ARADHNA's POV:
After the Pooja was done, I quickly got permission from Didima and headed to the hospital. Today wasn't just special because of Mom's birthday, but also because a little warrior at the hospital was celebrating hers. Her strength and unbreakable spirit had always touched my heart, and I wanted to make this day memorable for her too.
The familiar scent of antiseptic filled the air as I walked through the halls of the hospital-a place that, though new, had already become home to me. I had joined just a few months ago, yet it felt like I had always belonged here. I couldn't help but remember the day Didima had opened this hospital, a gift not just to the world but to me as well. She had built it as a symbol of hope and healing, and I was proud to be a part of it.
I reached the pediatric ward, where I spotted Sufi lying in her bed by the window. The little girl had been battling cancer for months, but nothing could dim her light. She was a fighter, and her friendship meant the world to me.
"Doctor Ana!" she beamed, sitting up despite the IV attached to her tiny arm. Yeah I'm her Doctor Ana.
I couldn't help but smile, ruffling her hair gently. "Didn't I tell you to rest? But no, you just had to stay awake for me, hmm?"
Sufi pouted playfully. "It's my birthday! And you promised to sing for me."
I did, didn't I? I couldn't back out now.
I sat beside her, took her frail hands in mine, and began to sing.
"Tu jo mila, lo ho gaya,
Main kaabil..."
My voice soothes Sufi as the little girl closes her eyes, feeling safe in the melody.
"Iss dard ka ehsaas ho gaya,
Main laayak..."
I strokes Sufi's hair gently, my voice carrying the love of an elder sister, a healer, a friend.
"Ab hai samundar, jismein baithe hain hum,
Tera sahara mil gaya..."
The hospital room fades away for a moment, replaced by the warmth of our bond-one built on care, love, and silent promises.
"Teri har hansi, meri jaan hai,
Tere bina, kuch bhi nahi..."
Sufi looks up at me, my eyes glistening with emotion, and squeezes her hand.
"Tu jo mila, saari duniya mili,
Tu jo mila, mili zindagi..."
The song ends in a whisper, a prayer, a silent vow- I promised to always be there, to always fight for Sufi's smile.
As the last note fades, Sufi whispers, "Thank you, ana! This was the best birthday ever." And in that moment, I know-music heals, love heals, and sometimes, a song is all it takes to give someone strength to fight another day.
I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, fighting the lump in my own throat. "And next year, you'll be even healthier. I'll sing for you again."
As I adjusted her blanket and prepared to leave, I couldn't help but reflect on how this hospital-created by Didima -had become more than just a place of work for me. It had become my sanctuary, my chance to heal, not just in body, but in spirit.
I wasn't just a doctor here; I was a part of something bigger. A healer, not just of illnesses,
But of heart's. π
***
Deepika's POV :
I leaned back in my leather chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk. My black eyes held an unwavering gaze on the man sitting across from me-Harsh Malhotra.
He was one of the few people who understood me without the need for excessive words. But that didn't mean he got a free pass.
"Say it," I commanded, voice even, yet absolute.
Harsh leaned against the window, arms crossed. "Dii, you already know what I'm going to say."
I raised a brow, unimpressed. "Then say it anyway."
His smirk deepened, but he complied. "The Marseille deal is collapsing."
I didn't glance up from my documents. "Good."
A beat of silence. Then, curiosity laced his tone. "Wait... good? You wanted this deal to crash?"
I finally looked up, my expression unreadable. "They thought they could trade in my territory without my blessing. Let them burn."
Harsh exhaled, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Cold. Even for you."
I ignored his comment. "Their suppliers?"
"Already panicking. One more push, and they'll fold."
I leaned back, fingers resuming their slow tap against the polished wood. "No. Let them breathe. Desperation makes people reckless. And reckless men make mistakes."
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he nodded. "So we let them dig their own graves?"
I smirked faintly. "Exactly."
The silence stretched a little before he spoke again, this time more thoughtful. "And the Paris syndicate? They're watching closely."
I exhaled, already prepared for this. "Then let them see what happens when someone crosses me."
Harsh chuckled. "I swear, sometimes I forget you're my sister and not some myth people whisper about in fear."
I met his gaze, my voice calm but firm. "Don't forget. And don't let anyone else forget either."
His smirk lingered, but there was something else in his eyes-something softer.
"You always have my back," he said, not as a statement, but as something he knew was carved in stone.
I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I stood, walked to my cabinet, and took out a file. Placing it in front of him, I spoke in a voice quieter but no less sharp.
"Your Singapore deal-I checked the details. There was a flaw in the security protocol. I fixed it."
