The silence in the living room had just begun to stretch into something heavy and uncomfortable when Avanya spoke again.

"Baba," she said, turning her full attention to Vikram, her fingers still lightly clutching the fabric of his shirt, "you didn't tell me why they are staying here."

Her tone wasn't fearful. It wasn't accusing.

It was simple.

Direct.

Genuine curiosity wrapped in seven-year-old seriousness.

Before Vikram could answer, another voice cut in.

"We don't need your permission to stay here."

Samarth.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a sharp edge-slightly harsh, slightly dismissive.

And it was enough.

Avanya flinched.

It was small. Quick. Almost invisible.

But it happened.

Her shoulders tightened for a second, her grip on Vikram's shirt stiffening just a little.

Arnav's jaw clenched instantly.

Arin's fingers curled into a fist.

Kabir's eyes darkened.

Rithvik inhaled sharply through his nose.

Vikram's posture stiffened.

Not one of them liked the tone.

Not one of them missed the way she reacted.

But none of them spoke.

None of them interrupted.

Because they all understood something very clearly.

If today Avanya did not speak for herself....

If today she did not acknowledge that this was her space too....

Then tomorrow someone else might try to use her silence as weakness.

And they knew her.

She was small.

But she knew how to stand her ground.

Avanya slowly straightened.

The flinch disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Her shoulders relaxed deliberately.

Her chin lifted slightly.

Her eyes narrowed just a little-not in anger, but in determination.

She looked at Samarth.

"I didn't even give you permishun to stay here," she said in a small but firm voice.
(I didn't even give you permission to stay here)

The mispronunciation made it softer.

Less harsh.

More childlike.

But the message was clear.

"You are so bad," she continued, frowning. "You no know how to talk child."

She paused, inhaled dramatically as if gathering courage, then added, "I ask my Baba. Not you."

Her voice rose slightly on the last words.

"And he is my Baba," she declared proudly, turning toward Vikram and making a tiny pout. "Haina, Baba?"
(Am I correct, father)

The pout.

The eyes.

The stubborn tilt of her chin.

It wasn't disrespect.

It wasn't rudeness.

It was a child defending her question.

Defending her space.

Defending her father.

And that was it.

Dipali's face broke into a wide smile she tried unsuccessfully to hide.

Shipra pressed her lips together, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Arnav's lips twitched dangerously close to laughter.

Arin looked at Vayu and deliberately winked one eye at him in mock victory.

Rithvik glanced at Samarth and raised one brow, his expression clearly saying, I don't know what she just said exactly, but she's right.

Kabir?

Kabir had completely tuned out the rest of the room.

He was just staring at Avanya like a proud idiot.

Admiring her.

Admiring the way she didn't crumble.

Admiring the way she didn't hide again.

(A/n; He's totally whipped for her 😂)

Saksham cleared his throat.

The sound was calm, measured, authoritative.

Everyone's attention shifted toward him.

Except Avanya.

She was still staring at Vikram.

Waiting.

He looked down at her and gently smoothed her hair back.

"Princess," he began softly.

But Saksham spoke first.

"I think that's enough for now," he said evenly. "Let's get ready for breakfast. After that, we need to discuss an important matter-if you all remember."

The words carried weight.

A different kind of seriousness entered the room.

The playful tension dissolved.

The five men-Vikram, Arnav, Rithvik, Kabir, and Arin-understood instantly.

This time, it wasn't about Avanya.

It was about someone else.

Someone far more important.

They exchanged brief glances.

Then nodded.

Vikram rose from the armchair, still holding Avanya securely.

One by one, everyone stood.

The room began to empty slowly.

Shoes shifted against the floor.

Soft murmurs filled the air.

The energy had changed again.

Everyone retreated to their respective rooms to freshen up.

—

Vikram carried Avanya back into his room.

The moment the door closed behind them, the atmosphere softened.

She looked up at him.

"Baba," she asked quietly, "I talk wrong?"

He crouched down so he was at her eye level.

"No, Princess," he said firmly. "You didn't."

She studied his face carefully, as if verifying truth.

Then nodded.

Satisfied.

"Okay," she declared. "But that uncle is little bit, how to say... grumby."

"Grumpy?" Vikram corrected gently.

"Yes, that only. Grumby," she insisted.

He smiled faintly.

"Go," he said. "Let's get you ready."

He carefully helped her sit on the edge of the bed and carried her into the bathroom.

First, he washed her face gently.

Then he bathed her carefully, making sure her injured leg didn't strain too much.

She winced slightly when he moved her knee.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay," she replied bravely. "I am strong girl."

"Yes," he said softly. "You are."

After drying her carefully, he helped her into her outfit.

A mint-green mesh T-shirt dress with a sporty, perforated texture.

The fabric was light and airy.

The collar had blue-and-white stripes, giving it a playful yet stylish look.

The dress was scattered with tropical patches-a bright toucan perched near her shoulder, a pink flamingo dancing near the hem, a cheerful pineapple on one side, and slices of watermelon and banana scattered like tiny bursts of summer.

