Author'S pov

Mumbai,

Ranawat Palace

The next morning, chaos began as usual in the palace gym-bickering, teasing, and laughter echoing off the walls. A few scoldings here and there soon drove the entire clan to the dining table, now filled with the aroma of freshly cooked dishes.

Everything was going smoothly until Viraj ji cleared his throat. The sound was enough to silence the entire hall.

With his stern face shadowed by decades of authority, he looked directly at his elder son. The weight of his intense gaze made Ranveer gulp hard, though he tried not to show it.

Viraj ji: "Are you going to find my gudiya (little doll) in this lifetime, or should I take another one for that? Aur yeh jo tumhare detective aur police wale hain, unka kya? Ek ladki-iss rajya ki rajkumari-nahi dhoond pa rahe?"

("Are you going to find my little doll in this lifetime, or should I take another one for that? And what are your detectives and police officers even doing? They can't find one girl-the princess of this kingdom?")

His voice rose, stern and sharp, making everyone at the table shiver inwardly.

Ranveer lowered his eyes, answering quietly yet firmly:

"We are trying our best, Papa. Everyone has been working on this for the past three years. It's like she never even existed. Whoever took her planned everything with such precision. But... we will find her. Soon."

His voice held determination, but deep down, his heart cracked under the weight of longing. The emptiness of losing his daughter was a wound that refused to heal.

The tense silence broke when Dev's phone rang. He quickly glanced at the screen, then picked up.

Dev: "Boliye, Officer Sharma."

("Go ahead, Officer Sharma.")

Sharma ji's voice came alive on the other end, serious yet hopeful:

"Humkum-sa, hume kuch clues mile hain choti rajkumari ke baare mein."

("Your Highness, we have found some clues regarding the young princess.")

Dev's eyes widened in surprise, though his voice stayed composed:

"Okay. Come to the mansion."

He ended the call and turned to the family, informing them of the update.

Prithviraj whispered to himself, almost like a prayer:

"Woh aayegi. Aaj nahi toh kal, agar kal nahi toh parso. Par aayegi zarur. Ye unka aana likha hai. Chahe kuch bhi ho, meri jaana zarur aayegi."

("She will return. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then the day after. But she will definitely return. Her return is destined. No matter what, my beloved will come back.")

Shivay's voice rang clear and confident:

"Woh Ranawat hai, Baba. Woh zaroor wapas aayegi. Aur wapas wahi aayegi, jahan uska asli ghar hai."

("She is a Ranawat, Baba. She will definitely return. And she will return to the place that is truly her home.")

Diya, softly but with folded hands:

"Bas... Bhagwan kare iss baar tum sab sahi sabit ho."

("I just hope, this time, you all are proven right.")

After that, breakfast resumed-but the heaviness lingered.

Vacation Chaos

Trying to lighten the mood, the youngsters shifted the topic.

Atharv looked up with puppy eyes:

"Maa-Baba, hum Italy ja rahe hain na is vacation pe?"

("Mom-Dad, we're going to Italy this vacation, right?")

Preeti smiled cheerfully, her tone casual but deliberate:

"Main soch rahi thi... kyun na hum sab Kashi chalein? Bahut time ho gaya saath mein kahin jaaye hue. Bacchon ke vacations bhi shuru ho gaye hain."

("I was thinking... why don't we all go to Kashi? It's been so long since we traveled together. And the kids' vacations have started too.")

The elders nodded thoughtfully. The youngsters, however?

The world exploded.

Aarohi shrieked mid-bite:

"WHAAAT?! Badi maa! Aap serious ho?! Mera UK London trip? Mera Italy-Rome itinerary? Mera pura aesthetic barbaad ho gaya!"

("WHAT?! Auntie! Are you serious?! My UK-London trip? My Italy-Rome itinerary? My entire aesthetic is ruined!")

Atharv clutched Preeti's legs dramatically:

"Bas karo! Bhagwan ke liye mujhe Goa bhejo ya Italy... lekin Kashi nahi!"

("Stop it! For God's sake, send me to Goa or Italy... but not Kashi!")

Eklavya banged the table:

"Mujhe yeh dharmik drama nahi chahiye, Badi Maa! Aap hamesha yeh karti ho! Pehle Europe trip kharaab kiya, ab yeh!"

("I don't want this spiritual drama, Aunt! You always do this! First you ruined my Europe trip, now this!")

Adarsh leaned to Abhimanyu, whispering with a grin:

"Kashi mein hum apni moksha yatra pe ja rahe hain... before our actual trip dies."

("We're going on a salvation journey in Kashi... before our actual trip dies.")

