♥*♡∞:｡.｡𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝕶𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖓𝖆 ｡.｡:∞♡*♥

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

A long, sleek black car rolled to a halt in front of Aryananda Orphanage, its polished surface gleaming under the afternoon sun. 

More identical black vehicles followed closely behind, their mere presence signaling the arrival of someone important—someone powerful.

As the door of the leading car swung open, a tall, commanding figure emerged.

Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, he exuded an aura of dominance, danger, and undeniable authority. 

The air around him seemed to thicken, the atmosphere shifting as if the very world recognized his presence.

He removed his sunglasses with practiced ease, revealing sharp, piercing eyes that scanned the orphanage grounds. 

For the briefest moment, his gaze softened as he watched the children laughing and running about, oblivious to the storm of power standing before them. 

But just as quickly as the emotion flickered, it vanished, replaced by his signature blank, unreadable expression.

He was none other than Shivendra Rathore.

A small group had gathered to welcome him, their nervous energy almost tangible. At the forefront stood Neeraj Bajaj, the orphanage's caretaker—a man who now found himself regretting every choice in life that led to this moment. 

His hands trembled slightly as he stepped forward, a forced smile plastered on his face, masking his anxiety.

With great effort, Neeraj extended a bouquet toward the towering man before him. "H-Hello, sir," he stuttered, his voice betraying his nerves.

Shivendra merely acknowledged him with a curt nod before gesturing for one of his men to take the bouquet. 

His dark, unreadable eyes bore into Neeraj's, making the poor man's breath hitch in his throat.

"W-What brings you here, sir? Is there... something wrong?" Neeraj asked hesitantly, swallowing hard.

A sharp glance from Shivendra was all it took for Neeraj to shudder.

"Do I need a reason to visit my own orphanage, Mr. Bajaj?" His deep, baritone voice was smooth, yet carried an underlying edge of warning.

Neeraj paled. "N-No, sir! Of course not! You can visit whenever you wish."

A ghost of a smirk played on Shivendra's lips. He was well aware of the fear he instilled in people, and though he never misused his power, he couldn't deny the satisfaction it brought him.

Without another word, he strode past Neeraj, his presence commanding as he moved toward the orphanage entrance. "Take me to the main office," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Neeraj, still visibly shaken, nodded quickly and hurried ahead to lead the way.

The corridors of the orphanage were lined with bright paintings and decorations, an attempt to make the place feel warm and welcoming.

Yet, despite the cheerful surroundings, Neeraj couldn't shake the weight of Shivendra's presence behind him.

Once inside the office, Shivendra made himself comfortable in the large chair at the head of the table, his sharp gaze taking in every detail of the modestly furnished room.

Neeraj hesitated before speaking, his voice laced with caution. "S-Sir, would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? You should try the special pani puri—"

His nervous rambling was cut short by Shivendra's cold, clipped voice.

"Files."

Neeraj blinked in confusion. "S-Sir?"

Shivendra's eyes hardened. "I want the complete records of the orphanage. I'm not here for breakfast. This is an inspection."

Neeraj felt his stomach drop. His hands trembled as he rushed to fetch the necessary documents, internally praying that everything was in order. 

Though he had everything hidden, he knew that nothing escaped Shivendra Rathore's scrutiny.

The room fell into an unsettling silence as Shivendra flipped through the files, his expression unreadable. Each page he turned only deepened Neeraj's dread.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shivendra shut the file with a quiet yet definitive thud. His gaze lifted, pinning Neeraj in place.

A long pause. Then—

"Okay."

One word. Flat, emotionless. Yet, it was enough to make Neeraj exhale a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

Shivendra straightened his suit and rose from his chair, his every movement exuding control and precision. 

Without another word, he stepped out of the office, Neeraj following closely behind, sighing in quiet relief.

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

Something is definitely wrong with these files—and with Bajaj.

The numbers don't add up. The reports feel too polished, too perfect. 

Years of experience have taught me that when something looks flawless on paper, reality is often far from it. 

I need to dig deeper, uncover the cracks beneath this pristine surface before making any decisions. I'll look into it further once I'm home.

Pushing back my chair, I stood up, feeling an unexplainable heaviness settle over me. The office, once filled with warmth and familiarity, now felt suffocating—sterile. 

It wasn't just the air; something intangible had changed. The essence of this place, the comfort it once carried, had vanished.