It looked vibrant.

Fresh.

Exactly like her.

She held out her wrist proudly while Vikram slid on a stack of thin neon-colored bracelets.

She wiggled her fingers.

"Pretty?"

"Very," he said.

He combed her hair gently, parting it carefully before tying the top half into a neat half ponytail so her hair wouldn't fall onto her forehead.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Turned left.

Turned right.

"Baba," she said seriously, "today I look like tropikal salad."

He blinked.

Then laughed softly.

"Tropical," he corrected.

"Yes that only," she replied confidently.

He knelt down and adjusted her dress slightly.

"You ready?"

She nodded.

Then paused.

"Baba?"

"Yes?"

"That uncle,he staying long?"

He looked at her carefully.

"We'll talk about it later."

She seemed to accept that.

For now.

She slipped her small hand into his.

And together, they stepped out of the room.

The house was slowly filling with the scent of breakfast.

Voices murmured from downstairs.

But inside Vikram's room, for just a moment longer, it was quiet.

And in that quiet stood a little girl in mint green-

Small.

Bright.

Unshaken.

Ready for whatever came next.

They reached downstairs together, Vikram's long strides steady and composed, Avanya's small steps slightly careful because of her knee. The dining hall was already alive. The large wooden table stood polished and grand, sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and spilling across the silverware and plates. Everyone was seated.

But not fully.

They were sitting at the boundary of the table, as if the center seat-the head of the table-was waiting.

Avanya's eyes scanned the chairs quickly.

Left.

Right.

Then she found it.

Vikram's chair.

Empty.

A visible relief softened her little face. Her shoulders relaxed instantly.

She hadn't realized she was worried about that.

But she was.

Her gaze shifted across the table until it landed on Dipali.

Her eyes brightened.

She smiled wide.

"Wow!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Aunty, we are wearing same color!"

Dipali looked down at her own outfit-soft mint green-and then at Avanya's tropical dress.

She laughed gently and walked toward her.

"Yes, we are wearing the same color," she said warmly. "But I am not aunty. I am your choti maa."

Avanya blinked.

Her brows knitted slightly.

"But my maa is not here," she said honestly. "Baba tell me she goes to my friend Ganesha to help her."

The entire table fell silent.

All eyes turned toward her.

But the emotions swirling inside Vikram at that moment were something no one could see.

He knew she called him Baba with her whole heart.

He knew she meant it.

He knew she trusted him.

But calling Rashi her mother......

Believing she had gone to Ganesha.

Accepting her in her innocent world...

That was something he never expected.

And yet, today, once again, Avanya proved why she had carved such a special place inside him.

Dipali's smile softened.

"Yes," she said gently. "You are right. But what if you call me Bhabha?"

Avanya tilted her head.

"Bha...bha?"

Dipali nodded.

"Bhabha."

Avanya tried again. "Bhabha."

Dipali's smile widened.

"See? Perfect."

Avanya grinned and turned to Vikram.

"Baba, can I call her bhabha?"

Vikram nodded without hesitation. "Yes, Princess. You can."

She turned back proudly.

"Suprabhat, Bhabha!"

"Suprabhat, Mishri," Dipali replied affectionately.

Avanya froze.

Her brows came together.

"Me no no Mishri," she corrected seriously. "I am Avanya Rashi Vikram Singh Rathore."

The declaration was firm.

Clear.

Confident.

And that was it.

A smile broke out-not from Vikram.

But from Rithvik.

Kabir's lips curved slowly.

Arin looked down, hiding his grin.

Even Arnav's lips twitched faintly.

Dipali laughed softly.

"Yes, I know you are Avanya," she said. "But can I please call you Mishri?"

Avanya thought about it very carefully.

Then nodded. "Yes, Bhabha."

Dipali nodded back. "Come, I will serve you breakfast."

Avanya nodded again obediently.

Vikram stepped up the small elevation and entered fully into the dining space. The chair at the head waited for him.

But before he could sit, Avanya suddenly tugged at his shirt.

"Baba...."

He looked down. "Yes?"

"Giant uncle."

Arnav, seated a few chairs away, lifted his gaze toward her.

And he understood instantly.

No one else might have noticed.

But she remembered.

His injury.

His bandaged hand.

The pain from yesterday.

He hadn't said anything.

He hadn't complained.

But she remembered.

It was her duty.

Vikram didn't argue.

He walked toward Arnav and carefully transferred Avanya into his lap.

Arnav adjusted her gently, making sure her knee didn't press against anything.

She settled comfortably.

Then turned to him immediately.

Her small fingers carefully wrapped around his bandaged hand.

"You still feel oui oui(pain)?" she asked softly.

Before Arnav could answer, Saksham's voice cut across the table.

"Start the breakfast."

Avanya looked at him.

Then looked at everyone else.

She slid off Arnav's lap slightly and folded both her hands politely.

