It was late at night when Arnav entered the house. The silence was deafening. Everyone had gone to sleep. The house wasn’t big—just a simple home built by his grandfather and later renovated by his bade papa. It wasn’t the size, but the memories within these walls that made it special. Memories of laughter, loss, childhood chaos, and sacred bonds.
Without making a sound, Arnav tiptoed to his room—a small space, just the way he liked it. One study table, an attached bathroom, a bed neatly placed in the center, and a wardrobe tucked in the corner. Simple. Elegant.
But the floor was a beautiful mess. Toys lay scattered. Sketchbooks lay open. One sketch caught his attention—Abinav had drawn a picture of them holding hands, with the words “My Dad” scribbled in childlike letters.
A single tear rolled down Arnav’s cheek. The weight of responsibility—one he could never escape, never fulfill entirely, yet never abandon—pressed on his chest.
He stepped closer to the bed where his little world, Abinav, lay fast asleep. The boy’s long curly hair hid most of his forehead. Arnav sat down slowly, brushed the bangs aside, and kissed his son’s forehead—a kiss filled with love, apology, and silent promises.
After freshening up, he made his way to the kitchen for dinner. He knew his badi mamma, Gayathri, would have kept something for him in the fridge. But as he walked in, he noticed the lights were already on.
Standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan, was a tall 6’2” figure—his brother, Arjun. Not just like a chef—he was a chef.
Hearing footsteps, Arjun turned around and smiled.
"Arjun, tum soye kyun nahi?" (Arjun, why haven’t you gone to bed yet?)
"Agar main so jaata, toh aap thanda dinner khate," Arjun replied, still stirring. "Aapko thanda khana pasand nahi hai, isliye maine garam kar diya. Chalo, dinner karte hain."(If I had gone to bed, you would’ve ended up eating cold dinner, Arjun replied while still stirring. You don’t like cold food, right? So I reheated it. Come, let’s eat.)
Arnav raised an eyebrow. “Tumne khana nahi khaya?” ("You haven’t eaten yet?")
"Nahi, aapka wait karraha tha. Company dena chahiyena!" Arjun grinned. ("Nope, I was waiting for you. Someone has to give you company, right?")
Arnav sighed and shook his head with a faint smile. “Main ka detahoon, tum kyu pareshaan hote ho?” ("I keep telling you—why do you stress yourself so much?")
Arjun handed him a plate. "Kyu duniya ka saara bojh sirf app hi uthaaoge, bhaiya? Chup chaap khao, aur mujhe bhi khaane do—bahut bhook lagi hai!"("Why should you carry the weight of the entire world alone, bhaiya? Just eat quietly… and let me eat too—I’m really hungry!")
Arnav chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. Arjun was more than a brother—he was his silent anchor, his unsaid support system. They ate together in companionable silence, occasionally exchanging updates about work, the house, and the chaos that was their family.
Morning arrived wrapped in golden light. Arnav returned from his morning walk and went straight to freshen up. Without waking his little prince still sprawled on the bed like a starfish, he stood before the mirror to get dressed.
There it was. His reflection.
The burn scars stretched from his forehead down the left side of his body—raw, permanent reminders of a past that would never let go. The mirror didn’t lie. It didn’t console. It stared back—mocking, haunting.
He swallowed hard. He had no time to think about scars. His life had no room for vanity. With steady hands, he picked out his usual—full-sleeved shirt to cover the burns… and along with them, his pain, dreams, and vulnerabilities.
“Family before everything,” he repeated to himself. Like a mantra.
His routine never changed—morning walk, prayers, and temple visit. Lord Shiva was his source of strength. He wasn’t sure if Mahadev would shield him from harm—but he knew Mahadev would give him the courage to face it.
A memory surfaced.
Flashback
Four-year-old Arnav had gone to the temple with his bade papa and seven-year-old Anjali. He asked curiously,
“Bade papa, aap roz mandir kyun jaate ho?” (“Bade papa, why do you go to the temple every day?”)
