Karan frowned, glancing between them.
Rajat looked equally confused and turned toward Avni. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?” he asked suspiciously. “To make us three match our outfits?”
Avni, Mishti, and Komal burst into laughter.
“Not three,” Komal said cheerfully. “The fourth one is also wearing the same.”
Karan rolled his eyes just as Daksh and Divya entered with Pari.
Pari immediately ran toward her siblings, excited and chatty, while Daksh stopped short, staring at the sight of all the men dressed exactly like him.
Horrified.
Karan caught his expression and nodded sympathetically. “Welcome to the party,” he said dryly.
Daksh sighed, then turned to Mishti. “Whose stupid idea was this?”
Mishti, Komal, Avni, and Divya replied together, “Ours.”
“Come on,” Mishti added, smiling innocently, “what’s so wrong about it? It’s Raksha Bandhan. We wanted all the brothers to wear the same outfits.”
Rajat shook his head. “Fine. But at least you could’ve warned us.”
Avni grinned. “Then how would we get to see such wonderful expressions on our husbands’ faces?”
Abhimanyu chuckled and turned toward the men. “High time we plan something better for them next time. They’re always one step ahead of us.”
Komal laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to match us.”
“Ever,” Avni added.
Laughter filled the room as everyone finally settled in.
*****************
A few minutes later
Daksh entered the kitchen looking for Mishti, who was checking all the arrangements. The house was already buzzing outside, but here she was, standing near the counter, carefully arranging sweets on a tray and tasting the kheer herself, even though the staff hovered nearby, ready to step in.
He shook his head, mock-disapproving, unable to help the small smile tugging at his lips.
“You know what your problem is, Mishti?” he said, angrily. “You still don’t sit down for five minutes. Running aftereveryone like this house won’t survive without you. Just stop doing that now.”
Before Mishti could even respond, a small voice cut in, clearly offended.
“Don’t scold my mom.”
Both Daksh and Mishti paused.
Arin had stepped forward, tiny fists clenched at his sides, standing squarely between Daksh and Mishti. His chin was lifted, his eyes narrowed just a little, too serious for a five-year-old.
Daksh blinked. “Excuse me?”
Mishti immediately knelt beside Arin, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.
“Arin,” she said softly, smiling. “Your Daksh uncle is not scolding me. He’s only saying that he doesn’t want your mom to work so hard.”
Arin looked up at her, studying her face for a second, then a slow grin spread across his face.