"Suprabhat, Uncle 1," she said, pointing to Saksham.
(Good morning uncle 1)

"Uncle 2," she pointed to Devansh.

"Aunty," she nodded toward Shipra.

"And you one, two, three, four and five."

She counted carefully, pointing toward Samarth, Ivaan, Yuvaan, Kiansh, and Vayu.

"Yes, five uncles."

There was no hesitation.

No awkwardness.

Just pure acknowledgment.

A small smile curved across Vikram's face.

Not because she greeted them.

But because she did it like she belonged.

Not by blood.

But by nature.

Ruling without trying.

Sassy without cruelty.

Cute without weakness.

Fire wrapped in sugar.

They all nodded in response.

Shipra smiled gently. "Suprabhat, Avanya."
(Good morning avanya)

She smiled back at her politely.

Then immediately turned her attention back to Arnav.

Her small hand still holding his.

She examined his bandage with deep concentration.

As if the entire world depended on his answer.

The dining hall slowly filled with the soft clatter of steel utensils and overlapping morning chatter. The long wooden table in the center was already arranged with an almost festive spread. Silver lids covered large serving bowls, steam slipping out from the sides and fogging the polished surface. The aroma of ghee, roasted spices, and freshly made breads lingered in the air, wrapping the space in warmth.

It was the first proper breakfast together after days of tension, and though no one openly acknowledged it, there was a certain alertness in the room.

Shobha kaki stood at one end of the table, adjusting bowls, wiping a stray drop of dal from the edge of a serving spoon. She looked pleased. The spread was entirely vegetarian-carefully prepared, thoughtfully arranged.

There were fluffy poha garnished with peanuts and coriander, golden besan chilla folded neatly in triangles, soft idlis resting beside coconut chutney, crisp medu vada, and a large brass container filled with steaming upma. Alongside those were traditional Rajasthani dishes-gatte ki sabzi thick with yogurt gravy, missi roti brushed with ghee, moong dal halwa glistening like molten gold, and tiny katoris of ker sangri, tangy and fragrant. A basket held freshly fried kachoris, their crust blistered and perfect.

(A/n; Why should I suffer alone? All of you should also suffer a little.)

One by one, everyone took their seats.

When the lids were finally lifted together, a wave of aroma rose into the air.

Kiansh leaned forward first, scanning the dishes. His brows slowly pulled together.

He looked once. Then again.

His gaze shifted to Shobha kaki. "Kaki, you didn't make any non-vegetarian dish?"

The question fell into the air like a pebble into still water.

Vikram's hand, halfway to serving himself, stopped mid-air.

So did Arnav's.

Arin, Rithvik, and Kabir exchanged quick looks before their eyes moved to Kiansh.

Kabir was the one who responded.

He turned toward him calmly. "Kiansh, we don't eat non-vegetarian anymore."

Kiansh blinked. "Since when?"

Kabir shrugged lightly, keeping his tone even. "It's not allowed here either. If you really want, I'll order something for you. You can eat it in your room."

There was no judgment in his voice. Just a simple statement.

Devansh looked up sharply. "You stopped eating non-vegetarian, Kabir? Are you-" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Are you fucking kidding with us?"

(A/n; I don't know any other curse except fucking, shit or hell, so I stick this everywhere.)

Vikram shot him a look immediately. "Bhaisa," he said firmly, "don't curse in front of her. She's little. She copies words."

His chin tilted subtly toward Arnav's lap.

"And yes," Vikram added, "we stopped."

The conversation paused.

Shipra reached for Kiansh's plate gently. "It's okay. Eat this for now. I'll cook for you later in the private kitchen."

Kiansh nodded after a moment. "Okay."

The tension thinned, replaced by the quiet sound of food being served.

Plates filled.

Spoons clinked.

And then there was Avanya.

She was sitting carefully on Arnav's lap, sideways, her small legs tucked cautiously. A neat white bandage peeked out from beneath her soft cotton dress-stitched at the knee. She was extra careful not to bend it too much. Arnav's arm rested loosely around her waist, not tightly, just enough to keep her steady.

A small plate had been placed in front of her, but she wasn't eating from it.

She had claimed Arnav's.

Her tiny fingers gripped a small piece of missi roti. She dipped it clumsily into gatte ki sabzi, making sure not to take too much gravy. She blew on it softly before bringing it toward his mouth.

Arnav looked at her.

She raised her eyebrows in silent instruction.

He opened his mouth without a word.

The cousins noticed.

All five of them.

Ivaan leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Yuvaan's fingers tapped once against his plate before he stilled them. Vayu's eyes lingered a second too long before he looked down. Kiansh paused mid-bite.

Even Samarth, who rarely let emotions show, felt something shift uncomfortably in his chest.

Avanya didn't notice any of it.

She was too focused.

She tore another tiny piece of roti, dipping it this time into dal. A drop nearly fell onto Arnav's shirt. Her eyes widened.

"Careful," she muttered softly to herself.

Arnav steadied her hand by holding her wrist lightly. Not correcting her. Just supporting.

