The sunlight slipped in gently through the lace curtains of the Singhaniya mansion, spilling golden warmth onto the polished marble floors. The air was filled with the scent of fresh tulsi leaves, the faint clang of cutlery, and something softer—peace.
It was one of those rare mornings when the mansion breathed like a home, not just an empire.
Downstairs, the long dining table began to fill slowly with the family. Komal Singhaniya, poised in her saree with a pearl-bordered pallu, sat in her usual chair at the head, sipping from her delicate china teacup. Her presence radiated both command and quiet observation.
"Mamma," Misha called, hopping onto a chair.
Rakhi Singhaniya moved around gracefully, supervising the breakfast spread, as she always did. Fruit bowls, poha, cutlets, and freshly squeezed orange juice filled the table with color.
But one scent stood out today—ghee-roasted parathas.
And that scent came from the kitchen.
There, dressed in a casual but radiant red cotton kurti with a soft white palazzo and a dupatta that caught the light like the morning sun, stood Anaya. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat near the stove. Hair tied in a loose ponytail. A flick of kajal. No makeup needed. She glowed in simplicity. That dupatta with its tiny mirror-work danced slightly every time she turned to flip the paratha.
Her fingers worked the rolling pin with practiced grace, but there was a peacefulness in her eyes. Like something had settled inside her overnight. A storm calmed. A fear hushed.
Rakhi walked in, her eyes softening as she saw her daughter-in-law at work.
"Anaya," she called gently.
Anaya turned, surprised for a second, and then offered her a small smile.
"Ji, Mumma?"
Rakhi walked closer, scanning her face.
"Sab theek hai na, beta?" she asked, concern peeking through her warm voice. "Tum thodi si… thakaa thakaa lag rahi ho. Sab kuch theek hai na kal raat?"
Anaya's smile deepened. She shook her head gently.
"Main bilkul theek hoon, Mumma," she replied. "Aaj toh khud se thoda banaane ka mann tha. Khud banana aur sabko khilate dekhna… dil halka lagta hai."
Rakhi paused, then did something that caught Anaya off guard—she stepped forward and hugged her.
A full hug. No formalities. No hesitation.
And before Anaya could even register it fully, Rakhi placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
"Achha. Toh aise hi hamesha khush rehna. Aur pyaari rehna," Rakhi whispered, her palm caressing Anaya's cheek for a second before stepping back.
Anaya's eyes closed for a second under that warmth. It wasn't the act itself—it was the way it filled the hollow spaces inside her heart, spaces where family memories had once lived in black and white.
When she opened her eyes again, she whispered back, "Thank you, Mumma."
Rakhi smiled and nodded, then stepped back toward the dining table.
Komal, from the head of the table, gave a knowing glance but said nothing. Her eyes held pride.
Just then, Aarav entered, still buttoning his cuff, scanning around.
"Rudra bhai kaha hai?" he asked, pulling a chair.
Anaya looked up from the pan for a second. Her brows furrowed slightly, and her voice was calm, "Vo… vo bedroom mein nahi the jab main uthi."
Rakhi paused, her spoon midway to her plate. "Nahi the?"
Anaya gave a polite smile, brushing off any suspicion. "Shayad bahar gaye ho. Kabhi kabhi early office jaate hain."
Before Rakhi could inquire further, Anaya flipped another paratha and turned to the servant who was approaching with a ladle in hand.
"Bhaiya, rehne do," she said softly but firmly. "Main bana lungi. Aap sab log baithiye, breakfast enjoy kijiye."
"But madam ji—" the servant began.
"Nahi," Anaya interrupted gently, "aaj mujhe khud banana hai. Mujhe acha lagta hai jab main sabke liye banaati hoon."
And with that, she turned again to her paratha, pressing its edges lightly with the spatula, watching it puff just the way she liked it.
From behind the doorframe, Rudra stood quietly.
Watching.
He had come down moments ago but hadn't entered. Something about the way she stood there, surrounded by the scent of home, drenched in a red that mirrored her strength—it rooted him to the spot.
There was no trace of the nightmare she'd cried through last night. No trembling lips, no haunted eyes. Just Anaya. Smiling. Laughing with Ria. Serving breakfast. Teasing Aarav about his sugar intake.
