Authors pov

"In the morning sunlight, Ridrakshika woke up and said — 'Hushhh, finally! Today I'm going back home, to my mom and dad!! Yayyy, let's gooo!'"

She got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom.

As the cold tiles touched her feet, a wave of nostalgia hit her. Memories of laughter, warmth, and the smell of her mother’s cooking filled her mind.

She quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face, and stared at herself in the mirror — eyes sparkling with excitement.

“This is real,” she whispered to her reflection, a smile stretching across her face.

Today wasn’t just any other day.

Today, after what felt like forever, she was finally going home.

She changed into her favorite kurti — the yellow one her mom had gifted her last Diwali. It still smelled faintly of home, like dried roses and old memories.

Zipping up her small suitcase, she took one last look around the room that had been her shelter during the storm. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Thank you,” she murmured, almost to the walls that had witnessed her tears, her growth, her silence.

The cab honked downstairs, breaking the silence.

Grabbing her bag, she whispered, “Let’s go.”

With every step down the stairs, her heart beat faster — not out of fear, but with the sweet ache of anticipation.

Today, she wasn’t running away.

She was running towards something — her people, her peace, her place.

The ride felt both endless and too short. The city passed her by — cafes she once visited, streets she had cried on, and corners that still held echoes of her laughter.

As the cab turned into the quiet residential lane, her heartbeat grew louder. Her childhood home — a two-story modern house with cream walls and large glass windows — stood just the way she remembered. Clean, simple, and full of stories.

She stepped out of the car, suitcase in hand. The garden lights were still on from the night before, and her mom’s favorite potted plants lined the porch, perfectly trimmed.

She took a deep breath and walked up the steps. Before she could press the doorbell, the door swung open.

Her mother stood there, wearing a simple pink colour saree and wide, teary eyes. "Tu aa gayi..." she whispered, voice cracking.

The girl dropped her bag and ran into her arms. The embrace was tight, familiar, and full of all the things that had gone unsaid over the years.

From the living room, a small voice called out, “You’re here!”

Her little sister Riddhi  rushed to her side, hugging her tightly. “I missed you so much!”

Ridrakshika smiled, returning the embrace. “I missed you too.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and her older brother Viyansh  appeared in the doorway, ready for college — backpack slung over one shoulder, tie slightly loose, but eyes full of warmth.

He smiled as he approached her and gently ruffled her hair. “Finally, tu aagyi! Tere bina ghar khali khali lagta tha ekdum.”

She looked at him, and said"obviously bhai , mai toh is ghar aur aapki dono ki jaan hu toh khali-khali toh lagega hi na.”

Moments later, her father appeared from the hallway, phone in one hand, glasses slightly tilted. He paused, then smiled — the kind of smile that comes only when a missing piece returns.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

She was home.

Not just to a house of walls and rooms,

But to a space where her soul could finally rest.

***************

The clanking of weights echoed through the gym’s private basement — dimly lit, mirrors on every wall, and in the center, he stood like he owned the place.

Sweat glistened on his forehead as he did his final rep, veins flexing, eyes locked on his own reflection.

“Perfect,” he whispered, dropping the dumbbells with a satisfied smirk. “No one's even close.”

He grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and admired himself one last time before heading upstairs.

As he stepped into the hallway, shirt still clinging to his skin, he spotted his little sister curled up on the couch, scrolling through her tablet.

Without a word, he walked over and leaned down to hug her from behind.

“Eww! Bhai, you’re sweaty! Don’t touch me!” she squealed, wriggling away in disgust.

He chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Rude. I’m the reason this family has good genes.”

She rolled her eyes, already used to his drama.

He flopped onto the couch beside her, still catching his breath. “Mumma papa kahan hain? Kahin dikh nhi rahe.”

She looked up casually. “They left early. Business trip. Two days.”

His smile faltered for a second. Just a flicker — so fast it was almost unnoticeable.

“Hmm... theek hai,” he said quietly, looking away. Then forced a grin. “Tu chal, start kar breakfast. Main fresh hoke aata hoon.”

He stood up and walked toward his room, expression blank now, as the silence behind him settled back into the house.

He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it for a second, eyes closed.

Two days.

Two days without the chaos of his parents' voices, without their long lectures or judgmental stares. For most people, that would feel like peace.

But not him.

He walked toward the mirror, wiping the last bit of sweat from his face. “They didn’t even tell me,” he muttered, jaw clenching slightly. “Of course not. Why would they?”

