Jaisingh Mansion-Mumbai

Arnav sat on the couch in his room, spectacles perched on his nose, eyes fixed on the stack of office files resting in his lap. The room was silent except for the sound of pages turning.

The silence broke when the door creaked open. Without knocking, Anvi and Maan slipped inside, their steps hesitant. They stopped across the table from Arnav, side by side, standing like two culprits awaiting trial. Arnav didn't even lift his gaze.

Both exchanged uneasy glances before nudging each other.

Anvi leaned toward Maan and whispered, "Bhaiyu, kuch bolo na..."

Maan shot her a look and muttered back, "Chutki, tu bol. Bhaiya tere bolne pe maan jayenge jaldi. Tu hi bol na."

Anvi's eyes widened. "Main? Main sher ke samne pehle nahi jaa rahi! Aap bolo!"

Maan crossed his arms and smirked. "Toh kya mere screw dheele hain ki main khud jaake sher ke samne khada ho jaaun aur bolun—'Hello sher ji, please eat me, my flesh is fresh'?"

Anvi bit back a laugh but quickly retaliated in a whisper, "Aap bade ho na! Main aapse chhoti hoon. Itne pyaar se rakhi bandhati hoon aapko, ab meri raksha karna bhi toh aapka farz hai!"

Maan rolled his eyes dramatically. "Teri raksha toh main kar dunga... meri kaun karega, haan?"

The siblings continued their hushed back-and-forth like two children caught in a dare, their voices barely above a whisper. But what was meant to be a quick apology turned into fifteen whole minutes of bickering—both pushing the responsibility onto the other.

Arnav's pen halted mid-sentence. His jaw tightened. For fifteen minutes, he had let their chatter buzz in the background like pesky flies, waiting for them to gather courage. But when they didn't, his patience finally snapped.

With a sharp motion, Arnav shut the file, pulled off his spectacles, and stood up. His towering presence made both Anvi and Maan freeze instantly. Without sparing either of them even a glance, he picked up the stack of files, strode past them, and walked out of the room.

The siblings turned their heads together, watching his retreating figure vanish into the hallway. The heavy thud of the study door closing echoed like a verdict.

Shehgal Nivaas-Sitara

For a moment, the entire house fell into a deafening silence. Aarush's muffled sobs, Avyuktha's trembling form, and the sound of water still running from the tap were the only noises.

Pratik's face turned ashen, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His voice thundered as he roared, "BAS, PRERNA!"

He took a step toward her, his eyes blazing with disgust. "Ek bacchi ko najayaz kehke tumne apni asliyat dikha di hai. Tumhe sharam aani chahiye! Najayaz vo nahi... najayaz tumhari soch hai!"

His voice cracked with fury and grief. "Uski maa ke liye tum jo zeher ugalkar rahi ho, vo aurat kam se kam insaan thi! Tum kya ho? Ek zalim... ek pathar dil aurat jiske andar na maa ka pyaar hai na insaaniyat ka farz!"

Prerna staggered back at his words, but her anger still glimmered in her eyes. Pratik, however, didn't stop. His voice lowered, cold and cutting, "Yaad rakhna Prerna... aaj se meri nazaron mein tum maa kehlane layak nahi rahi. Maa woh hoti hai jo apne bachchon ke liye jaan deti hai, na ki unki jaan le leti hai."

He turned toward Avyuktha, who stood frozen, clutching her burnt hand, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. Slowly, Pratik bent down, cupped her face with trembling hands, and whispered, voice heavy with guilt, "Tere saath jo hua... uske liye main sharminda hoon, Ayu. Ab tu akeli nahi hai... main hoon tere saath."

Avyuktha blinked rapidly, trying to stop her tears, while Aarush clung tightly to Avyuktha's neck, still hiccupping.

Pratik then stood up, his eyes snapping back to Prerna like blazing fire. "Aur tum... aaj ke baad agar tumne is bacchi ko chhune ki bhi koshish ki na, Prerna... toh main woh Pratik Sehgal nahi rahunga jise tum jaanti ho. Samajh gayi tum?"

