Prologue

🪷

The golden glow of the kitchen lights spread warmth across the Malik house in Gorakhpur. The scent of freshly cooked dal and ghee filled the air, while laughter echoed through the walls.

“Pata hai papa, aaj kya hua!”

(You know what happened today, Papa!)

Tia said, hugging her father from behind. Ashutosh was in the kitchen, helping Mitali prepare dinner, while Tia sat cross-legged on the counter like she owned the place.

“Kya hua, Bittu?” Ashutosh asked sweetly, stirring the curry.

(What happened, Bittu?)

“Aaj na ek bacche ne paper ball fek ke maari apne friend ko, but wo galti se teacher ko lag gayi. Phir unhone hum sab ko class ke bahar bhej diya!”

(Today a boy threw a paper ball at his friend, but it accidentally hit the teacher. And then she sent all of us outside the class!)

Ashutosh burst into laughter.

“Tum bacche bhi na, bilkul pagal ho!”

(You kids are really crazy!)

Tia flipped her hair dramatically.

“Aree aap mujhe sab mein include mat karo, main toh mature ho!”

(Hey, don’t include me with them, I’m mature!)

Mitali turned from the stove, raising an eyebrow with a smile.

“Accha, mature devi ji, zara yeh salad kaat ke dikhana.”

(Oh really, Miss Mature, why don’t you show me how to chop this salad then?)

“Ha ha, lao!” Tia said confidently, taking the plate of cucumber and tomatoes with a small knife. She started cutting quickly.

“Huh! Dekha? Yeh kaunsi badi baat thi!”

(See? What’s the big deal?)

Ashutosh chuckled, glancing at Mitali.

“Teri mummy na, hum dono ko pagal samajhti hain… jaise we don’t know anything.”

(Your mom thinks both of us are fools… like we don’t know anything.)

Mitali gave him a side-eye, half amused, half warning.

“Underworld mein jigra yara ……”

(Singing dramatically)

Tia started humming the trending meme song, swaying around the kitchen.

Mitali grabbed the rolling pin. “Tiaaa!” she warned playfully.

Tia giggled and jumped off the counter, running out of the kitchen. “Sorryyy mummy!” she yelled, her laughter echoing down the hall.

Ashutosh laughed again, shaking his head. “Pagal ladki…”

(Crazy girl…)

Mitali sighed but smiled softly. “Bilkul tum par gayi hai.”

(She’s exactly like you.)

●

The laughter slowly faded into a soft hum as the night grew quieter. Outside, Gorakhpur’s streets were calm, lit by the faint yellow glow of streetlamps and the distant honking of rickshaws.

Ashutosh Malik wasn’t just any man in town  he was Dr. Ashutosh Malik, a renowned name across Uttar Pradesh. After completing his medical studies, he could have gone anywhere Delhi, Mumbai, even abroad. But he stayed back, choosing to serve the very place where he’d grown up.

The Maliks were wealthy they owned a chain of hospitals, had more than enough to live a grand life. Yet, their home was modest, warm, and just big enough for three people. Mitali had always believed,

“Bade ghar mein rehte hue, log ek doosre se door ho jaate hain.”

(When the house gets too big, hearts often grow distant.)

So their home was small but full of laughter  of late-night kitchen jokes,sometime half burnt rotis made by Tia that turned into inside jokes, and movie nights that ended in shared blankets and popcorn fights.

Most of Ashutosh’s earnings went to Mitali’s NGO, which helped orphaned children and widows. The rest, he quietly donated to temples and hospitals in need. For them, happiness had never been about what they owned, but who they had and that was each other.

Tia was their world, their only child, their sunshine, the thread that tied their laughter together.

For Ashutosh, she was “his reason to come home early.”

For Mitali, she was “the most beautiful part of every day.”

●

Later that night, Tia was in her room, buried under a mountain of notebooks.

“Offfff… bas ab ho gaya! Itna hi padh sakti hoon main.”

(Ughhh… that’s it! I can’t study any more.)

She huffed dramatically, slamming her notebook shut. Stretching her arms, she got up and walked toward her favorite spot  the balcony.

That floor had just two rooms, one guest room and one hers. Half of it opened to the terrace, but Tia’s room had a small balcony of its own that faced the narrow gali behind their house. She loved that little corner, her window to the world.

Leaning on the railing, she watched the neighborhood winding down for the night.

