Jaisingh mansion-mumbai

Arnav walked into the quiet kitchen of the Jaisingh mansion, his mind still replaying the conversation he had just had with Viren. The words echoed in a loop, heavy and relentless. He sighed deeply, shaking his head as if trying to push them away, and turned his focus to the dinner preparations.

With practiced ease, he stirred the curry simmering gently on the stove, plated rice neatly, and tossed together a fresh sprouts salad. Cooking had become second nature to him, a small act of care for his little sister.

Just then, Anvi entered the kitchen, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, a pout tugging at her lips. She dropped her books on the counter and looked at him with a tired face.

"Bhaiyaaa assignments ho gaye... khaane mein kya bana rahe ho?"

Her eyes wandered over the counter, catching sight of the salad bowl and curry. Her pout instantly deepened into a frown.

"Bhaiya mujhe ye nahi khaana, ye achha nahi lagta yaar!"

Arnav, still facing the stove, kept his voice calm. "Chutki, it's good for your health. Aur curry-rice bhi toh hai."

Anvi huffed, raising her voice. "Yaar mujhe ye nahi khaana! Kuch aur bana do. Mujhe pasta khaana hai. Aap bana do, main ye nahi khaungi!"

That thin thread of patience Arnav had been holding onto all day finally snapped. His jaw clenched as he turned towards her, voice edged with frustration.

"Chutki, battameezi nahi. Yahi milega khaane mein. Khana hai toh khao, nahi toh bhooki raho."

Anvi's irritation flared to match his. Her hands balled into fists at her side as she retorted.

"Haan theek hai! Nahi khaana mujhe. Aapka hamesha ka hai... har cheez aapke hi according honi chahiye!"

Arnav's glare hardened, his voice dropping into warning.

"Teri battameezi kuch zyada nhi badhti jaa rahi hai."

Her eyes flashed with anger as she stomped her foot. "Haan toh rehne dijiye!"

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing angrily through the hall.

Left behind, Arnav rubbed his forehead, muttering a quiet prayer for patience that seemed to abandon him more and more these days.

Anvi stormed into the living room, her steps loud, her face flushed with irritation. She dropped onto the sofa with a dramatic huff, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Viren, who had been leafing through a file, instantly looked up. His sharp, stoic features softened in an instant, transforming into the easy smile he'd been practicing around his children lately.

"Are meri gudiya ko kya hua?" he asked in a mock-dramatic tone, tossing the file aside as if it meant nothing.

Anvi's lower lip trembled just slightly as she complained, "Aapbe bete ko boliye na... mujhe hamesha ghass-phoos khilana chahte hain! Pasta maanga tha maine, aur unhone daant diya—bola 'bhookhi raho'!"

Viren chuckled, patting the seat beside him until she reluctantly slid closer. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his voice light, teasing.

"Arre arre, toh meri princess ko salad pasand nahi? Theek hai, pasta banega. Tere liye toh kuch bhi."

Her frown eased a little as she leaned into him, soaking in the comfort.

At that moment, Arnav appeared in the doorway, a tray still in his hands. His eyes fell on the scene—his little sister sulking against their father, Viren smiling indulgently at her like he'd never been absent a day in her life.

Something twisted inside Arnav. The exhaustion of the day, the sting of her words, and now this picture—his father swooping in like a hero when he had spent years carrying the weight Viren had dropped—burned silently in his chest.

"Chutki," Arnav's voice was tight, controlled, "maine already dinner bana diya hai."

But Viren didn't even look at him. His attention stayed fixed on Anvi, his tone warm and playful, a sharp contrast to Arnav's weary edge.

"Arnav, relax. Bachchi hai. Kabhi kabhi zidd kar leti hai. Pasta main bana dunga."

The words were simple, almost casual, but they cut deep. They dismissed the hours Arnav had put into making sure Anvi ate well, dismissed his authority in a single breath.

Anvi peeked between the two men—her brother, jaw clenched and eyes hard, and her father, smiling like nothing could go wrong. She didn't notice the current of tension flowing beneath the surface, the silent war of roles between the two.

Sehghal Mansion-Sitara

It was nearly dark when Avyuktha finally reached Sehgal Mansion. Her steps were heavy, her arms aching from carrying Aarush, but her heart sank the moment her gaze lifted.