Harsh's jaw tensed for a fraction of a second before he sighed, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Dii, I do know how to handle my own deals."
I held his gaze. "I know. That's why I let you." A pause. Then, in a voice softer than before, I added, "But I will never stop watching your back."
He exhaled, a knowing look in his eyes. "You really don't know how not to protect the people you love, do you?"
I turned back to my desk, flipping through another file. "No. And I don't plan to learn."
Harsh chuckled under his breath. "I figured."
As he walked toward the door, he paused. "Dii... thanks."
I didn't look up. "Don't be reckless, Harsh."
He smirked. "Not a chance."
The door clicked shut, and I finally let my fingers still against the desk.
Loyalty. Trust. Family.
Harsh wasn't just my right-hand man. He was my brother. And no matter how ruthless this world made me, that would never change.
SHANAYA's POV :
The glass walls of Singhania Designs - Dubai gave an illusion of peace. But anyone who thought this office was serene clearly had no idea what true chaos looked like.
"Ma'am, the client is on call-"
"Tell him I'm in a meeting."
"But ma'am, you don't have a meeting-"
I pulled off my glasses dramatically, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. "You think dealing with this much perfection isn't a full-time meeting?" I gestured at myself, already starting to feel the usual rush of adrenaline.
Riya blinked, clearly taken aback. "Uh-"
"Exactly. Buy me five minutes."
Before she could protest, the door burst open, and Aman, one of the junior architects, rushed in. His face was pale as if he had seen a ghost.
"Ma'am, the client rejected the blueprint for the Kapoor mansion!"
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Rejection is just redirection, Aman. Did they give any feedback, or are they just being difficult for fun?"
"They said the structure is too modern and lacks the 'royal essence.'"
A wave of disbelief washed over me. "Royal essence? What do they want? A throne room and a moat?"
Aman stood frozen, unsure if I was joking or genuinely losing my patience. "Uh... should I ask?"
I shot him a pointed look. "No. Bring the file to my desk."
As he rushed out, my phone rang. I picked it up with a sigh, already bracing myself.
"Shanaya Singhania, architect extraordinaire, how can I make your life better?"
"By sending the revised designs before my patience runs out."
The familiar voice of Mr. Kapoor sent a jolt of annoyance through me. "Mr. Kapoor, how lovely to hear from you. Your patience? I didn't realize it existed."
There was a long pause, followed by a sigh.
"Ms. Singhania-"
"Shanaya," I interrupted, not in the mood for formalities. "If I have to tolerate your tantrums, you might as well call me by my first name."
Another long pause. Then, begrudgingly, "Shanaya."
I grinned, even though he couldn't see me. "See? That wasn't so hard."
"Your designs-"
"Are flawless," I cut in smoothly. "But since you insist on 'royal essence,' I'll add a few overpriced chandeliers and pillars that serve no real function. That should do the trick."
Another sigh from the other end. "Just get it done."
"With pleasure," I said, already leaning back in my chair, satisfaction bubbling within me. I hung up, then stretched, letting the moment of victory sink in.
"Riya, cancel my five-minute break. I need to give royalty their essence before they cry."
Riya shook her head, a look of disbelief on her face. "How do you still have clients?"
I smirked, grabbing my tablet, ready to dive back into the madness. "Because I'm the best, Riya. And deep down, they all know it."
And with that, I dove back into my world of chaos, perfection one design at a time.
---
Just as I settled back into work, my office door swung open-without a knock.
I didn't even need to look up. Heavy footsteps. Overconfident energy. Unnecessary throat-clearing.
Ah. The walking mid-life crisis has arrived.
I sighed dramatically. "Mehta, if you want to see me, at least book an appointment. My time is precious."
He ignored me and dropped a file onto my desk like he was slamming down an ace in a poker game. "Shanaya, we need to talk."
I leaned back, unimpressed. "Talk fast. I charge extra for boredom."
"The Oberoi project," he snapped. "You sabotaged my deal."
I blinked. Then blinked again. Then burst out laughing.
"Oh, Mehta, you adorable little conspiracy theorist. You lost the deal because your designs looked like they belonged in a 90's soap opera. Not my fault the client had taste."
His face turned a lovely shade of beetroot. "You undercut my bid-"
"No, no." I held up a finger. "I outclassed your work. Big difference."
He fumed. "Business isn't a playground, young lady. One wrong move, and everything you built-" he gestured dramatically, "-will collapse."