Tiwari ji was walking home, his old tiffin swinging in hand. A group of kids were still playing bat-ball under the streetlight, their laughter echoing through the lane. A few aunties stood near the gate, chatting, or maybe chugli kar rahi thi, she couldn’t tell.

A couple of dogs barked furiously at a girl who was trying to shoo them away with stick, while on a nearby terrace, a few monkeys sat, eating stolen fruits.

It was the same view every night, yet somehow it always felt different, alive, comforting, hers.

“Tia! So jao ab! School jaana hai kal.”

(Tia! Go to sleep now! You’ve got school tomorrow.)

Mitali’s voice floated up from downstairs.

“Okkkkk Maa!” Tia shouted back, still smiling as she turned to her room.

She muttered under her breath, “Pata nahi school jaisi ghatiya cheez kisne banayi hai.”

(I don’t know who invented something as horrible as school.)

She turned off the lights, pulled the blanket over her head, and sank into her bed.

Outside, the night slowly fell silent. The air was cool, soft, and calm. The dogs were still barking somewhere in the distance… but now, she couldn’t hear them anymore.

●

Now, dear readers, let’s leave the quiet streets of Gorakhpur and head to the beating heart of India… Delhi.

The city of speed, lights, and dreams.

Where chaos meets charm.

Where the nights never sleep, and every corner hums with ambition.

Skyscrapers touch the sky, cars honk like they’re in conversation, and somewhere between all that noise , sits the Rathore house.

Calling it a house would be an understatement.

It wasn’t a mansion, but a huge building, so big from outside it looked like a cluster of flats from the outside. But it was one single home  grand, lively, full of people, and laughter that never ran out.

Inside, in the dining room, the whole family had gathered around the long table.

“Ekansh kahan hai?” Pushkar asked, looking around.

(Where’s Ekansh?)

“Woh Ansh bhai ki shooting abhi khatam nahi hui, time lagega unko.” Vihaan replied, munching on papad.

(His shoot isn’t over yet, Dadu. He’ll take some time.)

Pushkar adjusted his glasses. “Aur Shwet kahan hai?”

(And where’s Shwet?)

“Woh bhi ek meeting mein hai, Dadu.” Rakshit answered calmly.

(He’s in a meeting too, Dadu.)

Vihaan leaned back with a teasing grin. “Kya Dadu, aap bhi na… bhai bade ho gaye hain, give them freedom!”

(Oh come on, Dadu! They’re grown-ups now, give them some freedom!)

Vardhan looked at him with a sarcastic smile.

“Accha, Vihu beta, freedom doon unko?”

(Oh really, Vihu? You think I should give them freedom?)

Vihaan immediately straightened up, realizing that tone never meant good news. “Nahi nahi, mat do Dadu… waise bhi Ekansh bhai toh bahut bigad gaye hain. Kal toh maine aur Rakshit bhai ne unko—”

Before he could finish, Rakshit pinched him hard on the thigh.

“Ayyyiii! Kyu nocha bhai!” Vihaan yelped dramatically.

(Ouchhh! Why’d you pinch me, bro!)

Rakshit’s eyes widened, silently pleading “Shut up, idiot!”

Sejal immediately turned to them. “Rakshit! Yeh kya baat hui? Kyu kiya? Sorry bolo Vihaan ko!”

(Rakshit! That’s not nice! Say sorry to Vihaan!)

Vihaan smirked triumphantly. “Ha ha bolo!”

(Yes yes, say it!)

Before Rakshit could respond, Raksha cut in with glare.

“Aree bhabhi, kya sorry! Ye Vihaan bhi kuch kiya hoga! Ye kam nahi hai! Bacchara Rakshit isse pyar karta hai, iski baatein nahi batata, toh ye sar pe chadh gaya hai!”

(Oh come on, Bhabhi! No need to say sorry. This Vihaan must’ve done something first , he’s no innocent! Poor Rakshit keeps covering for him and that’s why he’s spoiled!)

Vihaan’s mouth fell open dramatically.

(Excuse me, whattt?!)

Rakshit tried not to laugh but a tiny smirk escaped. Naveen caught it from across the table and shook his head, smiling.

This was their everyday routine,playful arguments, teasing, and laughter bouncing off every corner of the house. And honestly, everyone knew…

If one day the Rathores ate quietly, that would be a sign that something was terribly wrong.

Far away from the not-so-calm Rathore dining table, the atmosphere was completely different.

●

Loud music.

Spotlights flashing.

Makeup artists rushing like it was the end of the world.