Prerna stood in the hall—a long cane in her hand, her eyes burning with venom.

Avyuktha froze at the doorway.

Prerna's lips curled into a cruel smirk as she walked toward her. Without a word, she grabbed Avyuktha's wrist, yanked her inside, and slammed the door shut with a deafening thud.

"Aarush, room mein jao!" Avyuktha's voice was firm, urgent.

Aarush clutched her dupatta, refusing.

Her eyes blazed with rare anger. "Jaao! Aur tab tak mat nikalna jab tak main na kaho!"

The boy, startled, obeyed and slipped inside.

The very next second—a sharp crack split the silence.

Prerna's cane landed viciously across Avyuktha's back. A shriek tore from her throat, raw and agonized.

Another strike. Then another. Each blow louder, harder, merciless.

"Bas karo, maa!" Parth's voice echoed as he rushed out of his room, horrified. He tried to grab the cane, but Prerna shoved him aside with frightening force. She clutched his wrist, twisted it, and dragged him toward her room. With a cold snap, she hurled him inside and locked the door from outside.

Now nothing stood between her and Avyuktha.

"Teri wajah se mera pati aur mera baccha mujhse door ho raha hai!" she screamed, striking again.

"Tu karamjaali... nalayak... kamini! Vaishya ki aulaad! Najayaz! Pata nahi kahan se mere pallu se chipak gayi!"

Each word was venom. Each strike, punishment. The cane finally splintered and snapped in half under her rage.

Breathing heavily, Prerna's wild eyes darted toward Aarush's room. She stormed in, yanked him by the arm, and dragged him into the hall. The little boy stumbled, terrified, before she hurled him toward his sister.

Avyuktha caught him, shielding him against her battered frame.

Prerna's voice roared through the mansion:

"Tumhare mama kal raat ko aa rahe hain! Tab tak tum dono mujhe dikhne bhi nahi chahiye!

Kal shaam paanch baje lautna. Abhi... abhi ke abhi, nikal jao yahan se!"

Her hands seized their wrists and with one violent shove, she threw both siblings out of the house.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind them, leaving Avyuktha and Aarush in the cold night—alone, broken, and unwanted.

Jaisingh Mansion-Mumbai

The moment hung heavy in the air. Anvi had already distracted herself with her phone, her pout softening as she leaned comfortably against Viren's side.

Viren smoothed a hand over her hair, his lips curving into a gentle smile. On the outside, it looked tender—an image of a father doting on his daughter. But behind his eyes, another thought simmered.

They should have always come to me like this... leaned on me, laughed with me. Not him. Arnav may have played the father all these years, but he's still just my son. My children will love me more than they love him. They have to.

The thought sent a strange satisfaction through him as Anvi nestled closer. For once, he felt like he had taken back a piece of what he had lost.

Across the room, Arnav stood silently, the tray still in his hands. His chest rose and fell with restrained breaths, his expression unreadable. He wanted to argue, to remind Viren that he had raised Anvi, comforted her, fed her, been there when no one else was. But the words stuck in his throat.

Instead, he swallowed them down, the ache settling like a stone in his chest. Is this how it's going to be? The moment he decides to play father, all my years of being one don't matter?

He set the tray down with deliberate care, the clink of ceramic against wood louder than it needed to be. His gaze lingered for a fraction longer on Anvi—his chutki, who didn't even notice his silence—before he turned away.

The room seemed warm with laughter and easy affection, but in Arnav's heart, an old wound had been pulled open again.

Sitara

The heavy wooden door slammed shut, its echo reverberating through the silent lane.

Aarush stumbled onto the rough ground, his little knees scraping, his cries breaking into the night.

"Jiji..." he sobbed, clutching at her torn dupatta, "mujhe bahut darr lag raha hai..."

Avyuktha's own body burned with fresh lashes, her back stinging where the cane had struck mercilessly. Her palms trembled, her breath came ragged. Yet, she dropped to her knees beside him, pulling Aarush into her arms.

"Shh... Aru... main hoon na," she whispered, pressing his head against her chest, swallowing her own tears so he wouldn't see them.

Blood still trickled from the scrape on his arm. Her own foot, raw from running barefoot earlier, throbbed with pain. But Avyuktha tightened her hold on him, rocking him gently.

