The heavy teakwood door of the en-suite bathroom slowly opened, letting out a soft cloud of steam that smelled faintly of warm sandalwood and baby shampoo.
Riya stepped out onto the plush carpet, vigorously drying the damp ends of her dark hair with a small, soft cotton towel.
The oversized black nightdress hung comfortably around her small frame, the rich fabric practically swallowing her.
The tiny silver stars stitched across it caught the warm, golden glow of the brass lamps, making her look incredibly small and fragile against the vastness of the grand bedroom.
Lakshya looked up from the velvet-upholstered armchair near the large window, a heavy leather-bound file resting forgotten on his lap.
For a second...
He simply looked at her.
He drank in the sight of her standing there in his home.
Safe.
Clean.
And finally...
finally where she belonged.
"...Comfortable, baccha?"
Riya stopped drying her hair and looked down at herself, inspecting the massive amount of fabric pooling around her legs.
She grabbed both sides of the nightdress dramatically, holding them out like a traditional lehenga.
Twirled once.
The fabric spun around her knees in a perfect circle, catching the air.
Then she planted her bare feet firmly on the carpet and looked at Lakshya with completely serious, demanding eyes.
"...Be honest."
Lakshya raised a thick, dark eyebrow, amused by her sudden intensity.
"Hm?"
"Do I look cute..."
She placed a delicate hand on her chest dramatically, tilting her chin up like a Bollywood heroine.
"...or illegally adorable?"
Lakshya stared at her for a moment, his stoic, sharp features betraying absolutely nothing.
"...The second one."
Riya GASPED loudly, throwing her head back in sheer triumph.
"I KNEW IT."
She nodded to herself, immensely satisfied.
"I was born for GREATNESS."
Lakshya almost smiled, a tiny breath escaping his nose as he watched her theatrics.
"Hm."
She immediately narrowed her eyes, locking onto him with a fierce glare.
"That 'hm' sounded sarcastic."
"It wasn't." Lakshya replied smoothly, his deep baritone unwavering.
"It was."
"It wasn't."
"...Liar."
Lakshya quietly accepted the accusation, not bothering to defend himself against a thirteen-year-old's stubbornness.
"Hm."
As she turned to continue her victory lap around the massive room, Riya suddenly noticed the grand, full-length mirror with its intricately carved wooden frame standing beside the massive wardrobe.
She blinked.
"...Wait."
She caught her reflection in another ornate mirror hanging right above the polished mahogany dressing table.
She slowly turned around, her eyes widening.
"...WAIT."
There was one more, perfectly illuminated, right beside the heavy double doors of the walk-in closet.
Her mouth slowly fell open as she took in the sheer amount of reflective surfaces in the bedroom.
"..."
She looked at Lakshya, still sitting calmly like a king on his throne.
Then back at the mirrors.
Then at Lakshya again, pointing a tiny finger.
"...Why are there so many mirrors?"
Lakshya answered calmly, flipping a page of his file as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"You like them."
"..."
She slowly lowered her hand, completely unable to argue with his logic.
"...I do."
She immediately walked toward the nearest, best-lit mirror, her bare feet padding softly across the floor.
She looked at herself critically.
Tilted her head left.
Then right.
Watching the silver stars shimmer in the light.
She fixed an imaginary, microscopic wrinkle on her oversized sleeve.
Fluffed her damp hair until it had maximum volume.
Then, leaning in close, she dramatically whispered to her own reflection,
"...Wow."
She sighed dreamily.
"What a beautiful child."
Lakshya leaned back deeply into his chair, abandoning his work entirely.
He was simply watching her, absorbing the reality that she was actually here, filling the suffocating silence of his room with life.
"...Very beautiful." He agreed softly.
Riya immediately nodded in agreement, not missing a single beat.
"I know."
She placed both hands on her cheeks, squishing her own face adoringly.
"I would've had a crush on myself."
Lakshya looked away for exactly one second, staring at the floor to maintain his rigid composure.
The corner of his lips twitched uncontrollably.
"...Good thing you're only thirteen."