Meanwhile at Jaisingh Mansion-Mumbai

The study was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Arnav placed the files on the desk, but his eyes didn't move across the papers. Instead, they lingered blankly, his jaw still clenched.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in the chair, trying to exhale the storm within. Why don't they understand? he thought. Every little mistake, every little recklessness... it only puts them in danger. Do they think I scold them because I enjoy it?

The image of Anvi's tearful eyes and Maan's pale, guilty face flashed before him. His chest tightened. He hated being harsh, hated seeing them cry—but what choice did he have? If he let go once, tomorrow the mistakes would grow bigger.

"Bachpan hi khatam kar diya unka main shayad," he muttered under his breath, staring at the family photo on the shelf—Viren with all three of them, smiling, carefree. Arnav's gaze softened, guilt hidden in his eyes.

But the very next moment, he straightened, his face hardening again. "No... main galat nhi hoon.Unhe safe rakhne ke liye....Agar mujhe unka villain banna pade, toh main banunga."

He picked up the file again, forcing his focus back to work, while deep inside the silent prayer remained the same: Let them always stay safe—even if it means they hate me for that.

Whereas the kitchen was filled with the sweet aroma of ghee and roasting sooji. Viren stood by the stove, carefully stirring two different kadhais. In one, the smooth golden texture of suji halwa gleamed; in the other, peanut halwa, rich and nutty, bubbled softly.

Anvi leaned against the counter, watching with wide eyes. "Papa... aapne do halwa kyun banaye?" she asked softly.

Viren smiled faintly. "Tum dono ko toh peanut halwa pasand hai... aur Arnav ko usse allergy hai. Agar sabke liye ek hi banata toh ya toh tum dono nakhre karte, ya phir tumhare bhaiya kha nahi pate. Toh sabke liye alag bana diya."

Maan's lips curved into a grin. "Papa... you're seriously the best."

Anvi nodded eagerly and hugged him from the side. "Haan, papa... thank you. Agar aap na hote toh hum toh pakka bhaiya ke gusse se mar jaate."

Viren chuckled softly, placing the lid on the sooji halwa vessel. "Maroge tab jab galtiyan repeat karoge. Abhi jao... le jao yeh. Shayad halwa se tumhare sher ka gussa thoda kam ho jaaye."

Both of them giggled nervously and lifted the suji halwa vessel carefully, then made their way to Arnav's study.

In sitara

The night at Sitara Shehgal Nivas was heavy, darker than usual.

Prerna paced furiously in her room, her nails digging into her palms as her mind replayed Pratik's slap. "Mujhe sabke saamne beizzat kiya... uski wajah se... uss anaath ki wajah se!" she spat. Her eyes narrowed with venom. "Kal se isse koi chain nahi milega. Ek pal ke liye bhi sukoon mehsoos nahi karegi. Ab isse pata chalega Prerna Shehgal ka gussa kya hota hai."

Her plotting echoed in the silence of the house.

Meanwhile, in the small servant quarter, Avyuktha sat against the cracked wall, Aarush's tiny body curled into her lap. His arms clutched her tightly, as if letting go meant losing the only safe corner in his world. Her dupatta hid the angry red burn on her hand, but the sting refused to fade.

"Jiji..." Aarush's voice was fragile, barely above a whisper, "bahut dard ho raha hai na?"

She swallowed her pain and forced a soft smile, brushing his hair. "Nahi Aru... main bilkul theek hoon. Tu so ja. Kal school jaana hai na?"

His lips trembled. "Mami phir se maarengi kya?"

Avyuktha's throat tightened. She hugged him closer, whispering fiercely, "Jab tak main hoon... tujhe koi chhoo bhi nahi sakta. Main hoon na teri jiji."

Aarush finally drifted into restless sleep, his tears drying against her clothes. But Avyuktha's eyes stayed wide open, staring into the darkness. She knew Prerna's silence was never empty—it was the silence before the next storm.

One room plotted her suffering. Another room braced itself to survive it.

Back in mumbai

The study was dimly lit, Arnav's face half-shadowed as he pored over his files. The sound of pages turning was the only thing that filled the room.

The door creaked open. Anvi and Maan stepped inside, placing the vessel gently on his desk. Arnav didn't look up.

"Bhaiya..." Anvi whispered, almost inaudible. No response.

She nudged Maan. He swallowed and said, "Bhaiya..." Still, nothing.

