The house felt quieter than it ever had before.
Even with Maya moving softly around the living room and the faint sound of cars passing outside, the silence inside my chest refused to fade.
I sat on the edge of my bed, my suitcase half-packed beside me. My fingers absentmindedly traced the silver pendant I had placed inside earlier.
Something about it still felt strange.
But now I had no time to dwell on that. Bhai had said I needed to pack every important thing because we were moving to India—not only for my pappa's last rites, but permanently.
Arnav bhai had already called my principal and explained the situation so that my absence would be understood. At least I didn't have to worry about my studies for now.
I didn't even realize how much time had passed while packing. I moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing things into the suitcase while my mind drifted toward memories of my father.
I didn't even notice when my tears began to fall freely, sliding silently from my eyes down my cheeks.
But before I could think about it any longer—or cry further—the sound of a car pulling into the driveway reached my ears.
My heart skipped.
Arnav.
I stood up too quickly, my legs almost giving out beneath me as I hurried toward the front door.
Maya had already opened it.
And there he was.
Arnav stood at the entrance, a travel bag slung over his shoulder, his hair slightly messy and his eyes red with exhaustion. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.
For a moment, we simply stared at each other.
Then something inside me broke.
"Bhai…"
My voice cracked as I rushed forward.
He dropped his bag immediately and pulled me into his arms.
The moment he held me, all the strength I had been pretending to have vanished.
I buried my face in his chest as tears finally spilled freely down my cheeks.
He held me tightly, one hand gently resting on the back of my head the way he used to when I was little.
"I'm here, Aru," he murmured softly. "I'm here."
For the first time since the phone call that morning, the unbearable weight in my chest loosened slightly.
Because my brother was here.
And somehow, that made the world feel a little less empty.
After a while, Maya quietly excused herself to give us space.
Arnav eventually pulled back, studying my face carefully.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" he asked.
I shook my head weakly.
"Neither did you," I replied.
A faint, tired smile appeared on his face.
"Fair enough."
He glanced around the house slowly.
"So this is where you've been hiding from me all these years."
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me.
"Someone had to study while you were busy being a troublemaker."
"Hey," he protested lightly. "I'm a very responsible adult now."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."
For a brief moment, the familiar teasing between us softened the heavy atmosphere.
But the reality of why he was here soon returned.
Arnav's expression grew serious.
"We should finish packing," he said gently. "Our flight leaves in a few hours."
My stomach tightened.
India.
Home.
Or at least… the place that was supposed to be home.
A couple of hours later, my suitcase was finally closed.
I stood at the doorway of the house, staring at the living room one last time.
The couch where pappa used to sit during his rare visits.
The small dining table where we shared late-night tea while talking about random things.
Everything looked the same.
And yet everything felt like it belonged to another lifetime.
Arnav placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Ready?" he asked quietly.
I took a slow breath.
Then nodded.
"Yeah."
But as we walked toward the car, something inside me whispered that nothing would ever be the same again.
The airport was crowded and loud, a complete contrast to the emptiness I felt inside.
Announcements echoed through the halls.
People rushed past with luggage.
Children laughed somewhere nearby.
Life continued normally for everyone else.
For me, it felt as if time had stopped.
Arnav and I sat beside each other while waiting for our flight.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then finally, I turned toward him.
"Bhai…"
He looked at me.
"You said earlier… we have family in India."
His expression shifted slightly.
I could tell he had been expecting this question.
"Yes," he replied slowly.
I frowned.
"Then why didn't we ever meet them?"
Arnav leaned back in his chair, running a tired hand through his hair.
"It's complicated," he admitted.
I crossed my arms.
"That's not an answer."
He sighed.
"Years ago, pappa had a serious disagreement with the family. Something happened… something that made him decide to leave India completely."
"And he never told us?"
"No."
"Why?"
Arnav hesitated.
"I think he wanted to protect us," he finally said. "He didn't want us to grow up surrounded by family conflicts, royal rivalry, and business politics."
I blinked in surprise.
"Business politics… royal rivalry?"
Arnav gave a small nod.
"Aru… our family in India isn't exactly ordinary."
"What do you mean?"
"They're… an influential royal family," he said carefully. "Our grandfather built a massive business empire. Our family is pretty well known there."
I stared at him.
"So you're telling me we have this huge family… and we are royals in India… and pappa never thought to mention it?"
"He didn't want that life for us," Arnav said quietly.
Before I could ask anything else, the boarding announcement for our flight echoed through the airport.
Arnav stood up.
"Come on," he said gently. "We'll talk more on the plane."
The flight felt endless.
I spent most of it staring out the window at the dark sky, my mind drifting between memories of pappa and the uncertain future waiting for us.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep.
Because suddenly, I was standing somewhere else.
A massive castle rose before me, its tall towers reaching toward a stormy sky.
Flames surrounded the walls.
People were screaming.
And somewhere in the distance…
someone was calling my name.
"Aaradhya…"
I woke up with a sharp breath.
My heart was racing.
Arnav glanced at me with concern.
"Bad dream?"
I nodded slowly.
"Yeah…"
But the strange feeling in my chest refused to disappear.
Then I remembered our conversation at the airport.
"Bhai," I said quietly. "You were going to tell me about our family."
Bhai chuckled softly.
"You really haven't changed. You're still the same Aru who never stops until she gets her answers."
