Don't just read and disappear, leave a little vote while you're here.

This chapter is going to be damn crazy just wear your earphones play this song in loop and damn it you are in love with every character

Soon as Vikram pushed the mansion doors open and stepped inside, a voice echoed through the grand hall.

"Vikram."

He froze.

The single word carried weight. Authority. Blood. History.

Shock flashed across his face for a split second.
Arnav stiffened. Kabir and Rithvik exchanged a sharp glance. Arin rubbed his eyes twice as if he had imagined it.

For a second, silence ruled the hall.

Vikram slowly turned his head.

Standing near the center of the hall was Saksham Singh Rathore.

Vikram's jaw tightened, but he did not say a word. His arms instinctively adjusted around the little girl sleeping against him. Avanya's tiny hand rested on his cheek, her face hidden in her palms, completely unaware of the storm in the room.

Arnav looked at Vikram.

A silent nod passed between them.

Without waiting, Vikram walked towards the staircase.

He did not stop.
He did not explain.
He did not greet.

His priority was in his arms.

Every pair of eyes in the hall followed him as he climbed the stairs. Their gaze lingered on the child, curiosity mixed with unasked questions.

Once Vikram disappeared upstairs, Arnav stepped fully inside.

He walked straight to Saksham and bent down to touch his feet.

"Khambaghani bade papa."

(Greetings, elder uncle.)

Saksham placed his hand on Arnav's head. "Jeete raho."
(Stay blessed.)

Arnav then turned toward Devansh.

"Khambaghani chote papa."
(Greetings, younger uncle.)

Devansh smiled lightly. "Khush raho."
(Stay happy)

Arnav moved to Shipra and Dipali, bending again.

"Khambaghani badi maa."
(Greetings, elder aunt)

"Khambaghani choti maa."
(Greetings, younger aunt)

They blessed him warmly.

Behind him, Rithvik, Arin and Kabir followed the same ritual, touching feet one by one. Respect first. Questions later.

But the air was thick.

On the elders' faces, confusion was clear.

Arnav cleared his throat calmly.

"Bade papa, give us some time. Once Dad comes, we'll sit and talk properly."

Saksham studied him for a few seconds.

"Time kis baat ka, Arnav?"
(Time for what, Arnav?)

Arnav's expression remained composed. "Bas thoda sa. Things are better explained together."

A pause.

Then Saksham nodded and took his seat on the large sofa. Devansh sat beside him.

The cousins slowly gathered in their usual groups, as if nothing had shaken the foundation of the house a few minutes ago.

----------Cousins' Corner

Arin flopped beside Vayu.

"Bro, did you see the qualifiers list?" Arin asked.

Vayu smirked. "Obviously. And you're still not beating me this time."

"In your dreams," Arin scoffed. "I've been practicing."

"Practice doesn't fix bad aim," Vayu teased.

Arin gasped dramatically. "Excuse me? Say that again."

Vayu leaned closer. "Bad. Aim."

Both burst into quiet laughter.

Across from them-

Kabir sat with Kiansh and Ivaan.

Kiansh nudged him. "You look tired."

Kabir shrugged. "Long day."

Ivaan's eyes flickered toward the stairs. "That kid...."

Kabir looked at him directly. "She's family."

(A/n; for her he really do anything)

Simple. Firm.

Ivaan didn't push further. "Hmm."

Kiansh leaned back. "Whatever it is, looks serious."

Kabir's tone turned steady. "It is."

No more words were needed.

On the other side of the hall-

Yuvaan and Rithvik stood near the pillar.

"Still handling the Delhi side?" Yuvaan asked.

"Yes," Rithvik replied. "Expansion is slow. But stable."

Yuvaan nodded. "Stability is more important than speed."

Rithvik's eyes briefly moved upstairs. "Agreed."

Yuvaan noticed.

"Something changed?" he asked quietly.

Rithvik looked back at him. "Everything."

Before Yuvaan could ask more, footsteps echoed upstairs faintly, and both fell silent.

Near the large window-

Samarth and Arnav stood facing each other.

Samarth spoke first. "I heard about the shipment issue."

"It's handled," Arnav replied calmly.

"By you?"

Arnav gave him a look. "By us."

Samarth studied him carefully. "You've grown sharper."

Arnav's lips twitched. "Experience does that."

Samarth lowered his voice. "And the child?"

Arnav's expression didn't change. "Protected."

That one word held meaning.

Samarth nodded slowly. "Then good."

Meanwhile, on the main sofa-

Saksham watched all of them.

Devansh leaned slightly toward him. "You noticed?"

Saksham's gaze remained steady. "Yes."

"They're united."

"More than before," Saksham replied.

Shipra's eyes softened. "And protective."

Dipali added gently, "Especially about the girl."

Saksham inhaled deeply.

"Who is she?"

No one answered.

Because no one downstairs had that right yet.

