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Devrai Mansion, BengaluruÂ
The Devrai Mansion rose from the grounds with the quiet certainty of something that had always belonged there.
Tucked beyond the high walls of Bengaluru city, the estate was a blend of old heritage and new money: red Mangalore tiles, brass railings polished to a fault, and manicured lawns that never remembered what dust looked like.
When the convoy finally rolled into the driveway, twilight was still deciding whether to become night. Two black SUVs followed Nikhil's car silently, security stepping out before the engines fully stilled.
News of his return had already reached the house.
Inside, the halls were dimly lit, staff moving with rehearsed elegance.
Raghavendra Devrai waited in the library — the one room no one entered without purpose. The curtains were drawn, the chandelier dimmed, his reading glasses folded neatly on the armrest of the leather chair.
For a long moment neither spoke. Then Nikhil unzipped the bag and slid the folders out one by one.
Birth certificate. Hospital footage. NICU logs. Passport copies. Bank logs. School information. Names. Addresses. And finally — a glossy photograph of a fifteen-year-old girl in a school uniform, hair over her shoulder, not smiling, unaware.
Raghavendra's hand didn't tremble, but his breath did.
"Advik's face," he murmured, barely above a whisper.
Nikhil nodded. "Yes."
He pushed forward the last item — the USB. "Hospital surveillance from 2010. And the man responsible," he paused, "Ranga."
At the sound of the name, something cold flickered through Raghavendra's gaze. The kind of cold specific to men who did not forget.
"Yenu nadithu aa rathri? How exactly is she alive?" His father asked him. (What exactly happened that night?)
"Aa rathri thumba nadithu appa," Nikhil told his father, "Shuru inda heLthini." (A lot happened that night, appa. I'll tell you from the start.)
"Do you remember Ranga, appa? That man from Reddy's gang who suddenly became his right hand 14 years ago."
Raghavendra paused, thinking it over, "Hmm... yes, nenpide. How is he connected to this?" he asked. (Yes, I remember)
"HeLthini. Aa ratri yavaga avLige ushar thapthu, we went to the hospital," Nikhil said as reminded his father, Raghavendra nodded as he motioned him to continue, "Avatthu Ranga nu alle idda." (I'll tell you. That night when she fell sick, we went to the hospital. That night Ranga was also there.)
"That day his sister was in labour and had delivered a stillborn baby. He was the first to get to know about it. He also saw us there, in that vulnerable state we were in, given that day's circumstances. "
"I don't know what exactly his intentions were, but he threatened the nurse handling her to switch the babies. His sister's already dead baby with our unwell little one.
Raghavendra's eyes flickered, the kind of flicker that was not disbelief but recognition of something rotten.
"Because he could not handle seeing his sister losing her child," Nikhil said, voice low. "And because he saw an opportunity to make us suffer too. He held a grudge against Devrai for years — Bhujang's manipulation, class, money, power, all of it. He didn't need a reason beyond spite."
Raghavendra's jaw tightened.
Nikhil continued, "The nurse tried to refuse. He threatened to kill her kid. Held a gun to her. Forced her. She did the switch. And then—"
Nikhil lifted the USB slightly.
"It's all here. It was in the locker. Three clips."
Raghavendra didn't speak, only gestured for him to go on.
"First clip is in the stairwell, time stamp says its a little after we came in the hospital, ," Nikhil explained. "Full audio. He tells the nurse exactly what she has to do. Threatens her kid by name. Says if the babies don't get switched in the NICU, he'll shoot both her and the child. Nurse is crying the whole time."
A muscle in his father's cheek twitched — small, controlled, but visible.
"The second clip is from the NICU," Nikhil said, quieter now. "She waits until the room clears. Two incubators. Two tags. She moves fast. Our baby is still breathing, fighting to stay. His sister's child is cold. She swaps the wrist tags, swaps the blankets, puts ours in their cradle. He is seen watching at her doing the job, gun in hand – still threatening her."
Nikhil paused there.
Raghavendra pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose — not wiping tears, not sentimental — just grounding himself. "Ashtondhu dodda vishya..... a nurse would not keep it quiet," he said slowly. "Impossible. She would have told someone. Anyone." (That big of an incident...)
"Howdu," Nikhil said, "she would have." (Yes)
Raghavendra looked up, confused. "Then why didn't she?"
"She didn't," Nikhil corrected, "because she couldn't."
The way he said couldn't made Raghavendra straighten slightly in his chair. "What do you mean she—"
Nikhil didn't answer verbally. He leaned forward, slotted the USB into the laptop he'd brought, and clicked open the third file.
The footage loaded with that familiar timestamp from 2010 — hospital terrace, static in the corner, bad angle, dim lighting.
A lone figure paced near the edge — the nurse. Shoulders rigid, clutching a folder, movements sharp with panic.
A second figure entered the frame — Ranga. Hands in his pockets. Head slightly tilted, posture too relaxed for the gravity of the setting.
The nurse gestured rapidly — distress unmistakable. At one point she pressed her palms together — pleading. For permission, or forgiveness, or escape. It didn't matter which.
Ranga watched her with the calm of a man who'd already made his decision long before she arrived. Barely three seconds passed before he stepped closer and placed one hand against her shoulder.