And so the chaos continued, until Preeti slammed her final verdict:

"Enough! Ek hafte ke liye Kashi jaa rahe hain-sab. Uske baad Italy. Jo rona hai, plane ke bathroom mein jaake rona."

("Enough! We're going to Kashi for one week-all of us. After that, Italy. If you want to cry, do it in the airplane bathroom.")

The kids groaned, yelled, plotted hashtags and pranks, but the decision was made.

And just like that... the countdown began.

Night - Ranveer's Study

The house was asleep, but Ranveer's study glowed with the faint light of his laptop. Papers scattered, files open, his mind restless.

Preeti entered quietly with two mugs of coffee. She placed one gently on his table and sat opposite him. Ranveer looked up-and froze.

Her face was distant, lost in her own thoughts.

"Kya hua, Preeti?"

("What happened, Preeti?")

Her eyes shimmered, tears threatening to spill. Ranveer stood immediately, coming to her side, kneeling down so he could look up at her face.

Preeti clutched his hand tightly. And then... the dam broke.

"Dar... dar sa lag raha hai, Veer ji. Kahi... kahi kuch ho na jaye." Her voice trembled, broken with sobs. "Jab Laddo... chali gayi thi... tab bhi yahi laga tha. Aur ab... subah se jo ho raha hai, sab shubh lag raha hai, par... dil ghabra raha hai..."

("I feel... scared, Veer ji. What if... what if something happens? When Laddo was taken away... I felt the same. And today, since morning everything seems so auspicious, yet... my heart feels restless...")

Her words broke into sobs, her tears flowing freely.

Ranveer didn't interrupt, didn't try to stop her. He just wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could, letting her cry her heart out against his chest.

And in that moment-there were no Ranawat riches, no palace, no power. Just two parents... aching for the daughter who was their world.

Ranawat Private Jet, En Route to Kashi

The Ranawat private jet sliced through the clouds like a silent beast. Sleek black with golden outlines around the windows, it shimmered mid-air—a flying fortress that screamed both power and elegance. Inside, it was no less than a floating palace: velvet recliners, mahogany panels, crystal glasses clinking as the family settled into their own worlds.

Aditya wasn’t on board—he was flying in separately and would join them in Kashi. For now, the rest of the Ranawats occupied the jet like a clan ready for war.

Some worked on laptops, brows furrowed in concentration. Others leaned back, scrolling on phones or whispering mischief-filled plans. The elders sat with quiet composure, though even their silence carried an authority that filled the air.

The flight lasted two and a half hours. By the time wheels touched down, the golden sun was already being swallowed by dark clouds.

Arrival – Banaras, Kashi

The first step into Kashi felt like stepping into another world.

The air itself carried a weight—calm, ancient, and heavy with stories whispered by the Ganga for centuries. The breeze swept across the tarmac, cool and damp, making them inhale sharply. Each Ranawat glanced at the other, as if silently acknowledging what they all felt: this city was alive.

The ground staff kept their distance, eyes dropping automatically at the sight of the family. The Ranawats weren’t just royalty; their presence demanded reverence.

And then came the convoy.

A line of black-and-white Land Rovers gleamed under the airport floodlights, waiting like soldiers at attention. Behind them, SUVs filled with security guards stood in formation, engines purring, headlights glowing like watchful eyes.

The elders were ushered into the first two cars— Their aura alone made the air taut.

The younger generation, buzzing with suppressed energy, claimed the next two cars. Their laughter, half-mocking, half-excited, bounced inside the armored interiors.

The convoy rolled forward, tires biting the runway, engines echoing like thunder. Through tinted windows, the city revealed itself—narrow lanes opening into ghats, temples standing against time, chants and bells floating with the wind. Kashi was both chaos and calm, holy and haunting.

But for the Ranawats, this wasn’t a pilgrimage.

This was a battlefield.

Some wars are fought with swords. Some with silence. But this one—this had begun years ago, untold, buried beneath rituals and secrets. And now, destiny had brought them here to continue what was once left unfinished.

Meanwhile

Same Time – A Different Plane

Not far from where the Ranawat convoy thundered out of the airport, another plane had just touched down.

It wasn’t a private jet, not a flying fortress lined with gold. It was an ordinary commercial aircraft—business class filled with weary travelers, attendants wheeling carts, and soft announcements echoing in the cabin.

Among them sat Naintara.

Her seat by the window, her posture straight yet tired. She wore no jewelry that screamed royalty, no aura of command like the Ranawats carried—yet there was something in her stillness, something that pulled eyes to her.

