harder than any blow. Silence engulfed the room, the weight of helplessness and heartbreak pressing down on all four of them. Arnav, Arin, and Rithvik felt it keenly—the innocence lost, the trust fractured, the depth of her trauma.

And in that silence, the raw truth settled like a stone in their hearts.

_____________🎉🎉_____________

ANUVAE'S NOTE

Guys, first of all thank you

Truly.

The care, patience, and love you all are showing me and this story feels unreal. Every message, every silent read, every emotion you carry with Avanya means more than I can ever explain in words. I feel seen, I feel supported, and right now that matters a lot to me.

There is something important I want to talk about, so please read this calmly and with the same understanding you always show.

First thing.

There will be no chapter tomorrow. As you already know I have exams, and on top of that my hand is already broken. Writing is one thing, but editing with pain is another battle altogether. I don't want to give you half done emotions or rushed words. This story deserves better and so do you.

Second thing.

From the day after tomorrow, the chapters will become bigger. The word count will increase the emotions will deepen, and the suspense and drama will rise slowly but strongly. However, I will be posting chapters with a one day gap. This is only so I can manage my health, studies, and writing without burning myself out. Please don't worry this gap will not affect the emotional flow of Avanya's journey. Her feelings, her pain, her healing will remain just as intense.

Third thing

And this is very important before we move ahead.

This is a fictional story, yes, but it is built on very real emotions. So I want to clear some assumptions right now.

🚫Neil is not going to be reborn. 

🚫There is no hidden twist where   Avanya suddenly turns out to be Vikram's real daughter.

Some losses stay permanent, and some truths are meant to hurt. That is the reality this story stands on.

The upcoming ten chapters will change how you see every character.

Completely.

For some of you, it might be shocking.

For some, it might bring anger or disappointment.

But I cannot and will not change the storyline because it is uncomfortable.

This is the story I need to tell, honestly and fearlessly.

Another very important clarification.

This book does not promote playboy culture or rape or anything that disrespects women.

If anyone thinks any Rathores boy has a cheap bad boy vibe, then that is a misunderstanding.

Yes, they have a dark aura. Yes, they are intense. But they believe in respect, boundaries, and values.

They did not change because Avanya came into their lives. They were already like this. Avanya only reveals who they truly are.

Now comes the most important question, and I need everyone's response on this. Please do not skip commenting.

Do you want each brother to have their own love story in this book, or do you want the story to stay focused only on Avanya?

Avanya will always remain the heart and soul of this story. That will never change. But as side arcs, your comments will now decide the direction. This time, I genuinely want to listen to you all.

Thank you for staying.

Thank you for trusting me.

Thank you for holding Avanya with me.

Please comment. Your voice matters here.

SUBSCRIBE HERE, FOLLOW THERE — AUTHOR-ANUVAE & @anuvae._.here ARE EVERYWHERE. 😭