She pushed the bite into his mouth triumphantly.

He chewed slowly.

Then, without ceremony, he scooped a spoonful of poha and held it near her lips.

She wrinkled her nose.

"No red," she said seriously.

"There's no red," he replied flatly.

She leaned forward suspiciously and spotted a tiny piece of tomato.

Her expression shifted into dramatic betrayal. "Red."

Arnav sighed faintly. With the tip of his finger, he removed the tomato piece and placed it aside on the plate.

"Happy?"

She nodded, satisfied, and ate the bite from the spoon.

Across the table, Devansh watched the scene quietly now. No more comments. His earlier irritation had been replaced by something more thoughtful.

Kabir focused on his food, though his ears were very much tuned in.

Rithvik leaned toward Arin and murmured, "She doesn't even know the names of these dishes."

Arin hummed softly. "She just knows what she likes."

Avanya picked up a tiny piece of kachori next. It was too big for her small hands, and it broke unevenly. She stared at it like it had personally offended her.

Arnav took it from her without a word, broke it properly, and handed her a manageable piece.

She fed him first.

Then herself.

Her movements were slow because of her knee. Every time she shifted slightly, Arnav adjusted his arm to make sure she didn't put pressure on it. He didn't say anything about it. He just did it.

"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly after a while.

She shook her head immediately. "No."

A lie.

He looked at her once more, but didn't push. He simply shifted her position slightly so her leg rested more comfortably against his thigh.

Samarth saw that.

He looked down at his untouched food for a moment before finally taking a bite.

Kiansh cleared his throat. "You really all stopped?"

Kabir nodded.

Vikram added, "It wasn't a big announcement kiansh. Just happened."

Devansh scoffed lightly but didn't argue further.

Meanwhile, Avanya was now inspecting the moong dal halwa. It sparkled invitingly.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Sweet," Arnav replied.

She took a cautious spoonful and fed him first.

He swallowed. "Good."

She tasted it herself.

Her eyes widened.

"More."

He gave her another spoonful.

Somewhere down the table, Yuvaan muttered under his breath, "Of course."

Vayu elbowed him lightly.

Ivaan leaned forward slightly. "You're spoiling her."

Arnav didn't look up. "She's eating."

"That's not the point."

Arnav finally lifted his gaze briefly. "Then don't look."

(A/n; 😂😂my tummy😂😂)

Silence.

Not harsh. Just final.

Ivaan leaned back again, lips pressing together.

Avanya was oblivious to the tension. She had now discovered that she could dip roti into halwa, which was absolutely not how it was meant to be eaten.

She tried it anyway.

Arnav watched her experiment.

She held the strange combination toward him confidently.

He stared at it for a second.

She raised her brows again.

He took the bite.

Chewed.

Paused.

"It's... fine."

She giggled softly and ate some herself.

A smear of halwa remained near the corner of her mouth. Without thinking much, Arnav wiped it away with his thumb.

Simple. Casual.

But five pairs of eyes noticed again.

Devansh exhaled slowly. "Unbelievable."

Vikram continued eating, unconcerned. Arin and Rithvik were genuinely focused on finishing their plates. Kabir sipped water quietly.

Samarth's gaze moved between Arnav and Avanya more than once.

Avanya suddenly leaned closer to Arnav's ear and whispered something. No one else heard it.

Arnav's expression didn't change much. But the slightest shift in his posture-subtle, almost invisible-gave away that he had.

He tapped her plate lightly. "Finish."

She made a small face but obeyed.

She carefully avoided every visible tomato piece in every dish. Whenever she found one, she placed it at the edge of the plate like a rejected object.

Arnav didn't comment on that either.

After a while, her movements slowed.

She leaned back slightly against his chest.

"Full?" he asked.

She nodded.

He picked up his glass of water and held it to her lips. She sipped obediently.

Then she rested her head against him.

Just like that.

The jealousy in the room wasn't loud. It didn't explode into arguments. It flickered quietly-unspoken, sharp, uncomfortable.

Ivaan's fingers tightened once around his spoon before he set it down.

Yuvaan finished his food faster than usual.

Vayu kept glancing but forced himself not to stare.

Kiansh looked confused more than anything.

Samarth watched the entire scene unfold from beginning to end, absorbing every detail.

Devansh leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

And Arnav?

He remained composed. Not overly soft. Not expressive. Just steady.

His arm stayed around her.

His plate was half-empty.

He resumed eating calmly with one hand while she rested against him.

Vikram finally spoke after a long silence. "Kaki, the gatte are good."

Shobha kaki beamed. "I made them early morning."

Conversation slowly resumed in fragments-small comments about food, about schedules, about random things.

But beneath the surface, something had shifted.

Avanya's fingers lazily curled into the fabric of Arnav's shirt as sleep threatened to pull her under. Her stitched knee remained safely supported.

Arnav didn't move her.

Didn't ask anyone to take her.

He simply adjusted slightly so she wouldn't slip.

And continued eating.

