Evening had wrapped the Singh household in its warm embrace, painting the walls in hues of amber and gold as the setting sun filtered through the windows. Inside, the house pulsed with life, a symphony of laughter, clinking dishes, and playful banter that spoke of a family bound by love.

In the living room, Pavan and Pooja were locked in a spirited game of catch. The young girl’s giggles echoed like chimes, and Pavan’s laughter followed, infectious and carefree. He feigned exaggerated misses, earning squeals of delight from his little sister. Their shared joy was a perfect snapshot of innocence and sibling love, a brief escape from the complexities of growing up.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Surbhi Singh moved with practiced ease, her hands a blur as she stirred, chopped, and seasoned. The rhythmic clatter of pots and pans blended seamlessly with the lively chaos in the living room. The aroma of freshly made chapatis and fragrant curries filled the air, wrapping the household in an invisible embrace of comfort.

On the couch, Laxman Singh sat quietly, his gaze fixed on his children. His weathered hands rested on his knees, his body relaxed, but his mind was far away. A deep sigh escaped him as he leaned back, his thoughts swirling.

"In just a few days," Laxman thought, "everything will change." His eyes softened as they followed Pavan, who was now lifting Pooja high into the air, spinning her around until her laughter reached a fever pitch.

"Pavan will leave for Triveni Gurukul. Chee will undoubtedly follow him. And then there’s Govind—his leave will end soon, and he’ll return to the academy."

The thought of their absence settled heavily on his heart. The bustling house, filled with life and noise, would grow quiet, almost unbearably so. He ran a hand through his graying hair, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "I’m proud of them," he mused. "But how does one prepare for silence?"

His contemplation was interrupted by the soft creak of the front door. Laxman looked up to see Govind entering, a familiar tiffin box in his hand. His eldest son’s arrival brought a renewed burst of energy to the house.

"Brother!" Pooja cried, dropping the ball as she ran toward Govind. Her tiny feet barely touched the ground as she leaped into his arms. Govind caught her effortlessly, his face lighting up with genuine joy.

"You're late," she accused, puffing out her cheeks in mock anger.

Govind chuckled, gently pinching her nose. "Traffic, little fairy," he teased, ruffling her hair.

"What did you bring?" Pooja's curiosity was immediate, her eyes darting to the tiffin box in his hand.

“That’s a surprise,” he said with a wink, carefully placing the box in his mother’s waiting hands before carrying Pooja into the living room. He plopped onto the couch beside Laxman, the little girl still perched on his lap.

“How’s work?” Laxman asked, his voice steady but tinged with pride.

Govind shrugged, his tone casual. “The usual—training, drills, and a never-ending list of protocols. But it’s good to be home, even if just for a while.”

Laxman nodded, his smile soft. “It’s good to have you here. Even if it means more food disappears from the kitchen.”

Govind laughed, the sound deep and hearty. “That’s what sons are for, right?”

Soon, the rich aroma of Surbhi’s cooking drew everyone to the dining table. The spread was a feast for the senses—golden parathas glistening with butter, steaming bowls of fragrant dal, and a platter of colorful sabzis. Surbhi bustled about, setting dishes down with practiced efficiency, her face glowing with satisfaction.

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“Dinner is ready!” she called, her voice cutting through the chatter. One by one, the family gathered around, the wooden chairs creaking softly as they took their places.

But Pavan hesitated. Standing a few feet from the table, he let his gaze wander, scanning the house with a subtle urgency. His sharp eyes darted toward the hallway, his brow furrowed.

"Brother, aren’t you coming?" Pooja’s voice broke through his thoughts, her small face peeking over the edge of the table.

Pavan forced a smile, his tone light but unconvincing. "Little fairy, I’m not hungry. You go ahead and eat."

Pooja frowned, her lips curving downward in an exaggerated pout. "But Mom made special parathas just for you!"

“I’ll have them later,” he replied, ruffling her hair before turning away.

The truth was, Pavan was looking for Chee. Her absence during dinner preparation was unusual. Chee, who always hovered near his mother, helping her with the smallest of tasks, was nowhere to be found. The unease settled deep in his chest, though he didn’t want to admit it. With a shrug, he muttered, “Later,” and retreated toward his room.

In his room, Pavan leaned against the door, his mind racing. He replayed the evening in his head, searching for clues to explain Chee’s absence. "What happened? Where is she?" he wondered, the thought gnawing at him.