But he remembered. Every word. Every scream. Every time she whispered "bhai…" in pain.
He clenched his fists quietly.
It wasn't over. Her wounds weren't gone just because morning light replaced the moon. But he would fix it.
Not just the dreams, not just the tears—but the story behind it.
She deserved more than just silence after storms.
She deserved answers.
He took a quiet breath, stepped back for now—let her enjoy this peaceful morning.
But inside, the Singhaniya heir had already made his next move.
Tonight, he wouldn't let her sleep haunted again.
Not his Velvet.
Not his wife.
Not the girl who cooked parathas with healing hands and smiled like sunrises.
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The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a golden hue on the marble floor of the Singhaniya mansion. The aroma of fresh parathas lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of rose incense burning somewhere in the hallway shrine.
Rudra Singhaniya stood near the entrance, dressed in his crisp black suit—tailored to perfection, like every move he made. His watch gleamed under the sunlight, and his fingers adjusted the cuff of his left sleeve with habitual ease. He looked almost regal, distant… but his eyes, dark and restless, lingered on one person.
Anaya.
She stood in the kitchen, a red dupatta draped casually over her shoulder, laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes as she handed a plate of parathas to the house staff. Her face was fresh, glowing with that soft radiance only calm mornings and comforting kitchens could create.
Rudra watched her quietly, unnoticed.
He wasn't a man of many emotions—but something about her presence, that softness in her smile, made the chaos in his head slow down for a few seconds. Just a few seconds.
His lips parted as if to say something—perhaps a parting word, perhaps a reminder to take care.
He didn't speak. Not yet. He simply watched. As if absorbing her into memory. Her presence.
His presence.
His sanctuary in chaos.
A voice interrupted his trance.
"Rudra, humein nikalna hai. Sab hotel pahunch chuke hain," Ravi announced from behind, holding a file under one arm and adjusting his wristwatch with the other.
Rudra blinked once. Reality returned like a slow wave.
But before the moment could blossom fully, a voice called out, snapping him back into routine.
"Rudra," Ravi's voice echoed down the hall, footsteps fast approaching. "We need to leave. Everyone's waiting at the hotel."
Rudra blinked, the brief warmth in his eyes fading back into neutrality.
He nodded once, retrieving his phone from his pocket and glancing at the screen with robotic detachment. "Hmm," he muttered, his tone unreadable.
He began walking toward the main door, the sound of his polished shoes tapping against the marble floor breaking the gentle silence.
"Dad office ke nikal gaye?" he asked without looking up, his voice low, already calculating his next move.
Ravi shook his head. "Nahi sir toh abhi toh upar hi hain. Ready ho rahe honge…"
"Hmm." Rudra didn't stop walking. "Drive main karunga."
He pushed open the massive oak door, the warm breeze of the early morning greeting him. The Singhaniya crest on the glass shimmered faintly as the door swung shut behind him.
"By the way… Aarav?" Rudra asked again, arching a brow as he adjusted his sunglasses.
Ravi scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, rubbing his left eyebrow with the knuckle of his right hand. "Woh… abhi tak utha bhi nahi hoga," he said hesitantly.
As if summoned by their words, Aarav Singhaniya appeared at the top of the stairs, lazily descending with his phone in one hand and a mug of black coffee in another. His hair was a mess, eyes still half-closed, but his smirk was as sharp as ever.
"I'm here, my brother," he announced, dramatically sipping his coffee. "Junior Singhaniya reporting."
Rudra shook his head with a rare, amused breath. "Junior Singhaniya, we have a board meeting. But ruko... Dad se mil kar chalna chahiye."
Aarav shrugged, "He'll survive."
Ravi chuckled softly. "Sir, black G-Wagon ready hai."
Without waiting to greet anyone else in the household, Rudra headed toward the entrance. His heavy footsteps against the Italian marble floor echoed with authority. Ravi and Aarav followed quickly behind him, like second and third shadows of the same storm.
The black G-Wagon stood waiting just outside the main portico. Its polished surface reflected the grandeur of the Singhaniya estate like a mirror too proud to look away.