Saksham cleared his throat, the faint scrape of his chair against the marble floor slicing through the layered murmurs at the breakfast table. The sound wasn't loud, but it carried authority. Every fork paused mid-air. Every gaze lifted.

He rose slowly, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a crisp napkin before placing it neatly beside his plate. His posture was straight, expression unreadable.

"Come to the study," he said evenly. "I will be there."

There was no need for repetition. No one ever questioned that tone.

A synchronized nod followed from around the table.

Arnav placed his spoon down with measured calm, his hand instinctively tightening around the tiny waist seated comfortably on his lap.

Avanya's fingers were still curled in the fabric of his shirt, her stitched knee carefully resting against his thigh. She had eaten barely two bites, too busy feeding him with intense concentration as if it were the most important task in the world.

He rose, adjusting her gently in his arms, making sure her injured knee didn't brush against the edge of the table.

"Do you want to sleep, angel?" His voice wasn't soft exactly, but it wasn't cold either. It was controlled, steady-like someone trying.

Avanya shook her head quickly, her small ponytail bouncing. "No."

Arnav nodded once. "Okay."

He shifted slightly, eyes flicking toward the cousins. "What about you watching a movie with your monster uncle and your other uncle?"

She turned, scanning faces as if selecting candidates in a very serious meeting. Then her face brightened. "Yes! I want to see Elsa."

A few quiet chuckles floated across the table.

Arnav gave a short nod. "Fine."

He turned toward Arin. "Take her to the theatre room. And make sure you will be with her all the time."

It wasn't a suggestion.

Arin nodded immediately. "Of course."

He stepped forward and carefully lifted Avanya from Arnav's arms, supporting her back and knee with surprising gentleness. She wrapped her arms around his neck without hesitation.

Kabir stood next. He leaned in and kissed her forehead lightly. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

She nodded solemnly, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek in return. "Okay."

Kabir froze for half a second before smiling in defeat. "That's unfair."

Rithvik approached, his expression always a little stern, but his eyes softened the moment they landed on her. "Take care of yourself," he said, voice firm yet careful. "And don't hurt your knee again."

She blinked up at him and whispered, "Okay, scary uncle," before breaking into the simplest, brightest smile.

That smile did something to the entire room.

Even Devansh, who had been silent since Saksham spoke, exhaled through his nose as if steadying something inside him.

Dipali came forward next. She brushed a strand of hair away from Avanya's forehead. "See you soon, Mishri."

Avanya smiled again.

Shipra tapped her cheek lightly. "Be good."

Another nod.

Then Vikram stood.

The chair behind him scraped faintly, but he didn't seem to notice. He stepped closer, his presence heavier than the rest. He cupped her tiny face in his palms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then her right cheek. Then the left. And finally, he lifted her small hand and kissed the back of it with exaggerated drama.

"Baba is there," he said quietly. "If monster uncle teases you, call me. Okay?"

She giggled and nodded.

Vikram's eyes flicked toward Arin. "And you-take care of her. Otherwise your card-"

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing playfully.

Arin stiffened. "You can't threaten me in front of her."

"I just did."

Avanya looked between them with serious curiosity. "What card?"

"Nothing," Arin muttered quickly. "Adult problem."

Vikram kissed her forehead one last time before stepping back.

Arnav had been watching everything without expression, hands in his pockets now. There was no visible emotion, no smile, no frown. But his gaze followed her movements with quiet precision, as if ensuring every step she took in someone else's arms was safe.

Arin adjusted his hold and began walking toward the hallway. Vayu rose immediately and followed. Ivaan stood too, stretching lazily before trailing behind. Kiansh hesitated for a second before pushing his chair back and joining them.

Samarth remained seated.

Devansh's eyes shifted toward Arnav.

Arnav didn't look back.

Instead, he straightened his cuffs once and turned toward the corridor leading to the study.

The shift in atmosphere was subtle but undeniable.

The light chatter that existed seconds ago dissolved into silence.

Arin walked carefully, conscious of the stitched knee resting against his arm. "Comfortable?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "Little."

He slowed his pace even more.

Behind him, Vayu nudged Ivaan lightly. "You saw that, right?"

Ivaan raised an eyebrow. "Saw what?"

"The feeding."

Kiansh scoffed quietly. "She didn't even let him eat properly."

Ivaan folded his arms. "He didn't complain."

"That's the problem," Vayu muttered.

Arin glanced back. "Can you all not start?"

Samarth finally stood from the dining area, watching them from a distance as they moved through the hallway. His jaw tightened briefly before he looked away.

Devansh remained where he was, staring at the now half-empty dining table. Vikram returned to his seat momentarily, rubbing his forehead before exhaling deeply.

In the hallway, Avanya leaned slightly away from Arin's shoulder to look back.

"Where baba going?" she asked.

Arin followed her gaze. Arnav had already disappeared around the corner.

"To work," he replied gently.

She seemed to consider that. "He angry?"

Arin blinked. "No."

"He no smile."