Not a shove at first — almost casual.
Then a firm push.
Her body tipped over the parapet. Disappeared from frame.
The impact below was not in view, but a few heads turned in the courtyard three floors down.
The video froze there.
Raghavendra's jaw tightened once — a minimal tell, but more reaction than most ever saw from him. His voice didn't come immediately; he was working through the implications in sequence.
"That body," Nikhil said quietly, shutting the laptop, "was ruled a suicide. Case didn't last two days."
Shock didn't appear on Raghavendra's face, but something in him paused. He had seen death before; in business, in politics, in the quiet ruthlessness of power. But not like this. Not for the wrong reasons. Not to cover a crime instead of settle a score.
"She didn't tell anyone, appa," Nikhil said, answering the original question. "She never got the chance to."
The room stayed still enough that even the chandelier's crystals stopped swaying.
Then, when Raghavendra finally exhaled, it wasn't loud — it was long. And it sounded like the past rearranging itself.
"After the switch, they declared our girl dead. Told us she didn't make it through surgery." He paused, then added, "But there was no surgery, appa. The nurse had cut open the other baby in prep. By the time anyone realized the vitals were flat, that child couldn't be revived either. So we left that night with no child. No body. Nothing."
Raghavendra opened his eyes slowly — and they did not look like the eyes of a chairman or an economist or a patriarch. They looked like the eyes of a man who had just been handed back a grief he had already buried once.
"They took the baby home that night," Nikhil continued, "believing she was theirs. They never knew their own child had been stillborn. They just assumed the doctors had stabilised her baby in the NICU and returned her to them. To all of them—there was no reason to suspect anything else."
The implication hung in the air: fifteen years of life that had nothing to do with Devrai.
Raghavendra exhaled — a sound that didn't belong to a living room in a wealthy house, but to a man sitting beside a hospital bed fifteen years ago.
"Spite," he said finally. "This was all because of spite."
Nikhil nodded once. "And resentment, fueled by Bhujang Reddy's one sided rivalry and hate. They wanted to make us feel helpless. And we did."
Silence didn't merely fall after that — it settled, claiming the room.
"What about that Ranga? Alive?" he asked.
"For now," Nikhil replied.
They didn't discuss what for now implied. In the Devrai family, loose ends were a cultural offense.
After a beat, Nikhil leaned back.
"We've verified everything," he said quietly. "Cross-checked with NICU logs, bank transfers, school records, Aadhaar. It's all real."
Raghavendra shut his eyes for a second — the kind of second that could have been fifteen years.
"Mathe, avlu elliddale eega?" (And where is she now?)
"In Pune. Living with Rajesh and Uma Gowda," he reported. "Middle-class, Industrial Area side. They lived here in Bengaluru for 7 years, first three years when she was born and four years later when she was in 2nd. They're not dangerous. Not connected. Not criminal. "
A small mercy in an otherwise cruel revelation.
Silence pooled again, thicker this time. Heavy with the understanding that a life had been stolen, not just a child.
Raghavendra finally opened his eyes, voice controlled but thinner than usual.
"Your mother cannot know yet," he said, and Nikhil understood immediately — they would burn half the country before there was a plan.
"When?" Nikhil asked.
"Once we see her."
Nikhil inhaled, steadying. "Appa," he said cautiously, "she will not recognize us. She may not want to come."
"That is her right," Raghavendra answered. "But she was taken from us. We will not take her a second time."
Nikhil nodded. It wasn't sentimentality — it was responsibility. The Devrais never begged, never stole, never forced — they acquired. But this... this was not business.
"She's alive," Raghavendra said again, but softer, as if saying it once more made it real. "After fifteen years....my daughter... she's alive."
His eyes glistened, only for a fraction of a moment, but in this house even fractions mattered.
Nikhil nodded. "Alive. And well. Studying. Grade 10 in CBSE now.."
Raghavendra breathed out through his nose — not shocked anymore, but processing. "Same as Advik."
Nikhil added. "They both write their boards from Feb 17th."
"We're not telling him yet then," Raghavendra decided.
"No," Nikhil agreed immediately. "Nor Viku, nor the rest of the boys. Teju also has exams from that day."
His father's eyes softened briefly at the mention of the younger two. "Poor boys already have enough on their heads. If we tell them now, studies will go to hell."
"And hers too," Nikhil added. "She shouldn't meet us in the middle of panic and exams. Let her finish this year clean."
Silence settled — not tense, just logistical. This wasn't the kind of problem you solved emotionally. It was one you timed.
"We don't approach her before boards," Raghavendra concluded. "Anything we say now could derail her year."
"Agreed."
"And we don't tell the boys and your mother yet," he continued. "They'll react. And we need preparation, not chaos."
A faint smirk tugged at Nikhil's mouth. "If Adi finds out, Vikki will know in five minutes. In ten, Amma will be calling the poojari."
Raghavendra actually laughed at that — short, real. "Exactly."
He folded his arms. "So we wait. Let all their exams finish.. After that, we tell everyone at home first."
"And then," Nikhil said slowly, "Naanu hoghtini avl hathra." (I'll go to her.)
Raghavendra looked at him properly.