The hall buzzed with low conversations, but underneath it all, tension hummed like a silent current.

Upstairs, a closed door.

Downstairs, waiting eyes.

Arnav glanced at the staircase once more.

"Dad should be here soon," he said softly, almost to himself.

And as the Rathore mansion stood tall under its chandeliers, filled with bloodline, power, loyalty and secrets

Everyone waited.

For answers.

On the other hand-----

Vikram reached his room.

The long corridor felt unusually silent tonight, as if even the walls understood that something fragile was resting in his arms. He pushed the door open with his shoulder carefully, making sure the sound wouldn't disturb her.

The room was dimly lit.

Soft golden lamps. Heavy curtains drawn. The faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air.

He walked inside and shut the door quietly behind him.

Avanya was still asleep in his arms, her small fingers loosely curled near his collar, her face hidden against his chest. A faint crease of pain rested between her brows even in sleep.

Vikram moved toward the bed and slowly bent down, placing her gently over the mattress.

For a second, everything seemed fine.

Then she stirred.

A tiny movement.

Her knee shifted slightly against the bedsheet, and a faint whimper escaped her lips. Her brows pulled together, and pain flickered across her face.

No matter how careful he was, pain was still pain.

She was just a child.

And tonight, her little body had endured anesthesia, injury, fear and too much change.

Vikram's jaw tightened.

He sat beside her immediately.

"It's okay," he murmured softly, though she couldn't hear him properly.

Her breathing turned uneven for a moment.

He tapped her forehead lightly with his fingers, a small habit he had developed to soothe her. His touch was gentle, almost reverent.

Slowly, her breathing steadied again.

But then his eyes moved to the green top she was wearing.

It wasn't comfortable for sleep.

The fabric looked slightly stiff, and her knee needed ease, softness, warmth.

Without wasting another second, Vikram stood up and walked toward the wardrobe.

He opened it and scanned quickly before pulling out a new furry pink night suit - soft, warm, light. He had bought it without thinking twice the moment he saw it in the store.

Pink.

Because she had once smiled at a pink hairband.

He returned to the bed and sat down again.

Carefully, very carefully, he began removing her top. His movements were slow, cautious, making sure he didn't brush against her injured knee.

Even in deep sleep, she reacted.

A small wince.

A soft cry.

Her hand twitched.

"Shh....." he whispered under his breath.

He slipped the shirt off and gently made her wear the soft pink furry one, adjusting the sleeves carefully over her arms.

When it was time to change the lower part, he lifted her slightly, supporting her back with one hand, making sure her knee didn't bend unnecessarily.

Still-

A faint sob escaped her lips.

Tears formed at the corner of her closed eyes.

Vikram's heart twisted.

He removed her shoes slowly, untying them gently. The moment his fingers brushed near her knee while adjusting her leg, she winced harder and a small broken sound came from her throat.

And then-

She started crying.

Not loudly.

Not fully awake.

Just soft, broken sobs in deep sleep.

Vikram immediately sat back and pulled her gently toward him, resting her head on his lap.

He adjusted her carefully so her injured knee remained straight and untouched.

His palm began moving over her head in slow, rhythmic strokes.

"Baba's here," he murmured quietly. "No one will hurt you."

His voice was deep, controlled, but something inside it cracked.

She shifted slightly and instinctively clutched at his shirt.

Her tiny fingers fisted the fabric near his waist.

As if even in sleep, she knew where safety was.

He continued stroking her hair.

His thumb brushed lightly over her forehead again and again.

After a few minutes, her sobs turned into sniffles.

Then her breathing deepened.

Then silence.

She slipped back into deep sleep.

But Vikram did not move.

His eyes were fixed on her face.

Every tear that had escaped her lashes felt like a blade under his skin.

He lifted his hand and gently wiped the remaining tear from the corner of her eye.

His thumb lingered there for a second.

Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"My little princess," he whispered.

The words weren't loud.

But they carried something possessive.

Protective.

Unbreakable.

He adjusted her properly on the bed, placing a soft pillow beside her so she wouldn't roll accidentally. He pulled the blanket lightly over her, making sure it didn't press against her knee.

For a long moment, he just stood there.

Watching.

Memorizing.

As if imprinting this sight into his soul.

Then slowly, he stood up.

He took out his phone and made a call.

"Come to my room," he said simply.

No explanation.

No softness.

Just authority.

Within a minute, there was a knock.

The door opened.

Kabir stepped inside.

He paused at the entrance, his eyes immediately moving toward the bed.

Avanya lay there in soft pink fur, small and fragile under the dim light.

Kabir's expression changed.

Vikram looked at him.

"I'm going downstairs," Vikram said in a low tone. "You change and sleep beside her."

Kabir nodded once.

"She might wake up because of a nightmare," Vikram continued. "If she sees you,she'll calm down faster."

Kabir walked closer to the bed, his gaze softening as he looked at her face.

"She cried?" he asked quietly.