As Rudra approached the car, a pair of eyes silently followed him from the veranda balcony—Komal Singhaniya. Draped in her crisp cream saree, her sharp gaze, softened only by love, watched her eldest grandson leave with unspoken words in her heart.
Waqt badal raha hai, she thought. Aur mere Rajkumar bhi.
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Meanwhile inside, Dev Singhaniya, the patriarch of the house, made his way down the stairs in his usual composed fashion. Dressed in a light blue shirt and beige trousers, he looked every bit the seasoned businessman—with just a pinch of fatherly mischief in his eyes.
He walked toward the dining table where Komal was now seated again.
"So... aaj ka controversy kya hai?" he asked teasingly, pouring himself a cup of chai.
Komal narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "Aaj toh sab shaant hai. Kyun? Tumhare bina kuch ho hi nahi sakta?"
Dev laughed. "Maa... seriously. Bachhe kahan hai sab?"
"Kaunse bachhe?" Komal asked innocently, stirring her tea.
"Maa!" Dev raised a brow. "Ladke kaha hai?"
"Woh teenon toh nikal gaye," Komal answered, sipping her chai like she had all the time in the world.
Dev sighed, "Bina mujhe mile nikal gaye? Mera ghar hai ya guesthouse?"
Before Komal could reply with another sassy comeback, Anaya appeared, her dupatta now neatly pinned, carrying a basket of fresh parathas.
Rakhi followed closely behind her, beaming with pride. "Aaj Anaya ne parathe banaye hain," she announced.
Dev's face lit up. "Meri beti ne banaye hain? Main pehle khaaunga. Beta mujhe do. Aur tum... idhar aao." He gestured lovingly to Anaya.
Anaya smiled, a little shy but used to these moments now. She served the parathas on his plate carefully.
Komal, who had been observing quietly, arched a proud brow. "Methi wale parathe hain kya?"
Anaya turned, her smile warm. "Of course, Dadi. Aapke favorite."
Komal's expression softened. "Aww, my best great-grand-daughter-in-law," she declared, gently patting Anaya's cheek.
Dev chuckled, "Aao sab baith jao, warna parathe thande ho jayenge."
Just then, Ria came downstairs in her floral kaftan and sleep-tousled hair. "Parathe?" she asked excitedly.
"Haan beta," Rakhi replied with a smile. "Anaya ke haathon ke."
Misha peeked from behind her, grinning. "Chef ho toh aisi. Bhabhi jaisi."
Everyone laughed. It was light, familial, heartwarming. Even Dev, who often kept his expressions in check, smiled freely.
As they began eating, Komal observed her family—her son, her daughters-in-law, her granddaughters. Everything felt… whole.
Dev cleared his throat. "Tum office jaogi beta aaj?" he asked Anaya, in between bites.
Anaya shook her head. "Nahi Dad. Main aur Janvi aaj raat ki flight se business trip pe jaa rahe hain."
"Sirf tum dono?" Dev asked, his brows pulling together.
Ria interjected, "Dad, usne bola na Janvi ke saath. It's not a solo trip."
Dev nodded slowly. "Theek hai... par koi senior toh hoga saath mein?"
Anaya nodded, "Haan, HR ne bataya tha ki do seniors bhi jaa rahe hain. Bas naam nahi diye."
Dev sighed. "Theek hai. Agar kuch bhi problem ho, mujhe call karna. Your dad is just one call away."
Anaya smiled, her eyes soft. "Thank you, Dad. But mujhe kuch bhi 'sifarish' ke bina karna hai."
Dev laughed loudly, shaking his head. "Rakhi ji, dekha? Apne bete ki biwi bhi usi jaisi ban gayi hai."
Komal smirked, "Tumhari biwi bhi tum jaisi ban chuki hai. Zyada mat udho."
The whole table erupted in laughter as Ria and Misha nudged Anaya, who blushed softly.
This wasn't just breakfast.
This was home.
This was family.
And while Rudra had left without a word, somewhere in his silence, and Anaya's red dupatta, and Komal's tea, and Dev's laughter—there was a love that tethered each of them together.
Firm. Quiet. Unspoken.
But strong.
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