"Alone?" he asked.
"It's better," Nikhil said. "If we show up with security or the whole family, she'll feel ambushed. First I speak to her guardians. Assess the situation. Then her. And only when it's the right moment, avlige naane nija heLthini." (I will tell her the truth myself.)
Raghavendra nodded once. Thoughtful. Respectful. "Good. She deserves clarity, not spectacle."
"And choice," he added. "We give her that."
There was a brief pause — the kind that only existed between people who had survived difficult years together.
"For fifteen years," Raghavendra continued, "she grew up outside our world. We don't drag her in just because we've found her. She deserves to walk in on her own."
"That's the idea." Nikhil exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders and repeating to make it feel more real.. "After boards. Then the family. And then, her."
"Exactly." Raghavendra stood, signaling the end of the discussion. "And until then, not a word."
"Yes Appa," his son replied.
Decision sealed — but this time, for the first time since they'd learned the truth, it didn't feel like war strategy. It felt like family.
Raghavendra paused, absorbing that. It was one thing for her to be alive — another to realize she was growing parallel to them all this time.
"They're so close in name," he chuckled.
Nikhil said, rubbing his jaw. "Advik. Advika." He let out a short, stunned laugh. "We spent fifteen years avoiding names too similar because you said it would confuse the house."
Raghavendra actually huffed. "I remember. Your mother fought with me for two weeks about it."
"Hanebara nodi – " Nikhil gestured vaguely, searching for the word. "Aage bidthu."
(And look at fate – it happened anyway.)
"Twins of circumstance," Raghavendra said, voice unexpectedly soft.
"Also appa," Nikhil suddenly interrupted his father's bubble of thought, "one more thing...."
After that conversation, silence settled again, but it was a different kind now. Less tactical, more awe-struck and calm — as if the universe had been scripting something quietly in the background.
And it was finally coming into action.
Nikhil stepped out of his father's study, shutting the door gently so the latch didn't echo through the house. He rubbed the back of his neck once—more habit than stress—and headed for the staircase.
He barely climbed two steps to go to his room ,before his mother spotted him from the downstairs.
"Finally," she said, hand on her hip. "I was waiting. Oota madu ba, magne." (Come have dinner, son.)
There was no accusation in her voice, just that warm, tactile concern she always carried for her children.
"Bande Amma," he said, softening, "I'll take a shower and come." (I'll come, Amma.)
"And call the other two also. They haven't eaten yet either."
Nikhil nodded and climbed up to the private wing of the mansion. The landing branched into two sets of individual rooms—one for each child, four on each side.
He paused outside Abhinav's room first, he knocked twice and entered the room.
Abhinav was sitting by the bay window of his room, guitar in hand, he was learning the chords of a song. The world knew him as the ever serious and cold Finance genius of the Raghuwamshi Devrai family, but here, at home he was just Abhi, the second child who loves music.
"Amma is calling for dinner," Nikhil called out to him with fondness underneath his stern expression. Seeing his brother follow his other passion after finance, that is music, made him feel so proud and happy of him.
Abhinav looked up at Nikhil, as he set down his guitar said, "Haan sari, etthittu barthini. Neevu hogiri." (Alright, I'll keep everything back in its place and come. You go by then.)
"Hmm," Nikhil nodded as he left the room.
Next, across the hall: Aditya's room. Nikhil pushed the door open without waiting. His twin looked up from his desk, wearing headphones.
"Adi, come for dinner." Nikhil repeated.
Aditya pulled the earbud out. "Already? Amma never lets us starve. I love her."
"Haan haan, okay now. Let's go down in 10." Nikhil said as he headed towards his room to freshen up.
At the table, their mother was already settling into her seat, arranging bowls as if they were soldiers in formation. A big bowl of rice was in the middle, a barrel of Mangluru southekayi sambar next to it. Papad, curd and pickles were set in its side, in case anyone wanted. (Mangalore southekayi is a type of cucumber grown there, usually a staple to make sambar in Kannada households )
As Aditya, Abhinav and Nikhil came downstairs and headed to the dining area, pulling chairs quickly to settle down, hunger taking over them.
They had barely started eating when the front door opened and Vikas walked in, still in scrubs, looking exhausted but happy.
"Amma! I'm home!" he called out.
"Freshen up first," Anuradha ordered. "And come fast before food turns cold.!"
"Haaan," Vikas trailed as he made a beeline to his room.
When he joined them a few minutes later he dropped next to Abhinav, plates were automatically made and passed to him without anyone asking. It was muscle memory at this point.
"So," Aditya asked with a grin. "What was today's drama at the hospital?
Vikas grinned. "Not drama. Good news. Our seventeen-year-old leukemia patient—cancer free." His voice softened without losing its excitement. "After two years of chemo. Mother cried and hugged all of us, I nearly cried... it was a scene."
Anuradha clasped her hands. "Ayyo, that is life-changing. Bless that girl."
Abhinav leaned forward. "Man... imagine that relief."
"I swear," Vikas added, still-smiling, "I also felt so happy that I gave sweets to all of our staff in lunch today."
"Great Job, Vikki!" his mother said to him with pride in her eyes, "I'm proud of you."
Vikas smiled at her. The warmth around the table grew thicker.