Raghav had smiled, crouching to his level.“Beta, insaan ko roz bhagwaan ko thank you bolna chahiye. Unhone mujhe tum jaise acche bacche diye, toh thank you toh banta haina? Aur waise bhi, humein prarthana karni chahiye—himmat keliye. Har mushkil se ladne aur har din achha banane keliye.” (“Son, one should thank God every day. He gave me such wonderful children like you—so don’t you think a thank you is necessary? And besides, we should always pray—for strength. Strength to fight through every difficulty and to make each day a better one.”)
Arnav had asked, wide-eyed, “Agar hum pray karein, toh God humein protect karega?” (“If we pray, will God protect us?”)
Raghav chuckled at the innocence.
“Protect zarur karega, beta. Par yeh nahi keh sakte ki mushkilein nahia ayengi. Main sirf itna keh sakta hoon—Mahadev se chahe jitnibhi mushkilein aayen, woh humein ladne ki taakat zarur denge.” (“He will definitely protect us, beta. But that doesn’t mean troubles won’t come. All I can say is—no matter how many problems come your way, Mahadev will surely give you the strength to face them.”)
The car halted. Arnav stepped out, entered the temple, and folded his hands. Amid the chants and incense smoke, he noticed a woman with dusky skin praying with quiet devotion. He didn’t usually notice people—but something about her made him pause.
But reality hit fast.
Girls like handsome men… not men with scars, burdens, and a family of eight to care for. Marrying me means inheriting chaos—and a child who isn’t even theirs. His thoughts were bitter, but honest.
He closed his eyes and whispered, “Bas taakat dena, Mahadev. Har mushkil se ladne ki taakat.”("Just give me strength, Mahadev. The strength to face every challenge.")
It was 7 a.m. when he returned. From the house temple, morning aarti echoed. He didn’t need to ask—it was badi mamma, Gayathri Oberio. The soul of the household.
She was kindness in human form—gentle, selfless, the only one who never demanded anything from the family.
She walked toward him with the aarti plate. Arnav took her blessings and gave his usual smile—soft, polite… hollow.
She noticed.
“Tum phir se late aaye ho. Health ka kya, Arnav? Kab apni sehat ki parwah karoge? Zindagi mein paisa chahiye, lekin paisa sab kuch nahi hota. Tum achha kamaa teho, Arjun bhi decent kamaata hai, main bhi jo ho sake karti hoon. Toh problem kyahai?” (“You’ve come home late again. What about your health, Arnav? When will you start taking care of yourself? Yes, we need money in life—but money isn’t everything. You earn well, Arjun also earns decently, and I do whatever I can too. So what’s the problem?”)Her tone was soft, but firm.
Arnav gave a reassuring smile. “Badi mama, aap kaam ka tension le rahi ho. Aisa kuch nahi hai. Ek hafte mein project finalize hoja ayega, phir main rest bhi le lunga. Ab tension chhodiye… aur bataiye, nashtay mein kya bana hai?” (“Badi mamma, you’re stressing too much about work. There’s nothing to worry about. The project will be finalized in a week, and after that, I’ll take some rest too. Now stop worrying… and tell me—what’s for breakfast?”)
Gayathri smiled finally.“Tumhara favourite—aloo paratha. Ja, apni bandar sena ko ready kar aur sabko breakfast ke liye laa. Tumhare bina sab bigadgaye hain.” (“Your favorite—aloo paratha. Now go get your little monkey gang ready and bring everyone down for breakfast. Without you, they’ve gone completely wild.”)
Arnav walked to the twins’ room. Aarav was all dressed, packing his bag and—like a responsible elder twin—also packing for his chaotic brother.
But Aarush was missing. Arnav stood in the doorway, watching with a smirk.
Aarav spotted him and ran over like a monkey. “Bhaiyaaa!” he squealed, hugging him tightly. Arnav nearly lost balance. “I missed you bhaiya!”
“I missed you too, bacha. “Waise kahaan hai tumhara woh twin?”
Aarav:“Aap pucho mat bhai! Subah se pareshaan karke rakha hai.”
Just then, a loud thump and a yell came from the bathroom.
“Aarav! Mera bhai! Please towel dena!
Aarav (rolling his eyes):“Kitni baar kaha—sab kuch lekejaaya karo, par towel toh hamesha bhool jaate ho!”phir “Aarav yeh, Aarav woh, hamesha drama karthiyo!” ("How many times have I told you—take everything with you, but you always forget the towel! Aarav this, Aarav that—you’re always creating drama!")