Riya ignored his comment and pointed proudly at the mirror, presenting herself like a masterpiece.
"See this face?"
She traced her jaw with a finger.
"This face deserves APPRECIATION."
She struck another dramatic, fashion-magazine pose.
"This jawline."
Another pose, throwing one hand on her hip with maximum attitude.
"This hair."
Another pose, turning to showcase her profile.
"These expressions."
She dramatically turned entirely sideways, looking over her shoulder with an intense glare.
"I should charge people for looking at me."
Lakshya folded his muscular arms across his broad chest, observing the entire performance.
"Hm."
He delivered his deadpan verdict.
"You'll go BANKRUPT."
Riya FROZE.
She slowly turned her head to look at him, her pose breaking instantly.
"...Why?"
"Nobody asked to look."
She stared at him in complete, devastating betrayal, her hands dropping to her sides.
"...That was RUDE."
"It was TRUE."
"I don't accept your truth."
She turned her back on him and marched purposefully to another mirror across the room, her nose in the air.
"This one has better lighting."
She inspected herself again, checking to make sure his insult hadn't physically altered her face.
Then, staring into the glass, she suddenly smiled, a bright, mischievous idea popping into her head.
"Oh!"
She spun around and pointed excitedly at Lakshya.
"Stand there."
Lakshya looked up, his brow furrowing slightly.
"...Why?"
"So I can compare."
He didn't move an inch.
"...Compare what?"
"Our faces."
Lakshya sighed very quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"...Baccha."
"Please." She clasped her hands together in a dramatic plea.
"...Just once."
Knowing she wouldn't stop, and knowing he possessed absolutely no willpower to deny her anything...
He stood up.
Walked over, his tall, imposing, broad-shouldered frame dwarfing her completely.
Riya immediately stood right beside him in front of the tall mirror, making sure they were perfectly aligned.
She looked at their reflections.
The dangerous, intimidating elder brother with his sharp, unforgiving features...
And the tiny, starry-eyed girl beside him.
Then she nodded thoughtfully, rubbing her chin like an elder passing a judgment.
"Hm."
Lakshya waited patiently, his hands resting in his pockets.
After nearly thirty seconds of intense, silent analysis...
She announced with complete, unwavering confidence,
"We're both good-looking."
Lakshya raised an eyebrow, looking down at her through the mirror.
"We?"
"Hm."
She pointed at her own reflection first.
"I'm beautiful."
Then she pointed directly at his reflection.
"You're handsome."
She folded her arms proudly, settling the matter entirely.
"Our family has excellent genetics."
Lakshya looked at her tiny, proud reflection.
Then at his own dark, weary features.
Finally, in a flat, monotone voice, he said,
"...You're definitely related to Abhiraj."
Riya BURST into bright, ringing laughter, the sound echoing off the high ceilings like temple bells.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Lakshya gently reached over and ruffled her slightly damp hair, messing up the volume she had just worked so hard to create.
"Done admiring yourself?"
She looked back at the mirror one last time, checking her reflection just in case.
"...Almost."
She smiled brightly at her own reflection and brought two fingers to her lips, giving it a tiny, theatrical flying kiss.
"Goodnight, gorgeous."
Lakshya let out the quietest, deepest huff of amusement.
"...The mirror isn't going anywhere."
"I know."
She nodded seriously, adjusting her sleeves.
"But beauty should always be appreciated."
Lakshya shook his head, thoroughly defeated by her flawless logic.
"Come here, baccha."
This time...
She went without another word, happily walking back toward him, still smiling to herself after complimenting...
herself.
Lakshya walked towards the massive, luxurious bed and sat down, leaning his broad back comfortably against the tufted headboard.
His hand reached out toward the bedside table.
His long fingers wrapped around a simple, polished neem-wood comb resting there, waiting.
Then he looked at her.
"...Come here, baccha."
Riya quietly walked over, the playful energy from moments ago instantly settling into a calm, deeply comforting rhythm.
She climbed onto the soft mattress without a word, pulling her legs up, and sat right in front of him with her back facing his chest.
Almost instinctively.