And in the middle of all that chaos sat Ekansh Rathore, grinning like the world revolved around him.

“Light thoda left karo! Aur haan, fan zyada tez mat chalana , last time mere baal chidiya ka ghosla lag rahe the!”

(Move the light a little to the left! And don’t turn the fan up too high , last time my hair looked like a bird’s nest!)

The crew burst into laughter. Ekansh winked, flipping his perfectly styled hair like it was a weapon.

“Ekansh sir, ready for the next take?” the assistant director called out.

He stood up, stretched lazily, and flashed his trademark smirk.

“I’m born ready, cutie.”

A couple of background dancers giggled. Someone whispered, “He’s so full of himself.”

Ekansh grinned wider and sang loudly in his totally besura voice,

“Khud hi toh maine ishq kiya…”

The director groaned, rubbing his temples. “Ekansh! Focus! We have to wrap this tonight!”

“Arey wrap toh karenge… lekin aapne notice kiya? Pichle take mein heroine ne mujhe aankh maari thi. I felt uncomfortable!”

(Of course we’ll wrap, but did you notice? The heroine winked at me in the last take. I felt uncomfortable!)

He said innocently, even blushing a little like a newlywed.

The director facepalmed. “That was acting!”

Ekansh’s eyes widened dramatically.“Acting thi? Ya feeling thi… ye toh sirf unhe hi pata hoga. Mujhe toh apni safety ka khayal rakhna padega!”

(That was acting? Or a real feeling… only she knows. I should stay alert for my safety!)

The crew roared with laughter.

And right on cue, his phone buzzed, Vihaan calling.

He picked up on speaker. “Batao, junior, kya aadesh hai?”

(Tell me, junior psychologist, what are your royal orders?)

From the other end came Vihaan’s voice, half-laughing, half-annoyed.“Bhai, ghar aaj hi aana hai aapko! Warna aapse toh koi ladki set ho nahi rahi, Dadu aapko zaroor set kar denge!”

“Arey yaar, ye Dadu bhi na… alag hi piece hain. Baccha mehnat kar raha hai, toh bhi dukh hai!”

(Man, Dadu’s a rare piece! The poor kid’s working hard, and even that’s a problem!)

Just then, the heroine walked past with a smirk.“Baccha? Huh?!”

Ekansh turned to her and smirked back.“Not for you!”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she walked away.

Ekansh grinned, stretching again, proud as ever.

Another successful day of being himself   chaotic, charming, and completely impossible.

●

"Not for you," Ekansh said smugly, smirking at the heroine before walking away.

On the other side of the phone, Vihaan winced."Chhii, bhai bakwaas mat karo, mere jaise masoom ke aage."

(Ew, bro, stop saying nonsense in front of an innocent soul like me.)

Before he could add more, he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned,and his face instantly lit up.

"Bhaiya!" (Brother!) he exclaimed and rushed forward to hug Shwet tightly.

Shwet smiled softly, his hand automatically going to ruffle Vihaan’s hair.

From the stairs, Rakshit watched the scene and smiled to himself before quietly heading to the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a glass of water.“Thanks,” Shwet said, taking the glass. Then, with a teasing smirk, added,

“Thank you, Shit.”

Rakshit’s face twisted in disbelief.

“Bhaiya… don’t.”

Shwet raised a brow, pretending not to understand.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t call me that!” Rakshit said, sulking like a five-year-old.

“That what?” Shwet asked, all innocent.

Vihaan was already giggling. “Arey bhaiya… ‘Shit’ mat bolo, though he is but still…”

(Bro, don’t call him ‘Shit,’ even if he’s…)

Before he could finish, a pillow hit his face.

“Ayyiii! Kyu maara, bhai!” (Ouch! Why’d you hit me, bro?!)

Rakshit glared, grabbing another pillow.“Shut up, chhotu beta!” (Shut up, little one!)

Within seconds, it turned into a full-blown pillow fight. Cushions flying, laughter echoing through the hall.

Five minutes later, Shwet finally raised his voice.

“Enough!”

Both froze mid-swing, glaring at each other like rival cats.

Sejal entered from the balcony, eyebrows raised.“Yeh kya kutte-billi jaise kyu dikh rahe ho?”

(Why do you two look like fighting cats and dogs?)

“Badi ma! Bhai ko dekho, yeh battameezi kar rahe hain! Aur bhaiya inko rok nahi rahe!”