Pavan glanced at the small corner of the room where Chee often sat when they talked. The emptiness of the spot was unnerving. "She’s always here," he thought. "Why does it feel so strange when she’s not?"

Restless, he walked to the window, pushing it open. The cool evening breeze brushed against his face, but it did little to calm his nerves. The distant sounds of laughter and conversation from the dining table reached his ears, a bittersweet reminder of the life bustling around him.

The Singh family gathered around the dining table, the aroma of Surbhi’s cooking enveloping the room. The atmosphere was warm, but an undercurrent of tension lingered, subtle yet perceptible. As the clinking of plates and muffled chewing filled the air, Surbhi turned to Laxman, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“You didn’t stop him?” she asked, her voice calm yet tinged with reproach.

Laxman looked up from his plate, meeting her gaze with a composed expression. “You know how he is,” he replied evenly. “If Pavan has made up his mind, no one can stop him.”

Surbhi sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly, but a faint frown remained etched on her face. “That boy…” she muttered, before straightening her posture. Her tone shifted, carrying a weight of significance. “I wanted to talk to all of you about something important.”

Her words immediately caught everyone’s attention. Even Pooja paused mid-bite, her wide eyes darting between her parents.

Surbhi glanced at her husband, as if seeking silent permission to continue. When Laxman gave her a small nod, she took a deep breath. “I spoke to Chee today… about her and Pavan.”

The room fell silent. Pooja tilted her head in curiosity, her juice glass forgotten. Govind’s hand froze mid-air, his grip tightening around his glass. Laxman leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowing.

“And?” Laxman asked, his voice calm but curious.

Surbhi’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I asked her if she would marry Pavan.”

The words hung in the air like an unspoken truth finally brought to light. A heavy silence followed, charged with emotion. Pooja’s eyes widened in excitement, and even Govind’s usual composure cracked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

“What did she say?” Laxman’s voice was gentle, yet his eyes reflected the same curiosity that gripped the rest of the family.

Surbhi’s smile softened. “She said she has no objection. She respects Pavan’s decision and… she would agree if it’s what he wants.”

Laxman exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. His lips twitched into a teasing smile. “Well, we all know what Pavan’s decision will be. Though, I must admit…” he paused, mischief dancing in his eyes, “I’m a little jealous of him. If I’d thrown tantrums like he does, perhaps I’d have—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Surbhi’s sharp glare was enough to silence him. Her smile, faint yet edged with danger, cut through his teasing like a knife. “Excuse me?” she said sweetly, though her tone carried an unmistakable warning. “Would you care to repeat that?”

Laxman immediately straightened, his face a mask of innocence. “Nothing, dear. I was just complimenting your cooking.”

Across the table, Govind pushed his chair back, his movements deliberate and measured. He placed his plate on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “Excuse me,” he said curtly, his voice devoid of its usual humor.

Surbhi and Laxman exchanged a knowing glance. They watched as Govind left the room, his stiff shoulders betraying the storm of emotions he was trying to hide.

“He’ll come around,” Laxman said softly, his tone reassuring.

“I hope so,” Surbhi murmured. “He has to.”

Pooja’s voice broke through the subdued atmosphere like a ray of sunlight. “Chee Di and Pavan Bhaiya are going to get married! Yay!” she cheered, clapping her hands with uncontainable joy.

Surbhi chuckled, reaching over to pat her daughter’s head. “It’s not decided yet, Pooja,” she said gently.

“But it will be, right?” Pooja insisted, her wide eyes brimming with curiosity. “Bhaiya loves Didi so much!”

Surbhi and Laxman shared a smile, their expressions a mix of amusement and affection. “We’ll see,” Surbhi said softly, her voice tinged with warmth.

In the corner of the room, Govind stood leaning against the wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His gaze lingered on the scene, watching his family with a conflicted expression. Love for his brother and admiration for Chee were evident in his eyes, but there was something else—a quiet, unspoken sadness that he couldn’t explain.

As he turned to leave, he muttered under his breath, “Lucky idiot.”

Laxman’s sharp ears caught the words. He placed a reassuring hand on Surbhi’s shoulder. “Give him time,” he said gently. “He’ll understand.”

Surbhi nodded, though her gaze lingered on the staircase where Govind had disappeared. “I hope so,” she murmured. “For everyone’s sake.”