I let out a long, pitying sigh. "Mehta, I know it's hard seeing a young, talented woman win while you-" I waved a hand vaguely at his existence, "-continue being you. But let's face it: if buildings were as shaky as your confidence, we'd have a structural crisis in Dubai."
A pin-drop silence followed. Somewhere in the office, I swear I heard Riya snort.
Mehta stiffened. His pride refused to let him admit it, but the flicker of doubt in his eyes? Priceless.
He grabbed his file, stood up abruptly, and stomped to the door like a toddler denied candy.
Just before leaving, he turned back. "This isn't over."
I smirked, resting my chin on my hand. "No, it's not. Because next time we compete? You'll lose again."
And with that, he was gone.
Riya peeked in, shaking her head. "You know, one day you might actually make someone cry."
I grinned. "I consider it a bonus."
And just like that, I went back to doing what I do best-winning.
Singhania Mansion - Evening
RAJ's POV :
The aroma of spices filled the air as I stirred the curry, letting the rich flavors blend perfectly. Cooking had always been my quiet refuge, a way to unwind after a long day. But tonight, it was a different kind of chaos.
"You two are worse than the kids in my kitchen!" I scolded, though I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips.
Shanaya dodged a handful of flour from Aradhna, laughing. "You started it!" she shot back, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"I started it?" Aradhna gasped dramatically. "Dad, are you hearing this? False accusations in my own home!"
I sighed, shaking my head. "Why do I even try to cook when you two create a war zone every time?"
At that moment, Harsh walked in, taking one look at the mess and crossing his arms. "I heard chaos. Who's responsible?"
"Your two little sisters are ruining my kitchen," I said, shaking my head.
Harsh smirked. "Sounds like a regular day."
"Excuse me?" Shanaya put a hand on her hip. "And what about you, Mr. Security Expert? Didn't you once set off the fire alarm because you forgot you had something on the stove?"
Aradhna burst out laughing. "Oh yes! And then he blamed it on poor cook!"
Harsh groaned. "Okay, that was one time-"
"And you still deny it," I cut in, amused. "Even after that cook swore on his entire lineage that it wasn't him."
The kitchen filled with laughter, the kind that only came from years of shared memories. It was moments like these that reminded me of how far we had come.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her-Deepika. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her face unreadable as always.
She wasn't one to join the chaos. She never had been. But she always watched-always listened.
I motioned for her to come closer. "Why are you just standing there? Come taste the gravy."
Her movements were calm, deliberate. She stepped forward, dipped a spoon into the curry, and brought it to her lips. For a moment, her eyes closed in quiet appreciation. But then, without a word, she reached for the spice rack.
In one smooth motion, she added a pinch of Kashmiri chili powder, a dash of garam masala, and a few drops of fresh lemon juice. Then, with the precision of a professional, she grabbed a ladle, stirred the curry just once, and turned off the heat.
"Now, taste," she said, stepping back.
I frowned but did as she said. The difference was immediate. The flavors had deepened, the heat balanced, the tanginess just right.
I looked in surprise.
Shanaya smirked. "Well, she does own an entire restaurant empire, Dad."
Aradhna grinned. "Didi, do you secretly run our kitchen staff too?"
Deepika simply picked up a napkin, wiped her fingers, and replied in her usual calm voice, "If I did, you'd all be eating better."
Harsh chuckled. "That was subtle for 'You people have terrible taste.'"
Deepika raised an eyebrow but didn't deny it. A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips-small, fleeting, but I saw it. And in that moment, I knew.
She would never say it. She would never show it the way others did. But in her own way, she cared. Fiercely. Completely.
Dining Hall
The long dining table was set with warmth, each dish carefully arranged, carrying the essence of home. Raj took his usual seat at the head, serving food himself-a habit no one could change, no matter how much he tried to let go. To his right, Aradhna and Shanaya bickered as always, their energy filling the space. Across from them, Harsh smirked, effortlessly slipping into his role as the protective yet teasing older brother.
And at the far end sat Deepika-silent, composed, yet holding a presence so strong that even in her quietness, she anchored them all.
Raj scooped a generous portion of paneer onto Aradhna's plate, his voice laced with fatherly concern. "Eat properly, doctor sahiba. You spend all day treating others but forget about yourself."
Aradhna groaned. "Dad, I eat just fine. Unlike Shanu di, who thinks coffee and arguments are a balanced diet."
Shanaya gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "How dare you! My diet is very well-planned-coffee for energy, arguments for entertainment, and architecture for passion."
Harsh chuckled, leaning back. "And where exactly does real food fit into that passion?"