Vikram's jaw flexed. "A little."

Kabir inhaled slowly.

His hand hovered above her head before he gently brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.

"She looks smaller when she sleeps," Kabir murmured.

"She is small," Vikram replied.

Silence stretched between them.

Protective silence.

Kabir finally looked at Vikram.

"You didn't answer downstairs."

Vikram's eyes darkened slightly. "There was nothing to answer."

Kabir studied him carefully.

Then he spoke the words that had been circling in his head since the hall.

"She's ours, right?"

Not a question filled with doubt.

But confirmation.

Claim.

Belonging.

Vikram's lips curved slowly.

A dangerous smile.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just calm. Confident. Almost devilish.

He stepped closer to Kabir.

"No doubt," he said, voice low and steady. "She's ours."

Something in his tone made it clear-

Not by blood.

Not by law.

But by choice.

And that choice was stronger than anything else.

Kabir's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Our responsibility," Kabir added quietly.

"Our strength," Vikram corrected.

Kabir glanced at him. "And our weakness?"

Vikram's eyes shifted to the sleeping child.

For a second-

Just one second-

His gaze softened in a way only this room could witness.

"She's the only weakness I allow," he said.

(A/n; don't know about you guys but it's my second favourite dialogue till now)

Kabir didn't argue.

Because he understood.

Vikram walked toward the wardrobe and pulled out his night clothes. He changed quickly, movements precise and controlled.

But before leaving-

He stopped near the door.

Something held him.

He turned back.

"Dad."

Kabir looked at him fully.

Vikram's eyes met his.

Kabir spoke again, slower this time.

"She's not temporary, right?"

The question carried weight.

Future.

Commitment.

War.

Vikram walked back two steps until he stood beside the bed again.

He looked at Avanya.

Then at Kabir.

"She's Rathore," he said quietly.

Kabir's breath stilled.

Vikram's voice dropped even lower.

"And Rathores don't let go of what is theirs."

The room fell silent.

Outside, the mansion might be filled with questions.

Downstairs, elders might be waiting.

But inside this room-

There was only a sleeping child.

And two men who had already decided her place in their world.

Kabir gave a firm nod.

"I'll stay."

Vikram placed a hand on his shoulder briefly. Not emotional. Not dramatic. Just solid.

"Call me if she wakes up."

Kabir's lips twitched faintly. "You think I won't?"

Vikram's expression shifted slightly, almost amused.

"I know you won't."

He walked toward the door again.

This time he didn't stop.

Before stepping out, he looked at her one last time.

Her small hand had shifted near her cheek.

Her breathing was steady.

Peaceful.

He opened the door slowly and stepped outside, closing it without a sound.

Inside the room, Kabir changed quickly and lay down beside the bed, careful not to disturb her.

He kept a small distance but close enough that if she reached out, she would find him.

He watched her for a long moment.

"She's ours," he whispered under his breath.

And the night wrapped around the Rathore mansion, heavy with secrets, loyalty, and a new kind of bond-

One that wasn't written by blood,

But by choice.

-------

Vikram walked down the staircase with slow, steady steps.

Each step echoed in the large hall of the Rathore mansion.

The living room was filled with people, yet the silence felt louder than noise.

Saksham Singh Rathore sat at the center sofa, his posture straight, his presence dominating as always. Shipra sat beside him, her eyes sharp yet concerned. Devansh leaned slightly forward, elbows on knees, while Dipali's hands were folded tightly in her lap.

On the other couches and chairs, the younger Rathores were scattered-Samarth, Ivaan, Vayu, Kiansh, Yuvaan-trying to look normal, but their eyes constantly flickered toward the staircase.

As soon as Vikram stepped into the living room-

Every pair of eyes turned toward him.

No one spoke.

No one blinked.

He walked forward calmly, his face composed, emotions locked behind a familiar wall.

He bent down first and touched Saksham's feet.

Then Shipra's.

Then Devansh's.

Then Dipali's.

Respect.

Tradition.

Discipline.

Even tonight.

The elders placed their hands on his head silently, but their expressions carried a storm of questions.

Before anyone could speak, Samarth, Ivaan, Vayu, Kiansh, and Yuvaan stood up and came forward, touching Vikram's feet one by one.

He placed his hand on their heads briefly.

"Bless you," he said simply.

No extra words.

No extra warmth.

He moved toward an empty seat and sat down.

The silence stretched.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.

And then-

Sobha Kaki hurried into the hall, her saree slightly gathered in her hand as she walked fast.

"Bade sahab....wo....Tuffy khana nahi kha raha...."
("Sir... Tuffy is not eating...")

Vikram turned his face toward her.

His expression didn't change.

"Kaki, take him to my room," he said evenly. "And make sure he eats something."

Sobha Kaki nodded quickly.
"Ji, bade sahab."
("Yes, sir.")

She left.

But the mention of a name no one here recognized only deepened the confusion.