Yet, the moment I stepped outside, a familiar scene unfolded before me. Children laughing, chasing each other across the grounds, their carefree joy untainted by the weight of the world.

For a fleeting second, a soft, almost invisible smile tugged at my lips.

This—this was the warmth I had been searching for inside. But why was it missing within those walls? What had changed? I intended to find out.

As I scanned the orphanage, taking in every detail, Bajaj's voice droned on beside me.

"Sir, we take excellent care of our children. Every staff member is dedicated, and every child is nurtured with love and warmth. We are more than an orphanage—we are a family. Everyone is treated equally, and all our children leave with nothing but good memories..."

His words faded into the background as my focus shifted back to the children. 

Their innocent laughter felt real, but Bajaj's words did not. His tone was too rehearsed, his eagerness.

Something about his words felt off—too forced, too eager. Like he was trying too hard to convince me.

I had a strong feeling there was more to this place than what he was letting on. And soon, I was going to uncover all its secrets.

As my eyes roamed around, taking in the familiar surroundings, Bajaj finally stopped his endless rambling. 

For the first time since I stepped out of the office, the silence allowed me to focus.

And that's when I saw her.

My gaze fixed on a girl sitting a little apart from the others playing with a very younger boy.

"Who is she?" I asked Neeraj, my eyes fixed on the little girl playing quietly with a younger boy.

She was angelic—her presence radiated an inexplicable warmth, a glow so pure it could brighten even the darkest of days. Her smile was breathtaking, full of innocent charm. 

But her eyes... those beautiful, haunting eyes told a different story. They were hollow, stripped of emotion, as if they had seen horrors no child should ever endure.

A strange sensation twisted inside me. Pain. A raw, unfamiliar ache. I had never felt this way before, not even while inflicting torment on my enemies—men who deserved every ounce of suffering I delivered. 

But this girl... she was different.

A powerful wave of protectiveness crashed over me, drowning all logic. Rage, dark and unrelenting, coiled in my chest. 

I wanted to hunt down every single person responsible for stealing the light from her eyes—to make them beg for their deaths.

I wanted to give her the world, just to see that emptiness disappear.

"She?"  Neeraj, hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "Her name is Ruhanika. She's been here for a few years... no family. She was adopted three months ago but returned a week ago. God knows why."

His voice wavered. There was something off—nervousness, maybe even fear. He was lying. And he knew exactly what would happen if I caught him.

But why?

And why was I so drawn to this girl?

All the chaos in my life—the dangers lurking in the shadows, the battles I still had to fight—none of it mattered at this moment. All I cared about was her.

A decision formed in my mind before I could even question it. A decision so reckless, so shocking, it sent a chill down my own spine.

"I want to adopt her."

I declared it without hesitation, my voice firm yet unusually soft as I gazed at the fragile angel before me.

Neeraj stood frozen behind me, his mouth agape, eyes wide as saucers. His entire demeanor screamed unease.

"S-Sir, I mean... if you want to adopt, there are many younger girls here—much younger," he stammered, his voice cracking with nervousness. "Who adopts a teenage girl? And she was sent back from her previous foster home... there must be something wrong with her."

His words sent a chill through me, and the subtle tension in his voice didn't escape my notice. 

It was as though he was afraid—afraid that something he wasn't meant to say might slip out, something that could ruin the carefully constructed walls of this place.

His remark darkened my gaze, and I shot him a sharp, unforgiving glare. 

He immediately shuddered, realizing his mistake.

"How dare you speak such words about that innocent girl?" I growled, my voice low and controlled, just enough to make sure the children didn't hear, but heavy with fury.

Neeraj's throat tightened as he gulped in response. "S-Sorry, Sir," he whispered, his head bowing low in a show of submission.

I hummed in satisfaction, but my resolve remained unshaken. This man would not get away with speaking ill of her. 

"Prepare her adoption papers. I'll handle the rest," I ordered firmly, my voice unyielding. 

My eyes softened as I glanced back at the girl—her fragile figure standing among the others, as if untouched by time.

Neeraj, still visibly shaken, quickly complied. "O-Okay, Sir. S-sure, Sir," he stammered, hurrying to fetch the necessary documents.

As I stood there, watching him, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a simple adoption. 

Something deeper, something entwined with fate, was at play. I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but it felt like a sign—like the universe was guiding me toward this girl. 

