AUTHOR'S POV

Morning sunlight spilled gently over the Ganga, turning the water into liquid gold.

Temple bells echoed across the ghats. Priests chanted softly. Devotees offered flowers and diyas that floated away like tiny stars.

And among them-

She stood out.

Not because she tried to.

But because she couldn’t help it.

A white anarkali flowed around her like mist, the fabric catching the breeze and sunlight at the same time. Her long hair fell loosely down her back, slightly damp at the ends as if she had just washed it.

Barefoot.

No heavy jewelry.

No attempt to impress.

Yet every passing glance lingered.

Because she didn’t look like she belonged to this world.

She looked like she had stepped out of a story.

Ishika Raichand stood at the edge of the steps, holding a small diya carefully in both hands.

“Please don’t fall… please don’t fall…” she murmured to herself.

She bent down to place it in the river-

And nearly slipped.

“Ah-!”

A nearby woman gasped, grabbing her arm just in time.

“Beta, sambhal ke!”

(Careful, dear!)

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Ishika said quickly, laughing at herself. “Just gravity and I have issues.”

The diya wobbled dangerously.

She steadied it with exaggerated seriousness.

“Behave,” she whispered to the tiny flame, as if it could hear her.

Finally, she set it on the water.

It floated away smoothly.

She watched it go, eyes soft, lips curving into a quiet smile.

For a moment…

She looked completely peaceful.

Then her phone rang.

The ringtone was absurdly loud and cheerful.

She jumped.

“Who put this volume so high?!” she muttered, scrambling to pull it out.

In her panic, she almost dropped the phone into the river.

“NO NO NO-”

She caught it at the last second, clutching it dramatically to her chest.

“Okay. That was almost tragic.”

The priest nearby hid a smile.

She answered the call breathlessly.

“Yes, bhai?”

Agastya’s voice came through immediately. “Where are you?”

“Spiritual enlightenment,” she replied solemnly. “Also almost drowned my phone.”

“Ishika.”

“Fine. Ghat.”

“Stay there. Driver is coming.”

She made a face. “I can walk.”

“No.”

“I can-”

“No.”

She sighed dramatically. “You’re ruining my independent woman era.”

“Stay there.”

The call ended.

She stuck her tongue out at the phone like it had personally offended her.

Then she sat on the steps, hugging her knees lightly, watching the river.

Soft.

Gentle.

For a moment, the world faded into the sound of flowing water.

She closed her eyes.

And as always…

He appeared.

Not clearly.

Never clearly.

Just fragments.

Broad shoulders.

A dark silhouette against city lights.

A hand streaked faintly with something that looked like blood… or light… she could never tell.

A presence that felt both dangerous and strangely familiar.

She tried to see his face.

Tried every time.

But it was always blurred. Distant. Out of reach.

Still…

Her heart reacted as if she knew him.

As if she had always known him.

“Who are you…” she murmured under her breath.

The wind picked up suddenly.

And just as she felt the image sharpening-

“BUAAAAA!!!”

Her eyes flew open.

Reality crashed back.

She turned sharply.

Running down the steps with alarming speed was a tall young man waving like an overexcited child.

“Saharsh!” she snapped, scrambling to her feet. “Stop yelling!”

He reached her in seconds, completely unapologetic.

“Buaaa,” he repeated cheerfully.

She grabbed his arm and dragged him aside immediately. “Don’t call me that in public!”

“Why?” he asked innocently.

“Because I am not that old!”

He blinked. “You’re literally my bua.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Emotionally, I’m your cool younger sister.”

“You are not emotionally anything,” he said helpfully.

She gasped. “Betrayal.”

He grinned. “Also, you were supposed to wait for the car. Not meditate at the river like a saint.”

“I wasn’t meditating,” she huffed. “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous activity.”

She smacked his arm lightly.

“Ow. Violence against younger generation,” he complained.

“You’re taller than me,” she pointed out.

“That’s genetics, not authority.”

She glared at him.

He grinned wider.