Vikram shifted his gaze back to Saksham.

His tone remained controlled.

Measured.

Without unnecessary emotion.

"The child you saw," he began slowly, "is My Daughter."

The words fell into the room like a bomb.

Arin blinked once.

Then twice.

He almost leaned forward as if he had misheard.

Arnav's jaw tightened.

Rithvik's fingers curled slowly over the armrest.

Saksham stood up abruptly.

"What the f#ck are you saying, Vikram?" his voice thundered.

Devansh also rose from his seat.

Shipra inhaled sharply.

Dipali's hand flew to her mouth.

The younger cousins straightened instantly.

Vikram stood up too.

Not aggressive.

Not defensive.

Just steady.

"Bhaisa," he said calmly, "wo beti hai meri."
("Brother, she is my daughter.")

He paused deliberately.

"Sirf meri beti nahi.... yeh jo teen yahan baithe hain-" he gestured slightly toward Arnav, Arin, and Rithvik, "-yeh sab ki behen hai."
("Not just my daughter, she is the sister of these boys sitting here.")

His voice deepened slightly.

"Aur jo upar hai....uski jaan hai woh."
("And for the one upstairs, she is his life.")

The meaning wasn't loud.

But it was powerful.

Dipali stepped forward, her face pale.

"How can you even say that so casually, Vikram?" she demanded. "How can you cheat on Rashi?"

The word cheat hung in the air like poison.

Before Vikram could answer, Arnav spoke sharply.

"Choti maa, dad didn't cheat on mom," he said firmly.
(Younger aunt,dad didn't cheat on mom)

He looked at everyone.

"First sit. Then let him speak."

His tone wasn't disrespectful.

But it carried authority.

Slowly, after a few seconds of tense silence, everyone sat back down.

Vikram remained standing.

He didn't rush.

He didn't justify himself immediately.

He let the room settle.

Then he spoke.

"She's Neil's daughter."

The name made Devansh's brows knit together.

"Neil?" Saksham repeated slowly.

Vikram nodded once.

"He died a few days ago."

A pause.

"In an accident....or maybe," his voice hardened slightly, "in a game of revenge."

The younger boys exchanged glances.

No one interrupted.

"My princess was left alone in this world," Vikram continued. "Completely alone."

For a fraction of a second, his throat tightened.

But he controlled it.

"On the party night," he said, "an old lady came to me. She handed me a letter."

His fingers curled slightly as he remembered.

"It was written by Neil."

The hall grew quieter.

"He knew something was going to happen," Vikram said. "He knew he might not survive."

Saksham's expression shifted from anger to attention.

"He took a promise from me," Vikram continued. "To take care of her. No matter what."

He exhaled slowly.

"I went to his house."

His eyes dimmed slightly at the memory.

"And I saw her."

He paused.

"My little princess."

The word princess softened something in the room.

"She woke up," he said quietly. "She looked at me and she called me 'Baba.'"

His voice dropped lower.

"That word didn't carry confusion. It didn't carry doubt. It carried love."

Arin swallowed.

Rithvik looked down.

Vikram continued.

"I was confused," he admitted. "How was I supposed to handle a little girl? I knew no one would accept her easily."

Dipali looked guilty for a second.

"But I didn't have a choice," he said firmly. "I took her. And Tuffy....her child."

A few brows furrowed.

"He's her dog," Vikram clarified calmly. "But she doesn't call him a dog. He's her child."

There was something protective in the way he explained it.

"I brought them both here," he said. "Kept them in the outhouse first."

He glanced at the three young men.

"I spoke to them."

His gaze paused briefly on arnav.

"And surprisingly, Kabir accepted her as his sister."

Kabir didn't look up.

"But it wasn't surprising," Vikram corrected softly. "Because he understood."

He shifted his eyes to Arin.

"She already knew Arin."

Arin blinked.

"They fight like enemies," Vikram added. "But she knows him."

A faint, almost invisible smile touched Arin's lips before he suppressed it.

"And him...." Vikram's gaze flickered toward Arnav. "She calls him her giant uncle."

A few of the cousins almost choked on their breath.

"Strange, right?" Vikram said dryly.

No one laughed.

But the tension eased a little.

"My son changed because of her," he said quietly.

His voice grew deeper.

"And her scary uncle, is learning how to be human."

Rithvik's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue.

Vikram inhaled once more.

"Neil lost everything for me," he said. "And before leaving ,he gave me something more precious than anything he ever had."

Silence.

Pure silence.

"I don't know what you all think," Vikram continued calmly. "But for me and for them...."

He looked toward the staircase for a second.

"She is ours."

His eyes returned to Saksham.

"I have five children."

The room froze.

"They each have four siblings," he said clearly. "Excluding themselves."

Then his voice softened, just a little.

"And she..."

He paused.

"She has me as her Baba."

A breath.

"And them as her brothers."

No one moved.

No one reacted.