Today was the anniversary of my late wife's birth, and like every year, I was at one of the branches of her orphanage. 

This one had been her favorite. 

Maybe this was all meant to be.

We moved into the office, and Neeraj handed me the adoption papers for Ruhanika. 

My hands felt steady as I began the formalities, but my mind raced with questions.

Then, a knock interrupted my thoughts.

The door creaked open, and as soon as I saw the person standing there, a shock ran through me.

Asha Kaki.

She was the caretaker at the orphanage where my wife and her sister had once lived, a familiar, comforting figure from my past. 

But there was something wrong. 

Something shifted in her gaze when she looked at Neeraj—fear. She quickly masked it, but I saw it. Fear. It was unmistakable.

"Sir, there's a man outside demanding to meet you," she said, her voice tinged with nervousness.

I didn't like the tone in her voice. It was as if she were speaking of a king, not a man, and something felt off.

Neeraj glanced at me for permission. I gave him a curt nod, signaling him to deal with it. 

But as he moved toward the door, I noticed Asha Kaki's eyes meet mine, and the shock was instant. 

Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she gasped, taken aback.

When Neeraj finally left, I gestured for my men to leave the room as well, ensuring we were left alone. 

Only then did I move toward her. Without thinking, I bent down and touched her feet, a gesture of respect ingrained in me since childhood.

She placed her hand on my head with a trembling smile, her face marked by the weight of years.

"Shivendra... kaisa hai tu, beta?" she asked, her voice soft, fragile, burdened by time.

[Shivendra, How are you?]

I straightened, helping her to sit in the chair I had vacated. "Kaki, main theek hoon. Aap kaisi hain?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

[Kaki, I am fine. You tell, How are you?]

"Beta, mera kya... main toh yahan bacchon ke saath bahut sukhi hoon," she replied, but her eyes spoke another truth. There was something hidden, something unsaid. She was lying, and I knew it.

[Beta, what about me... I am very happy here with the children.]

We exchanged pleasantries, catching up on life, but as I spoke, I noticed her eyes drifting once again to the adoption papers I had left on the table.

 She picked them up with trembling hands, her breath catching in her throat as something passed through her gaze.

"W-who's adopting her?" she stuttered, her voice quivering with fear.

I pointed to the papers, where my name was boldly written as Ruhanika's legal guardian.

Asha Kaki's face softened with relief, though something lingered behind her eyes—something I couldn't quite place.

"She's an angel, beta... a girl who was forced to grow up too soon," she said quietly, her voice tinged with sadness. "She's like a delicate flower. Uska dhyan rakhna, beta. Usse saari khushiyan dena."

[Take care of her. Give her all the happiness]

I frowned, confused by the depth of her words. Forced to grow up? Why? Ruhanika had been living in the orphanage for so many years; she had to be happy, hadn't she?

"What do you mean, Kaki?" I asked, my voice laced with concern.

A deep sigh escaped her as she looked away, fighting back tears.

"I don't know the full story. She came here four months ago—abandoned. But she was strong. She smiled, though her eyes were always dull, as if she had lost all hope. Yet, there was still a flicker of light in her, a stubborn hope she clung to. Then, she was adopted... but when she returned a week ago, she was different. Her eyes were empty. As if someone had sucked the soul from her."

My heart twisted in pain as I listened, a gnawing ache consuming me.

"Kaki, don't worry. From now on, she will be the Princess of the Rathore family," I said, my voice soft but firm. "We'll give her the love and the care she deserves. Naazon se paalenge ham us phool si bachchi ko."

[We will raise that flower-like girl with pride.]

Asha Kaki smiled through her tears, her hands brushing my head in a gentle, motherly gesture. "I know, beta. I know. I'm so happy for her. Tum acche log ho. Mujhe khushi hai ki usse ek accha parivaar mil gaya."

[You guys are good people. I am happy that she got such a good family]

I nodded silently, a wave of determination flooding me.

"I'll go and bring her now," She said quietly. "She might be scared, she might be closed off, but you need to break through. With love, you'll bring her out of the darkness."

Asha Kaki smiled softly, wiping away a tear. "She'll open up, beta. Just give her time. She'll fill your life with joy, with her quiet beauty, her gentle spirit."

As she left, I stood still, the weight of her words settling into my chest.

What had happened to Ruhanika to leave her so empty at such a young age? 

Whatever it was, I swore to myself that from now on, only light would fill her world. Only warmth, only smiles.