As though her small body still perfectly remembered a sacred, nightly ritual her fragile heart had spent five long years trying not to miss.
Lakshya gently gathered the heavy weight of her soft, damp hair in one large, protective hand.
Then...
The wooden comb glided through the first few strands.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Not a single pull against her scalp.
Not a single knot tugged harshly.
Exactly...
The exact way he used to do it every single night when she was just a toddler.
Riya's happy smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a trembling, overwhelming wave of emotion.
She lowered her eyes, staring blankly at the rich silk of the duvet draped over her lap.
The grand bedroom became incredibly silent.
The air felt thick.
Heavy.
Heavy with memories.
Lakshya noticed the sudden shift immediately.
His hand paused mid-stroke.
"...Too hard?"
She immediately, desperately shook her head.
"No..."
The comb moved again.
Another gentle, soothing stroke.
Then another.
Her voice came out fragile, cracking, almost as a whisper.
"...You still remember."
Lakshya didn't ask what she meant.
He already knew.
"You used to do this every night..." Riya whispered, a tear pooling at the corner of her eye.
"...before sleeping."
Another smooth stroke of the comb.
"You'd comb my hair..."
She took a shaky breath.
"...then tell me it would become messy again if I rolled around too much."
Lakshya quietly, steadily replied,
"It did."
A tiny, wet laugh escaped her lips.
But her eyes had already become glassy, overflowing with the pain she had tried to lock away to survive the cold walls of the orphanage.
She swallowed hard, fighting the heavy lump in her throat.
"I thought..."
Her voice broke completely.
"...you would've forgotten."
The wooden comb stopped moving for just a second.
Lakshya looked at the back of the little girl sitting trembling in front of him.
His chest tightened with a physical, agonizing ache.
Then, he resumed combing her hair with the exact same, rhythmic patience.
"I forget meetings."
He spoke softly, his deep voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
"I forget business schedules."
"I forget where I leave my files."
His voice remained calm, steady, anchoring her to the present.
"But..."
He gently detangled a small knot near her neck.
"I don't forget you, baccha."
Riya bit her bottom lip so hard it almost bled.
She quickly looked down, turning her face away so he wouldn't notice the dam breaking.
But a tiny, heavy drop still escaped...
Landing silently, warmly, on the back of her own hand.
Lakshya saw it.
Of course he did.
His sharp eyes saw everything when it came to his family.
He didn't point it out.
He didn't ask why she was crying or tell her to wipe her tears.
He simply continued combing her hair.
Slow.
Gentle.
Giving her the time and space to let the pain of the past five years bleed out into the safety of his presence.
After a long, heavy silence...
Riya wiped her cheek and smiled through watery eyes, noticing the familiar pattern of his movements.
"...You even start from the ends first."
Lakshya answered simply, as if reciting a universal law of nature.
"So it doesn't hurt."
She closed her eyes, leaning back just a fraction into his solid warmth.
"You remembered that too..."
"Hm."
"And..."
She laughed softly between her quiet tears, a genuine sound of disbelief.
"...you never made a tight braid because I'd complain."
Lakshya almost smiled, remembering the tantrums of a five-year-old Riya refusing a tight schoolgirl braid.
"You still would."
"I definitely would." She agreed wholeheartedly.
He finished untangling the last few stubborn strands.
Then, setting the comb down, his large fingers skillfully divided her dark hair into three perfectly equal sections.
Without looking.
Without thinking.
As though his hands remembered the delicate routine entirely on their own, etched deep into his muscle memory.
Riya watched his large, scarred fingers moving rapidly and gently through the reflection of the mirror across the room.
"...You practiced?"
Lakshya raised a questioning eyebrow.
"For what?"
"So you wouldn't forget."
Lakshya quietly shook his head, his hands never breaking their rhythm.
"No."
He looked at her reflection.
"I simply never forgot."
For a long moment...
Neither of them spoke.
The only sound in the massive room was the soft, rhythmic swish of his fingers weaving her dark hair together, binding the strands into a traditional, perfect braid.
Then, unable to hold it back, Riya suddenly sniffled loudly.