(Auntie! Look at him, he’s misbehaving! And Shwet bhaiya isn’t even stopping him!)

Vihaan complained, making the most innocent face possible.

Shwet and Rakshit’s eyes went wide,“Ma, bhaiya was calling me ‘Shit’!” Rakshit said dramatically, throwing Shwet under the bus.

“Shwet!” Sejal’s voice carried authority now.

“M… Ma! Aisa kuch bhi nahi hai. Aapko lagta hai main thak ke aaya aur do janwaron se baat karunga?”

(M… Mom! It’s nothing like that. Do you really think I came home tired just to talk to two wild animals?)

Sejal crossed her arms, lips curving into a knowing smile.

“Lagta nahi beta… yakeen hai mujhe. Tumne kaha hi hoga. Ma se koi bhi bachcha nahi bach sakta.”

(I don’t think so, son… I’m sure of it. No child escapes their mother’s radar.)

Vihaan bit his lip to hide a grin while Rakshit mouthed to Shwet, “Told you so.”

Sejal shook her head, trying not to smile at the three grown-up kids sitting like they’d just been caught stealing cookies.

“Acha ab sab chup baith jao! Shwet, tu bhi... jab dekho mazaak hi mazaak.”

(Alright now, everyone quiet! Shwet, you too... always joking around.)

“Ma, mazaak thodi tha..” Shwet tried to protest, but one look from her shut him right up.“Bas! Ab main bolungi, tu sunega.”

(Enough! Now I’ll speak, you’ll listen.)

Vihaan and Rakshit tried so hard not to laugh that Vihaan actually bit his sleeve.

Sejal crossed her arms, walking up to Shwet with that “I raised you, don’t test me” energy.

“Shwet beta, tum ghar ke bade ho... aur bade hone ka matlab sirf height nahi hoti.”

(Shwet, you’re the eldest in this house... and being elder doesn’t just mean being tall.)

Shwet lowered his gaze. “Ma, mujhe height pe target mat karo, please.”

(Mom, please don’t target my height.)

Rakshit snorted. “Bhaiya, ab to Vihaan bhi aapse ucha ho gaya hai.”

(Bro, even Vihaan’s taller than you now.)

“Oyy rakshit!” Shwet threw a cushion at him..missing by an inch.

Sejal sighed, rubbing her temples dramatically. “In dono ko dekh ke lagta hai maine sabse pehle tujhe hi sambhalne mein galti ki thi.”

(Looking at these two, I feel like my biggest mistake was trying to handle you first.)

“Badi Ma, ab to aapko bhi pata chal gaya ,sab kuch bhaiya ka hi fault hai.” Vihaan said sweetly, hiding behind Rakshit.

“Haan haan, sab kuch bhaiya ka hi fault hai.” Sejal repeated sarcastically, tapping Vihaan’s head.

“Aur tum dono to bilkul doodh ke dhule ho, na?”

(Oh yes, everything’s your brother’s fault, and you two are totally innocent, right?)

Rakshit laughed. “Main to innocent hoon Ma, Vihaan ne hi pehle start kiya tha.”

(I’m innocent, Ma. Vihaan started it first.)

“Bachchon jaise jhagde karte ho sab ke sab!” Sejal said, rolling her eyes. “Tum teenon ko dekh ke lagta hi nahi hai ki bade ho gye ho.”

“Badi ma, aapko gems mile hain,apni aulad ke roop me” Vihaan said with a wink.

“Gems? mere liye headache hain!” Sejal shot back, though a smile tugged at her lips.

(Gems? You’re headaches for me!)

Shwet got up, walked over to her, and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Ma, aapke headache bhi handsome hain.”

(Mom, even your headaches are handsome.)

Sejal laughed and shook her head. “Bas ab sabko kaam milega. Kal subah uthte hi sab apne-apne rooms clean karenge.Vihaan you will wash dishes,Shwet you will clean all cars,and Rakshit you will clean store room.”

(Alright, now everyone gets a job. Tomorrow morning, you all will clean your rooms.Vihaan you will wash dishes,Shwet you will clean all cars,and Rakshit you will clean store room.)

“Badi Ma, please… punishment cancel?” Vihaan begged.

“Nahi.”

All three brothers groaned in unison.

Sejal smiled lovingly at them before walking toward the kitchen, muttering,

“Chaaro se to sirf mujhe aur mere Arnav ko hi deal karna aata hai.”

(Only I and my Arnav know how to deal with these four.)