The house always looked perfect — like a magazine shoot — but it never felt full. Except when his little sister was around. She was the only person who made this house bearable.

He glanced at his phone, ignored the unread texts, and tossed it onto the bed. The silence in the room pressed on his chest heavier than the dumbbells downstairs.

He looked at his reflection again, smirk returning. “Whatever. I don’t need anyone. Not them. Not anyone.”

He grabbed a fresh T-shirt from the closet, ran a hand through his messy hair, and headed out of the room.

Back to his routine. Back to control.

Or so he thought.

By the time he came down, freshly showered and in a crisp black T-shirt, the dining table was already set. His little sister sat cross-legged on a chair, munching on toast, humming some random song under her breath.

He walked over and casually snatched the last paneer sandwich off her plate.

“Bhai!” she yelled, mouth full. “That was mine!”

He smirked, biting into it without guilt. “I’m older. I get privileges.”

She rolled her eyes, wiping her hands. “Privilege my foot.”

There was a beat of silence before she added, softer this time, “You know… I don’t like it when they leave either.”

His hand froze for a second mid-air.

He didn’t reply, just nodded slightly and looked down at his plate. The unspoken understanding between them didn’t need words.

She smiled, sensing his mood.Then she asked, “Bhai, kal se toh aapka new session start ho raha hai na? Are you excited?”

He shrugged, sipping his juice. “Excited? Not really. Same school, same people, same stupidity.”

“But new class, new subjects…” she said with hopeful eyes.

He gave her a flat look. “Nothing’s new when you already know you’re better than everyone there.”

She snorted. “Uff, again with the ego.”

He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “It’s not ego if it’s true.”

She shook her head, but her smile gave her away.

Despite his arrogance, despite how full of himself he acted — she knew.

Deep down, her brother was someone who carried a lot quietly.

And he knew — she was the only one who ever truly saw him.

As the family sat around the breakfast table. The clinking of spoons, the faint aroma of parathas, and the soft murmur of the news playing on TV filled the space.

Her father looked up from his plate and smiled at her. “Beta,” he began, setting his tea down, “tumhara admission ho gaya hai.”

She blinked, surprised. “Really? Where?”

He glanced at her mother, who was already smiling. “Usi school mein jahan tumhari best friend padhti hai. Kal se new session start hai.”

Her eyes lit up. “Are you serious? That’s amazing!”

Her mother placed another parantha on her plate. “Uniform almari mein rakh diya hai. Bag bhi ready hai. Bas tum ready ho jaana.”

Her dad nodded, his tone a mix of encouragement and calm advice. “Acche se padhna, aur khul ke enjoy bhi karna. Nai jagah hai, lekin tumhare jaise logo ke liye har jagah apni ho jaati hai.”

She smiled, her excitement bubbling up now. “Thanks, Papa. I’ll try my best.”

“Try nahi,” he said, pointing a spoon ather playfully. “Karna hai. Aur tum karogi.”

As she took a bite of her breakfast, she felt the flutter of nerves and hope twist together. Tomorrow, everything would begin.

As soon as breakfast was over, she rushed to her room, shut the door behind her, and grabbed her phone.

Without a second thought, she dialed Esha’s number.

The call barely rang twice before Esha picked up.

“Oyeee! Good morning!” came her cheerful voice.

She grinned. “You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you.”

“Try me,” Esha said, curious.

“Mera admission ho gaya!” she squealed. “Tere school mein!”

There was a beat of stunned silence — and then,

“KYA??! Shut up! Are you serious??!”

“Dead serious,” she laughed, flopping onto her bed. “Papa told me at breakfast. Kal se mera new session start ho raha hai.”

Esha practically screamed into the phone. “Yeh toh best news hai! Tu meri class mein hi hai na?”

“Mujhe nahi pata abhi, but I hope so!”

“Tu dekhna, hum dono milke school ka atmosphere hi badal denge,” Esha said proudly.

“First day pe full drama karenge. Matching clips pehnna mat bhoolna.”

They both burst into laughter.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the night lamp. The city buzzed faintly outside his window, but inside, everything was still.

He lay back on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

His phone buzzed on the side table — school group chats, pointless memes, the usual noise. He ignored it.

A faint smirk played on his lips as he closed his eyes.

“Let’s see…” he murmured to himself.

“Naya session… kya kya naya dikhata hai.”

And with that, he let the silence take over — unaware that tomorrow, the first page of a new story was waiting to unfold.

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We hope you liked the first chapter 🥹stay tuned to dive into the story 😭🖐🏻

~shanshya🧿