Lakshya looked sharply at her reflection.
"...Baccha."
"Hm?" she sniffled again.
"If you cry..."
His voice was deadpan, completely flat.
"The braid will become crooked."
She blinked, her tears freezing instantly in confusion.
"...Really?"
"No."
She stared at him through the mirror for two whole, silent seconds, processing the sheer audacity of his lie.
Then, she reached back and lightly hit his solid arm.
"...You lied."
Lakshya finally smiled.
Just a little.
Just a brief, microscopic lifting of the corners of his mouth.
"I did."
Riya wiped the corner of her eyes with the back of her sleeve, the heavy sadness lifting away, replaced by the warm comfort of his teasing.
"...Good."
She took a deep breath.
"I don't want to cry today."
She looked directly into his dark eyes through his reflection and smiled softly, her heart finally feeling whole.
"...I've already got you back."
Lakshya tied the very end of her braid with a soft, velvet black ribbon he pulled from the bedside drawer.
He adjusted it once, making sure it wasn't pulling her scalp.
Twice, to ensure it looked neat.
Then he leaned back and gave a small, satisfied nod.
"...Done."
Riya immediately twisted around on her knees and leaned heavily toward the nearest vanity mirror.
She tilted her head left, inspecting his handiwork.
Then right.
She lifted the thick braid over her shoulder, examining the neatness.
Turned around completely.
Looked again, her eyes narrowing in heavy concentration.
"Hmm..."
Lakshya waited patiently, his arms resting on his knees as he watched her strict quality-control inspection.
After nearly a full minute of dramatic silence...
She turned to face him, sitting cross-legged, and spoke with absolute, terrifying seriousness.
"...I have a complaint."
Lakshya raised an eyebrow, unfazed.
"What?"
She looked at him with the exact expression of an angry client about to file a legal case in court.
"...You made me prettier."
Lakshya blinked once.
A rare, genuine moment of him being caught off guard.
"...Wasn't that already your opinion?"
"Yes."
She nodded confidently, accepting the absolute fact.
"But now it's becoming difficult."
Lakshya looked at her messy bedhead in the mirror and then back at the neat braid.
"...How?"
She sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air.
"I'm becoming too beautiful."
Lakshya slowly folded his arms, preparing for the incoming storm of her theatrics.
"I see."
"No, you don't." She countered quickly.
She pointed accusingly at the mirror.
"Look."
She gestured to her face.
"I was already attractive."
She flipped the braid over her shoulder like a deadly weapon.
"Now I'm... upgraded."
She stood up on the mattress and slowly spun once, treating the bed like a fashion runway.
The thick braid swayed perfectly behind her.
She stopped dramatically, placing her hands on her hips, staring down at him like a demanding queen.
"...Tell me honestly."
She demanded the ultimate truth.
"Would people survive looking at me?"
Lakshya answered without even thinking, completely unbothered by her intensity.
"They'll manage."
She GASPED, clutching her chest as if he had just driven a knife through her heart.
"...That's it?"
"They'll blink." Lakshya continued brutally, his face stoic.
"They'll continue walking."
She placed a trembling hand over her heart, collapsing back to her knees on the soft mattress.
"...You're hurting my confidence."
"I thought it couldn't be hurt."
"It can't."
She nodded proudly, instantly recovering from her fatal wound.
"But I'd still like an apology."
Lakshya looked at her tiny, demanding face for a long, quiet moment.
Then, with the straightest, most sincere face imaginable, his deep voice rang out...
"I'm sorry..."
She smiled triumphantly, closing her eyes in sweet victory.
"...that your ego became bigger."
Riya FROZE.
Her eyes snapped open.
"..."
She processed his words.
"..."
She pointed an accusing, trembling finger right at his face.
"That wasn't an apology."
"It was." Lakshya stated, immovable as a mountain.
"It absolutely wasn't."
Lakshya simply looked away, staring at the far wall as if it were incredibly interesting.
"It sounded sincere."
"It sounded evil."
A tiny, deep chuckle escaped him.
The sound was so rare it felt like an eclipse.
"You've changed."
