Time - 16:53 PM
The sky was ablaze with the fire of the setting sun. Golden rays painted the clouds in shades of crimson and rose, while the horizon seemed to catch fire in a final burst of daylight. The night sky slowly crept in, aglow with the vibrant lights of the city, twinkling like a million tiny stars beneath the real ones above. A pale crescent moon hung in the sky, a silvery claw casting a soft glow across the scene.
In the far distance, the occasional barking of dogs broke the silence. Birds—warblers and sparrows—fluttered homeward, their gentle songs fading into the dusk. The Earth itself, cloaked in twilight, looked upward as if to greet the stars.
A sky rider—a commercial flight—cut across the heavens, descending gracefully towards Bhubaneswar Airport. The plane landed smoothly, its wheels kissing the ground with practiced ease. Inside, Mr. and Mrs. Abhishek sat with calm hearts, holding each other's hands as the moment they'd waited for had finally arrived.
Their beloved Adda, or Adyanshi, had fallen asleep on Mr. Abhi's back during the flight. As the plane taxied to a stop and the seatbelt sign switched off, Mrs. Abhishnigdha gently took Adda from him and carried her on her shoulder. They disembarked, cleared formalities, and walked to the taxi area.
Before stepping outside, Mr. Abhi excused himself and returned moments later with two steaming cups of coffee to ease their tension. They moved quietly toward the station, until suddenly, a long black luxury car screeched slightly, rushing between the parked taxis.
The door opened.
A tall man stepped out—elegantly dressed in a jet-black suit, his posture military-like, his presence authoritative.
It was him.
Mr. Anshuman Singh Rajput.
Behind him, a graceful woman draped in a silk saree walked softly, her steps dignified, eyes moist.
As their eyes met, silence enveloped the moment.
Time froze.
Abhishek stepped forward. The brothers looked at each other—and in that single glance, shared four years of separation, emotion, respect, and pain.
"Finally," Mrs. Rajput whispered with teary joy, "finally, we are reunited... I might go mad with this happiness."
But as they approached, Mr. Rajput stopped moving.
His eyes were fixed on the child.
His daughter.
The little girl he had never touched, never held.
He had never kissed her forehead, never felt her tiny fingers curl around his thumb. He had only heard her voice on the phone once—and that too as 'Uncle.'
Now, after four long years, she was right there.
And he was frozen.
His heart thundered in his chest. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and gently but firmly took Adda into his arms.
Tears rolled down his face, not silently but like a flood.
He held her tightly, cradling her as though the universe might steal her away again. He wept—loudly, freely, with the rawness of a father who had waited four years to feel the heartbeat of his child.
"Stop crying like a child!" Mrs. Rajput whispered urgently. "She'll wake up!"
Mr. Rajput pulled himself together, kissing her temple gently, whispering apologies she couldn't hear.
Together, they walked to the car.
---
Rajput Mansion.
The car pulled in front of a glorious ancestral estate nestled within the embrace of thick woods. The Rajput Mansion stood not in dominance but in harmony with nature. A grand oak tree grew at its center, around which the house had been constructed.
Its tall windows were like shy eyes, its stone walls grounded, as though the house itself had emerged from the earth.
Inside, the mansion held the soul of a bygone era: Anglo-Japanese wallpaper, pressed metal ceilings, Queen Anne style windows, Eastlake carved staircases, and walls filled with portraits and memories.
The hall flowed like a grand river of history—fireplaces adorned with floral tiles, chandeliers reflecting in stained glass, and a staircase that spiraled like a carved cherry blossom.
Mr. Rajput carried Adda up to a specially prepared room—her room.
A Doraemon-themed wonderland, with soft blue walls, a glowing ceiling, and a glass window that opened up to the stars and skyline of Bhubaneswar. The bedsheets were printed with Doraemon characters, and the walls were dotted with glowing star stickers.
The room came alive in the dark.
He laid her gently on the bed and whispered, "Welcome home, my star."
He closed the door softly and returned downstairs.
---
In the drawing room, over warm tea and the calm after reunion, Mr. Rajput turned to Mrs. Abhishnigdha.
"You've done more than we could've ever asked. I want you to go see your parents now. You've been away too long."
She smiled weakly but gave a hesitant glance to Mrs. Rajput, silently asking to stay a few more days.
Mr. Rajput caught the look. He smiled.
"No need to hide it. I know you both love each other."
Abhishek looked stunned.
"Big bro... you knew?"
"What do you think?" Mr. Rajput chuckled. "You thought I wouldn't understand? I raised you like my own son."
He walked toward them and placed a hand on Abhishek's shoulder.
"I approve of your relationship. But on one condition—you both must build your own future. Abhi, start in my company and eventually build your own. Shnigdha, take up your professor post. Once you've both proven yourselves, I'll host the biggest wedding this town has ever seen."
They both nodded with teary eyes.
"And about Adda," he continued. "You must take her to town for schooling. Help her grow. We will eventually bring her back for her higher studies. And whatever happens... never tell her the truth. Not now. Not yet."
"We promise," said Mrs. Abhi, her voice firm. "She's my little sister now. I'll take care of her till she grows wings."
Mr. Rajput clasped both their hands.
"Thank you. You've given me my daughter back."
Abhi replied, "Big bro, you are my family. Forever. Our companies will stand together. We will rise together."
They hugged. A family, mended again.
---
Just then, Mrs. Rajput called from the dining hall.
"Enough emotions. Come eat! Food is ready."
"But Adda hasn't eaten yet," Abhi said.
"Don't worry," said Mr. Rajput with a wink. "Her dad is here now."
---
He took a plate filled with her favorite dishes—rice, paneer, some cakes, and a little bowl of ice cream—and walked back to her room.
He opened the door.
She was awake.
Sitting up. Eyes wide.
"Uncle?" she asked. "Where am I? Is this your home?"
"Yes, princess. Do you like it?" he smiled.
She nodded. "It's just like my room in Srinagar. Who does this room belong to?"
Mr. Rajput crouched beside her.
"It's yours."
"Really?" she whispered.
"Yes, it always has been."
"Do you know," she said innocently, "my daddy also feeds me like this?"
Mr. Rajput smiled. "Who's your daddy, princess?"
"Mr. Abhishek Singh Rajput," she replied confidently.
Mr. Rajput's heart clenched.
She thinks Abhi is her father.
She doesn't know the truth.
Not yet.
He masked his heartbreak, pulled her into his lap, and fed her with trembling hands.
After dinner, he read her a bedtime story.
Then kissed her forehead.
"Goodnight, my star," he whispered.
And walked out into the hall, heart full of joy and sorrow, love and regret—all wrapped in one.
The stars above the Rajput Mansion twinkled brightly.
And for the first time in years—so did his eyes.
---
To be continued...