Before Shanaya could reply, Deepika-who had been quietly observing-picked up a piece of paneer, broke it effortlessly with her fork, and remarked in a casual yet cutting tone, "Somewhere between deadlines and tantrums."
The table fell silent for half a second before Shanaya dramatically turned to her. "Didima, You wound me. You're supposed to defend me!"
Deepika didn't even look up, simply raising a brow. "I defend the truth, not terrible eating habits."
Raj hid a smile. Rare. It was rare for Deepika to indulge in their banter, but when she did, it was effortless. For a fleeting moment, she wasn't the feared businesswoman or the ruthless force people whispered about. She was just... the daughter who once found comfort in his presence, and the sister who had raised her siblings like a mother.
He turned to Harsh next. "And you? Still making half the city nervous with your security firm?"
Harsh smirked. "What can I say, Dad? Fear is the best security."
Shanaya groaned. "Ugh, you're all so intense. Someone talk about something fun! Aradhna, tell them about that patient who keeps flirting with you."
Aradhna choked on her food. "Shanu dii !"
Harsh's expression darkened instantly. "Who is he?"
Shanaya grinned, thoroughly enjoying herself. "See? This is why she never tells you. You act like her personal bodyguard."
Harsh leaned back, arms crossed. "She doesn't need a bodyguard. She has me."
Raj chuckled at their dynamic, but his gaze instinctively flickered toward Deepika. She hadn't reacted, hadn't even looked up, but the shift in air was undeniable.
Calm. Steady. Unshaken.
And then, without changing her tone, she finally spoke.
"If someone crosses the line, I'll handle it."
Simple. Absolute.
This time, the silence stretched longer.
No raised voice. No display of power. Just a statement that commanded. It was neither a threat nor a warning-it was a promise. A fact.
Raj observed her for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice quieter this time. "Deepika, tum kabhi kisi ko apne liye fikr karne dogi?"
She met his gaze, her expression unreadable, her voice steady.
"I can't afford that luxury, Dad."
Not 'don't believe in it.' Not 'don't need it.' Just... can't afford it.
A truth she carried alone.
The weight of her words settled over the table like an unspoken reality. But Deepika didn't let it linger for long. She calmly picked up her glass of water, took a sip, and just like that, the conversation shifted.
Shanaya found another reason to argue, Aradhna laughed, and Harsh shook his head at them all.
Raj watched them, a deep warmth filling his heart. His family. Loud, chaotic, flawed-but his.
And in the midst of it all sat Deepika. Silent. Strong. Carrying them in ways they might never fully understand.
The palace lay draped in silence, the warmth of family lingering like a fading ember after a long day.
Raj settled into his armchair by the window, his gaze falling on the photo frame beside his bed-Priya's smile frozen in time. His fingers brushed over the glass, his voice a whisper.
"Dus saal pehle jo kami thi, woh in betiyon ne poori kar di, Priya. Aaj unhe dekhkar fakr hota hai ki yeh sirf hamari zindagi ka hissa nahi, hamari shaan bhi hain."
A soft knock at the door. He didn't need to guess who it was.
Deepika stepped in, her presence composed, her eyes scanning him, always ensuring everything was in place.
Raj sighed. "You should be sleeping, Deepika."
She didn't respond immediately. Walking to the nightstand, she poured a glass of water and handed it to him. "You forgot your medicine."
Raj chuckled softly, taking the glass. "You never forget, do you?"
Deepika didn't answer. She waited until he took the pills, then stepped back.
Raj watched her-this woman who had once been a girl, stepping into his life with trembling hands but unshaken resolve.
"You take care of everyone, Deepika," he murmured. "But who takes care of you?"
For the briefest moment, something flickered in her eyes. A shadow of something unspoken. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
"Good night, Dad." Her voice was steady, controlled.
Raj sighed as she turned toward the door. Just before stepping out, she hesitated-then, without looking back, switched off the lamp beside him.
A small gesture. A quiet reassurance.
Raj smiled. "Good night, beta."
And as the door clicked shut behind her, he whispered once more to the only person who would understand.
"Priya, she's strong, fearless... a perfect daughter and a mother to her sisters. But somewhere, she stands alone."
---
The palace corridors stretched before Deepika, empty and dimly lit. Like every night, she had checked on Raj first. Now, her steps carried her toward Shanaya's room.
The door was slightly open. Peeking inside, she found Shanaya curled up on her bed, drowning in design sketches. Despite the exhaustion in her eyes, she smirked.
"Madam is here for inspection?" she teased, stretching lazily.
Deepika didn't respond. She stepped inside, filled a glass of water, and placed it before Shanaya.