She immediately folded her arms, lifting her chin stubbornly.
"I've matured."
"No."
He looked back at her.
"You've become dramatic."
"I learned from professionals."
"Hm."
She narrowed her eyes, studying his unnervingly calm expression.
"...That was directed at Abhiraj bhaiya, wasn't it?"
Lakshya shrugged slightly.
"It could've been."
She BURST into loud, unrestrained laughter, falling back onto the pillows.
"I'll definitely tell him tomorrow."
Lakshya gave a quiet, uncaring nod.
"You should."
"So he annoys you instead?" She grinned evilly.
"I can send him back."
Riya sat up abruptly, confused.
"To where?"
Lakshya didn't blink.
"The orphanage."
Riya laughed so hard she lost her balance, nearly falling backward off the edge of the bed.
She clutched her stomach.
"You can't!"
"I can."
"They'll return him." She argued through her giggles.
"Probably."
"They'll ask for a refund."
Lakshya finally smiled properly.
Not a twitch.
Not a ghost of a smirk.
A small, genuine smile that reached his dark eyes, softening the harsh, intimidating lines of his face entirely.
But real.
Undeniably real.
Riya stopped laughing and looked at him.
She really looked at him.
She saw the heavy exhaustion under his eyes, the faint graying at his temples that shouldn't be there yet, and the immense, soul-deep relief etched into his posture.
Then her own bright smile softened into something deeply tender and full of love.
"...You smile a lot more than I remembered."
Lakshya's smile immediately faded, tucking safely back into its usual, calm, protective expression.
"Only because you talk too much."
She grinned proudly, leaning forward.
"So..."
She wiggled her eyebrows.
"My mission is successful."
"And what mission is that?"
"Making you smile again."
For a brief second...
Neither of them said anything.
The weight of those five years of missing smiles hovered heavily in the air between them.
Lakshya simply reached out, his large hand moving gently...
And lightly tapped the tip of her small nose with his index finger.
"...Mission accomplished, baccha."
Riya's grin grew even wider, lighting up the entire room.
"See?"
She crossed her arms triumphantly.
"I knew I was talented."
Slowly...
Gradually...
The massive room fell silent.
The bright, bouncing laughter from just a few minutes ago had completely disappeared, melting into the thick walls of the mansion.
Lakshya reached over and clicked off the main overhead light.
Only the soft, warm yellow glow of the brass lamp beside the bed remained glowing, casting long, peaceful shadows across the floor.
Lakshya leaned back deeply against the headboard, stretching his long legs out over the duvet.
His dark eyes quietly stayed on Riya, watching her sit cross-legged at the foot of the bed.
Then, just like he had done countless, uncounted times before when she was little...
He lifted a hand and lightly patted his solid thigh.
"...Idhar aao, baccha."
For a second, Riya just looked at him, the familiar invitation sinking in.
Then, without saying a single word...
She slowly crawled across the vast expanse of the mattress.
She reached his side and carefully, softly, rested her heavy head on his lap.
Exactly.
Precisely.
Like she used to.
A gesture of complete trust, of a child seeking sanctuary with her elder brother.
Lakshya's large, scarred fingers automatically moved into her hair, tracing the edge of the neat braid he had just made.
Slowly.
Gently.
The exact same way they used to.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable or heavy with unspoken words.
It was deeply familiar.
It felt like a vital, forgotten piece of home had finally returned to its rightful place.
Outside the heavy, curtained windows...
The entire sprawling mansion had gone quiet, the night guards moving silently in the shadows.
Inside the warmly lit room...
Only the steady, rhythmic ticking of the vintage wall clock filled the space.
Five minutes passed in absolute peace.
Then ten.
Lakshya noticed something.
He felt the slight, rigid tension in her small shoulders.
Usually...
Riya would've already started talking.
Complaining about something trivial.
Asking a dozen random, rapid-fire questions about the house.
Making some ridiculous, dramatic comment about her clothes.
But tonight...
She was silent.
Too silent.
The kind of silence that carried the weight of unshed tears.
His fingers never stopped their soothing, rhythmic movement through her hair.