Finally, both of them spoke together, voices trembling. "Bhaiya... sorry... galti ho gayi. Please baat toh kariye..."

At the teary edge in their voices, Arnav finally looked up. His gaze, sharp yet tired, landed on them.

"Papa ne aapke liye halwa banaya hai... please khaa lijiye," Anvi murmured, sliding the vessel closer.

Maan added softly, "Aapne dinner bhi thik se nahi kiya tha... please kha lijiye na."

Arnav sighed heavily. Without a word, he gestured for them to sit. He opened the vessel, the warm fragrance of suji halwa escaping into the air. His hand stilled for a second before picking the spoon.

"This is yours, bhaiya," Anvi whispered quickly, almost afraid of his reaction. "Papa ne alag banaya... peanut wala humare liye hai."

Arnav didn't reply. Instead, he scooped a little, fed a bite each to both of them, then ate quietly with them. The silence was suffocating. His face remained calm, but the hurt in his eyes was undeniable.

When he finally stood, closing the vessel lid and brgan moving to leave, both Anvi and Maan quickly stood too. Without hesitation, they hugged him from either side, clinging tightly.

"Bhaiya... please, sorry na... galti ho gayi," Anvi's voice broke as she buried her face against his arm.

"Sorry, bhaiya... dobara nahi hoga... please baat karo na," Maan's usually playful tone was thick with guilt.

For a moment, Arnav froze in their hold. Then he gently but firmly broke their hug, stepping back. His eyes, sharp with emotion, pinned them in place.

"Kya bolu main?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with restrained pain. "Meri baat ki jab value hi nahi hai tum dono ke liye... toh main bolun bhi toh kya bolun?"

Anvi's eyes filled instantly. "Aisa nahi hai, bhaiya..." she whispered.

Arnav snapped, his voice rising, "Aisa hi hai!" His glare moved between them. "Kitni baar maine bola hai—college lectures pe dhyaan do. Ek lecture bunk kar liya, chalo, maan bhi liya. Age hai tumhari, kabhi galti ho bhi jaaye. Lekin... jab maine pucha, tumne seedhe meri aankhon mein dekh ke jhooth bola, Anvi. Aur tu—" he turned sharply to Maan, "aaj hi subah maine bola tha, overspeeding mat karna. Bola tha ya nahi?"

Maan lowered his head, guilt heavy in his silence. "Bola tha..."

"Toh phir kyun kiya?!" Arnav's voice thundered now, the lion finally roaring. His hands clenched as he fought his rising frustration.

The room fell silent again, only the weight of Arnav's words lingering.

Maan's apology came out small and plain, almost swallowed by the room. "Sorry, bhaiya."

That single word standing alone felt heavier than any explanation. Arnav stared at him for a long breath, the silence stretching. Then, without another word, he laid down the punishment. Firm, controlled — not cruel, but absolute.

"Kal se ek mahina — koi bunking nahi. Maan, car keys main le loonga. Anvi, har lecture ka notes bana ke mujhe dikhana hoga. Samjhe?" he said, voice low and steady.

Before the full weight of the order could settle, both of them slipped forward and hugged him at once — two small bodies clinging to the one who kept them safe. Anvi's voice trembled against his chest. "Bhaiya, saari punishment accepted hai, lekin please... baat karna band mat karo. Aur please, Anvi nahi, Chutki bulaiyega—mujhe acha nahi lagta jab aap anvi bulato ho."

Arnav's lips twitched into a brief, involuntary chuckle at her antics. He softened for the smallest beat, then put a firm hand on her shoulder, deliberately ignoring Maan for a second. 

"Baccha masti mazak theek hai, lekin padhai bhi honi chahiye. Main jaanta hoon—tu khud sambhal legi. Bharosa hai tujhpe." He paused, eyes darkening. "Lekin jab maine poocha, tu jhooth kyun boli, Anvi?Tujhe pata hai mujhe kitna hurt hua...ki jis baccho ko maine itne pyaar se bada kiya hai ab vo hi mujhse aakh mai aakh mila ke jhooth bolna seekh gyi hai ."

Tears spilled down Anvi's cheeks. "Bhaiya... sorry. Pakka, aage se nahi hoga."

