target:
vote-50+
comments-20+
If you are reading this book, then definitely it deserves a vote or comment don't you think so??
✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮
I was furious at her—for saying such things, for thinking that I would leave her here in this wretched place, or send her back to the place she keeps referring to... without her permission.
More than that, I was fuming with anger at those people who made my Pari... Make no mistake—she is mine, and I am hers.
The ones who locked her here. The ones who planted a fear so deep that it made her shiver and flinch at the smallest of things. Ohh...They will pay, they will surely pay....
But then... I saw how hard she flinched at my words.
I never, ever wanted to scare her or make her feel small or intimidated in my presence.
'Hey bhagwan ye kya kar diya maine??!!'(oh god, what blunder have I made) I thought
(Author saying: chhoti si, masoom si, phool ki jaisi ladki 🥹 ko bhi nahin chhoda, Vijay. Bahut bura, bahut bura.😡( even such a small, innocent, flower-like girl was not spared, Vijay. Very bad, very bad.))
I instantly softened my gaze and walked towards her.
As I approached, I saw her taking small steps back until her back hit the wall. Her eyes widened in panic and fear. As I drew closer, she braced herself—as if waiting for an impact.
Seeing her muscle memory so accustomed to abuse made my blood boil, but I kept my rage in check.
I crouched down to her level and gently lifted her chin. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks. The fact that I caused those tears filled me with immense guilt.
"Pari, I'm so, so sorry. Please don't cry," I said softly, wiping away her tears with my thumb.
"Nahi, nahi... aap maafi mat maangiye. Maine hi kuch galat kiya hoga," she said between hiccups.
(No, no... please don't apologize. I must have done something wrong.)
"Kartiki bacha, I apologized because I shouted at you. It's my fault. And stop thinking that only you can make mistakes.Hum koi aliens ya robots nahi hain jo humse galti nahi ho sakti. Hum bhi insaan hi hain.(😁)"
(We aren't aliens or robots who can never make mistakes. We are human too.)"
(author saying: yeh teacher ko kon samjhayenga 🥺(who will explain this to the teachers))
I spoke in a firm yet gentle tone. She really needed to stop apologizing unnecessarily.
Before Kartiki could speak again, I asked her the only thing that mattered right now,
"Aapko aapke parents ya jinke saath aap reh rahi thi, unke paas wapas jana hai kya? Bas haan ya na mein jawab dijiye."
(Do you want to go back to your parents or the people you were staying with? Just answer yes or no.)
Her answer came immediately—a firm shake of her head in denial. And I understood.
"Then you're coming with me. To our home."
"Our home?" Kartiki asked softly.
"Yes, Pari. Our home. From now on, it's just as much yours as it is mine. Now, no more discussion on this topic," I said in a tone that left no room for arguments.
The statement surprised me as much as it did her.
I needed to talk to my sons. I needed to find out whose daughter she was—not to send her back, but to make them pay for their cruelty. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All I could think was that Meera, my late wife, would have done the same.
Not getting ahead of myself, but a part of me truly felt—this was God's message.
That He took Meera away in one form and had now returned her to me in another... in Kartiki's form. And I would treasure her with all I had.
I was spellbound—not just by his words, but by his ability to shower so much warmth, love, and care in such a short time.
"Baccha, I know you have so many questions... but first, let's leave this place, okay?"
His words pulled me out of my thoughts. I shouldn't go with him—he's still a stranger. But then... who do I have in my life except strangers?
I nodded at his words, and we walked out of the cold warehouse.
I wanted to ask him where he was taking me, but I didn't—afraid I might frustrate him.
"My car is parked a few hundred meters from here. After that, we'll go to the airport and leave for Mumbai," he said, looking at me like he already knew what I wanted to ask.
Outside the warehouse, tall trees formed a canopy, blocking the sunlight, making it hard to see. It felt like a bhool-bhulaiyaa—a maze I would have surely gotten lost in—yet he seemed to know the way effortlessly.
Just then, I stepped on a pointed branch.
"Ouch..." I hissed, gritting my teeth, trying not to let him notice—afraid he might think I was weak.
But to my bad luck, he heard.
"Did you get hurt, Pari?" Panic and care filled his voice.