Conversation flowed easily—no talk of work stress or corporate updates, just lived-in familiarity. Then, as she sat down with her own plate, Anuradha sighed loudly.
"You know ivatthu college alli yen aythu," she began, and immediately everyone gave her their attention. "Three boys in my class tried to convince me that their group project was delayed because 'the universe was against them.' "
(You know what happened in college today,)
Aditya, the ever chaotic and comical one, dropped his papad. "What?"
"They didn't touch the project for two weeks," she continued. "Then yesterday they decided to become spiritual."
Abhinav asked. "So what did you tell them?"
"I told them 'universe is not against you, laziness is for you.' harate beda, kashta padu."
(Don't be idle, work hard instead.)
Vikas burst out laughing. "Did they finish it?"
"Yes," she said proudly. "Deadline fear is stronger than enlightenment. They came up to me today, assignments in hand – looking like they had worked through the night. They looked exhausted, I even felt sorry for them. But then again, they will learn from this and hopefully will not repeat it again."
Everyone nodded as they agreed to her words. Though being happy and having fun was common in their household, discipline was never neglected.
"Also, speaking of lazy boys..", she said, as she narrowed her eyes on the elder four brothers of the house, "how long should I wait till you guys finally manage to bring home my sose ?"
(sose pronounced so-sey - daughter-in-law)
"Ammaa..." Aditya groaned. The other three shared a similar expression.
"Yenaithu, nija thane?" Anuradha said to them, "I need someone to help keep each of you in check. I'm tired of dealing with 5 men and two boys here." (What happened, it's the truth right?)
"We're fully grown adults Amma, we can handle ourselves. Ashtondu yenu trouble madalla nimanna naavu ella." Abhinav said with practicality. (We don't trouble you so much)
"You do!" she pointed the serving spoon at all three of them. "Adi calls me from office asking where his files are, Abhi waits till the last minute to tell me he needs formal shirts ironed for some meeting, Vikki will forget the existence of food during long hours, and Nikhil—" she narrowed her eyes at him, "—Nikki still won't take care of himself unless someone tells him to."
Before anyone could reply, a steady voice interrupted them all – "What have you boys done to my wife? What have you done that my lovely Anu has become angry with you?" Raghavendra entered the room while looking at all his sons one by one with a mock sense of seriousness, before he squeezed his wife's shoulders once before settling on the table.
"Amma wants daughters-in-law." Vikas answered him.
"Ah," the patriarch of the family said as he faked thinking, "I fully support this agenda."
"Appaa..not you too!" Vikas groaned this time, face full with sheer disbelief.
Anuradha wiped her hands on her pallu, laughing as her sons tried hard to avoid this topic. "There are 8 humans with XY chromosomes here. All boys... all chaos... ayyo if she—"
The sentence had slipped out before she could assemble the rest of it. Her smile halted mid-curve, as if someone brushed dust off an old wound.
Raghavendra, with the kind of precision that comes from years of protecting each other's softer bits, finished her sentence:
"—if our little one were here, she would've kept them in line."
Silence didn't slam into the table; it pressed down softly, like a blanket.
Abhinav's hand paused around his water glass.
Aditya glanced at his plate like it was the most interesting thing on earth.
Vikas exhaled deeply.
And Nikhil — Nikhil met his father's eyes for half a second.
There was something shared in that brief look, not spoken aloud, not yet permitted to be —
If only they knew.
If only the house wasn't mourning a daughter, but missing her.
Raghavendra blinked once, then looked away, easing back into his chair.
Anuradha cleared her throat gently, not to erase the memory, just to steady herself.
"Howdu..she would have had all of you in line," she said,with a small smile, an indescribable emotion sitting beneath the words.
For a beat, no one moved. The steam from the rasam lifted between them, the clatter and hum of the house muted under a weight that felt both familiar and freshly reopened.
Then Vikas set his spoon down — not loudly, just deliberately enough to mark the moment.
"Amma..." he began, voice low, warm, but steady. "Daughters and sisters are special. But we didn't grow up missing out. Not really."
Anuradha blinked. Her brows pinched, then softened, as if someone had just reminded her of a truth she had momentarily forgotten.
Vikas continued, "You've filled the gaps yourself. You show up for all of us — tests, tournaments, breakups, stitches, board meetings, everything. If there was a daughter in this household, she'd probably just complain that you're too perfect."
That made her laugh — or rather, half-laugh, half-deflect as she reached for a napkin.
"Ayyo, swalpa nillu, don't praise me so much," she muttered, cheeks warming. (Aiyyo, slow down a bit,)
But it didn't stop him.
"And also," Vikas added, eyes meeting hers with quiet sincerity, "if she had grown up here, she would have admired you. No doubt about it."
His brothers looked at him in agreement, eyes with pride and a bit of regret for not being able to say those words to her themselves too.
Silence returned — but this time it wasn't sharp. It was full, tender, inhabitable.
Raghavendra adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat once — not to cut, not to command, but to steady.
Anuradha took a slow breath, composure restored, and dabbed her eyes lightly as if handling something fragile.
"Alright, alright. Enough emotional scenes at the dinner table. I have to go teach grown children tomorrow — if I cry now, they'll think I've lost control."