Arnav laughed. “Acha, ab fight mat karo. Ready hokar neeche aao—and bring that bandar too!”
“Thikhai bhaiya, par aap jake humare chhote prince ko uthaiye. Aaja apki duty hai. Main ek hafta jhel chuka hoon. Bohot drama karta hai jab aap nahi hote.”
Arnav shook his head and ruffled Aarav’s hair. “Theek hai, jaa.” (“Alright now, stop fighting. Get ready and come downstairs—and bring that little monkey too!” Aarav grinned and replied: “Okay bhaiya, but you go wake up our little prince. It’s your turn today. I’ve handled him for a whole week. He throws a lot of drama when you’re not around. ”Arnav shook his head and ruffled Aarav’s hair. “Alright, go on.”)
He walked into his room to find Abinav lying spread out like a tiny starfish—peaceful, adorable.
He gently tried waking him. Abinav, assuming it was Aarav, batted his hand away.
“Abi… uth meri jaan. Dekh, papa aaya hai.” (“Abi… wake up, my love. Look, papa is here.”)
At the word papa, Abinav’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up instantly and hugged Arnav tightly—making sure it wasn’t a dream.
Arnav’s heart melted. This smile—this hug—it was worth every late night.
“Ready for school?” he whispered.
Abinav just nodded with a smile.
No words. As usual.
But the smile said it all.
At 8 a.m., everyone was seated around the dining table. The warm scent of ghee-soaked aloo parathas wafted through the Oberio home. In the kitchen, Gayathri gently folded fresh parathas into a hot case, while soft temple bells echoed faintly in the background. The dining table was being set, sunlight streaming in through the windows, casting a golden glow.
Down the hallway, two not-so-quiet footsteps approached—the unmistakable chaos of the Oberio twins.
Aarush was bouncing beside Aarav, practically bursting with curiosity.
“Bata na Aarav! Kya surprise hai? Tu subah se ‘wait kar’ ‘wait kar’ bolraha hai. Ab aur nahi hota mujhse!”(Tell me, Aarav! What’s the surprise? You’ve been saying ‘wait’ since morning. I can’t take it anymore!)
Aarav grinned mischievously, walking ahead with his hands behind his back like a secret agent.
“Nai. Khud dekh lo. Bas thoda aur chalo… surprise wahi milne wala hai.”
(Nope. See it yourself. Just a few more steps... you’ll find the surprise right there.)
But before Aarav could tease him further, they turned the corner into the dining hall.
And then, Aarush froze.
Sitting at the dining table—calmly buttering a paratha and sipping chai—was none other than Arnav bhaiya.
Their Arnav bhaiya. Their constant… who had lately felt like a rare guest.
Aarush’s mouth dropped open. His eyes widened. The words tumbled out louder than intended:
“Bhaiyaaa! Aap… aap kab aaye?! We missed you so much!”(Bhaiya! When… when did you come?! We missed you so much!)
His face lit up like Diwali morning.
Aarush’s joy exploded into motion. He darted across the room and hugged Arnav tightly, his arms wrapping around him like a little koala.
“Aapko dining table pe dekh kar toh sach mein festival jaisa lag raha hai!”
(Seeing you at the breakfast table feels like a festival!)
Arnav chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around Aarush in a warm embrace.
“Aap dono ne toh mujhe celebrity bana diya hai!”(You two have made me feel like a celebrity!)
Gayathri looked on from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her saree pallu, her eyes soft with affection.
Aarush said seriously. “Promise karo, ab roz breakfast karoge humare saath.”(Promise you'll eat breakfast with us every day from now on.)
Arnav smiled, pulling both twins close.“Pakka promise. No more cold breakfasts or late-night returns. Just warm parathas, hot chai, and my monkey gang right next to me.”
They all burst into laughter.
At the head sat Kaveri Oberio, silently observing the family she once feared would fall apart.
She knew it now—what held this house together wasn’t tradition or wealth.
It was Arnav. His quiet resilience. His unwavering love.
The weight of legacy didn’t break him.
It made him the man who carried everyone else through.
In a house built on legacy, it wasn’t blood or wealth that held them together—
It was love that never asked for recognition, and strength that never needed applause.
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