"Dear readers,

I kindly request that you leave a comment and cast your like, as your feedback and support motivate me to keep writing and improving the story. Additionally, if you notice any grammar errors, please feel free to correct them for me."🤌🏻❤️

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Niya's POV.

After two long years, I was finally back home. The thought itself filled my heart with an inexplicable joy, the kind that made my pulse race with excitement. Every step closer to the door felt like a chapter of memories flooding back — laughter, love, and warmth that I had craved every single day away from them. I couldn’t wait to surprise my family, to see their faces light up when they saw me standing there.

I pressed the doorbell, my heart pounding with anticipation. A few seconds passed, and then the door swung open. There he stood — my brother, his expression frozen in shock, as if I were some impossible dream. Without giving him time to react, I dashed toward him and wrapped my arms around him tightly, burying my face in his familiar embrace.

"Am I dreaming, Princess? Please pinch me if I am," he murmured, his voice trembling with disbelief. I laughed softly and, with a playful grin, pinched his arm.

"Nahi, Bhaiyaa, your Princess is right here. In the flesh!" I said, looking up at him.

It took him a moment to process it, but when reality finally dawned on him, his eyes softened, and a smile spread across his face. He kissed my forehead gently, his affection pouring into that simple gesture. "Chalo, andar chalte hain," he said, his voice warm as he led me inside.

As we stepped into the living room, I heard familiar footsteps on the stairs. Mumma and Papa were coming down, curiosity evident in their voices as they asked Bhaiyaa, "Itni raat ko kaun aaya hai?"

And then they saw me.

For a moment, they froze, as if their eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. But then, in a heartbeat, their expressions melted into pure emotion. Tears welled up in Mumma’s eyes, and Papa’s usually composed face crumbled with overwhelming joy. They both rushed toward me, their arms encircling me in a hug so tight, it felt like they were trying to make up for every moment of those two years I had been away.

"Princess, humne tumhe kitna miss kiya!" Papa’s voice cracked as he held me close. His warmth, his scent — it all felt like home again. But then his tone shifted to a fatherly scolding, though the love in his voice never wavered. "Lekin tum bina bataye aise raat ko kaise aa gayi? Hume toh bata kar aana chahiye tha!"

I smiled through my own tears, my heart full to the brim with happiness. "Surprise ka maza tabhi toh aata hai, Papa," I said softly, my voice trembling with emotion.

This was it. This was home. This was the moment I had been waiting for — to feel their love, their warmth, and the unbreakable bond that distance could never diminish.

"Mumma, Papa, and Bhaiya, I just wanted to see the smile on all of your faces when I surprised you. And… I missed you all so much!" My voice trembled slightly as I looked at them, their expressions still brimming with love and disbelief.

But then, breaking the wave of emotions, I pouted and added playfully, "Bahut ho liya sab senti! Aur sorry maine bataya nahi, kyunki agar batati toh surprise kharab ho jata na!"

[Enough of the sentimental talk! And sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, because if I had, it would have ruined the surprise!]

I flashed a bright smile and asked excitedly, "Tell me, how did you all like my surprise?"

Without missing a beat, they all chimed in together, "Great surprise, Niya! You made us very happy!" Their laughter and joy filled the room, making me feel complete again.

But then I looked around and frowned slightly, realizing someone was missing. "Dadi kaha hai?" I asked curiously.

Bhaiya’s voice softened as he replied, "She’s asleep after taking her medication. Meet her in the morning, Princess."

I nodded, but a pang of worry crept in. "But… is Dadi alright? What happened to her that she needed medication?" I asked, my voice laced with anxiety.

"Arre, kuch nahi baccha," Bhaiya reassured me with a calm smile, his hand resting on my shoulder. "She’s just a little under the weather. Don’t worry, okay?"

His words were soothing, but my heart still clenched a little at the thought of Dadi being unwell. Taking a deep breath, I nodded again. Bhaiya’s reassurance was enough for now. I decided I would sit by her side first thing in the morning and make up for all the time I had been away. This homecoming was incomplete without seeing her smile.

Bhaiya's eyes narrowed as he noticed Harsh standing beside me. He gave him a curious once-over before raising an eyebrow and asking, "Yeh kaun hai? Yahi hai kya Harsh?"

Before I could answer, Harsh jumped in, exclaiming dramatically, "Haan Bhaiya, I’m Harsh! Glad you remember me. Warna ye Niya toh mujhe introduce hi nahi karti."