“Come on,” he said, guiding her toward the waiting car. “Dadi is already worried.”

“She’s always worried.”

“Because you disappear without telling anyone.”

“I told bhai.”

“You said ‘spiritual enlightenment.’”

“That’s a location.”

“That’s not a location.”

They reached the car.

He opened the door for her with exaggerated politeness.

“After you, Bua.”

She stopped.

Slowly turned.

“I will push you into the Ganga.”

He bowed slightly. “Worth it.”

She rolled her eyes but got in anyway, muttering under her breath, “Ungrateful child.”

He slid into the seat beside her, still smiling.

The Raichand mansion stood like a quiet empire  - grand yet serene, modern yet rooted, its white sandstone walls glowing softly in the morning sun.

As the car rolled through the iron gates, security personnel straightened instantly.

Not because of Saharsh.

Because of her.

Ishika barely noticed.

She was too busy scolding him.

“You did not need to shout across the entire ghat.”

“You were ignoring my calls.”

“I was having a moment.”

“You almost fell into the river.”

“That was a calculated slip.”

“That was not calculated.”

She folded her arms dramatically and turned her face away.

“Hmph.”

He hid a smile.

The car stopped at the entrance.

Before the driver could step out, the main doors opened.

Vedika stood there, worry written all over her face.

“Ishika!”

“Ma,” she said sheepishly.

Vedika walked straight to her and cupped her face. “Where were you? At least take security with you.”

“I went to the ghat, not to war.”

“Same thing,” Saharsh muttered.

Vedika shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”

Just then, Adhiraj stepped out from behind the doorway, his expression calm but sharp - the kind that could silence boardrooms without a word.

“And turning off your phone?” he asked quietly.

Ishika froze.

“Papa…”

He didn’t raise his voice.

Didn’t scold.

Which was worse.

“You know the rules,” he said.

She walked to him slowly and slipped her hand into his arm. “I just wanted some quiet time.”

His stern expression softened immediately.

“Next time inform someone,” he said gently, placing his hand on her head.

“Okay,” she nodded obediently.

Agastya appeared behind them, arms crossed. “Phone location off. Calls unanswered. Very impressive.”

“I told you I was going,” Ishika protested.

“You said ‘spiritual enlightenment,’” he repeated dryly.

“That is going.”

He stared at her.

She gave him her most innocent smile.

It didn’t work.

Samridhi walked in, shaking her head fondly. “Let her breathe, at least. She’s back safely.”

Vidyut leaned against the railing upstairs. “Next time take me along. I also want enlightenment.”

Anvika appeared beside him. “You’ll get dehydration, not enlightenment.”

Everyone laughed softly.

Ishika pouted. “No one respects my spiritual journey.”

Saharsh leaned toward her. “You tripped over your own dupatta.”

“That was gravity discrimination.”

Vedika sighed but pulled her into a hug anyway. “At least eat something first.”

Ishika melted immediately. “Yes. Food solves trauma.”

Adhiraj shook his head faintly, but there was a smile hidden in his eyes.

Agastya shook his head. “You have no trauma.”

“I almost lost my phone,” she said gravely.

“That’s not trauma.”

“That’s emotional damage.”

Inside the Mansion..

The dining area filled quickly.

Servants brought breakfast.

Warm parathas. Fruits. Tea.

Ishika sat cross-legged on the chair like a child, completely ignoring table etiquette.

Vedika placed food on her plate herself.

“Eat properly.”

“Yes, Ma.”

Two seconds later she burned her fingers.

“Ah! Hot!”

Adhiraj immediately slid the bowl closer and passed her a spoon without a word.

“Use this,” he said quietly.

Anvika smirked. “Use tools. Civilization exists.”

Saharsh snorted.

Agastya watched her quietly.

Something about her felt… distracted.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded quickly. “Perfect.”

Too quickly.

He noticed.

But didn’t push.

Rajendra entered just then, walking slowly but with dignity.

“My princess has returned.”

Ishika jumped up immediately and ran to him.