Arnav pulled her close for a quick, brotherly hug, patted her back, and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Chalo, bas. Rona band karo. Jaao — papa ne peanut halwa banaya hai tumhare liye. Jao, papa ke saath khao. Main bhi thodi der mein aata hoon."

Anvi glanced at Maan, who still stood with his head down, eyes wet. Reluctantly she left the study. Arnav settled back into his chair, only for Maan to suddenly grab his hand, voice urgent: "Bhaiya—please, really sorry. Galti ho gayi."

Arnav's gaze hardened. Without warning, he smacked Maan hard on the forearm. Maan hissed and instinctively hugged his arm, shrinking a little as old childhood reflexes returned. He looked down, ashamed.

"Look me in the eyes when i talk to you" Arnav said, voice tight with held emotion, "Jab galti karne se pehle sharam nahi ayi, toh ab kyu sir jhuka ke khada hai? Tujhe pata hai teri ek choti si galti se kya ho skta hai...? Samajhta hai? "

His throat tightened; words snagged. "Teri gaadi crash hui toh sirf teri nahi, dusron ki zindagi bhi khatre mein hogi"...... "Kabhi socha hai agar tujhe kuch ho jayega toh hum sab kya karenge ...halka sa tera focus idhar udhar hua aur tera accident ho gya toh....He could not finish; the emotion choked him.

Maan's tears fell freely now. He clutched his ear with both hands like a little child and whispered, voice breaking, "Bhaiya, pakka. Next time se nahi hoga. Sorry bhaiya, please... main dhyaan rakhunga."

Arnav exhaled sharply and spoke with the calm of a man who would do anything to make the lesson permanent. "The speed you told me was... one hundred, right? So—one situp for every km/hr. 100 situps. Abhi. Start."

Maan swallowed and began. He forced himself down and up, counting with labored breath. At first the count was steady—ten, twenty, thirty—then, by fifty-two, his legs trembled and sweat beaded on his forehead. Arnav watched, unmoved but not unseeing; the punishment was meant to burn into memory, not into cruelty.

"Bhaiya... abhi aur nahi ho raha. Legs hurt," Maan panted, voice thin. He couldn't finish the set; by eighty he was shaking uncontrollably. He strained out, "Bhaiya, please—ab nahi ho raha."

Arnav looked at him long and hard, then said quietly, "Stop." He made Maan stand. "Twenty more to go....Stand in the corner raise you arms up....NOW

Maan whined"Bhaiyaaaa mai baccha thodi hu jo aapncorner time de rhe ho"

Arnav glared him and spoke with a calm compossed voice but deadly at the same time "Choice is yours: stand in the corner, arms raised, for twenty minutes... or twenty strikes of a ruler on your palm. Decide."

Maan's face collapsed inward. He swallowed hard, then scrambled to the corner and pressed his nose to the wall, arms raised like a child obeying a stern parent. Ten minutes in, his arms threatened to give out. Arnav, watching the tremble, called him out early after ten.

Maan sagged with relief as soon as he was allowed to lower his arms. Arnav made him sit and handed him a glass of water, which Maan gulped greedily. When he caught his breath, Arnav spoke again. "And an essay—one thousand words—on the consequences of driving recklessly. On my table by tomorrow evening."

Maan groaned, half-protesting, half-defeated. "Bhaiya... itna punishment toh de di yaar? Ab essay bhi? Bas karo—main baccha hoon aapka....kyu itna zulm kar rahe ho?"

Arnav's look was even, unyielding. "Zulm nahi, lesson hai. Taaki accelerator rakhne se pehle tumhein dar lage and you think twice. Kal essay aur car keys—dono mere paas hone chahiye. Bina pooche tum kahin nahi jaoge. Aur agar ek aur baar hua, then you are permanently banned from driving Samjhe?"

Maan's reply was meek, immediate: "ji".

Arnav finally let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, "Ab neeche chal warna... sab sochenge maine tera shikaar kr liya."

Maan laughed too, slipping into his usual charm, "Vo toh aapne bahut acche se kiya." He wrapped his arms around Arnav in a quick hug, relief washing over his features. With that, the two brothers started walking toward the hall together.