But wait... Kaki had told me that Ruhanika had come here four months ago, yet Neeraj had said she had been here for years. 

Why was he lying? What was he hiding? 

There was something off, something dark beneath the surface that I needed to uncover. 

But for now, my priority was clear—I needed to take my daughter home.

Moments later, Neeraj entered the room, a nervous smile on his face as he sat down.

"Sorry for the delay, sir," he apologized, his voice jittery, while I gave him only a curt nod in response.

We resumed the formalities, but something gnawed at me. 

Before anything was finalized, I needed Ruhanika's permission. I didn't want to force anything on her; I wanted this to be her choice, too.

The door creaked open, and Kaki stepped in with Ruhanika following timidly behind her. 

The young girl's small hands clutched Kaki's tightly, and her head was hung low, her posture closed off as though she were too afraid to look up.

My heart softened at the sight of her. She was so small for her age, fragile in a way that made me want to shield her from the harshness of the world. 

She was so pure—too pure for a world that could break her so easily.

I kneeled in front of her, ignoring the gasps from those around the room. 

My father had always told me that a king should bow before his mother, queen and princess. 

My queen had been my wife, my princess had been my sister, and now... my daughter.

Ruhanika slowly raised her head, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw me kneeling. 

She seemed frightened, a fear I couldn't bear to see in her innocent eyes. 

I didn't like the fear in others, but not from her. Not my angel. She should never be afraid of me.

"Hello, Ruhanika," I said softly, extending my hand toward her in a gesture of peace. "I'm Shivendra Rathore."

She stiffened, glancing at Kaki for reassurance, but the older woman simply blinked and nodded, encouraging her. 

After a moment, Ruhanika hesitated before tilting her head curiously, then cautiously placed her tiny, delicate hand into mine. 

Her touch was so gentle, so innocent, that it made my heart ache with a tenderness I hadn't known I was capable of.

"Hello, Sir," she whispered, her voice so small, it barely made it past her lips. The way she spoke, so fragile, made me want to protect her with everything I had. 

But the word "Sir" felt distant to me. I wasn't just a man to her. Not yet. 

I would soon teach her to call me something much more intimate, something that would make me feel truly like her father. 'Baba.'

"I'm here to take you home, Ruhanika," I said gently, my voice soft but firm with the promise of a better life ahead. "You'll come with me and be part of my family. I'm adopting you as my daughter."

As the words left my mouth, I saw her face freeze, her eyes widening in panic. 

Her breath quickened, growing shallow as she seemed to retreat further into herself, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. 

She began to tremble, her tiny frame shaking as she fought to control her breath.

My heart squeezed in my chest, and a deep, unrelenting anger boiled beneath the surface. My angel was afraid of me, and I hated it. 

But I hated even more the people who had caused this fear to fester within her.

Kaki, quick to understand what was happening, moved swiftly. She wrapped her arms around Ruhanika, pulling her into a tight, comforting hug. 

Ruhanika buried her face into Kaki's stomach, her tiny shoulders heaving as her whole body trembled. 

The sight tore me apart—my heart ached as I watched this precious child crumble before me, so vulnerable, so broken.

I whispered softly to Kaki, my voice low and filled with care. "Kaki, could you please take her outside? I think she needs you now, someone she trusts. Maybe you can help her calm down."

Kaki nodded, understanding the situation, and gently took Ruhanika by the hand, leading her out of the room. 

I watched them go, my heart heavy with an emotion I couldn't name, a mixture of sorrow and protectiveness.

I stood up, trying to gather my thoughts, but as soon as I straightened, Neeraj opened his mouth to speak.

I cut him off with a sharp, piercing glare, daring him to utter a single word. The lies he had told me, the deceit I had just uncovered, left a bitter taste in my mouth. 

If it weren't for the fact that I didn't have all the answers yet, I might've smashed his head against the wall. 

But no. Patience was key. 

I had to wait, observe, and learn the truth before I made my move.

Neeraj lowered his head and fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between me and the door where Kaki had just left.

As I waited, the only thing on my mind was Ruhanika. 

What had they done to her? 

Why had she been forced to grow up so fast? 

What had they taken from her to leave her this broken?

All I knew for certain was that whatever darkness had touched her life, I would shield her from it. From now on, she would never know fear again—not as long as I was here. I would make sure of it.