That earned a small wave of chuckles, the room easing back into familiarity.
Aditya seized the opening.
"Besides," he said, wagging his spoon, "Amma's got 7 sons. Quantity-wise, that is too much male energy for one her to handle."
Abhinav corrected his twin. "Correction: six men. Appa included."
Raghavendra raised an eyebrow. "I am the easiest one here."
"Debatable," Nikhil murmured, prompting a ripple of silent laughter.
Anuradha finally shook her head, smiling as she reached for the curry ladle.
"Hogli, hogli. You all talk like this now. But soon — I'm expecting at least one of you will bring home someone who will argue with me over how to run this kitchen."
(Leave it, leave it.)
Three pairs of adult male eyes shifted almost in unison — toward Nikhil.
It was subtle. Coordinated only by shared history.
"Yaake yellaru nanna haage nodthiddira?" Nikhil asked deadpanned, trying his best to not give away his truth.
(Why are all of you looking at me like that?)
"Because you're questionable," Aditya chimed in, wiggling his brows. "And because you already have—"
Abhinav kicked him under the table.
"—an active social life," Aditya recovered, biting back his grin. Vikas couldn't contain his laughter, nearly choking on his chapati.
"Hmm, Howdu, howdu," their mother nodded vigorously. "Nangu kansutthe – your boys talk. I know Nikki will get the first one home." (Howdu - Yes. I can see - your boys talk)
Nikhil lifted his brows, feigning offense. "What makes you so sure?"
Anuradha leaned in conspiratorially, "You have that face. That face that argues in boardrooms and melts when someone holds your hand."
All three brothers howled. It even drew a suspicious but proud look from Raghavendra.
"Oh ammeshwari!" Vikas said loudly, "You're too sharp. Careful, anna's secret girlfriend will run away if you interrogate her like this." (Anna – referring to elder brother like bhaiya)
Nikhil shook his head, but his lips betrayed a smile. "Nobody is running anywhere."
"Fine. Keep your secrets. But bring home someone before I retire from teaching. I refuse to attend my own sons' weddings with a walking stick." Their mother said to them in a matter-of-fact tone.
This time the laughter was full-bodied, no restraint required.
And under that warmth, the earlier ache faded into something gentler — not erased, but accompanied. A grief that didn't swallow the room, but sat at the table like an old relative everyone had learned to live with.
Nikhil, fully aiming at changing the topic of the conversation, glanced at his mother. "Did Teju and Viku eat?"
"They did," Anuradha said. "Teju made sure. He's becoming very responsible. He's brought Viku to his senses ansutthe, cricketer sir is fully focused now." (ansutthe - feels like/looks like)
She spoke about Advik finally studying with focus as his boards loomed, all thanks to Tejas – academic prodigy himself, he had got the cricketer of the house to finally sit with books.
"That's our boy," Aditya declared, thumping his chest, ever proud of his lil brothers. "Cricket star AND scholar."
"Cricket star correct e ne," Nikhil nodded. "Scholar bagge results aadmele nodona."
(Cricket star is correct, we'll see about scholar after the results.)
"He'll do it," Vikas said confidently. "He's focusing now."
A few raised eyebrows with doubt, and the rest just went along eating.
As the seriousness tapered off, Abhinav reached for the curd bowl.
"By the way — Ved messaged in the afternoon. He's finishing his submissions early this semester. Says he'll be home during Feb end."
Nikhil's head shot up.
"Howda?" (Is it ? or Really?)
"Hmm," Abhinav continued. "He said he wants home food and sunlight. Apparently the bland American food is turning him into a vampire."
Anuradha's whole face brightened,
"Finally! I'll make him pongal the day he lands. Nan magu paapaddu, always eating that weird diet everyday. No wonder he keeps getting thinner."
(My pitiful child or mera bechara baccha)
Vikas grinned,
"He'll just sleep for three days straight and blame the climate."
A soft smile tugged at Raghavendra's mouth,
"He can rest here. Feb end is good. House feels different when he's around."
Nikhil paused mid-sip of water, eyes flicking to his father.
Late February.
The same time they planned to tell the family.
The same time they planned to meet her.
Raghavendra met his son's gaze for half a heartbeat — the quiet recognition passing between them like a sealed agreement.
No one else noticed.
Anuradha clapped her hands once, satisfied,
"Good. All my boys under one roof. I can finally cook proper meals."
Aditya raised an eyebrow. "What are we seeing infront of us now then?"
"Snacks," she said deadpanned, glaring.
The table chuckled again, the moment softening into routine domestic chaos.
Everyone had finished eating by now, one by one yawns started pouring on the table. The parents stood up first, leaving to rest after a tiring day of work.
"Let's go check on the babies?" Vikas suggested.
"Yeah, naanu allige hogona antha idde, let's go." Nikhil replied. (I was planning on going there too)
"Sari hagadre, I'll go get ice cream, they deserve a treat." Aditya said as he headed towards the kitchen pulling Vikas with him, "Baa help maadu ba maga." (Come help me bro)
"Haan barthane iddini, eLiyadenu bedaa...," Vikas' voice trailed off into the kitchen as he complained. The other two glanced at each other and chuckled, shaking their heads in negative at the other two's antics.