Then, softly, keeping his voice a low, comforting rumble without even looking down, he asked,
"...What is it, baccha?"
Riya's eyes moved slightly, staring blindly at the blanket near his waist.
"Nothing..."
Lakshya continued stroking her hair, completely unfazed by the denial.
"You only become this quiet..."
His fingers gently massaged her scalp.
"...when there's too much noise inside your heart."
Her tiny fingers slowly curled, tightening in a DEATH GRIP around the edge of the heavy blanket.
A small, trembling smile appeared on her face.
A painfully sad one.
"You still understand me that easily?"
Lakshya hummed softly, a deep, resonant sound in his chest.
"Always."
Another long, agonizing silence stretched across the room.
Then...
In a voice so fragile, so broken, it was barely above a whisper...
She asked the question that had been haunting her every single night in the dark, crowded dormitory of the orphanage.
"Did you really come looking for me...?"
Lakshya's hand FROZE.
It paused for just a second.
Just a single heartbeat of a second as the absolute horror of her question slammed into his chest like a physical blow.
Then, forcing his hand to remain gentle, he continued stroking her hair.
"Every single day."
Riya closed her eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears from pooling.
"Really?"
"Yes." His voice was ironclad, absolute truth.
"Everywhere we could."
He stared blankly at the far wall, seeing the endless dead ends, the empty streets, the desperate, maddening nights searching every corner of the country.
"Every place where there was even a small possibility that you might be there..."
He swallowed hard.
"...we searched."
His voice remained completely calm on the surface.
But every single word carried the devastating, soul-crushing weight of five years of agonizing regret.
"We were late."
A heavy, suffocating pause.
"And I have carried that guilt every day."
Riya immediately shook her head against his leg, her voice frantic.
"No..."
She tried to sit up.
"It's not your fault—"
Lakshya gently but firmly placed his large index finger squarely on her forehead.
Stopping her entirely.
Pinning her gently in place.
"Let me say this, baccha."
She froze, looking up into his intensely dark eyes, and quietly nodded.
He continued, his voice rough with an emotion he rarely ever let show.
"I promised you..."
He looked directly into her tear-filled eyes.
"...that I would come back for you."
A long pause, heavy with a broken, sacred vow.
"And for five years, I thought I failed you."
Riya's eyes slowly filled to the brim, the hot tears finally spilling over onto his trousers.
She whispered, her voice breaking,
"You didn't."
A small, violently shaky breath escaped her lips.
"I waited..."
Lakshya looked down at her, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.
"I know."
Her voice cracked completely, the dam finally bursting.
"I waited on every birthday."
She sobbed quietly.
"Every Diwali."
When the sky outside the orphanage lit up with fireworks, and the other children went home.
"Every Holi."
When the streets were painted in colors she wasn't allowed to play with.
"Every festival..."
She swallowed painfully, gasping for air.
"I thought maybe..."
Her tiny hands gripped his shirt fabric like a drowning person clinging to a lifeline.
"...this time you would come."
A small laugh escaped her wet lips.
But it held no happiness.
It held absolutely ZERO JOY.
It was pure, unadulterated pain.
"I used to sit near the gate."
She stared blankly ahead, remembering the cold, rusted iron of the orphanage gates.
"The warden used to scold me."
She wiped her nose.
"But I still sat there."
Her voice became softer, more hollow.
"Because somewhere inside..."
She looked up at his blurry face.
"...I believed those black cars would stop again."
Lakshya closed his eyes tightly, his broad chest rising and falling heavily as the mental image of his little sister sitting alone in the cold tortured him.
His fingers continued moving mechanically through her hair, the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.
Riya continued, her voice devoid of emotion now, as if reciting a tragic fact.
"But slowly..."
She sniffled.
"...I stopped waiting."
A pause that felt like an eternity.
"And then one day..."
She looked at the ceiling, trying to breathe through the unbearable tightness in her chest.
"...I convinced myself..."
She closed her eyes.
"...that maybe you forgot me."
Lakshya's eyes snapped open.