“Dadu!” She hugged him carefully.

He smiled, resting his hand on her head. “Causing trouble again?”

“Always.”

“Good,” he said. “Quiet life is boring.”

She laughed.

And then immediately wriggled out of his hold.

“Food,” she announced with absolute seriousness, marching toward the dining table like she had just returned from battle.

Everyone exchanged knowing looks.

Vedika sighed softly. “Sit properly.”

“I am sitting properly,” Ishika said, climbing onto the chair and tucking one leg under her, then the other, settling cross-legged like a child.

“That is not how adults sit,” Anvika said dryly.

“I reject adulthood.”

Saharsh snorted.

Ishika picked up a piece of paratha… then paused.

Her eyes narrowed at the vegetable dish.

Slowly… suspiciously… she leaned closer.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Vegetables,” Agastya replied.

“I can see that. Why are they in my food?”

Samridhi tried not to laugh.

“Because humans need nutrition.”

Ishika looked deeply offended.

She began eating with extreme concentration - carefully tearing the paratha, then using her fingers to surgically remove every visible piece of vegetable.

One by one.

Methodically.

Anvika watched in disbelief. “Are you… sorting your food?”

“I am rescuing it.”

“From what?”

“From betrayal.”

Saharsh leaned over to peek. “You removed literally everything.”

“Exactly. Now it’s safe.”

Vedika rubbed her forehead. “Ishika, eat properly.”

“I am eating properly.”

“You haven’t taken a single bite yet.”

She froze, looked at the plate… then quickly stuffed a piece into her mouth as if caught committing a crime..

“See?”

Two seconds later-

“Ahh- hot hot hot!”

She fanned her mouth dramatically.

Adhiraj slid the water glass toward her instantly. “Slowly.”

She gulped half of it down.

Then pointed accusingly at the plate. “It attacked me.”

Rajendra chuckled. “Food doesn’t attack.”

“This one did.”

Agastya leaned back, watching her carefully as always. “You do realize we have to monitor you just to make sure you survive breakfast.”

She blinked innocently. “I survive every day.”

“Barely,” Vidyut muttered.

Anvika nodded. “Yesterday you walked into a glass door.”

“That door came out of nowhere.”

“It’s been there for ten years.”

Details.

Vedika placed a bowl of cut fruits in front of her. “Eat this at least.”

Ishika brightened instantly. “Approved.”

She picked up a slice - then paused again.

“This one has seeds.”

Vedika stared at her. “It’s a fruit.”

“Dangerous fruit.”

Adhiraj quietly took the slice, removed the seeds with a knife, and handed it back to her without comment.

She beamed. “Thank you, Papa.”

He nodded once, as if this was a perfectly normal procedure.

Saharsh leaned toward Agastya and whispered loudly, “We are raising a royal toddler.”

“I heard that,” Ishika said without looking at him.

“Good. Then behave like an adult.”

She took another bite thoughtfully.

Then froze.

Her eyes scanned the bowl again.

She leaned forward… moved a few fruit pieces aside… checked underneath… then lifted the bowl slightly as if grapes might be hiding at the bottom.

“Why don’t my fruits have grapes?” she demanded suspiciously.

Samridhi didn’t even look up from her plate. “Because then you would leave everything else and eat only grapes.”

Ishika looked deeply offended.

“That is a baseless accusation.”

Everyone stared at her.

Vidyut coughed. “Last week you ate an entire bowl of grapes and nothing else.”

“That was… a special circumstance.”

“What circumstance?”

“They were very good grapes.”

Anvika snorted.

Ishika pushed the bowl slightly away, pouting. “This is discrimination.”

Vedika gave her a look.

She sighed dramatically, pulled the bowl back, and began eating again like a martyr forced into hardship.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I will survive.”

Rajendra chuckled softly. “Such sacrifice.”

She pointed her fork at him. “Dadu, don’t encourage them.”

After a few reluctant bites, she finished and immediately pushed the plate away like her duty to humanity was complete.

“Done.”