(Yeah, I'm coming, you don't need to pull me like thaaa..t)
————————————————————
Advik's room was lit with a warm desk lamp. Biology textbooks, highlighters, and sticky notes cluttered his table. Tejas, seated on the bay window bench, flipped through Accountancy ledgers. They studied quietly, settling into the familiar evening routine that had become their exam month ritual.
Advik tapped his pencil against the margin of his Science notebook, staring at a diagram of the respiratory system.
"Tej....is Our Environment chapter even needed? Like it's not coming, alva?" he muttered, squinting.
Across the room, Tejas sat cross-legged on the bay window ledge, accounting ledger propped against his knee, tapping numbers into a calculator with unconscious precision. Commerce suited him— Accountancy, Business Studies, Psychology, Legal Studies. A combination which was rare, but to him it was perfect.
"Da, don't leave that chapter at any cost," he replied, looking up at Advik to emphasize significance" That one chapter is for 5 marks. Might not seem like a lot, but it is important."
Advik looked at him with a shocked expression."Damn. It is a lot. I'll do that after I finish transportation then."
For a few minutes, it was just quiet studying, the rustle of pages, the soft whirr of the ceiling fan, and Tejas occasionally leaning to check on Advik's notes or make sure he was locked in. He wasn't just helping — Tejas was preparing for his own exams too, the unsaid dual-pressure balancing on the same desk.
A sudden knock broke the silence, followed by the door pushing open.
Four heads peered in.
"How's prep going, my padhaku cuties?" Aditya grinned as he entered first, opening his arms dramatically like he was addressing a crowd.. (padhaku - studious)
Advik and Tejas stared at him with an amused look.
Behind him came Nikhil, Vikas, and Abhinav.
"Ice cream," Vikas smiled as he tilted his head towards his hands which had ice cream tubs, and Abhinav who carried a tray of bowls and spoons.
Advik sat up. "Say less."
Within seconds, textbooks were shut, pens capped, laptops pushed aside. No one objected. No one asked schedules or study targets. It was understood: whenever all four elder brothers arrived together with dessert, it was important in ways that had everything to do with love.
They gathered on the carpet because it was easier, with tubs of berry blast, tender coconut, and Belgian chocolate spread between them. Abhinav began scooping ice cream in bowls and passing it on.
"You two studying together?" Aditya asked, already knowing the answer.
"Haan," Tejas said between bites, "boards are close. He's actually doing well."
"Yeah!" Advik spoke with the confidence of someone who had been struggling with respiration diagrams twenty minutes ago. "Teju anna is the best tutor."
Tejas gave him a look. Nikhil caught it and smiled
Vikas raised his spoon in mock cheers.
"About time."
Advik kicked his shin lightly.
"Be nice, doctor saab."
"Naanu thumba nice," Vikas claimed, hand on chest. "Nanna patients na keLu."
(I'm very nice, ask my patients.)
"Your patients are sedated," Aditya deadpanned.
The room erupted softly.
"Also, cricket match tomorrow alva," Aditya added. "I'll send the driver early, it's a 10 over match you'll be done by 3."
He expected his lil brother to be excited at the mention of playing a match or tell them about his strategy and preperation, but seeing his sly demeanour he raised his eyebrows, sensing something fishy.
"Uhm.. actually anna," Advik began suspiciously, "I'm not going to play tomorrow."
Five pairs of eyes widened in shock as their jaws dropped to the floor. Advik had never ever missed coaching without proper reason, and today he himself saying that he would not go was like saying fire is wet.
"What? Yaako thamma?" Nikhil asked Advik, collecting himself first. (thamma - younger bro)
"I decided that I won't play matches until boards are over, coach also agreed to it," he replied in a serious tone, "I wanna score good, and do well in studies too, not just in game."
"WHOA," Vikas said dramatically, while fake crying, "Kaliyuga mugdebidtha?? Aiyo devre nan madve ne aagi-" Before he could finish, a sharp thwack landed on the back of his head and the hand was Abhinav's.
(WHOA, Is the world ending already? Aiyo god I haven't even married ye-)
"Avnige reason heLakke bidthiya athva natka inna idiya drama queen?" Abhinav asked dead-panned. Vikas shook his head as he narrowed his eyes onto Abhinav.
(Will you let him tell the reason or is there any more acting left drama queen?)
The room erupted with chuckles and soft laughter.
"But no seriously heLu Vikku," Tejas asked, "when and how did you decide?" (But no seriously tell us Vikku)
"Well,nam boss KL Rahul annandu interview nodide," Advik saidwith excitement and admiration, "I got to know that avru 10th matthe 12th alli 90 above thandru, and also that he even got a job as an RBI officer."
(Well, I saw an interview of our boss KL Rahul bro. I got ot know that in his 10th and 12t he scored above 90 percentage and even had got a job offer as an RBI officer.)
His brothers looked at him with full focus on his words.
"Ade adunna nodi, I got inspired," Advik's eyes sparkled, "that bari cricket alle alla, adru jothe ododhrallu if i do good – it would be great antha ankonde. Then I spoke to coach about it, and avru saha heLidru that it was good I was thinking ahead of the present antha."