I simply shrugged my shoulders while giving him a faint smile.
That was definitely me.
After that, he began telling me about our family.
"Aru, we have grandparents, an uncle, an aunt, and cousins. Your cousins are almost your age—they're twins."
"Our grandfather's name is Vilas Ranvijay Rawat."
"Wait a minute, Bhai," I interrupted. "What do you mean Rawat? Aren't we Sharmas?"
"That's the point Aru, he said seriously". "I don't know how you'll react, but it might sound absurd."
"Actually, we are Rawats. But because of business politics and royal rivalry, our father hide our identities, and his own and lived as a commoner."
This time, I didn't interrupt him. I let him continue.
"Our grandmother's name is Anshika Vilas Rawat."
"Our younger uncle is Veerendra Vilas Rawat, and his wife, means our aunt is Vinita Veerendra Rawat."
"They have twins. One boy and one girl. Kiran is four minutes older than Kiara."
"But they're the same age as you, so you'll probably be in the same school or class."
After that, our conversation stopped as the plane finally landed in India.
The warm air hit my face the moment we stepped outside the airport.
Everything felt unfamiliar.
The sounds.
The language.
The crowd of people moving in every direction.
A long black car was waiting for us near the entrance.
A tall driver stepped forward respectfully.
"Mr. Arnav Sharma," he said with a small bow. "Your grandfather sent me to bring you home."
The word home felt strange.
Arnav simply nodded and opened the car door for me.
The drive lasted nearly an hour.
Eventually, the city buildings faded behind us, replaced by a massive iron gate.
Beyond it stood a huge Palace.
Lights glowed softly through the tall windows.
Several cars were parked outside.
People dressed in white gathered near the entrance.
My chest tightened immediately.
The funeral.
We stepped out of the car.
Conversations slowly quieted as people noticed our arrival.
Dozens of unfamiliar faces looked at us.
Some curious.
Some emotional.
Some whispering quietly.
I suddenly felt like an outsider in a place I was supposed to belong.
Arnav gently squeezed my hand.
"It's okay," he murmured.
An elderly man slowly walked toward us.
His posture was straight despite his age, and his sharp eyes studied us carefully.
When his gaze landed on me, something in his expression softened.
"You must be Aaradhya," he said.
I nodded slowly.
He stepped closer and placed a trembling hand on my head.
"You look just like your father."
My throat tightened instantly.
"I'm your grandfather," he continued quietly. "Vilas Rawat."
The words felt heavy.
Grandfather.
A family member I had never met until today.
And yet here he was,
standing before me during the worst moment of my life.
That night, we sat beside my father's body, waiting for sunrise so his last rites could begin.
After sunset, the rituals cannot be performed, so we waited through the long night.
When the sun finally began to rise, people started coming to offer their condolences.
Some were crying.
Some looked at me and my brother with pity in their eyes.
But my reaction?
I felt empty.
I didn't even have enough tears left to cry.
I was shocked.
Broken beyond repair.
He was my comfort zone.
Whenever something happened—good or bad—the first person I shared my happiness or grief with was always him.
So whom should I go to now?
When I'm sad, where will I cry?
When I'm happy, with whom will I share it?
Where can I seek the fatherly love I just lost?
I didn't even know how my father had died.
"All I knew was that he had died in a car accident while going to work, and the driver who hit him ran away. We can't even find him or get justice for my father."
I sat beside him as he lay there, motionless.
My aunt tried to comfort me, telling me to let my emotions out so I wouldn't remain in shock.
After some time, when the elders began to lift my father's arthi, I came back to my senses.
His hand slipped from mine.
Panic surged through me.
I stood up frantically and grabbed him tightly.
"No! You can't take him! He can't leave me like this!"
After some crying and pleading, they placed him down again to give me a little more time.
I kept blabbering endlessly, like a person who had lost all sense.
Finally, when the time came again, my uncle, grandfather, Arnav bhai, and my cousin Kiran lifted him.
I cried hysterically and tried to run after them.
My aunt tried to stop me.
But my grandmother spoke firmly.
"She is going with them."
My aunt hesitated.
"But Maa… you know women's don't go to the smashan bhumi."
Grandmother looked at her calmly.
"Who said women cannot go there, Vinita?"
"That is only people's mindset."
"Women can go. Technically, the tradition existed because dead bodies carry germs. Men cut their hair afterward for cleanliness, while women traditionally had long hair, so they were discouraged."
"But that doesn't mean women cannot go."
"We are Royals. Our thinking cannot remain ancient and narrow. Yes, we must preserve our culture, tradition, but we must not let outdated rules suppress a woman's freedom."
Even in that painful moment, I was awestruck hearing her words.
Then she turned to me.
"Aaradhya, go with your brother. Your father's last wish was that you perform his last rites with him."
Hearing this, I ran toward my brother.
When we arrived at the smashan bhumi, the rituals began.
My brother looked at me and said softly,
"You should perform them. It was father's wish."
With the guidance of the priest, I began performing the rituals.
The funeral rites began.
And the flames slowly rose into the dark sky.
At that moment, I realized something.
My father had left this world.
But in losing him…
I had stepped into an entirely new one.
A world where the same blood ran through a family I barely knew.
Faces I had never seen.
Yet these people who were now my only home.
To Be Continued....