The morning in Manali arrived with a bittersweet chill. The sun was pale, filtered through a thin veil of mist, as the black SUVs stood idling in the Sharma driveway. The roar of the engines felt like a countdown, signaling the end of a week that had changed the map of everyone’s heart.

The driveway was crowded. Trunks were being loaded with boxes of homemade *pahadi* sweets, walnuts, and Shagun that Sharmistha had insisted the Ranas take back to Delhi.

Rupali and Shrutika were huddled near the car, their phones out as they frantically exchanged social media handles and numbers.

"Listen, Shruti," Rupali said, pointing a finger at her. "The moment you reach Delhi  after your semester, you call me. No hotels, no hostels. You’re staying at the Rana Mansion. We have so much to explore—Khan Market, Hauz Khas, the cafes... it’s going to be epic!"

Shrutika grinned, though her eyes were a bit misty. "Done! Aur waise bhi, ab toh rishta pakka hai. Hum toh ab family hain. I’ll make sure Kittu Di doesn't miss home too much when she finally moves there."

A few feet away, Naman walked up to Kritika, who was standing quietly by her father. He grinned and did a dramatic bow.

Accha, hum nikalte hain... *Bhabhi*," Naman said, the word rolling off his tongue with deliberate clarity.

Kritika’s breath hitched. The word hit her with the force of a tidal wave. She felt a heat creep up her neck, her cheeks turning a shade of crimson that rivaled the morning sun. She looked down at her feet, unable to meet his eyes.

"Naman Bhaiya... aap bhi na," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Naman chuckled, satisfied with the reaction. "Ab aadat daal lijiye. Agli baar jab milenge, toh seedha Delhi ke Rana Mansion mein swagat hoga aapka."

As the final bags were packed, Kritika moved toward Harshvardhan and Savitri. She bent down gracefully, touching their feet.

"Khush raho, bitiya," Harshvardhan said, his stern voice softening with genuine affection. He placed a hand on her head. "Shekhar ki beti ho, par ab se meri bhi beti ho. Jaldi milenge."

Savitri pulled her into a warm, lingering hug. "Apna dhyan rakhna, Kritika. Hum sab tumhara intezaar karenge."

Finally, Kritika stood before Vedant.

The air between them seemed to crackle. He stood tall, dressed in a black trench coat, looking every bit the formidable businessman ready to conquer the capital. Kritika felt small in his shadow, but the memory of his hands on her shawl the day before kept her grounded.

With a mix of shyness and deep respect, she joined her hands, her silver bangles clinking softly. "Namaste," she whispered, her eyes meeting his for only a fraction of a second before flickering away.

Vedant looked at her—the quiet grace, the folded hands, the traditional "namaste" that felt so different from the aggressive social climbers he dealt with daily. He didn't smile, but his gaze lingered on her face longer than necessary.

He gave a curt, sharp nod. "Namaste."

Shrutika, watching near there, let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Oh ho, Di! 'Namaste'? Seriously? Itni sharam kahan se laati ho? Thoda toh 'Bye' ya 'See you' bol deti!"

Kritika turned even redder, wanting the ground to swallow her, she elbowed Shrutika.

" Kya dii" exclaimed.

while Vedant’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

But the lightheartedness shattered the moment Savitri tried to take Ruhi from Kritika’s arms.

The little girl, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly realized what was happening. Her tiny hands tightened into fists, clutching Kritika’s woollen kurti with a strength that was startling for her age.

"Nai! Nai jaana!" Ruhi wailed, her voice breaking into a sob.

"Ruhi baby, chalo... Dadda ke saath ghar chalna hai na?" Savitri tried to coax her, but Ruhi buried her face in Kritika’s neck.

"Nai! Kittu... Kittu ke paas lehena hai! Kittu mere saath chalo!" (No! Want to stay with Kittu! Kittu, come with me!)

Kritika felt her heart shatter. She rubbed Ruhi’s back, her own eyes filling with tears. "Roohi, bacha... Kittu jaldi aayegi. Aap Dadda ke saath jao, ache bache rote nahi hain na?"

"Nai! Kittu ... nai jaana!" Ruhi screamed, her tiny body shaking with sobs. Large, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, soaking into Kritika’s shawl.

The courtyard went silent. The pain in the child’s voice was raw. It wasn't just a tantrum; it was the desperate fear of a child who had found a mother and was afraid to lose her again.

Vedant stepped forward, his jaw tight. This was the part he hated most—his daughter’s pain. He reached out to take her. "Ruhi, come to Dadda. Don't misbehave."

"NO! DADDA BAD! KITTU... KITTU CHALO!" Ruhi kicked her legs, refusing to let go of Kritika.

Kritika looked at Vedant, her eyes pleading for him to do something, but he looked just as helpless as the rest of them. She held Ruhi closer, whispering into her ear, "Baby, suno... Kittu aapke liye roz phone pe gaana gayegi. Aur bahut saari chocolates lekar aayegi. Pukka promise?"

Ruhi looked up, her eyelashes spiked with tears, her nose red. "Kittu... bhool jayegi?"

"Kabhi nahi. Kittu apne bache ko kaise bhool sakti hai?" Kritika wiped the tears with the edge of her dupatta, her voice trembling.

It took another ten minutes of gentle coaxing, a promise of a video call every evening, and a small flower Kritika plucked from the garden for Ruhi to finally allow Vedant to lift her. Even then, she kept her hand stretched out toward Kritika until the car door closed.

As the cars began to roll away, Kritika stood at the gate, waving until the black SUVs were just tiny specks in the winding mountain roads.

Shrutika walked up and put an arm around her sister. "Di... aap theek ho?"

Kritika didn't answer for a moment. She looked down at her shawl, which still held the dampness of Ruhi’s tears and the faint, lingering scent of Vedant’s sandalwood cologne.

"Pata nahi, Shru," Kritika whispered, a single tear finally escaping. "Aisa lag raha hai jaise mera ek hissa unke saath chala gaya."

**Vedant's POV:**

*Her 'Namaste' was so quiet, yet it’s the loudest thing in my head right now. And Ruhi... I’ve never seen her fight for anyone like that. Not even for me. Kritika Sharma, tumne mere ghar ki buniyaad hiladi hai bina kadam rakhe. Delhi won't be easy for you, but I think... I think I'm starting to want you there.*

**Kritika's POV:**

*The house feels too big now. Too quiet. I keep looking at the spot on the terrace where we stood. He is so cold, so distant... but Ruhi loves him. And I... I don't know what I feel. All I know is that those s

mall, teary eyes have changed my world forever.*