Rajat scoffed, mock-offended. “And what about all the gifts I give you throughout the year? On almost every occasion?”
Avni grinned. “That’s your duty, darling.”
Laughter followed, and Mishti chuckled along with them, resting her head against her brother’s shoulder as she watched. Even Daksh had barely left her side since they reconciled, and on days like this, he seemed even more attentive. If she paused, he paused. If she turned, looking even slightly tired, he was already there, passing her a glass of water, adjusting a chair, stepping in quietly before she had to ask.
Mishti hugged him tightly now, soaking in that brotherly warmth. Daksh rested a hand briefly on her head, pulling her closer, his gaze shifting back to Avni as she completed the rituals.
Then it was Mishti’s turn to tie the rakhi on Daksh’s wrist.
He grew visibly emotional as she fastened the simple thread. He could never stop thinking about how close he had come to losing all of this…how he had almost let their childhood slip by without giving Mishti the place she had always deserved in hislife. And now, standing here, he was deeply grateful that fate had still given him these moments…with the same sister he had once failed, and loved fiercely ever since.
Rajat stood beside them, absently admiring the rakhi already tied on his hand by Kanika that morning. He had gone to visit her before coming here. Kanika, now happily married to Rohit, one of their clients, had settled into her new life three years ago. No kids yet, but she was content, thriving, and finally at peace.
Gifts were exchanged next, laughter filling the room as boxes and blessings were passed around. Then, with excited claps and playful nudges, the adults pulled the kids in for their turn.
Arin proudly climbed onto the sofa, sitting straight, chest slightly puffed, already aware that this moment was his. He loved this day to the core when all his sisters made him feel so special, although he was still too young to understand the significance of it.
Pari came first. Carefully, she tied the rakhi around Arin’s wrist, her tongue peeking out slightly in concentration. When he handed her the gift, passed to him by Mishti, she kissed his cheek. Arin beamed.
Next came Anaya and Nysa, both too little to fully understand the ritual. With Avni and Komal guiding their hands patiently, the girls tied their rakhis too, giggling when the threads slipped or tangled.
By the end, Arin’s arms were adorned with rakhis of every kind. Some were bright and glittery, some simple with tiny beads, one with a cartoon charm, another with a soft pastel thread, and he wore them proudly.
Gifts were handed back to the girls, one by one. Arin was too serious about that responsibility, as if this too was part of his duty as the only brother.
Then came the photo session.
Arin sat with all his sisters, completely at ease in front of the camera. He was a natural poser, just like his father. Karan and Mishti exchanged a proud glance as they watched him handle the chaos effortlessly, even as the girls jostled and argued over who would sit closest to him.
The photographer clapped his hands, trying to gather everyone’s attention.
“Alright, everyone together now. Kids, are you ready?”
That was easier said than done.
“No, I’m sitting here,” Anaya declared, already climbing onto the sofa.
“You always sit there,” Nysa protested, tugging at Arin’s sleeve.
Arin sighed dramatically. “Nysa, you sit to my left. And come closer, you two. Give Pari didi space.”
Rajat laughed. “Look at him. Already running the house.”
“He’s like Bhai. Knows everything,” Abhimanyu muttered, lifting Nysa and making her sit comfortably next to Arin.
Komal leaned in, adjusting Anaya on the couch. “Stick together, kids. If anyone falls, I’m not responsible.”
Pari wrapped her arms around Arin from behind, nearly tipping him forward.
“Pari!” Divya warned.
“I’m hugging him,” she defended. “That’s allowed.”
Mishti laughed softly, her hand reaching out instinctively to steady all of them, while Karan watched them all with a smile, wondering how his son was turning out to be a perfectionist like him.
“Cheese!” the photographer called.
“No, wait—Arin, smile properly,” Avni said.