"No, no... I'm completely fine," I lied, doing my best to hide the wobble in my voice. But Vijay being Vijay caught it.
(author saying: like of course I have called him an ex-mafia leader for a reason.)
"Pari kya hua bacche?? I can tell exactly when you lie." surprisingly his tone was gentle and filled with care.
"woh actually mere per ko—"
Through the conversation we had kept walking and now what I saw in front of me made me stop mid sentence. There were three black Range Rovers and 1 limousine in between them but what scared me the most were the huge, bulky people standing guard.
"please, please mujhe inse baccha lijiye"I said trembling with fear. I went behind him and clutched the end of his suit tightly in my palms.
"Everyone weapons inside now." He said in a cold voice booming in the vicinity. The voice making me question if his earlier voice was all a facade. Instantly all the weapons were tucked in and he turned around only to find my foot bleeding. "KARITIKI" his voice boomed.
I really am an idiot. I should have informed the guards earlier to act normal, but then again, normal is not a word Kartiki will be accustomed to—especially while living in a Mafia family.
After composing myself, I turn around only to find Kartiki's foot bleeding.
"Kartiki!" I shout, my voice filled with panic and disbelief. Her foot is bleeding, and she has been walking on it for five whole minutes without a single tear or whimper.
I immediately take her in my arms and motion to a nearby guard to open the car door. Their faces are a mix of shock and confusion, but one face has a sincere smile on it. That idiot is none other than my closest and most trusted guard, the Chief of Security of the Rajputs—Aditya.
News flash: This is a small girl in my arms who needs immediate first aid for her bleeding foot, so stop smiling and get me the damn box!
"Aye-Aye, Captain," he mutters, finally hurrying.
Then I look at Kartiki, who is silently crying in my arms.
"Pari, bohot dukh raha hain kya? Pehle kyun nahi bataya apne mujhe?"
(Pari, is it hurting a lot? Why didn't you tell me earlier?)
I say this with utmost care and gentleness.
"I am sorry... I am so sorry... please maaf kar dijiye,"
(please forgive me) she says, still sobbing uncontrollably.
The sight breaks my heart. I gently place her on the limousine seat and crouch down to her level.
"Kartiki, listen to me very carefully. Do not apologize unnecessarily if it's not your fault. There is no need to say sorry. And if it is your fault, first understand what you did—whether it was right or wrong—and then genuinely apologize, okay?" I said in a firm yet calm tone.
"Itna sara karna padenga?"
(Do I really have to do all that?) she asks, her arms wide open and lips forming an adorable pout.
Seeing her reaction, a smile forms on my own lips. I mimic her gesture and reply,
"Itna sab kuch nahi hai meri Pari, bada simple hai. Adat pad jaayegi. Ab zyada mat socho uske baare mein."
(It's not that complicated, my angel. It's very simple—you'll get used to it. Now don't think too much about it.)
Then, softening further, I ask,
"Aur yeh sab chhodo... ab yeh batao ki tumne mujhe kyun nahi bataya?And give me your feet, let me bandage it—"
(And forget all this... now tell me, why didn't you tell me before
"No, no please, you cannot touch—"
"Kartiki," I interrupted in a no-nonsense voice. Kartiki hesitantly places her foot in my awaiting palms. As I start treating it with the first aid kit, I feel fury bubbling inside me.
If she had just told me when she first got hurt, I would have gladly carried her in my arms. But no—she kept it to herself. And why? I need to know.
After composing myself, I gently ask,
"Ab bataunge meri Pari, kyun nahi bataya apne mujhe ki aapke pair ko lagi hai?"
(Now tell me, my angel, why didn't you tell me that your foot was hurt?)
"I thought... you will think I am weak... and leave me here," she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper.
How... in the world... can she even think I would judge her?
'She has a past,' my subconscious reminds me—a past whose every scar I want to erase, and replace with nothing but moments of joy and care.
But right now, I must first make her understand something.
"Kartiki, look at me, baccha." (child)
She hesitantly lifts her gaze, her eyes a storm of emotions—fear, insecurity, and a faint glimmer of respect.
"Listen to me carefully. I will never judge you. And whoever dares think you are weak—they are complete fools, okay? Do you know, my son Jeevansh cries even at the smallest of pains... and we never judge him. Because that's what family does. And make no mistake—you are family now. Do you understand me?" I ask in a firm yet assuring tone.