Shock spread across every face.

Saksham stared at Vikram as if seeing him differently for the first time.

Shipra's eyes had softened, but she didn't speak.

Devansh looked thoughtful.

Dipali's anger had dissolved into confusion.

The younger cousins were wide-eyed.

Arin leaned back slowly.

Rithvik remained unreadable.

Arnav's shoulders relaxed slightly.

Vikram looked at all of them once.

"That's it," he said simply.

No pleading.

No explanation beyond this.

No demand for approval.

Just truth.

And the Rathore mansion, known for power, pride, and unshakable decisions-

Stood silent in the face of something none of them had expected.

A daughter.

A promise.

And a man who had already made his choice.

Saksham cleared his throat, the sharp sound cutting through the thick silence.

"But Neil was never married," he said slowly, eyes fixed on Vikram. "Then how does he have a daughter? And that too.... a child this young?"

His question was not accusation.

It was logic.

Vikram didn't hesitate.

"She is not his biological daughter," he replied evenly. "He adopted her."

The word adopted floated in the air.

Devansh leaned forward, his fingers interlocked.

"Vikram," he began carefully, "I understand emotions. I understand promises. But this is not right."

His tone wasn't harsh.

It was cautious.

"The child could be a threat too. We don't know her background. We don't know where she came from. What if she has a past that drags all of you into trouble?"

He paused, choosing his words.

"What if loving her becomes your biggest mista-?"

Before he could complete his sentence

"Chote papa," Rithvik interrupted gently.
(Younger uncle)

All eyes shifted to him.

His voice was respectful.

But firm.

"She is not the problem."

Devansh looked at him.

Rithvik continued, his jaw tight but his tone steady.

"She is the reason we are not drowning in problems."

The elders exchanged glances.

"We don't feel motherless anymore," Rithvik said quietly. "She....she fills that space."

His voice cracked slightly, but he didn't stop.

"She cares for us. She counts us before herself. She waits for us to come home. She checks if we ate. She scolds us if we don't sleep."

A faint, painful smile appeared on his face.

"She loves us."

He looked at Devansh directly.

"She will never be the problem."

Shipra stood up slowly.

She walked toward Rithvik and gently held his hand.

"We understand, beta," she said softly. "You are attached to her."

Her thumb brushed over his knuckles.

"But think wisely."

Her voice grew serious.

"You all know what kind of life you live. The kind of work you do."

No one argued.

"In our house," she continued, "daughters are not just daughters. They are our hearts."

Her eyes flickered briefly toward the staircase.

"And in this dark world, a daughter becomes a weakness."

The word weakness echoed.

"If anyone finds out about her," Shipra said quietly, "they will try to hurt her. Not because she did anything.... but because she belongs to you."

The concern in her voice was real.

Not judgment.

Fear.

Arin suddenly stepped forward.

"Badi maa," he said, his voice low but controlled.

She turned to him.

"You are also a daughter of this house."

The room went still.

"Dadu and dadi(grandparents)never treated you or choti maa any less than daughters," he continued. "They never saw you as weakness."

His eyes darkened.

"And if she is our weak point," he said slowly, "then yes.... she is."

(A/n; MAKE SURE PLAY THE SONG RACE SANSOON KI FOR BETTER EMOTIONS)

A dangerous calm spread across his face.

"We say it proudly."

(A/n; dhum tamana dhum dhum aree maje aa rhe hai bhyi kya mast movie scene hai, muah arin bhaiyu muah )

The cousins stared at him.

"Because if she is our weakness," Arin's voice dropped lower, rage flickering in his eyes, "then she is also our strength."

His hands clenched.

"And if anyone even thinks of harming her..."

His jaw tightened.

"We will rip their brains out."

The fury in his eyes was not dramatic.

It was real.

Possessive.

Protective.

Deadly.

Silence fell again.

Not confused.

Not shocked.

But heavy with realization.

This was not temporary attachment.

This was not sympathy.

This was war-level protection.

And every single one of them meant it.

Saksham slowly leaned back against the couch.

He crossed one leg over the other, composed, controlled.

His fingers tapped once on the armrest before he finally spoke.

"What if one day," he said calmly, eyes closing as if the thought was simple logic, "you all wake up and say she is not your child?"

The room stiffened.

"What if you say she is not our sister?" he continued, voice steady. "She is a stranger. A girl whose parents we don't even know."

His words were not loud.

But they were sharp.

"A girl whose past can come back to destroy everything."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

And then-

"That's enough!"

The roar shattered the air.

Every head snapped toward the voice.

ARNAV SINGH RATHORE
HIS ANGEL, GIANT'S UNCLE

Saksham's eyes opened immediately.

The relaxed posture disappeared.

He sat upright.

Because the tone was not argument.

It was fury.

Samarth stared at Arnav like he had just seen something impossible.

The others were equally stunned.

How could he raise his voice like that?

At Saksham?