"Tumhe kuch nahi hoga.....mai hoon na....shh baccha please shant ho jaa." she murmured, though her own back throbbed with searing agony.

The boy's sobs slowly softened into hiccups. Avyuktha smoothed his hair, forcing her trembling hands steady. She kissed his forehead, whispering,

"Jab tak mai hoon aru....Tujhe kuch nhi hone dungi....Samjha ."

The night air was cold, but her embrace was warm—the only shield Aarush had left.

And in that moment, battered and bruised, Avyuktha proved once again—she could swallow her own pain endlessly, but never let her brother's tears fall unchecked.

Jaisingh Mansion-Mumbai

Viren's chest swelled with quiet pride as Anvi leaned against him, his arm resting protectively over her shoulder. For the first time in years, he felt like he was winning back what he had lost.

But the illusion cracked the moment Anvi's eyes flicked up—just for a second—catching sight of Arnav's face. His brows were drawn, lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of disappointment and unspoken hurt carved deep into his features.

Something tugged inside her chest. Bhaiya...

In an instant, she pushed herself off the sofa, leaving Viren's side abruptly. Her phone clattered onto the cushion as she rushed across the room, feet almost tripping over the carpet. She caught Arnav's hands in her small ones, her eyes wide and guilty.

"Bhaiya... please gussa mat ho..... Sorry maine battameezi se baat ki ....Main bas zidd kar rahi thi.....Mujhe pata hai aapne mere liye hi banaya tha sab kuch.....Mai khaungi na...Aapne mere liye banaya hai.....Mai sb khaungi...Aap please gussa mat ho naa....."

Her voice cracked on the last word, her usual childish stubbornness replaced with raw affection.

Arnav's gaze softened instantly, the storm in his chest quieting as he looked down at his sister clutching him like she'd never let go. His hands came up to cup her face gently, his voice low, almost breaking.

"Pagal... main tujhse gussa reh bhi sakta hoon kya?"

Behind them, Viren's smile faltered. The warmth in his chest drained as fast as it had come. His hand, which had been resting on the empty sofa arm, curled into a fist.

For all his easy jokes, for all his sudden efforts, the truth lay glaring in front of him: no matter how hard he tried, Anvi's heart still belonged to Arnav first.

The bubble he had been floating in shattered, leaving only the sting of bitter jealousy simmering beneath his composed face.

Arnav guided Anvi to the sofa, setting the tray carefully on the table. He pulled out a chair and sat beside her, his hand brushing hers as he reached for the spoon.

"Chal, chutki... let me feed you," he said gently, a soft edge of teasing in his voice.

Anvi immediately pouted, crossing her arms. "Aapne mujhe daanta... ab main nahi khaungi."

Arnav chuckled, leaning closer. "Haan maine daanta, but sirf isliye kyunki I care. Chal ab khaale baccha, please."

She looked up at him, eyes half-teasing, half-guilty, and slowly leaned forward. He scooped a spoonful of curry and rice, letting it hover near her lips. She nibbled it shyly, then turned her head.

"Bhaiyaa..."she murmured, "aapne mujhe daanta aur ab aise khaana khila rhe ho pyaar se.....unfair hai."

He smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Unfair? Yehi pyaar ka funda hai, chutki. Thoda daanta, thoda pamper. Balance."

She giggled, her shoulders relaxing. "Nah...its unfair.....thoda daat aur bahot saara pyaar....that's fair?" She said dramatically crossing her arms.

Arnav's lips twitched into a fond smile. "Accha ji?." 

She cheerfully replied " Haan ji."

He carefully fed her another bite, then patted her head and said. "Theek hai tb hamari princess chutki ke liye kal breakfast mai pasta hoga....but only after drinking juice" He said playfully as well as in a firm tone

Anvi's head leaned slightly against his chest, eyes half-closed, enjoying the peace. She whispered softly, "Bhaiya... aap sabse best ho."

Arnav's heart clenched in a quiet warmth, and he whispered back, "Aur tu meri sabse best bacchi ." And then he kissed the top of her head.

For a few quiet minutes, they stayed like that—eating slowly, talking in soft murmurs, Anvi's head occasionally nudging against his shoulder, Arnav's hand resting protectively, almost possessively on her back. Outside, the mansion's normal bustle carried on, but inside their small bubble, the world felt still and safe.

.........