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

Asha Kaki gently led Ruhanika to the garden, settling beside her on a weathered bench. 

The peaceful ambiance of the garden stood in stark contrast to the tension that lingered inside the room. 

The soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of nature—it all felt so much calmer here, as though the outside world had paused to allow for a brief moment of respite.

Kaki smiled softly at the girl sitting beside her, her small form hunched slightly, still unsure of what lay ahead.

"Don't you want to go with Shivendra, Ruhi?" Kaki asked, her voice kind, filled with the wisdom only years of experience could bring.

Ruhanika shook her head, her dark eyes downcast, a trace of fear in her expression. 

The weight of her uncertainty was clear, and Kaki sighed quietly, her heart aching for the girl she had grown to care for.

"Why, dear? Are you scared?" Kaki asked gently, her tone soothing, as if she could calm the storm brewing inside the fragile child.

Ruhanika hesitated, her small hands gripping the fabric of her dress. She bit her lip before slowly nodding, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I am scared."

Kaki's heart clenched at the vulnerability in Ruhanika's voice, but she quickly masked her sorrow with a soft, reassuring smile. 

"Don't be scared, Ruhi," she said softly, her words wrapping around the girl like a warm embrace. "I know Shivendra. Remember how I told you about the husband of one of the girls at my orphanage? Well, he's the one. He's a good man, Ruhi. He'll treat you like a princess. You'll see."

Ruhanika looked up at her with wide, uncertain eyes, still unsure but hanging onto the hope in Kaki's words.

"But Kaki," Ruhanika said, her voice trembling slightly. "He looks so scary... and he's so... tall. I get scared just thinking about it." 

She mimicked the height with her small hands, her expression adorably innocent, causing Kaki to smile warmly at her.

Kaki chuckled softly, her heart swelling with affection for the little one. 

"Yes, he might be tall and a bit intimidating, but remember, my dear, beneath all that height, he has a heart as soft as gold. He'll love you, and he'll take care of you. He'll cherish you, Ruhi, just like you deserve. You trust me, don't you?", she asked softly.

Ruhanika's gaze softened, and she nodded, her uncertainty still lingering but slowly being replaced by something more powerful: trust. "I trust you, Kaki."

"Then trust Shivendra too," Kaki encouraged, her voice filled with warmth. "Try to see him as your father, the one who can give you the family you've always longed for."

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, Ruhanika's eyes seemed to light up with a glimmer of hope. 

She hesitated, then slowly nodded. "I'm ready, Kaki," she said, her voice soft, but the smile that spread across her face was like a beacon, signaling the birth of a new hope within her heart.

Kaki smiled, a proud, bittersweet smile, and rose to her feet, gently taking Ruhanika's hand. Together, they walked back into the office, where Shivendra was pacing restlessly, his mind in turmoil. 

He wanted nothing more than to take his daughter home, to wrap her in the warmth of the love he had intended for her. 

He wanted to be the father she deserved—one who would protect her, cherish her, and give her the family she had never known.

When Kaki and Ruhanika entered the room, Shivendra's eyes immediately sought hers. 

Kaki gave him a brief, assuring nod, and a small smile broke out on his face, a mix of relief and tenderness. 

Without wasting another moment, he crouched down to Ruhanika's level, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

"Are you ready to come with me, princess?" he asked, his voice low and gentle, laced with affection.

Ruhanika hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. 

For the first time, her eyes reflected something new—hope, the first spark of belief in the future. 

In that moment, Shivendra knew he would give her the world. He would fulfill her every dream.

"Let's finish the final procedures, then, princess," he said softly, reaching out to gently pat her head. 

To his surprise, Ruhanika didn't flinch or pull away from the touch. 

Instead, she seemed to relax under his hand, as if her body recognized the warmth, the love he was offering her—a love she had never known, but one she was willing to trust.

After the formalities were completed and Ruhanika's bag were packed with Asha Kaki's help, Shivendra reached out his hand to her once more.

"Let's go home, Princess" he said softly, his voice full of love and promise.

Ruhanika looked up at him, her small face breaking into a smile that, for the first time, reached her eyes. 

She took his hand, the touch familiar and comforting, filling the empty spaces in her heart with warmth. 

With that simple gesture, the walls she had built around herself slowly began to crumble.

Together, they left the orphanage, the beginning of a new chapter in their lives unfolding before them, one full of love, healing, and a promise of a family.

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•