He immediately looked down, his gaze fierce, terrifying, and fiercely protective.
His voice was hard, firm, brooking absolute no argument.
"NEVER."
He leaned in slightly.
"Not even for ONE SECOND."
Riya smiled faintly, a weak, watery thing.
"I know that now."
A hot tear slipped down her temple, dampening his leg.
"But back then... I didn't."
She stared blankly at the intricate patterns on the ceiling.
Everyone at the orphanage kept saying things...
"They must be busy with their own lives." The caretakers had muttered.
"You were just an orphanage kid." The older girls had taunted.
"People forget promises."
Her voice became quieter, fading into the shadows of the room.
"I tried believing them."
Because believing that—believing it was just human nature—hurt slightly less than believing she was unlovable.
The air in the room became incredibly heavy.
Suffocating.
"I started thinking..."
She whispered her darkest, most painful secret into the quiet room.
"...maybe something was WRONG WITH ME."
She choked on a sob.
"...maybe I wasn't important enough for someone to come back."
Lakshya's jaw tightened dangerously.
His dark eyes turned to pitch black.
For the first time that entire night...
His calm, impenetrable expression SHATTERED.
Not because of her.
Never her.
Because of the cruel, heartless world that had dared to make his little sister believe that garbage.
He leaned down smoothly, his large frame bending over her small one.
He pressed a long, incredibly gentle, fiercely protective kiss to her forehead, lingering there as if trying to brand the truth into her mind.
Then he pulled back slightly, his face inches from hers, and whispered with absolute, terrifying conviction,
"Listen to me, baccha."
She looked at him, her dark, tear-filled eyes wide and vulnerable.
"There was NEVER anything wrong with you."
A deliberate, heavy pause to let the words sink into her very soul.
"Nothing."
He looked deeply into her eyes.
"The mistake was ours."
His voice lowered, laced with deep, dark regret.
"We couldn't protect you the way we promised."
He gently, tenderly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her delicate ear.
"But you..."
His expression softened entirely, the ruthless man disappearing, leaving only the elder brother—her bade bhaiya.
"...you were never a burden."
"You were never someone we forgot."
His deep voice softened into something incredibly raw and honest.
"You were the BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO US."
Riya's pale lips trembled violently.
"I missed you..."
A fat tear fell, hitting his thumb.
"I missed you so much that sometimes..."
She clutched her chest, remembering the panic attacks in the dark.
"...it felt difficult to breathe."
Lakshya didn't say a single word.
Words were completely useless now.
He simply shifted on the bed and opened his strong arms wide.
And she immediately scrambled up and moved closer.
No hesitation.
No lingering fear.
Like a compass finding true north, her heart already knew exactly where it belonged.
She curled tightly into his side, burying her wet face into his shirt.
Lakshya wrapped his thick, heavily muscled arm around her small body, holding her securely against his chest.
Possessively.
Protectively.
Shielding her from the entire world.
"...Ab kahin nahi jaane dunga."
He murmured fiercely into the quiet night, the solemn vow vibrating in his chest.
Riya held onto his expensive shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.
Like if she let go, even for a second, he might disappear like a dream again.
Her muffled voice was barely audible against his chest.
"Promise?"
Lakshya looked down at her.
He really looked at her.
At the small, fragile girl who held the hearts of her brothers in her tiny hands.
Then, his voice vibrating deep and absolute, he slowly said,
"This time..."
He tightened his grip around her, burying his chin in her dark hair.
"...I won't just make a promise."
A heavy, solemn pause.
"I'll spend my entire life proving it."
His large, warm hand gently, comfortingly rested on the back of her head, stroking the braid he had made.
"Tum meri zimmedari nahi ho, baccha."
He whispered his final, ultimate truth to her.
"You're my family."
Riya closed her exhausted eyes, the comforting scent of his cologne surrounding her like a fortress.
And for the very first time in five terrifying, lonely years...
She slept peacefully.
Deeply.
Without the constant, gnawing fear that the person she loved most would leave her again.
Because this time...
Lying safely in Lakshya's arms...
She BELIEVED HIM.
To Be Continued...
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