I can see a thousand questions flickering in her eyes, but she nods anyway.
After finishing her bandage, I sit back in my seat.
"Now rest, okay? We'll reach the airport in half an hour. Then we'll eat."
She nods silently, and I gently guide her to lie down—her small head resting on my lap. Sleep claims her almost instantly, and I keep caressing her hair.
Today, I feel emotions I never thought possible—the need to protect her, the wish to pamper her, the urge to wrap my arms around her and take away every single one of her fears
After half an hour, we reached the airport. Kartiki was sleeping peacefully on my lap. I couldn't make myself wake her up, so when the guard opened the car door, I carefully picked her up in my arms, making sure she didn't stir.
I was certain every single person's eyes were filled with curiosity and confusion. But I had already made it clear—no news reporters, no social media personnel were allowed anywhere near here. I knew they'd cook up some ridiculous story, and the last thing I wanted was for my Pari to feel insecure or uncomfortable.
Walking carefully, I climbed the steps to the private jet. Inside, I entered the bedroom and gently laid Kartiki down on the soft bed.
But as I tried to move away, I noticed her tiny palms clutching tightly onto my shirt. Not wanting to wake her, I sighed and slid down beside her.
For the first time in years, sleep found me easily.
"Sir... Sir..."
Aditya's voice pulled me out of my slumber.
"Yeah..." my voice was still heavy with sleep.
After so long, I had felt this peaceful. Otherwise, even sleep felt like a chore.
"Sir, we'll be reaching in an hour," Aditya informed.
"Okay," I muttered, still in thought. But when he kept standing there, I added, "And, Aditya?"
I urged him to speak.
"Sir, with all due respect, I already knew you had... inhuman tendencies. Like not getting hungry, even though you've eaten nothing for the past twelve hours?" His tone dripped with sarcasm.
I was seriously losing it. If he didn't get to his point in the next ten seconds...
"But... but the girl sleeping next to you..."
"What about her?" I snapped.
"I guess you care about her well-being. She must be hungry," he said with his hands raised in mock surrender.
Annoying as he was, the man had a point.
"Hah! Idiot nahi hoon main. I was going to wake her now only," I lied with a serious face.
(I'm not an idiot. I was just about to wake her up now.)
"Aap ghode bech kar kal tak bhi soye rahoge, toh uthoge kaise aise halat mein? But whatever makes you sleep at night."
(Even if you were to keep sleeping until tomorrow, how would you wake up like this? Anyway, whatever makes you feel better.)
He barely suppressed his smile.
"Fine. Get me the menu while I wake her up. And also find my phone and give it to me."
"Yes boss, aapki hi toh seva karne ke liye virajit hain hum yaha," Aditya muttered sarcastically, walking away.
(Yes boss, we're only here to serve you, after all.)
Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips.
When I turned back to Kartiki, that small smile grew into a full grin. I gently shook her.
"Pari, uth jao... bhookh nahi lagi kya?"
(Pari, wake up... aren't you hungry?)
She stirred, rubbing her eyes groggily.
"Toh, Pari... kya khana hai aapko?"
(So, Pari... what do you want to eat?)
"Nahi... mujhe bhookh nahi hai," she murmured, a clear lie, her eyes betraying her longing for food.
(No... I'm not hungry.)
I softened but kept my tone firm.
"Pari, I didn't ask if you want to eat or not. I asked what you want to eat. Let's see... sandwich? Or chocolate milkshake?"
Reluctantly, she nodded. But her eyes gleamed with happiness and approval.
As we waited for the food, I decided to start a small conversation.
"So, Pari... you may have many questions. Go on, shoot them. I'll be happy to answer—no need to be shy."
Hesitantly, she asked, her innocent expression catching me off guard:
"Why do you call me Pari?"
I inhaled deeply before answering.
"Pari is an endearment. A name you use only for people you truly love, care for, and trust. And though I've only known you for a few hours... you've already become my life. Hence... Pari. My angel."
A smile touched my lips as I remembered calling Meera the same once upon a time.
Kartiki tilted her head. "Then what should I call you? Because I too respect and care about you."
She looked so adorably serious that I couldn't resist pinching her cheeks.