But Arnav didn't give a fuck about the shock in the room.

He stepped forward without hesitation.

His footsteps were heavy.

Purposeful.

He dragged an armchair forward and sat opposite Saksham and Devansh, leaning forward, elbows on knees.

(A/N; Koi seeti mardo meko nahi aati hai , dekho best tha yeh full bollywood agar yaha comment ni dikhe na sabko uda dungi mai)

His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked.

"You can say whatever the hell you want," Arnav began, voice low but burning. "But bade papa, she is my sister."

The word sister didn't come soft.

It came claimed.

"And I don't listen to a single fucking thing about her."

The curse landed hard.

Shipra inhaled sharply.

Devansh's brows knitted.

But Arnav didn't stop.

"You taught us," he said, eyes locked on Saksham, "if anyone speaks against your family, you rip their tongue out."

His breathing was uneven now.

"You told us never to see who is standing in front of us."

He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"So don't expect me to stand here quietly while someone questions her place."

His voice rose.

"I understand your points. I fucking understand them."

He pointed toward his own chest.

"She's not our blood, right?"

A bitter laugh escaped him.

"Then you're wrong."

His eyes darkened.

"She is more Rathore than half of us sitting here."

The room froze.

He turned toward Shipra, Dipali

"Badi maa. Choti maa. Mom."

His voice softened for half a second before hardening again.

"They don't share Rathore blood either."

No one spoke.

"But are they any less Rathore?"

He looked back at Saksham.

"Are they outsiders?"

Silence.

"Then how the hell can you think my angel isn't?"

The word angel trembled with possession.

"I don't give a fuck whether she carries Rathore blood or not."

His hands fisted.

"She's mine."

His voice cracked slightly.

"She's ours."

He gestured toward his brothers.

"And that's what matters."

The cousins were staring at him with wide eyes.

They had seen Arnav angry before.

Cold.

Strategic.

Cruel.

But this-

This was personal.

His shoulders were tense.

Veins stood out on his neck.

His eyes were red.

Not from tears.

From rage.

"And I know what you all are thinking," he continued, voice hoarse. "That I'm disrespecting you."

He let out a sharp exhale.

"Fine."

His gaze didn't waver.

"But as humans-at least as fucking humans-it's our duty not to say shit like this about a child."

His voice broke for a second before turning rough again.

"She doesn't even know the meaning of these words."

His chest rose and fell heavily.

"She doesn't know bloodlines. She doesn't know threats. She doesn't know politics."

He leaned forward again.

"She only knows love."

The words came out like confession.

"And you're sitting here discussing what if she becomes a problem?"

His eyes flashed.

"If the world comes after her, we'll deal with the world."

A dangerous calm replaced the volume.

"But don't you dare sit in this house and make her sound like a risk."

The temperature in the room felt different.

No one moved.

No one interrupted.

Even Saksham was watching him closely now.

"She lost everything," Arnav said quietly, voice raw. "And she walked into this house and gave us more than we ever asked for."

He swallowed.

"She fixed things you didn't even know were broken."

His fingers tightened around the armrest.

"And if anyone-anyone-tries to label her as a stranger..."

His eyes burned.

"I swear to Mom, I won't stay silent."

He stood up abruptly.

The chair scraped against the floor.

The sound echoed.

His breathing was heavy.

Controlled chaos.

He looked directly at Saksham.

"You always told us to protect our own."

A pause.

"She is our own."

The room was no longer just tense.

It was shaken.

Because Arnav wasn't speaking from impulse.

He was speaking from something deeper.

Claim.

Bond.

Attachment.

Possession.

His jaw flexed once more.

"And I don't give a fuck if that sounds disrespectful."

His voice dropped dangerously low.

"But I won't let anyone question her place again."

Silence swallowed the room whole.

Arnav's chest rose and fell.

Eyes red.

Shoulders rigid.

Every vein in his body screaming protection.

And for the first time that night-

No one had an answer.

Shipra stepped forward first.

Her expression was not angry.

It was disappointed.

"This is the way you talk to your bade papa?" she said, voice firm but not loud. "Did you forget how he played with you all? How he raised you?"

Her eyes were on Arnav, but her words carried weight for all of them.

"If you had something to say, you could have said it with respect-"

Before she could complete her sentence-

"Dad! Come fast!"

Kabir's voice tore through the hallway.

It wasn't casual.

It wasn't normal.

It was urgent.

And that was enough.

For Rithvik.

For Arin.

For Arnav.

For Vikram.

They didn't look at each other.

They didn't ask questions.

They just ran.

Because they knew that tone.

Panic attack.

Again.

The sound of their footsteps thundered up the stairs.

The elders watched in stunned silence as the four of them disappeared in seconds.

Dipali didn't hesitate either.

She immediately started walking toward the staircase.

"Dipali, where are you going?" Devansh asked, confusion clear in his voice.

She stopped midway.

Turned.