I shot him a sharp look, crossing my arms as I retorted, "Oh, saste celebrity, it was me who told Bhaiya about you, okay? Don’t act so precious."

Harsh chuckled, unfazed, and turned to my parents with a warm smile. Bowing slightly, he touched their feet and greeted, "Pairi pona, Uncle and Aunty."

Papa smiled and waved him off lightly. "Alright, alright. Baaki ki baatein kal karenge. Tum dono thak gaye hoge, get some rest."

I nodded, hiding my smirk as Harsh stood there looking overly dramatic, like he’d just wrapped up an award speech.

“Goodnight, everyone,” I said, heading to my room. Behind me, I could hear Mom warmly guiding Harsh to the guest room.

(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

I stepped into my room, flipping on the lights, and for a moment, it felt like I had never left. Everything was exactly as I had left it—untouched, preserved like a memory frozen in time. I scanned the familiar surroundings, my gaze lingering on little details that carried the weight of nostalgia. Letting out a deep breath, I changed into my most comfortable clothes and sank into my bed, hoping the exhaustion of the day would lull me to sleep.

But it was 2 AM, and sleep was nowhere to be found. My mind replayed the airport moments on a loop, filling the quiet night with restless thoughts. Giving up, I decided to head to Bhaiya's room.

Knocking softly, I waited. The door creaked open, and there he was, rubbing his eyes and flashing his usual, protective smile. "Hey, what's wrong, bachcha? Couldn't sleep?"

I shook my head. "Nahi Bhaiya, I'm wide awake. Were you working on something? Sorry if I disturbed you," I said sheepishly.

"Nahi, pagal," he said, rolling his eyes. "You didn’t bother me. I was awake too."

I hesitated for a second before saying, "Bhaiya, terrace par chalein?"

And as if on cue, we both blurted out in unison, "Let’s go get ice cream!"

Minutes later, we were sitting on the terrace, sprawled across an old mattress that Bhaiya dragged out like always. The night was cool, the stars scattered across the sky, and the moonlight cast a serene glow over everything.

"So," Bhaiya said, handing me a tub of ice cream. "How was everything there?"

I dug into the ice cream and replied dramatically, "It was all good, but it’s clear you didn’t miss me at all!"

He smirked, playing along. "Yeah, right. Who am I to miss you?!" He added a flourish to his voice, making me burst out laughing.

“Bhrata shree,” I teased, mimicking an old-school tone as I chuckled.

Bhaiya shook his head, laughing softly. "Tum kabhi nahi badlogi," he said, his voice full of affection.

The night passed as we shared ice cream, talked about everything and nothing, and enjoyed the rare quiet of the city. Eventually, the exhaustion caught up to me, and before I knew it, I was dozing off, my head resting on Bhaiya’s shoulder.

I barely registered his voice saying, "Every time, bachcha," or the way he carefully lifted me, like always, cradling me on his back as he carried me to my room. Even half-asleep, I felt the familiar sense of home and thought, Some things never change—and I hope they never will.

{"My brother and I are incredibly close, he treats me like a princess and opens up to me about everything, and I do the same with him."}

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Author POV•

At 9 in the morning, the soft rays of sunlight filtered through the delicate curtains, spilling across Niya’s face like a gentle nudge from the day itself. She stirred slightly, her lashes fluttering as the warm glow caressed her skin. Groggily, she opened her eyes, her gaze landing on the familiar patterns of her room—the place that carried the essence of home.

For a moment, she lay there, letting the comfort of being in her own space seep into her bones. When she finally sat up, a fleeting glance at the clock made her lips curve into a soft smile. The realization settled in—she was truly back, where every corner whispered stories of her childhood.

Rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet sinking into the cool embrace of the floor. With a contented stretch, she pushed herself off the bed and headed to the bathroom, where the familiar sound of water running seemed to hum a welcome.

The splash of cold water on her face revived her senses, leaving her feeling refreshed and lighter. She carefully chose a pink short kurti, its vibrant hue reflecting her buoyant mood, pairing it with straight jeans that spoke of effortless comfort. As she looked at herself in the mirror, there was a quiet confidence in her reflection, a glow that came from the joy of being back where she belonged.