"Sleep." The command was soft but firm.
Shanaya rolled her eyes but took the glass anyway. "You know, you could just say you care instead of acting like my warden."
Deepika raised an eyebrow. "Drink the water, gudiya ."
Shanaya sighed dramatically but obeyed. As she placed the empty glass back, she glanced up. "You'll check on Aradhna next, won't you?"
Deepika didn't answer, but the flicker in her eyes was enough.
Shanaya smirked. "You act all tough, but you're just a mother hen in disguise."
Deepika shot her a warning glance before adjusting the blanket over Shanaya's lap. "Turn off the lights in five minutes."
Shanaya grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
At the door, Deepika paused. Her voice softened just a fraction. "Good night, gudiya"
Shanaya's smirk faded into something gentler. "Good night, Didima "
As Deepika walked away, she knew Shanaya was still smiling. Because this was their language-love wrapped in unspoken words.
---
Aradhna's room was dimly lit, a soft glow slipping through the gap in the door.
Inside, Deepika found her youngest sister curled up, tablet in hand, half-asleep in the middle of yet another medical study.
Deepika sighed. "Aaru "
No response.
She stepped closer, plucking the tablet from her hands and setting it aside. That made Aradhna stir, blinking drowsily. "Hmm?"
"How many times have I told you not to sleep like this?" Deepika's voice was calm but firm.
Aradhna yawned. "I wasn't asleep. Just... resting my eyes."
Deepika folded her arms. "With a tablet in your hand?"
Aradhna grinned sheepishly, then patted the space beside her. "Sit for a minute?"
Deepika hesitated but sat down. The warmth of her sister against her side made her guard drop-just for a moment.
Aradhna rested her head on Deepika's shoulder, mumbling sleepily. "You always check on us... but do you ever let someone check on you?"
Deepika stiffened slightly. "Go to sleep, Aaru"
A tired chuckle. "See? You always avoid answering."
Deepika didn't reply. Instead, she adjusted the blanket, smoothing a hand over Aradhna's hair-a rare, almost unconscious gesture of comfort.
Aradhna sighed. "You act all cold, but I know you love us more than anything."
Deepika stood, switching off the bedside lamp. At the door, she turned back, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Good night, Aaru"
Half-asleep, Aradhna murmured, "Good night, Didima "
Deepika watched her for a moment before stepping out, closing the door softly behind her.
---
With Shanaya and Aradhna tucked in, Deepika finally walked toward her own room.
The heavy doors shut with a soft thud.
Alone.
She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing-just slightly.
At the dresser, she removed her earrings first, then the sleek bracelet on her wrist. Each piece was placed with precision, as if the act itself gave her control.
She unpinned her hair, dark waves falling over her shoulders.
Her reflection in the mirror stared back. Composed. Unreadable. Untouchable.
A queen without a crown. A warrior without armor.
Her fingers moved to the first button of her blouse, undoing it with practiced ease. The silk fabric slid off her shoulder, revealing the bare skin beneath-
And the scars.
Some old. Some faint. Some still fresh.
A thin, almost invisible scar near her collarbone-a knife that had missed her throat by inches.
A deep one along her ribs-a bullet that hadn't.
Faint burns on her forearm-a reminder of the night she had been outnumbered, trapped, and forced to set fire to a building just to escape.
And then, beneath it all, the ones no one had ever seen. The ones that belonged to a different time. A different Deepika.
Three months of hell.
Three months of a girl who had no power, no name, no choice.
Her fingers brushed over them for the briefest second. Then she looked away.
She turned from the mirror, pulled on a loose black t-shirt, her movements effortless, practiced. Covering up wasn't about modesty or warmth; it was a habit born from experience, one she never questioned
Finally, she took a sip of water before stepping towards the large window. The city lights flickered in the distance, but her gaze wasn't on them. It was on the darkness beyond-deep, endless, familiar.
She lit a single candle on the nightstand. Not for prayers. Not for hope. Just a small flicker of light in the vast emptiness. A reminder-she had survived.
Then, slipping under the covers, she closed her eyes.
Sleep never came easily. But as long as her sisters were safe, as long as she had done everything to protect them...
That was enough.
And in the quiet of the night, Deepika Singhania let her guard down-just for a few hours.
Before the world demanded her strength again.
---
Thank you so much for reading my story! π If it ever feels boring, I'm really sorry-this is my first story, and I'm still learning. But I promise to give my best because this story is very close to my heart. β¨
Your support means everything to me, so keep cheering me on! And hey, don't forget to drop a vote-it's like a little virtual hug for me! π€π
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