As she disappeared inside, the three brothers exchanged glances.

Rakshit whispered, “We’re dead tomorrow.”

●

Somewhere far from the laughter and warmth of the Rathore house...

Under a sky scattered with stars, in a quiet army camp on the outskirts of the city...sat Commander Arnav Rathore.

The air was cold, carrying the scent of the soil and smoke from a nearby campfire. A few soldiers were gathered around, laughing over small jokes, tin plates in hand.

Arnav sat among them, his plate untouched for a while. One of the soldiers nudged him playfully, “Sir, ghar ki yaad aa rahi hai kya?”

(Sir, missing home, aren’t you?)

Arnav smiled faintly, looking up at the sky.

“Haan, thodi si... par ghar waale sab theek honge.”

(Yeah, a little… but I know everyone at home must be fine.)

He finally picked up his spoon and took a bite.

The food was simple...dal, rice, and roti,but he’d learned to find comfort in the smallest things here.

Someone cracked a joke, and laughter rippled through the camp. Arnav joined in, but it was brief,his mind was elsewhere.

As the laughter faded, he leaned back against a wooden post, watching the flickering firelight dance in the night.

“Ekansh abhi ya to club me hoga ya so rha hoga, Rakshit probably kisi book mein ghusa hoga, Vihaan kuch na kuch shararat kar raha hoga... aur Shwet...” he paused, smiling to himself, “Shwet sabko control karne ki koshish kar raha hoga.”

(Ekansh might be in some club or sleeping, Rakshit’s probably buried in some book, Vihaan’s up to mischief as usual… and Shwet’s probably trying to keep everyone in line.)

He chuckled softly.

Even here, miles away, he could imagine every detail of his family’s chaos,the sound of Vihaan’s laughter, Sejal’s scolding, and the way Dadu’s newspaper always hit someone’s head at least once a day.

A younger soldier sitting beside him said quietly, “Sir, aapke ghar wale bahut lucky honge. Aap unhe bahut yaad karte ho.”

(Sir, your family must be very lucky. You miss them a lot, don’t you?)

Arnav looked at the soldier and smiled gently.

“Nahi, main unhe yaad nahi karta… unhe mehsoos karta hoon. Har din, har pal.”

(I don’t just miss them… I feel them. Every day, every moment.)

For a moment, silence filled the camp,only the crackling of the fire and the distant sound of boots crunching gravel echoed.

He looked up once more at the stars and whispered softly,

“Bas sab khush rahein… yehi dua hai meri.”

(I just want them all to stay happy… that’s my only prayer.)

●

He leaned back, letting the quiet of the night sink into his bones. Most of the team had gone silent now, some already turning in for the night. The campfire had dimmed, leaving only a faint orange glow.

Arnav reached into his jacket pocket, the one he always kept zipped close to his chest. From inside, he pulled out a slightly worn, folded photograph.

It was a family picture.

Everyone was there ,Dadu sitting proudly in the center, Dadi laughing at something Vihaan must’ve said, Sejal with that "I'm done" expression, Vardhan and Raksha smiling softly from the side… and all his brothers around him, half hugging, half fighting, with Ekansh making a weird face that clearly wasn’t planned.

Right in the middle, he stood,his arm around Rakshit’s shoulder, Shwet on the other side holding Vihaan in a half choke, and behind them, the big chaotic Rathore family frozen in one perfect frame.

Arnav’s thumb brushed gently over the picture.

“Pagal parivaar...” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

(Crazy family...)

The photo was creased at the corners, maybe from being folded too often, or maybe from being opened too many nights like this one.

He carefully slipped it back into his pocket, close to his heart.

Then, he looked up once more at the stars.

“Goodnight, gharwaalon.”

(Goodnight, my family.)

A soft breeze passed by again, rustling the camp tents, carrying with it a faint smell of earth and warmth ,and for a moment, it felt like home wasn’t that far away.

He lay down on his camp cot, closing his eyes, the faintest smile still lingering on his face.

And though the world around him was silent, somewhere in that stillness,he could almost hear Sejal calling out,

“Arnav beta, khana khake so jaana!”

(Arnav, eat before you sleep!)

He chuckled softly under his breath.

“Haan Ma, khake so gaya...”

(Yes Ma, I ate and slept...)

And under that starlit sky, Commander Arnav Rathore drifted to sleep,the soldier with a lion’s heart, and a family-shaped warmth still glowing within it.