Meanwhile, in the dining room, the aroma of freshly brewed tea mingled with the tantalizing scent of parathas, but the plates remained untouched. Harsh sat slouched in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table, his stomach protesting audibly. His restless eyes darted to the clock before he muttered under his breath, "Why hasn’t anyone started yet?"

Abhinav, seated across from him, leaned back with a teasing smirk, casually sipping his tea. “Let’s wait until the princess gets here,” he quipped, his tone light yet mischievous.

Harsh groaned dramatically, clutching his stomach like a man abandoned in the desert.

'Ye Niya ki bacchi mujhe aaj bhukha maar ke chhodegi.'

he mumbled to himself, loud enough for only those nearby to hear, earning a chuckle from her mother.

Just then, the sound of light footsteps descending the stairs reached the dining room. Niya’s voice rang out, bright and cheerful, cutting through the morning haze. “Good morning!” she greeted, her presence lighting up the room like sunshine.

The family turned to her, their smiles blooming effortlessly in response to her radiant energy. There was something about her—perhaps her warmth, or the way she carried herself with an ease that made the world around her seem lighter.

Harsh, who just moments ago had been the picture of despair, suddenly broke into a wide grin. “Accha hua tu aa gai, nahi toh main aaj chala jata!” he declared with mock solemnity.

Curiosity danced in Niya’s eyes as she tilted her head. “Kahan chala jata?”

Without missing a beat, Harsh placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “Upar!” he replied, the corners of his lips twitching mischievously.

The room erupted into laughter, the kind that shakes the walls and fills the heart. Niya joined in, her laugh ringing like wind chimes, and in that moment, the dining room wasn’t just a place to eat—it was a haven of love, mischief, and the unspoken bond of family.

As Niya walked over to her Dadi, the wrinkles on the older woman’s face softened into a tender smile. Niya wrapped her arms around her, resting her head lightly on Dadi’s shoulder, a gesture full of unspoken love. Dadi cupped Niya’s face, her weathered hands warm with affection, and asked in a soft, loving tone, “Kaisi hai meri bacchi?”

“Main thik hoon, Dadi,” Niya replied, her voice filled with warmth, though a flicker of concern clouded her eyes. “But I’ve come to know that you’re not taking care of your health.”

Dadi’s brows lifted, a playful glint sparking in her eyes. “No, no, Doctor Sahiba, aisa kuch nahi hai,” she said, brushing off the accusation with a reassuring smile. Her voice held that particular mix of stubbornness and mischief that only grandmothers mastered, as if daring anyone to contradict her.

But Niya wasn’t convinced, her lips pressing into a pout that made her look like the little girl who once ran around the house, clinging to Dadi’s sari.

Sensing her resolve, Dadi straightened, shooting a mock-stern glance around the room. “Kaun hai jo meri complaint kar raha hai?” she demanded, her sharp gaze making everyone suddenly find their plates fascinating. Then, after a dramatic pause, her lips curled into a sly smile as she declared, “I’m like fine wine—only getting better with age!”

The room erupted into laughter, a chorus of joy echoing through the walls. Niya joined in, shaking her head at her Dadi’s antics while secretly marveling at how effortlessly she filled the room with happiness.

With the air now lighter, everyone finally turned their attention to the breakfast spread, the clinking of plates and cheerful chatter weaving a melody of togetherness. Dadi patted Niya’s hand one last time, her eyes sparkling with love. Moments like these were more nourishing than any meal—proof that family was the heart of every home.

Nishant glanced up from his plate, his eyes warm with curiosity. “Where are you off to, Princess?” he asked, his voice a mix of authority and affection.

Niya straightened slightly, wiping her hands with a napkin before replying, “Haan, Papa, I’m going to meet Radhika.”

Before anyone else could chime in, Harsh leaned back in his chair with a playful grin. “Main nahi aa paunga, yaar,” he said dramatically, as though his absence would be a great loss to the plan.

Niya’s brows shot up, her sharp gaze slicing through his theatrics. “Who asked you?” she snapped, her tone teasing but firm, accompanied by an arched eyebrow that dared him to respond.

Harsh placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt before breaking into a laugh. “Main toh mazaak kar raha tha! Main kaha rahunga? Main tere saath hi chalunga,” he declared, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Niya rolled her eyes but gave in with a resigned “Fine.”

Turning to Abhinav, she softened her tone. “Bhaiya, aap humein chhor denge?” she asked, her voice tinged with expectation.