(I saw that and I got inspired, that not only in cricket but if I excel on studies to it would be great. Then I spoke to coach about it, and he too said that it was good I was thinking ahead of the present.)
He shrugged his shoulders like he did something very common, but the truth was far from common and they all knew it.
All of them were even more shocked now, but were very proud of him, they knew how hard of a decision it was to him – considering he would be playing state levels this year.
Aditya clapped as he looked at Advik and asked, "Who are you and what have you done to my last-bench star cricketer Vikku?"
Advik chuckled as he threw his arms around Aditya and leaned on to him and said, "Yellu hogilla Adi anna! I just realised some stuff ashte."
(I haven't gone anywhere Adi bro, I just realised some stuff that's all.)
Nikhil looked at him with pride in his eyes – the kind that comes from watching your brother grow maturity. He gave a soft smile as he ruffled Advik's hair and said, "Yaavag doddavnu aade neenu, gotthe aglilla."
(When did you grow up, I didnt even realize)
"Anyways, emotional scenes aside," Vikas announced as he turned towards Advik to address him, "Viku we all are very proud of your decision, thumba strong aagi isht dodda nirdhara thogondiddiya antha nammigella thumba hemme ninmele. It was a well-thought choice you made and that's really good."
(Viku we all are very proud of your decision, we're proud that you have taken such a big decision so strongly.)
All the elder 5 brothers nodded their heads in agreement. Advik nodded with a playful smile on his lips.
Tejas gave him a side hug and said, "Good job, Gundu!" Advik rolled his eyes, but happiness showed on his face through the smile that peeked through.
"Ved messaged," Nikhil said between spoonfuls. "He'll be home by the time your boards end, Viku."
Advik perked up. "Nijja?" (Really?)
"Yep," Abhinav nodded. "Semester ends by Feb. He said he wants to be around when your results come out. Moral support and all that."
"That's great then,I have so so much to tell him," Advik said, eyes sparkling.
"Haan haan, ella avnige heLu," Aditya snorted with a mock sad tone dripping with sarcasm, "naav nodu illi dana kaythiddivi."
(Haan haan, tell him everything. We're herding the cattle here - its a proverb in Kannada for doing a job which requires no effort very seriously.)
Everyone chuckled at his antics.
"Haage enu illa bro," Tejas replied for Advik, "you're just too old fo-"
Before Tejas could finish, a pillow smacked him across the face.
"Ayyy!" he yelped, blinking at Aditya who tried very badly to act innocent. The room dissolved into laughter again.
"Ved also said he'll come straight from the airport," Abhinav added, "because someone has to protect his position as Advik's favorite."
Advik lit up instantly. "Shut up, I love you all equally," he declared with the confidence of a politician delivering a speech during elections.
"Lies," Vikas said.
"Bold lies," Aditya nodded solemnly.
"Ved anna will be unbearable once he hears you said that," Tejas chimed in.
Nikhil chuckled, shaking his head. "That boy will enter the house like he won a gold medal. Watch only."
Advik grinned, unable to contain the excitement. "We should go to the airport no?"
Aditya pointed a spoon at him. "If boards weren't happening, boss baby, we would've. Next time."
"But you tell him," Vikas added, "he can land and come straight home. We'll make breakfast. Proper welcome for our NRK."
"NRK?" Tejas raised a brow.
"Non-resident Kannadiga," Vikas explained dramatically.
"Shut up bro," Abhinav muttered, but the smile betrayed him.
After a few more jokes, Aditya stretched his arms.
"Okay children, time-up. Old people must recover."
He got up and began gathering the trash and used bowls, efficiently stacking ice cream tubs, spoons, tissues — the kind of cleanup an elder brother does without announcing it.
Advik and Tejas sat back in their places, opening their textbooks and notebooks to continue studying.
As he moved, Abhinav passed behind Tejas and paused.
"Show me that," he said, pointing at Tejas' Accountancy ledger.
Tejas blinked. "Which part?"
"This adjustment entry," Abhinav sat beside him on the bed, "You reversed the liability instead of transferring it."
Tejas stared at it. "Oh damn, I did. That's why the trial balance was off?"
"Haan," Abhinav nodded, picking up a pen. "Look — when there's outstanding wages, treat it as an expense payable, not a deduction."
Within seconds, Abhinav had rewritten the entry neatly, explaining logic line by line. Tejas followed silently, absorbing.
Simultaneously, Advik had flipped through his Biology notebook again, not understanding anything he called towards the other side of the room, "Vikki anna! I have a doubt"
"What?" Vikas walked over, crouching beside him.
"This double circulation thing... first pulmonary then systemic, right? I'm confused how the oxygenated and deoxygenated blood actually move."
"Ayyy good question," Vikas said, suddenly in full doctor mode as he pulled a pencil from Advik's holder. "Okay look — heart has four chambers. Right atrium gets deoxygenated blood from the body, pumps it to right ventricle, and right ventricle sends it to lungs for oxygen."
He drew a small diagram on Advik's rough sheet:
"Lungs fill it with oxygen → then send it to left atrium → then left ventricle → then entire body."
"So that's systemic?" Advik asked, leaning closer.