Vayu let out a soft laugh. "He doesn't smile much."

She frowned slightly, processing that information.

Ivaan stepped closer and tapped her nose lightly. "But he watches."

Her eyes widened. "Like spy?"

Kiansh grinned. "Exactly like a spy."

Arin rolled his eyes. "Stop corrupting her."

They reached the grand staircase. Arin adjusted his grip again, making sure her injured leg didn't bump against the railing as he descended slowly.

She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment.

"Monster uncle," she whispered.

"Hm?"

"Elsa sing?"

"Yes."

"Loud?"

"Very loud."

She smiled faintly.

Vayu smirked. "Jealous?"

"No."

Ivaan hummed dramatically. "Very."

Kiansh glared at him. "Shut up."

Arin reached the bottom of the stairs and paused briefly to shift her weight again. She winced slightly.

Immediately, five sets of eyes sharpened.

"It hurts?" Arin asked.

She shook her head quickly. "No."

Vayu crouched slightly to look at her knee. "You shouldn't run."

"I didn't run," she defended softly.

Ivaan raised a brow. "You flew?"

She giggled.

Kiansh stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Don't climb things."

She blinked innocently.

Arin sighed. "She's not a monkey."

"She behaves like one."

"Monster uncle!" she protested weakly.

He raised both hands in surrender.

They began walking again, the theatre room down the longer corridor lined with paintings and tall windows letting in filtered daylight.

The shift was immediate.

Warmth from the dining hall did not dare follow them into the study.

The door shut with a muted thud, and the air inside felt heavier-thick with intention, sharp with consequence.

The room was vast, designed not for comfort but for command. Black and grey dominated everything-the walls, the leather chairs, the long polished table that ran down the center like a line dividing loyalty from doubt. LED panels lined the ceiling, throwing down a clinical brightness that erased shadows but somehow made everything darker.

A projector screen covered one entire wall, frozen on a blank white glare. Files were stacked in disciplined piles. Pens aligned. Not a single paper misplaced.

It wasn't a room for emotions.

It was a room for decisions.

Saksham was already seated at the head of the table.

Hands folded. Expression carved from stone.

Vikram entered first, gaze sweeping the room in a single assessing glance. He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

Behind him, Shipra walked in, composed yet visibly tense. Dipali followed, quieter but alert. Devansh's jaw was tight. Samarth carried a file in his hand, already prepared. Arnav walked in last among the brothers, face unreadable, eyes dark. Rithvik and Kabir took seats opposite him. Yuvaan slid into a chair beside Samarth.

The chairs moved. Leather creaked. Silence settled.

Saksham leaned back slightly.

"I spoke with the priest," he began, voice calm but carrying authority that didn't require volume. "He said the fifth day of this week is sacred."

A faint hum of acknowledgment moved across the table.

Vikram turned toward Arnav, Rithvik, and Kabir. "Yes. We've already settled everything there. Call him to directly reach the venue."

Shipra nodded. "Chote, you are sure, right?"

Vikram looked at her. Not defensive. Not hesitant. Just firm.

"Bhabhi," he said evenly, "she wants this. And I can't deny her wishes. Look at us now. We have all our children under one roof. What more perfect can it get?"

The word children lingered.

Saksham's gaze sharpened slightly.

"Your all children?" he asked slowly. "You include Avanya too, right?"

Vikram didn't blink.

"I already mentioned it," he replied. "She is my daughter. I have five children."

The sentence landed like a stone thrown into still water.

Devansh leaned forward, fingers interlocked. "I saw the bond you all have grown," he said carefully. "But Vikram... I still have doubt. How can you-"

Vikram cut him off, tone dropping.

"Bhaisa," he said, voice steady but colder now, "I have already made this clear. We are not forcing you to accept her. Nor does she crave your approval. She doesn't need anyone's damn validation to exist."

The air tightened.

Yuvaan shifted in his seat. He wasn't smiling.

"But chote papa," he said, voice measured, factual, "did you adopt her?"

Silence.

Not the casual kind.

The kind that cracks slowly.

Arnav answered before Vikram could.

"Not yet, Yuvaan," he said evenly. "But we will start the procedure soon."

Yuvaan's expression didn't soften.

"That's not possible."

Every head turned toward him.

"The court will never allow you to give her custody."

The words weren't emotional. They were surgical.

Rithvik's fingers curled into fists under the table.

Kabir straightened. "What the hell do you mean, not possible?"

Yuvaan didn't flinch. "I mean exactly what I said. Under Indian adoption law, a male individual can adopt a girl child only under specific conditions. There are age gap requirements. Legal marital status considerations. Financial scrutiny. Background investigations. And if there's more than one male guardian claiming custodial rights without a legally structured household status..." He paused. "It becomes a legal nightmare."

Samarth finally spoke, tone detached but precise. "He's not wrong."

Kabir shot him a look. "You too?"

Samarth didn't react. "This isn't about emotion. It's about law."

Dipali leaned forward sharply. "Law is not god."