Downstairs, Anvi sat curled up beside Viren on the sofa. The bowl of untouched peanut halwa still lay on the table. She was whispering animatedly to Viren, "Papa, please aap study mein chale jao na... bhaiyu ko bacha lo. Arnav bhaiya toh Hitler hain, pura Hitler!"

Just then, a calm but amused voice came from right behind her, "Acha ji... toh mai Hitler hoon aapke liye, Anvi ji?"

Anvi froze. Slowly, she turned her head back, her eyes going wide. "Kon Hitler bhaiya? Kaisa Hitler? Aap toh mere pyaare se bhaiya ho... hai na?" she stammered, forcing a nervous smile.

Arnav chuckled and shook his head, "Nautanki." He moved further inside, but before he could say more, Anvi darted toward Maan and clutched his arm, scanning him with worried eyes.

"Bhaiyu... aapko mara kya? Dard ho raha hai kya?" she asked in a trembling voice.

Maan, always the drama king, groaned exaggeratedly, "Bahuttttt torture kiya, Chutki.....bahut dard ho raha hai."

Her eyes immediately glistened with tears; she missed the sarcasm completely. "Bhaiyu..." her voice cracked, heart clenching at the thought that Arnav had really hurt him.

Seeing her tears, Maan panicked and quickly waved his hands, "Are are aree! Tu ro kyun rahi hai? Kuch nahi kiya bhaiya ne, main mazaak kar raha tha bas!"

Arnav frowned, stepping closer. "Chutki... tujhe main kya itna atyachaari dikhta hoon, haan?"

Before Anvi could answer, Viren immediately pulled her into a side hug. "Are baccha... galti ki thi tum dono ne, isliye na Arnav ne daata. Ab chal... ro mat." He lifted the bowl of halwa from the table and held a spoon to her lips, "Aur ye halwa khaa."

Anvi sniffled, leaning into Viren, and finally took a bite as her tears slowed down.

Viren smiled softly and first fed Anvi a spoonful of peanut halwa. Then he turned to Maan and fed him too, brushing his hair back affectionately. Finally, from his own bowl of suji halwa, he scooped a spoon and offered it to Arnav. For a moment, Arnav hesitated, but Viren's stern eyes left no room for argument. Arnav quietly leaned forward and accepted the bite.

Just then, without a word, Arnav sat beside Maan. He gently lifted Maan's leg onto his lap and started massaging it.

"Bhaiya... rehne dijiye, theek hai," Maan muttered, trying to pull back.

But Arnav's grip was firm, his fingers pressing soothingly into the sore muscles. "Chup. Bilkul mat hila," he ordered softly, not stopping his care.

After a few minutes, he moved behind the couch where Maan was sitting and began massaging his shoulders. Maan tried again, "Bhaiya, zarurat nahi hai—" but his words fell on deaf ears. Arnav's strong hands kept working on the tension in his shoulders, ignoring all resistance.

Watching this, both Anvi and Viren exchanged soft smiles. The strict, harsh Arnav Jaisingh that the world saw outside was nowhere in sight. Here sat only a protective, guilty elder brother.

After a long pause, Arnav leaned forward, kissed Maan's forehead, and whispered with pain lacing his voice, "Sorry baccha.....bahot pyaar karta hoon main tumse, baccha. Please apna khayal rakha kar." His guilt was clear in his eyes, shimmering raw under the dim light.

Before the atmosphere could turn too heavy, Anvi suddenly snapped, "Haan haan! Saara pyaar toh bhaiyu se hi karte ho aap. Mujhse toh koi pyaar hi nahi karta!"

Viren immediately pulled her into his side, hugging her close. "Arey, aise kaise koi nahi karta? Main hoon na, princess. Main tujhse bahot pyaar karta hoon."

Maan clutched his chest dramatically and groaned, "Iska matlab... aap mujhse aur bhaiya se pyaar nahi karte?"

Viren chuckled at his antics, shaking his head. "Pagal ladke. Main tum sabse bahot zyada pyaar karta hoon."

The siblings dissolved into their usual playful banter, laughter breaking the earlier heaviness. The warmth of love filled the room again, chasing away the guilt and tears.

One by one, after finishing their halwa, they all retired to their rooms. The mansion quieted down, and the long, eventful night finally came to an end.

......