Vedika blinked. “That was three bites.”

“Efficient eating.”

Adhiraj glanced at her plate but didn’t comment. He had learned long ago that pushing too hard only made her more stubborn.

Ishika slid off the chair and stretched slightly.

“I am not in the mood to go to the office today,” she declared. “I’ll work from home.”

Saharsh didn’t even look up from his tea.

“You say that every day, Buaa.”

She shot him a glare. “Because every day I wake up hoping for growth in workplace culture.”

“Workplace culture is not the problem,” Agastya said calmly. “Your attendance is.”

“I attend emotionally.”

“That is not attendance.”

She folded her arms. “Remote work exists.”

Vidyut smirked. “You live fifteen minutes away.”

“That is still remote.”

Anvika shook her head. “You run half the operations and still behave like an intern.”

Ishika gasped. “Excuse me, I am a very hardworking intern.”

Saharsh looked at her flatly. “You are not even an intern.”

She ignored him and turned to Vedika. “Ma, tell them I deserve a work-from-home day.”

Vedika sighed but softened immediately. “If you’re not feeling well, rest.”

“I am feeling perfectly fine,” Ishika said quickly.

Everyone paused.

“Then go to the office,” Agastya said.

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Then muttered, “Oppression.”

Rajendra laughed openly this time.

Adhiraj stood, adjusting his watch. “Work from home,” he said simply.

All heads turned to him.

Agastya frowned slightly. “Papa-”

“She will work,” Adhiraj added calmly. “Location is irrelevant.”

Ishika beamed instantly. “See? Papa understands corporate innovation.”

Agastya sighed but didn’t argue further.

She skipped lightly toward the exit, then paused dramatically.

“Also,” she added, “no one is allowed to schedule meetings before noon.”

“You don’t wake up before noon,” Saharsh replied.

“That is character assassination.”

She walked out before anyone could respond.

For a moment, everyone just listened to her fading footsteps.

Then Vedika sighed softly.

“I’ll send something to her room in a while,” she said. “She never eats properly in one sitting.”

Anvika immediately spoke, pushing her chair back. “Ma, I’ll take it.”

Vedika gave her a knowing look. “You don’t have to-”

“We all know she won’t eat unless someone forces her,” Anvika said fondly.

Samridhi nodded. “She has this habit of eating in breaks. Two bites now, three bites later.”

“Or one grape per hour,” Vidyut added.

They chuckled.

Saharsh leaned back in his chair dreamily. “Why don’t I have powers like Buaa?”

Everyone looked at him.

“She runs Yadav Groups,” he continued dramatically, “the number one business in the world… and still gets to enjoy life fully.”

Vidyut, who had been quietly reading something on his tablet, didn’t even look up. “Correction. Today number one is Suryavanshi Groups.”

Saharsh groaned loudly. “Oh please. They exchange ranks every few minutes. What am I supposed to do, refresh rankings all day?”

Anvika laughed. “Relax. You’re the only heir of the Raichand empire. Your life will be easy.”

Samridhi smirked. “Don’t dream too big, Saharsh. Your chachi will soon give good news.”

Anvika froze.

Color rushed to her face instantly.

“Didi!” she protested, embarrassed.

Everyone burst into soft laughter.

Vidyut leaned forward teasingly. “Come on, bhabhi. When are you planning your child?”

Agastya spoke calmly, completely unfazed. “We already have Saharsh. We don’t need another child.”

Samridhi nodded immediately. “Exactly.”

Then she turned sweetly toward Vidyut and Anvika. “Now it’s your turn.”

Anvika looked horrified. Vidyut tried very hard not to laugh.

Saharsh, however, was still processing something else.

He turned slowly toward Agastya and Samridhi.

“Ma… Papa…” he said carefully.

They both looked at him.

“Won’t you plan your own child?”

The room went quiet.

Agastya frowned slightly. “You are our child.”

Samridhi reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “What do you mean by ‘own’?”

Saharsh blinked, suddenly unsure. “I mean… like… your real one.”