"No," Samarth replied calmly. "But it decides custody."

Vikram's jaw hardened. "We have resources."

Yuvaan gave a humorless smile. "Money doesn't bend every rule, chote papa."

Arnav's eyes lifted slowly. Dark. Controlled. Dangerous.

"Explain."

Yuvaan exhaled.

"Under the Juvenile Justice Act, a single male cannot adopt a girl child unless he meets strict eligibility criteria. And if multiple men are informally raising her without legal guardianship,the court will question intent. Stability. Structure. They will ask why a female guardian is not the primary adopter."

Shipra inhaled slowly.

Dipali's voice cut in. "Then I'll adopt her."

Every head turned toward her.

Devansh looked at her sharply. "Dipali-"

"What?" she snapped softly. "If the issue is that a female guardian is required, then I will do it. She is already ours."

Samarth shook his head slightly. "It's not that simple, choti maa. The adoption agency will scrutinize everything. Her background. Our background. Why she was abandoned. Who her biological guardians are. Whether they can be traced. If parental rights were terminated legally. Whether she falls under the legally free-for-adoption category."

Rithvik slammed his palm lightly on the table. "For fuck's sake, she's a child, not a property dispute."

Samarth's gaze didn't waver. "Exactly. She's a child. That's why it's not casual."

Kabir ran a hand through his hair. "So what? We just leave her hanging because paperwork is messy?"

Yuvaan's tone sharpened slightly. "This is not about paperwork. The court will ask why three unmarried men are so desperate to adopt a girl child."

The word desperate hit hard.

Arnav's voice dropped to something lethal.

"Watch your wording."

Yuvaan didn't look intimidated. "I'm stating how the judge will see it. Not how I see it."

Vikram leaned back in his chair, but his eyes burned. "Then let them see whatever the hell they want. We want her."

Samarth opened his file and slid a document forward. "Even if dipali maa files as the primary adopter, the process will take months. Home study reports. Psychological assessments. Background checks. Interviews. And if at any point biological relatives appear and contest...."

Shipra whispered, "Can they?"

"Yes," Samarth replied. "Until her legal status is completely sealed."

Dipali's hands clenched.

Devansh finally spoke, voice low. "We have to think rationally. This is not about who loves her more."

Rithvik laughed bitterly. "That's exactly what it's about."

"No," Devansh said sharply. "It's about protecting her from instability."

Kabir's voice cracked with frustration. "Instability? She finally feels safe."

Yuvaan's tone was firm now. "Safe is emotional. Legal is different."

Arnav stood abruptly.

The chair scraped back hard.

The LED lights reflected in his eyes like cold steel.

"You think we don't know the law?" he asked quietly.

Samarth held his gaze. "Knowing and navigating are different."

Vikram rose too. "We will navigate."

Samarth didn't back down. "You can't just adopt a girl because you want a daughter."

The sentence exploded in the room.

Silence followed it like smoke.

Rithvik stood instantly. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Samarth didn't raise his voice. "I'm saying intention matters legally. If the court even suspects that this is about filling an emotional void or fulfilling a desire for a female child-"

Kabir interrupted harshly. "Desire? You think she's some trophy?"

"I think the judge might question motive."

Dipali's voice trembled. "She's not a motive. She's a child who holds his hand when she sleeps."

Shipra finally spoke, calm but powerful. "Samarth. Enough."

But he continued, not cruel-just relentless.

"You want the truth? The court will ask why suddenly there is urgency. Why no formal foster application was filed first. Why no legal guardian was appointed immediately. Why she's been living here without documented authority."

The words were sharp. Clinical.

And they hurt.

Arnav's expression didn't change, but something in his posture did.

Yuvaan added quietly, "And if the court denies custody... they could place her in state care temporarily during investigation."

That sentence sucked the oxygen out of the room.

Rithvik stood. "Over my dead body."

Vikram's voice turned deadly calm. "No one is taking her anywhere."

Samarth's gaze didn't soften. "The court doesn't ask for your permission."

Kabir cursed under his breath.

Rithvik dragged a hand down his face. "This is bullshit."

Devansh finally spoke again. "We need a strategy. Not anger."

Arnav's voice was almost a whisper now. "What do you suggest?"

Samarth answered immediately. "Formal legal consultation. File for guardianship first. Temporary custody petition. Stabilize her documents. Ensure she is declared legally free for adoption. Then proceed."

Yuvaan nodded. "And understand this clearly-until the paperwork is clean, any public declaration of her being your daughter can complicate the process."

Vikram's jaw tightened. "So we lie?"

"No," Yuvaan replied. "We stay cautious."

Rithvik looked between them. "So what? We reduce her to 'that girl' in public?"

Shipra shook her head slowly. "No one is reducing her."

Dipali wiped at her eyes angrily. "She already calls him baba."

The word echoed.

Arnav closed his eyes for half a second.

Kabir exhaled hard. "I don't give a damn what the judge thinks. We'll fight."

Samarth's tone softened slightly. "Fighting is fine. Losing isn't."