And the calm doctor expression on her face was replaced by something sharp.

"Dikkat apko hai uss bachi se, hume nahi."
(You have a problem with that child, not me.)

Her voice didn't shake.

"Hum humare chote ki khushi mein khush hai."
(I am happy in our younger one's happiness.)

She looked directly at him.

"Aur hume humari chote aur uski biwi ki beti chavi ko dekhna hai."
(And I want to see the daughter of our younger one and his wife.)

The word beti was deliberate.

Claimed.

She turned on her heels and began climbing the stairs without waiting for a response.

Devansh stood there for a moment, absorbing the weight of her words.

Shipra slowly turned toward Saksham.

She held his hand gently.

"Rana sa," she said softly, "you know how Arnav is. Don't think too much about his tone. He is still a child."

Her eyes searched his face.

Saksham smirked faintly.

"Rani sa," he replied calmly, "you should be happy."

She frowned slightly.

"Happy?"

He leaned back against the couch again, but this time his expression was different.

"We got our children back."

There was something layered in his voice.

"For years," he continued, "they stood beside us. Worked with us. Fought with us."

"But they were distant."

His eyes lifted toward the staircase.

"Tonight, I saw fire."

Samarth shifted slightly where he stood.

Ivaan exchanged a glance with Yuvaan.

Saksham's gaze didn't waver.

"Now we have to see," he said quietly, "what magic this child holds."

Shipra blinked.

"They are possessive."

He nodded once.

"Obsessive."

There was no anger in his tone.

Only calculation.

Shipra studied his face carefully.

And she noticed it.

The smirk wasn't devilish.

The eyes weren't filled with rage.

There was something else.

Hope.

A fragile, unspoken hope.

Devansh looked at his elder brother.

"Are you sure, bhaisa?"

His voice was cautious.

Saksham smiled slowly.

"Not sure," he admitted.

"But I want to try once."

Try.

The word hung between them.

Samarth stepped forward slightly.

"Dad," he said in a controlled tone, "if this child is grounding them,maybe that's not a threat."

His voice was neutral.

But thoughtful.

"For years we tried different ways to bring them emotionally closer."

His eyes flickered upward.

"Nothing worked."

Ivaan folded his arms.

"I've been observing something," he added quietly. "Their schedules changed."

Everyone looked at him.

"They come home earlier."

"They don't stay out unnecessarily."

"They sit together more often."

His voice was analytical.

"Engagement patterns shifted."

Kiansh raised an eyebrow.

"Bhai, this is not social media analytics."

Ivaan didn't react.

"It's behavior mapping," he replied calmly.

Yuvaan adjusted his cufflinks.

"If she gives them a reason to come home," he said, "then that itself is powerful."

Vayu, who had been silent until now, spoke up.

"Bade papa," he addressed Saksham respectfully, "in the forces, we are taught one thing."

All eyes turned to him.

"Protect what matters."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"If she matters to them,they will fight differently."

The room went quiet again.

Shipra looked at Saksham.

"Rana sa," she whispered, "what are you thinking?"

He exhaled slowly.

"I am thinking," he said, standing up, "that maybe this child is not our weakness."

He glanced at Devansh.

"Maybe she is the key."

Devansh's brows furrowed.

"To what?"

Saksham's eyes softened for the first time that night.

"To bringing my brother back."

The confession was quiet.

Heavy.

For eighteen years, Vikram had been present.

But not entirely there.

Cold.

Detached.

Strategic.

Unreachable.

Shipra squeezed Saksham's hand.

"You miss him," she said gently.

Saksham didn't deny it.

Devansh sighed.

"If this little girl can do what we couldn't..."

He didn't finish the sentence.

Samarth straightened.

"Then we should observe," he said. "Not oppose."

Yuvaan nodded slowly.

"Legally speaking, adoption complications can be managed later."

Kiansh gave a half-smile.

"I just want to see the face of the girl who made Arnav Bhai explode like that."

Ivaan added quietly, "He wasn't angry because he was challenged."

"He was angry because she was questioned."

Vayu gave a small nod.

"That's protection."

Shipra looked between her sons.

"You all are accepting this easily?"

Samarth answered calmly.

"We are not accepting blindly."

"We are watching."

Devansh finally stood up as well.

"All right," he said, looking at Saksham. "Let's see this magic."

Saksham adjusted his sleeves slightly.

"Hmm."

Then he looked toward the stairs.

"Come."

His tone was firm again.

"Let's see what storm one little girl has created in this house."

They began walking toward the staircase.

One by one.

Samarth beside his father.

Ivaan and Yuvaan behind them.

Kiansh whispering something to Vayu.

Shipra walking slowly, thoughtful.

Devansh quiet.

The atmosphere had shifted.

It was no longer about opposition.

It was about curiosity.

Possibility.

As they reached the first step, Shipra spoke again.

"Rana sa."

He paused.

"If she truly brings him back...."