A flicker passed through the elders’ expressions.

But Samridhi smiled gently.

“You are our real one.”

Agastya’s voice was calm but firm. “Family isn’t defined by blood, Saharsh.”

Vedika added softly, “It’s defined by love.”

Rajendra nodded. “And responsibility.”

Saharsh looked at them for a long moment.

Then relaxed slightly.

“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t want competition.”

Agastya smirked faintly. “That’s the real issue.”

Samridhi laughed and ruffled his hair. “Possessive child.”

“I learned from the best,” he replied proudly.

Then his expression shifted.

He pouted.

“But it’s still awkward,” he muttered.

Everyone looked at him.

“How?” Vidyut asked.

Saharsh leaned back dramatically. “My mother is just 3 years older than me.”

Silence.

Then Anvika burst out laughing first.

Samridhi stared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“It’s true!” he defended himself immediately. “You’re three years older than me.”

“That doesn’t count,” she snapped, trying to look offended but failing.

“It absolutely counts,” he insisted. “In school terms you’re my senior.”

Agastya rubbed his forehead. “You did not just compare your mother to your classmate.”

Saharsh crossed his arms. “I am just stating facts.”

Vedika tried to suppress a smile. “Age doesn’t define relationships, beta.”

Rajendra chuckled softly. “Otherwise half the royal families in history would collapse.”

Samridhi leaned forward, eyes narrowing playfully. “Say one more word and I will remind you who raised you.”

He immediately straightened. “You did.”

“And?”

“And I am very grateful.”

“And?”

“And you are the scariest person in this house.”

She smirked triumphantly. “Good.”

Vidyut laughed. “Promotion accepted.”

Anvika wiped her dramatic tears. “Honestly, this is the most unusual mother-son dynamic I’ve ever seen.”

Saharsh pointed at her. “Exactly! Thank you!”

Agastya spoke calmly, ending the debate in one sentence.

“She is your mother because she chose you.”

The room softened instantly.

Saharsh’s expression changed too.

The pout faded.

Something warmer replaced it.

He looked at Samridhi, a little shy now.

“Still awkward,” he muttered quietly.

She reached across the table and flicked his forehead lightly.

“Ungrateful child.”

He grinned.

“But my child,” she added softly.

And just like that, the awkwardness dissolved into something deeper.

Adhiraj finally stood, adjusting his cufflinks. “Enough drama for one breakfast.”

Rajendra nodded. “This family could run a theatre company.”

“We already do,” Vidyut said. “It’s called Raichand Household.”

Laughter filled the room again.

Ishika pushed her door open with her shoulder and slipped inside, shutting the world out behind her.

Her room didn’t look like it belonged to the head of a global empire.

It looked like it belonged to someone who refused to grow up.

Soft pastel curtains fluttered near the balcony. Plush cushions everywhere. Books stacked in chaotic towers. A swing near the window. Fairy lights still hanging even though it was morning.

She kicked off her sandals mid-walk.

One landed near the sofa.

The other… somewhere behind her.

She didn’t check.

First priority.

She grabbed the remote.

Click.

The television flickered on.

Within seconds, bright colors filled the room.

“Doraemon.”

She dropped onto the bed, lying on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, legs swinging lazily in the air.

Full concentration.

Completely absorbed.

As if boardrooms and billion-dollar decisions didn’t exist.

On screen, Nobita started crying dramatically.

Ishika gasped. “Oh no, not again.”

She leaned closer to the screen like she could help.

“This is why you plan ahead, Nobita,” she muttered seriously.

A soft knock came.

No response.

Another knock.

Still nothing.

The door opened slightly.

Tanvi stepped in-

And froze.

Ishika was sprawled across the bed, eyes glued to the TV, whisper-arguing with cartoon characters.

Tanvi looked horrified.

“Ishika.”

No response.

“Ishika.”

Still nothing.

She walked forward and snatched the remote..

The TV went black.

Ishika gasped like oxygen had been cut off. “HEY!”

Tanvi crossed her arms. “Don’t you have work?”