Vikram leaned forward, palms flat on the table. "Listen to me carefully. I don't give a shit how complicated this is. She stays here. We start whatever damn process is required. Hire the best lawyer. File every document. Do every background check. But don't you dare suggest that we reconsider her place in this house."

No one spoke.

Because no one truly wanted that.

Yuvaan broke the silence.

"I'm not against her," he said quietly. "I'm against stupidity."

Rithvik scoffed. "That sounded better in your head."

Samarth closed the file. "Emotion cannot outrun law."

Arnav's voice was steady now. Controlled. Final.

"Then we do it the right way."

All eyes turned to him.

"We consult the best legal team tomorrow. We file for guardianship immediately. We don't rush adoption until her status is secure. But understand this—" his gaze moved slowly across the table, resting on each of them, "—there is no scenario where she leaves this house."

The words weren't loud.

But they were absolute.

Vikram nodded once.

Kabir sat back heavily. "Fine. Then we fight smart."

Rithvik muttered, "Bloody system."

Shipra looked at Saksham, who had remained silent through most of it.

He finally spoke.

"If you are choosing this path," he said calmly, "you must be prepared for scrutiny. Media if it leaks. Extended family interference. Legal delays. Character questioning."

Vikram gave a dry laugh. "Let them question."

Saksham's eyes sharpened. "They will question her too."

That landed differently.

Dipali's breath caught.

Arnav's hand curled into a fist.

Samarth spoke quietly. "That's the real risk."

Silence again.

Heavy. Real.

Vikram straightened slowly. "Then we shield her."

Devansh nodded once. "If we proceed, we proceed united."

Yuvaan leaned back, arms crossed. "Then prepare for hell."

Kabir gave a humorless grin. "We've handled worse."

Rithvik looked at Arnav. "You sure?"

Arnav didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

No grand speech.

No dramatic vow.

Just one word.

Saksham looked around the table at the fractured but unbroken family sitting before him.

"Then it is decided," he said finally. "We move forward legally. Carefully. Strategically."

Dipali sank back into her chair, exhausted but resolute.

Shipra closed her eyes briefly, whispering something under her breath.

Samarth gathered his documents.

Yuvaan stared at the blank projector screen as if already calculating next moves.

Vikram remained standing, shoulders squared.

Arnav's face was unreadable again-but this time there was no doubt beneath it.

Rithvik exhaled sharply.

Kabir muttered one last curse under his breath.

The room fell silent once more.

Not uncertain.

Not divided.

Just bracing.

The room had settled into a tense quiet after hours of meticulous debate, papers shuffled, legalese muttered, and arguments laid bare with the precision of sharpened knives.

Every chair had its occupant, every gaze was measured, and the subtle hum of the overhead LEDs made the atmosphere feel more clinical than homey. Yet beneath the black-and-grey veneer of professionalism, the family's pulse-their bonds, their loyalties, their fierce love-was palpable.

It was Yuvaan who finally shattered the controlled silence, leaning back slightly in his chair, one hand flicking at the corner of a file.

"I think it's easy," he said casually, almost too casually, "if you married chote papa."

The words hung in the air like a dropped dagger.

Shipra's head snapped toward him, brows knitting sharply.

"Are you out of your mind, Yuvaan?" she hissed, voice a perfect balance of shock and scolding. "He's your chote papa! And you know how much he loves Rashi. Don't spill- don't even hint at this here. Now hold your tongue before you make this worse."

Yuvaan opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, perhaps to defend himself, but nothing came out. The sharp gaze of his mother pinned him in place, and even his usual smug confidence faltered under her intensity.

Vikram's expression remained unreadable. He sat back in his chair, fingers loosely laced, jaw tight. He didn't speak-not now.

He rarely did when emotions ran high; instead, he observed, weighing every word, every flicker of reaction, every subtle movement around the table.

Arnav's posture, on the other hand, had changed. He had been quiet all this while, but his dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Yuvaan's careless comment.

The room seemed to tighten around him, as if sensing the storm building behind those composed features.
Then, without warning, he rose from his chair.

The sudden movement made a faint echo against the polished floor. His palm slammed hard on the tabletop with a sharp thunk that made a few papers jump. Silence fell like a heavy curtain; all eyes turned to him instantly, knowing that once Arnav spoke, there was no room for half-measures.

"I will get married," he said, his voice low, deliberate, and edged with an iron resolve that demanded attention.

His gaze swept the room briefly, resting for just a fraction on each of the brothers, the mothers, the cousins-quietly signaling that this wasn't a personal admission but a declaration of intent. "And I will be her guardian, in papers, officially, legally... but she's always-always- dad's daughter."

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

Hey my little sweethearts! 💖
I'm going to publish another reader-author talk soon and I really want to clear something with you all.

I hope you'll read it for sure! Don't worry, I'm not asking for votes or anything like that- i just want you to be there as friends, sharing this little moment with me.

No yapping, no drama today, just us.

See you there! 💌
—Anuvae