She didn't finish.

Saksham looked at her.

"For eighteen years," he said softly, "I watched my brother turn into stone."

His jaw tightened slightly.

"If this child melts even a crack in that stone...."

He looked upward.

"I will protect her myself."

Devansh glanced at him sharply.

"You are serious?"

Saksham gave a small nod.

"Yes."

Samarth noticed it.

The tone.

It wasn't political.

It wasn't strategic.

It was personal.

And for the first time that night-

The Rathore elders were not climbing the stairs to question.

They were climbing to witness.

Behind them, Yuvaan murmured quietly,

"This house hasn't felt this alive in years."

Ivaan agreed.

"Conflict reveals truth."

Kiansh smirked lightly.

"And drama."

Vayu shook his head slightly but a faint smile touched his lips.

Shipra inhaled deeply.

"Whatever happens," she said softly, "we handle it together."

Saksham responded without looking back.

"Together."

They continued upward.

Not as judges.

Not as critics.

But as a family about to see something that had shaken the foundation of their power.

And maybe-

Just maybe-

Heal something they thought was permanently broken.

The hallway above echoed faintly with hurried footsteps and anxious voices.

The Rathore elders and cousins moved toward it.

Not knowing exactly what they were about to witness.

But knowing one thing clearly-

That little girl had already changed something.

And tonight—

They were going to see how deep that change ran.

----------------------

ANUVAE NOTE

No extra bakbak today.

I'm declaring it right now - this is my favorite chapter.

I didn't even plan it like this. I literally sat at my desk thinking, okay I have to write something. Some dialogues. But what exactly? My brain was blank. Zero. Vacuum.

Then I played one song.

And suddenly - boom.

My mind started running like it had been waiting for this moment. Scenes forming. Dialogues hitting. Emotions flowing. I wasn't even forcing it. It just happened.

Maybe for some of you this kind of chapter feels normal. But for me? This is the best I've written till now. Because it feels real. So real that even I can't explain it properly.

And yes, I am praising myself. Because why not? I'm also a fan of this chapter.

After finishing it, I read it once.
Then twice.
Then five times.

And every time I was like - bro,did I really write this?

The way Arnav dragged that chair.
The way he scratched it before sitting.
The way he exploded.

It felt so cinematic. So Bollywood-coded. I could literally see the camera angle in my head.

But now - small clarification.

Some of you might be thinking that the elders are villains.

They are not.

Just pause for a second and think practically. If someone new suddenly enters your family, will everyone immediately start dancing around her? Hugging her? Accepting her without a single question?

No.

That's not how real families work.

Yes, for the boys there was an emotional pull. They connected. They felt something. But the elders? They never met her. They don't know her. They only know the risks.

Questioning is not cruelty.

Questioning is protection.

Not a single question they asked was invalid. Every concern had logic behind it.

Was Saksham harsh when he said she is not your real child? Yes. That line hurt. Even I felt it while writing.

But tell me honestly - in Indian society, don't people say worse?

When a child grows up, don't outsiders sometimes whisper things like, "She is not your real sister," "She is adopted," "She is not blood," and other nonsense?

It happens.

I've seen it. Not directly in my life, but through friends. Some of them have step-parents. Some of them have complicated family structures. I have heard the things they faced. I've seen how words can cut deeper than actions.

So I wrote that fear too.

Because this is fiction - yes.
But I want it to feel real.

Real emotions.
Real insecurities.
Real societal pressure.

When Saksham said, "What if one day they say she is not our child?" - that wasn't villain energy. That was fear.

Fear of the future.
Fear of society.
Fear of weakness.

And if you are angry at him - that's okay. It means you are attached to the characters.

But don't label them villains.

They are adults thinking ahead.

If something changes in future, what will happen to that child? That's the question they are asking. And that question is valid.

Vikram said, "She is my daughter."

Beautiful line. Powerful line.

But what if - hypothetically - something changes years later? What if emotions shift? What if misunderstandings happen? That possibility exists in real life.

Will it happen in my story?

Relax. I'm not insane.

But as a writer, I have to show every perspective. Even uncomfortable ones.

And that's why this chapter feels special to me.

Because it's layered.

It's not black and white.
It's not hero vs villain.
It's love vs fear.
Emotion vs logic.
Impulse vs experience.

And that's why I love it.

Now coming to the most important part.

Please.

I want comments.

Not normal comments.

Not just emojis.

I want you to explode in the comment section. I want this chapter to break records. I want more comments on this than any previous chapter.

Tell me what you felt.
Tell me where you got angry.
Tell me where you paused.
Tell me which dialogue hit you the hardest.

Even if you disagree with something -write it.

Because discussions make stories alive.

And today, I genuinely feel proud of myself as a writer. That doesn't happen every day. So let me celebrate this small victory with you.

Spam the comment section.
Make it chaotic.
Make it loud.

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— Anuvae 🤍✨

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