Ishika sat up slowly, scandalized. “Don’t you have boundaries?”

“You are the CEO of a multinational company.”

“I am on a break.”

“You just woke up.”

“That is technically a recovery period.”

Tanvi stared at her. “Your inbox has 327 unread emails.”

“Unread emails are peaceful emails.”

“Three countries are waiting for approvals.”

“They can wait emotionally.”

Tanvi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ishika, please. Markets don’t run on vibes.”

“They should,” she muttered.

Tanvi sat beside her, lowering her voice. “Board wants confirmation on the Singapore deal.”

Ishika flopped backward dramatically. “Bhai handles board.”

“Not this time.”

She groaned into the pillow. “Betrayal everywhere.”

Tanvi softened slightly. “Come on. Just one hour.”

“No.”

“Half hour.”

“No.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Ishika peeked at her suspiciously. “Will Doraemon wait?”

“No.”

She sighed like she was making a life-altering sacrifice.

“Fine.”

Tanvi handed her a tablet already loaded with files.

Ishika took it reluctantly.

Scrolled once.

Twice.

Her expression changed.

Gone was the child.

Gone was the softness.

Her posture straightened automatically.

Eyes sharpened.

Focus absolute.

“What happened to the Tokyo acquisition timeline?” she asked calmly.

Tanvi blinked.

The shift still surprised her sometimes.

“Delayed by twelve hours.”

“Unacceptable,” Ishika said, already typing. “Move legal clearance to priority channel two. Inform logistics to activate alternate route.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tanvi replied automatically.

Within seconds, decisions were made that would affect markets across continents.

And then she didn’t stop.

Files opened one after another. Numbers, projections, legal drafts, acquisition reports - processed at a speed that felt almost unreal.

“Shift the Dubai assets under subsidiary control.”

“Yes.”

“Cancel the Zurich presentation. Send revised figures.”

“Done.”

“Who approved this contract?” she asked sharply.

Tanvi checked. “Regional director.”

“Replace him.”

Tanvi didn’t even blink. “Already drafting

termination.”

Ishika signed digitally without hesitation.

Her voice was calm.

Precise.

Commanding.

Nothing like the girl arguing with cartoon characters minutes ago.

Hours passed unnoticed.

Lunch trays arrived untouched.

Tea went cold.

Sunlight shifted across the room, from gold to amber to dim evening grey.

Outside, the mountains darkened slowly.

Inside, the glow of screens illuminated Ishika’s face - sharp, focused, almost intimidating.

By the time she leaned back in her chair, the room was silent except for the soft hum of electronics.

She stretched slightly, rolling her shoulders.

“What time is it?”

Tanvi checked her watch and blinked. “Seven thirty.”

Ishika stared at her. “Evening?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

She glanced toward the TV remote lying abandoned on the bed.

“Doraemon is over,” she said mournfully.

Tanvi laughed softly. “You ran a global empire instead.”

“Still a loss.”

Just then, a notification pinged.

Tanvi opened her laptop.

Her expression changed.

“Email from Suryavanshi Groups.”

Ishika’s fingers stilled on the table.

“Open it.”

Tanvi read quickly. “Request for high-level meeting….”

Silence.

Ishika’s gaze dropped to the screen.

Unreadable.

Then slowly… a small smile formed.

“Schedule it.”

Tanvi looked up. “For when?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?”

Ishika nodded.

“And don’t inform anyone yet,” she added, eyes glinting slightly. “We’ll give them a surprise.”

Tanvi’s eyes widened.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Ishika leaned back, folding her arms.

“Very.”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Signing a deal with Suryavanshi will shock everyone.”

Tanvi’s eyebrows shot up. “Understatement of the century.”

“They’re all expecting conflict,” Ishika continued calmly. “No one is expecting cooperation.”

“Or domination,” Tanvi added knowingly.

A faint smile curved Ishika’s lips.

“Let them guess.”

Tanvi nodded, closing the laptop. “Either way, this is going to explode.”