Her eyes were closed, lashes resting lightly against pale skin, as if she were guarding herself from the world. One hand rested over her lap, the other holding the armrest unconsciously tight.

The hum of the engines, the soft chatter of co-passengers—all blurred into background noise. Inside her, there was only silence.

And in that silence, her heart drummed strangely fast.

She inhaled. The moment the air of Kashi seeped in through the vent, something inside her shifted. It was foreign, and yet—familiar.

The plane rolled on the runway, wheels screeching against the asphalt, and for a flicker of a second, her brows furrowed. She didn’t know why. She didn’t know what awaited.

But her soul did.

For somewhere, at that exact same time, a convoy of black-and-golden cars roared through the city, carrying the very bloodline she was tied to by fate.

Naintara’s lips parted slightly, a whisper she didn’t even realize slipped out:

"Kaisa lag raha hai… jaise yeh shahar mujhe bula raha ho."

(“It feels… as if this city is calling me.”)

She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t need to.

Because sometimes… destiny walks closer when you’re not looking.

End of author's Pov.

NAINTARA'S POV

After a long freaking 10 hours flight, I finally landed in India. The country still felt familiar, but there was this strange, nagging pull inside me I couldn’t shake.

It was 5:30 in the evening now. I was still sitting in the cab, lost in thoughts.

My parents died in an “accident”—that’s what the world thinks. The dark truth is only known to my family. And when the traitor is your own blood, you can’t even do anything until you have that damn proof.

I was in a full black sweatshirt and track trousers, a white cap pulled low, hair braided back.

As soon as I stepped outside the airport, I saw them. Three figures in black, leaning like they owned the place, next to a sleek black BMW 4 coupe. People around were openly gawking—couldn’t really blame them.

Inayat Malik — stood there with her stoic face, like a perfect statue. That’s her bloodline written all over.

Aadhira Raichand — the same grace, the same smirk that basically said, “Finally here, darling.”

Ruhanika Roy — casually sitting on the bonnet, looking dead bored, like, “We’ve been waiting for hours, what took you so long?”

We’re anchors. We live in different countries, different time zones, different routines. Still, our bond? Something I can’t explain. We stand for each other like invisible shadows. Hidden masks. No one knows about it, and no one will—not until we want them to.

We share the same stories, just in different versions. Situations change, but the connection doesn’t.

So yeah, let me introduce us properly.

We’re nothing but devils. Faces too innocent to believe, and minds sharper than you can imagine.

Mein, Naintara Shergill. Jo bhi karna ho, karti hoon. Time waste karne ka option mere system mein hai hi nahi. Studies mein top kiya hai, kyunki Mahadev bina mehnat ke kuch dete hi nahi. Problems free milti hain, vardaan limited edition.

(“I’m Naintara Shergill. I do whatever I need to. Wasting time isn’t in my system. I topped my studies, because Mahadev never gives anything without hard work. Problems come free, blessings are limited edition.”)

Inayat Malik. Ye shant jitni dikh rahi hai, andar utni hi aag hai. Log insaan samajhte hain, par kabhi kabhi sanki janwar ban jaati hai. Aur haan… kabhi kabhi bakwaas bhi kar leti hai. Warna zinda laash hi samjho.

(“Inayat Malik. As calm as she looks, inside she’s fire. People think she’s human, but sometimes she turns into a mad animal. And yeah… sometimes she talks nonsense. Otherwise, treat her like a living corpse.”)

Aadhira Raichand. Isko underestimate mat karna. Mood kharab ho toh galiyon ke siwa kuch nahi bolti. Kaan se khoon nikal aaye par rukti nahi. Hum sab ke liye kabhi maa, kabhi bhai, kabhi baap ban jaati hai.

(“Aadhira Raichand. Don’t underestimate her. If her mood’s bad, she speaks nothing but curses. Even if your ears bleed, she won’t stop. For us, sometimes she’s a mother, sometimes a brother, sometimes a father.”)

Ruhanika Roy. Yeh humari so-called maa type hai. Bina full ready hue kahin nahi jaati. Social butterfly number one. Jo ladka pasand ho, usse flirt karegi, phir maar ke wapas bhi aa jaati hai. Pure split personality. Kab kya kare, khud usse bhi nahi pata hota.

(“Ruhanika Roy. She’s our so-called mother figure. Won’t go anywhere without being fully dressed up. Number one social butterfly. If she likes a guy, she’ll flirt, then beat him up and come back like nothing happened. Total split personality. Even she doesn’t know what she’ll do next.”)

So yeah. That’s us.

Sweet faces, sharp devils.

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Author’s Ending Note

That’s all for today’s chapter. ✨

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