"Baba. You should call me Baba."
Her face fell. "But... Baba means Father..."
Her words pierced through me. I quickly said, "It's fine if you're not ready—"
"No, no! That's not what I meant. I would be really happy to call you Baba."
"Baba," she said softly.
And that was it. The very first time she called me Baba.
I was momentarily stunned... and then my joy was uncontrollable.
"Say it again," I urged, my voice thick with emotion.
"Baba," she repeated in the most childish, innocent way possible—instantly warming my heart.
I pulled her into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go.
"Ahem, ahem. Sir, here's your order."
Even before looking, I knew it was Aditya.
"Leave the food on the table and get out if you don't want to get beaten up," I said in frustration.
But Kartiki stiffened at my words, fear flashing across her face. My heart clenched as I realized what she must have thought I meant.
Before I could explain, Aditya jumped in cheerfully, "Hey, sweetie, do you know how strong I am? I can lift an elephant single-handedly!"
I turned around, confused.
"A wooden showpiece elephant," he clarified smugly.
Kartiki giggled. The sound was so pure, so soft, that I wished it would never end.
"Baba, who is he?" she asked.
The word Baba filled my heart with joy all over again.
"He's Aditya—my most trusted guard. And the most annoying person you'll ever meet."
"Annoying? Or entertaining, boss? Otherwise, you'd have fired me long ago," Aditya quipped.
"Now leave. Kartiki, you can call him Adi Bhaiya," I added.
"No, no—I insist you call me Adi Bhaiya," Aditya said with exaggerated firmness.
"Of course, Adi Bhaiya," Kartiki replied sweetly.
"Oh my God, you're so cute!" Aditya exclaimed.
I silently prayed that my sons too would one day bond with her in the same way.
"Now, agar aapki baat khatam ho gayi ho toh... meri Pari pe dhyaan de sakte ho?" I said, raising an eyebrow.
(Now, if you're done talking, can you let me focus on my Pari?)
Aditya dramatically bowed. "Ji Captain. Now your Adi Bhai is going... and will return with more drama."
Rolling my eyes, I turned back to Kartiki.
As we began eating, I noticed she was simply playing with her food.
"Kartiki, come here."
She looked up with wide eyes. I gently pulled her chair closer and picked up a sandwich.
"Eat," I said firmly, bringing it to her mouth.
Reluctantly, she began chewing, her eyes brimming with tears—happy tears, I knew.
Finally, after a little coaxing (and a bit of force), she finished her meal.
And soon enough, our jet began its descent.
We were finally home. Mumbai.
I had already messaged on the whatsapp group about the arrival of their sister (or to be sister) and mentioned them strictly not to wear any thing formal as they would sure intimidate my pari.
Finally they reached the place.
As the car slowed down in front of the grand wrought-iron gates of the Rajput mansion, Kartiki's small hands clutched the seat edge tightly. The high walls, guarded gates, and the sprawling driveway beyond felt like a different world—too big, too polished, too far from the crumbling warehouse she'd known hours ago.
Vijay stepped out first, his tall figure commanding instant attention from the guards who saluted without a word. He moved around to her side, opening the door slowly as if afraid to startle her. Then he crouched down so they were at eye level.
What Kartiki saw in his eyes made her own vision blur. There was something there—pure love, unwavering acceptance—a softer side so unexpected from the man the world called "The Great Mafia." That softness almost scared her more than his cold, intimidating exterior. It felt too precious to belong to her.
But Vijay wasn't just seeing her; he was replaying the images that refused to leave his mind—the way she had sat in that abandoned warehouse, shaking and silent, flinching even when he only offered his hand. The way she had whispered apologies for simply breathing too loud. Fury burned behind his eyes, but not at her—at the shadows of her past.
Kartiki noticed the sudden tightness in his jaw, the hardening of his gaze. It made her chest tighten. She reached out with trembling hands and cupped his face gently.
"What happened, Baba?" she whispered.
The touch pulled Vijay back years in time. He saw his late wife, smiling gently at him, pressing her warm palm to his cheek whenever he let the weight of the world crush him. For a heartbeat, the present blurred into the past, and he almost closed his eyes to hold on to it.
"Baba... is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?" Kartiki's voice wavered, panic leaking through. Her eyes shimmered with tears. "I'm so sorry, Baba... please... please don't send me back there..."