She stood, stretching her arms. “Come on. It’s already Evening. If we don’t go downstairs now, Vedika aunty will personally storm this room.”

Ishika glanced toward the darkened sky outside the balcony.

“Oh,” she said softly. “It got late.”

“You skipped lunch,” Tanvi reminded her.

“That explains the hunger.”

“Shocking discovery.”

Ishika pushed herself up from the chair. “Yesss, food first.”

She paused mid-step.

“Actually… shower first.”

Tanvi rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“You go,” Ishika said, already walking toward the dressing area. “I’ll come in ten minutes.”

“That means twenty.”

“Optimism is good for health.”

Tanvi shook her head but smiled. “Fine. Don’t disappear again.”

“Not planning to.”

Tanvi left, closing the door behind her.

Inside the bathroom, warm steam filled the air as Ishika stood beneath the shower, letting the day wash off her shoulders. For a few minutes, she allowed herself to be nothing more than a tired girl under hot water.

When she stepped out, she wrapped a towel around herself, hair dripping down her back. Soon she changed into her comfort clothes - soft oversized T-shirt, loose shorts, bare feet padding lightly against the floor.

Completely unguarded. Completely at home.

She ran a towel through her hair quickly and pushed the door open.

“MAAAAAA, I’M HUNGRY!” she shouted while heading toward the stairs.

Vedika’s voice floated up from below, “Food is ready! Come down carefully!”

“No promises!” Ishika called back brightly.

She hurried down the staircase, skipping the last few steps.

Her hand brushed the sharp wooden edge of the console table at the bottom.

Hard.

“Aah-!”

She jerked back instantly, clutching her forearm.

The impact had been real - strong enough to break skin.

A thin line of blood appeared, quickly widening into a small but deep scrape. It throbbed sharply, the sting immediate and intense.

Her eyes filled with tears at once.

“Ma…” she whispered, voice trembling.

Everyone rushed toward her.

“Ishika!” Vedika reached first, panic flooding her face. “What happened?”

“I hit the table…” Ishika said shakily, trying not to cry but failing. “It hurts…”

Agastya checked the injury quickly. “It’s deep.”

Samridhi grabbed a cloth. Tanvi stood frozen for a moment before rushing to bring the first-aid kit.

Saharsh hovered anxiously, jaw tight.

Adhiraj’s voice dropped, controlled but tense. “Sit.”

Ishika sank onto the sofa, still holding her arm, tears slipping down silently from the pain.

She closed her eyes for a second, instinctively trying to steady herself - and almost reached for her power out of habit.

But before she could focus-

The throbbing eased.

She frowned.

The burning sensation dulled… then faded completely.

“Wait…”

Vedika, who had been dabbing gently at the wound, suddenly stopped.

“There’s no blood,” she whispered.

Everyone looked.

The scrape… was closing.

Right before their eyes.

Skin knitting together unnaturally fast - not dramatically, not with light or energy - just quietly… impossibly.

Within seconds, only a faint pink line remained.

Then even that faded.

Gone.

Ishika blinked in shock.

“I didn’t… do anything…”

Tanvi stared. “You didn’t even use your power.”

“I didn’t get the chance,” Ishika said softly.

Adhiraj's expression hardened.

Rajendra didn’t speak at all.

Because this wasn’t normal healing.

Not even for her.

Vedika cupped Ishika’s face anxiously. “Does it still hurt?”

Ishika flexed her fingers slowly.

“No…”

Her voice was small. Confused.

“It doesn’t.”

Saharsh frowned deeply. “That was not a normal cut.”

But Ishika was still staring at her arm.

Trying to understand how pain

could vanish so completely.

Vedika pulled her gently into a hug. “Come. Eat something first.”

Ishika leaned into her automatically, still shaken, still quiet.

Across the room, Agastya spoke in a low voice to Adhiraj.

“It’s getting stronger.”

Adhiraj nodded once, eyes dark.

“Yes.”

Because somewhere else…

Someone had taken the same pain.

To be Continued...