"Haan," Vikas nodded. "Pulmonary is heart and lungs. Systemic is heart and body. Two separate circuits — that's why it's called double circulation. Helps maintain high pressure and proper oxygen delivery. CBSE likes that line also," he added with a grin.
Advik nodded like he found enlightenment.
"Ohhh okay! Makes sense. And the valves?"
"Just say valves prevent backflow of blood," Vikas tapped the sheet. "Simple and scoring. Don't write full essay. Examiner will get bored."
Advik scribbled the keywords immediately like it was gold.
From his spot leaning against the wall, Nikhil watched all of this — the ledgers, the biology notes, Vikas explaining, Abhinav teaching, Aditya cleaning, Tejas listening, Advik scribbling — his eyes softening with the kind of affection that didn't need to be spoken.
This was home. Chaos and brilliance and teasing and love.
Aditya finished gathering everything and stood at the door.
"Okay, circus ends for me. GN champions," he saluted, then vanished with bowls and empty tubs.
Two minutes later, Nikhil checked his watch and ruffled all two heads at a time as if they were ten years old.
"Goodnight boys. If you're hungry or want something, wake me. Don't be heroes."
"Yes boss," they chorused.
He squeezed Advik's shoulder once before leaving.
On the bed, Abhinav capped the pen. "Done. You'll balance it now, got the concept?" he said to Tejas.
"Got it.Thanks anna."
Abhinav nodded and waited until Vikas wrapped up tutoring duty.
When Vikas finally stood, he yawned. "Okay geniuses, gn."
He leaned down and kissed both younger brothers on their foreheads — quick and casual, like muscle memory. Abhinav did the same right after, softer.
"Stay up if you're locked in," Abhinav added at the door, "Tomorrow is Sunday. No alarms."
Then they slipped out, shutting the door behind them.
The room fell quiet again.
Tejas returned to Accountancy. Advik to Science. Pens moved. Pages turned. Time passed.
Eventually, Advik finished writing a test on the chapter and glanced to his side to ask something—but stopped.
Tejas had dozed off mid-calculation, ledger open beside him, pencil still tucked between his fingers. His breathing was steady, slow — exhaustion winning against discipline. He never slept during study before; this meant he was exhausted.
Advik checked the clock on his study table.
3:43 AM.
He exhaled softly, closed his own book, walked over, gently eased the ledger from Tejas' hands and stacked his books on the side table. He nudged Tejas to lie down properly on the mattress nearby and pulled the blanket over him.
He switched off the lamp, slid under the blanket beside him, and stared at the ceiling for a moment.
The house felt full in a way the world outside rarely did.
He whispered, almost to himself,
"Goodnight, anna."
Within minutes, he was asleep too.
...................................................
The house had gone quiet long after the younger two fell asleep.
Hallway lights dimmed to a soft amber, the kind meant to be gentle on tired eyes.
Nikhil gained consciousness suddenly, and passed Advik's room to check on them once. He paused without meaning to. Inside, he could just make out the two of them curled under the same blanket, textbooks closed, lamp off.
It made something in his chest ache — relief, tenderness, fear.
Fifteen years ago he had believed there would always be two at that age. That the quiet between the rooms would never be this loud.
When he finally reached his own room, he shut the door only halfway, the way his mother preferred when all her sons were under the same roof.
He leaned back against the headboard and stared at the city lights winking beyond the curtains. Bangalore hummed like a living thing outside — unbothered, unaware.
On the bedside lay the file folder he had brought home from Pune HQ. He didn't touch it. He didn't need to. Every page was engraved into his memory now.
Her name.
Her picture.
Her address.
Her school.
Her life — without them.
And then her face.
The face that looked like Advik but smoother, softer, an echo born a few hours earlier.
He swallowed once. Hard. The kind of swallow that keeps the world in place.
He thought of his mother, laughing at the dining table, teasing them about daughters-in-law, nearly slipping over the daughter she lost. He thought of his father, looking more alive than he had in years and more afraid than he had ever seen.
He exhaled slowly.
In a month — after boards, after the careful wait — doors would open that had stayed shut for fifteen years.
Lives would collide.
Names would return.
Truth would burn through everything that came before it.
Nikhil closed his eyes for a brief moment and allowed himself one honest thought.
"In one month... our family will not be the same."
The thought wasn't a warning or a prayer — just the truth.
He switched off the lamp, let the darkness settle, and lay there until sleep finally found him.
A/N : HAIII!!Â
Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far!! The recent chapters I hoped for the targets to be completed but they didn't, yet I felt SO SO HAPPY when i saw that 4 people, 4 PEOPLE have been reading my work so far.Â
I know its gonna take time and all, but even though I wanna reach more people through IG but my editing is as good as Rakhi Sawant being serious. So yeah.Â
Anyways my IG - minsungsmira24. Maybe I'll try posting spoilers and all and put more efforts in improving to edit after my board exams which end on March7.
Alright the, pleasePLEASE lemme know your opinions so far. There are gonna be more characters soon (when i say more, i mean MORE- yeah even im shocked at the amount of characters but yeah thas a surprise for later😉)
Okay so until then, HAPPY READING MY SWEETUS ILY<3
Lots of Love, Mariqa 🥰
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