That plea ripped through him. Without thinking, he brushed away the tear that slid down her cheek and pulled her into his arms. She melted into him for half a second before the sobs came—loud, raw, shaking her whole body.
"I'm very bad," she cried between gasps. "That's why even my parents left... I... I even disappointed you..."
Before she could spiral any further, Vijay's arms tightened. Then, slowly, he eased her back just enough to see her face.
"Baccha, look at me. Look in my eyes," he ordered gently.
She shook her head violently.
"Kartiki. Now." His voice shifted to a firm, commanding tone. He didn't want to scare her, but he knew she needed to hear him as truth, not as comfort.
Reluctantly, she looked up.
"You could never disappoint me. Not in this life, not in any dream, not ever. Samjhi?"(understood?)
Her lips trembled. He leaned forward slightly. "And what exactly are you apologizing for?" His tone sharpened on the last question.
"Voh... Baba..." Kartiki's voice dropped to a tiny whisper. She searched for a lie—anything to avoid telling him that his earlier expression had scared her.
"Don't you dare lie to me, Kartiki," Vijay said, his voice carrying quiet authority. "I just told you not to apologize unless you truly understand your mistake. And idhar toh tumne koi galti ki hi nahi. Toh kyon sorry bola? Aur itni badi ho gayi ke yeh sab sochne lagi?"("And here, you didn't even make any mistake. So why did you say sorry? And since when did you grow up enough to start thinking about all this?")
The strictness in his voice was too much for her fragile state. Tears spilled again.
Vijay closed his eyes briefly, cursing himself silently. He reached for her again, pulling her close, his tone softening.
"What happened, baccha?"
"Seeing you like that... I got scared," she admitted in a rush. "I thought I had done something to make you angry. That's why I said sorry. And... I don't want to go back to that place, Baba... please... I'm sor—"
"Again 'sorry' bola toh..." Vijay cut in, raising an eyebrow in mock sternness.
She sniffled, catching herself. "No, no... I am sor— I mean... oops. Not sorry," she corrected with a tiny smile, as if she'd just passed a secret test.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Better."
She tilted her head. "Then... why did you look like that earlier?"
Vijay exhaled, his eyes briefly darkening again. "Because I was thinking of the people who hurt you. The way they broke your trust, the way they made you think love is something you have to earn by being perfect. It makes me want to burn the whole world down, baccha."
Kartiki blinked up at him, unsure how to respond.
He placed a steady hand on her head, ruffling her hair gently. "But none of that is your burden now. You are mine. My family. And I will never, ever let anyone send you away again. Samjhi?"
A small nod. Then she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, clinging like she might disappear if she let go.
"I believe you, Baba," she whispered into his shoulder.
Kartiki, still nestled in his side, looked up at the towering mansion beyond the gates. It was beautiful, but she wasn't ready to believe it could be home. Not yet. But maybe... maybe one day.
But then she remembered about Vijay's sons. What if they don't like her? What if they think of her as an inconvenience? Or just as someone forcefully put upon them?
Sensing her inner turmoil Vijay gently crouches down to her level and asks "What happened Kartiki is their anything that's eating you?"
Kartiki finally gathering tghe courage to ask him innocently asks"What if SIRS do not like me?What if the thinnk me as an intruder?"
Just then a loud voice boomed " NO, I AM SURE THEY WON'T LIKE YOU"
HI GUYS
How was the chapter?
was it up to your expectations?
What do you think about ADITYA? I was not planning on such a character but it just came up do you want a character aesthetic for him too?
Guys Please do tell me what do you think about the book should I continue it??
ALSO ABOUT THE UPDATE I AM SO SORRY BUT YESTERDAY IT WAS JUST NOT POSSIBLE FOR ME TO UPDATE IT.
THE NEXT UPDATE WOULD BE EITHER WHEN YOU COMPLETE THE TARGET OR ON THURSDAY.
PLEASE DO VOT AND COMMENT IT TRULLY MEANS A LOT
ALSO IF YOU HAVE ANY NEW IDEAS OR WISHES YOU WANT DO TELL ME.
Do share love and the book to as many people as you could.
YOURS,
NIDHI❤️
Write a comment ...