Abhinav, ever the dependable elder brother, nodded without hesitation. “Of course,” he replied simply, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

With breakfast done, they all headed toward the car. Abhinav, ever the gentleman, walked ahead to open the car door for Niya, his actions speaking volumes about his protective nature. Niya stepped in gracefully, while Harsh claimed his spot in the back seat, sprawling comfortably as though it were his personal lounge.

The car ride was filled with casual banter and stolen glances at the bustling streets outside, the city humming with life. Before long, they arrived at Radhika’s house. The car rolled to a gentle stop, and Abhinav turned toward Niya, his gaze soft yet firm. “Take care,” he said, his voice carrying the unspoken weight of a brother’s concern.

Niya smiled, her eyes glimmering with gratitude, and stepped out. Harsh followed, stretching lazily before waving Abhinav goodbye. The car pulled away, leaving behind the comfort of a brother’s protection as Niya and Harsh turned toward Radhika’s house, ready for whatever the day held.

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As Radhika opened the door, her face lit up with joy at the sight of Niya. Without a word, the two friends enveloped each other in a warm, tight hug, their hearts speaking louder than any words could. Time seemed to pause as the emotions of years of friendship washed over them. Slowly, their eyes brimmed with unshed tears, a mixture of happiness, nostalgia, and the bittersweetness of reuniting after so long.

“You are crying,” Niya whispered, her voice trembling with emotion as she blinked back her own tears.

Radhika pulled back slightly, laughing through her sniffles. “No, you are crying!” she replied, her fingers brushing away the dampness from her cheeks.

From behind them, Harsh’s voice broke the moment like an unexpected burst of mischief. “Both of you are crying!” he announced, his tone exaggeratedly dramatic, making both girls turn toward him.

Before they could respond, Harsh raised his phone, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Wait, wait, let me take a picture—this is pure gold!”

Niya’s tear-streaked face scrunched into mock annoyance as she swatted Harsh’s arm. “Shut up, stupid!” she exclaimed, though the corners of her lips curled into a reluctant smile.

Harsh clutched his arm dramatically, as though she had hit him with all her might. “Tu mujhe yaha kucharne ke liye laayi hai, kya?” he grumbled, glaring at her as he rubbed his shoulder for added effect.

Niya tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Nahii! Tu khud hi aaya hai, main kya kar sakti hu?” she shot back, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Radhika shot a sly grin at Harsh, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re Harsh, right? The same Harsh who climbed the tree in the college campus?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Harsh’s eyes widened, and he turned toward her with a suspicious squint. “How do you know?” he asked, his gaze flickering to Niya, who was struggling to hold in her laughter.

"Me lut gya badnaam ho gya " Harsh said dramatically, placing the back of his hand to his forehead as if he had just been struck by a great tragedy.

Radhika burst into laughter, shaking her head.

"Oo bollywood ke Harsha bhogle chal ab", she teased, rolling her eyes at his over-the-top theatrics.

Niya, unable to contain herself any longer, giggled out loud. The playful energy between them was infectious, and it felt like time had slowed down, with the three of them locked in their silly little world.

Niya then greeted Radhika’s parents warmly, exchanging pleasantries before Radhika, still grinning, tugged her hand. “Come, let’s go to my room,” she said, the invitation as casual as ever.

Harsh followed without hesitation, his footsteps exaggeratedly slow, as if he were begrudgingly tagging along. “Mujhe kyun laaya yeh ladki, bas na… koi shaanti nahi milti,” he muttered under his breath, but his playful grin showed that he wasn’t truly bothered.

Despite their constant teasing and playful banter, Radhika and Harsh never seemed to get along in any conventional sense. They bickered, ribbed each other, and threw lighthearted jabs, but beneath it all was a strange, unspoken understanding—an undeniable camaraderie forged in their constant arguments. It was like a dance—chaotic, but it worked.

Once in Radhika's room, the atmosphere softened, and the conversation turned into an easy flow of gossip and chatter. Radhika and Niya immediately slipped into their familiar rhythm, talking about everything and anything that came to mind.

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To be continued

"I know you all must have felt a bit bored after reading this chapter, but trust me, it's about to get a lot more interesting! This is my first attempt at writing a story, so please be kind and let me know what you think of it so far - your feedback means a lot!"

Lots of love 💗

Thank you for reading!!!