Heyyy.... Umm no there will be no target I don't wanna give coz i know it won't be completed...

Second thing let me know guys what are you thinking about story in the comments...

Do somewhere I am lacking is that why you guys aren't commenting on it

Let me know I will always take healthy criticism

COMMENTS motivates me alot... And am rarely seeing the comments about story or inline comments... Thats definitely demotivating me...

ENJOY the largest update... ✨🤍

The next morning dawned with a soft glow, bringing new hopes and dreams for everyone in the Kohli household. The echoes of laughter and joy from the previous night lingered in the air, a warm reminder of the bonds they had strengthened together.

They had all collapsed into the hall, exhausted but blissful, after a night filled with stories, laughter, and shared memories.

Virat, Rey, and Rahul lay entwined, their bodies forming a protective circle, radiating warmth and security. Jassi slept soundly in Aju's embrace, his face relaxed and content, as if he were wrapped in a cocoon of safety. Nearby, Nush, Radhika, Athiya, and Sanjana were huddled together on the ground, their gentle breaths synchronizing in a rhythm of peace, a testament to their deep friendship and trust.

Tilak found himself sandwiched between Rey and Agastya, a grin stretching across his face even in his sleep, feeling cherished and included. Vami's head rested comfortably in Soumya's lap, embodying a sense of belonging, while Angad lay with his head against Soumya's shoulder, a serene expression on his face that spoke of untroubled dreams.

As sunlight streamed through the windows, it illuminated their faces, highlighting the peaceful smiles that adorned them. In that moment, they were free from fear and worry, enveloped in a bubble of love and connection. Each person's presence was a silent promise of support and friendship, creating a safe haven where they could truly be themselves.

In the tranquility of the morning, the chaos of the world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of togetherness and the unspoken understanding that they were all home, exactly where they belonged.

As the morning light poured into the room, they all stirred awake, a sense of warmth enveloping them. One by one, they shuffled off to their rooms to freshen up, leaving behind echoes of laughter from the night before.

Rey sat in a corner, feeling a mixture of uncertainty and comfort. He didn't quite know where to go, lost in the afterglow of last night's chaos. Just then, he noticed a hand extended in front of him. He looked up to find a sleepy Aakay standing there, his eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with an unmistakable warmth.

"Come on, Rey," Aakay said, a gentle smile breaking through his drowsiness. "Let's go to our room and freshen up."

The simplicity of Aakay's invitation struck a chord deep within Reyansh. It was more than just a suggestion; it was an unspoken promise of friendship and acceptance. In that moment, Rey felt an overwhelming sense of belonging, a realization that he was truly part of something special here in the Kohli household.

With a grateful smile, Rey took Aakay's hand, feeling the warmth of their connection seep into him. Standing up, he was no longer just a visitor-he was family. Together, they walked side by side, their footsteps echoing the bond they shared, a shared journey that had just begun.

As they made their way to their room, Rey's heart swelled with emotion. He was finally home, embraced by the chaotic love of those around him. The uncertainty that once clouded his mind began to dissipate, replaced by the comforting knowledge that he was exactly where he was meant to be.

On the other side, at the team hotel...

Sammy and Palak woke up early, the quiet of the morning reflecting their own introverted natures. Despite their shyness, they had found a rare connection that felt both comforting and liberating. Palak longed for someone to help her break free from her shell, and Sammy seemed to instinctively understand that need, drawing her out with kindness and patience. In turn, Sammy sought someone on the team who could see beyond the pressures of performance, who could recognize her as just another cricketer chasing her dreams-Palak did just that.

As they prepared for net practice alongside their teammates, Seeta and Babita, a sense of camaraderie began to blossom. The sounds of the cricket balls being bowled echoed around them, each thud against the pitch a reminder of their shared passion. Shami watched from a distance, a smile creeping across his face. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he observed how everyone was treating Sammy as a player first and foremost, rather than through the lens of personal relationships.

But now, in this moment, she felt a glimmer of hope. It was as if the laughter and encouragement from her teammates had lifted a heavy veil, allowing her to breathe freely again.

Shami knew how critical it was for players to separate their personal and professional lives, especially in front of the media. He had witnessed too many careers tangled in the complexities of public scrutiny, and he didn't want that for Sammy. Seeing her in this light, surrounded by support and genuine friendships, filled him with a profound sense of satisfaction.

In that moment, as Palak and Sammy exchanged shy smiles, their hearts swelled with a sense of belonging. They were not just teammates; they were kindred spirits navigating the tumultuous waters of their dreams together. Each practice, each shared laugh, and each moment of understanding brought them closer, crafting a bond that felt both fragile and unbreakable.

Unbeknownst to the players, the BCCI video team was capturing every moment of their practice session. Their social media manager and admin had a keen instinct for drawing the audience's attention, and they knew how to weave stories that resonated with fans. As the cameras rolled, they posted a multitude of videos showcasing the players, especially shining a spotlight on the heroes from the previous night: Sammy, Palak, Seeta, Aairaa, and their captain, Kritika, alongside Ziva.

Instagram exploded with their pictures, each snapshot a testament to their joy and camaraderie. The bright smiles on their faces reflected not only their triumphs on the field but also the bonds they were forming off it. Fans flooded in with likes and comments, feeling a connection to the players that transcended the game itself.

In their enthusiasm, the social media team also shared the heartfelt reactions of Shami and Virat from yesterday's match. Each post celebrated the spirit of the game and highlighted the players' journeys, crafting a narrative that uplifted them in the eyes of the public. Yet, amid the applause and adoration, the team remained blissfully unaware that their efforts were inadvertently opening doors to darker intentions.

The attention they were garnering, while thrilling, was also attracting individuals with less noble motives. Shadows lurked behind the glowing screens, eager to exploit the players' newfound fame for their own selfish desires. This juxtaposition-the purity of their passion for cricket against the insidious motives of outsiders-added a layer of complexity to their journey.

As the players practiced, fully immersed in their craft and the support of one another, they were blissfully unaware of the challenges that lay ahead. Their hearts were filled with hope and dreams, yet the very visibility that brought them joy also carried the weight of unseen threats, setting the stage for a tumultuous path they could not yet foresee.

Their social media manager approached Samaira about her social media account. With a hint of reluctance, she explained that it was her personal space, and she didn't want to blend her private life with the pressures of cricket. Understanding the gravity of the situation, the manager suggested creating a new public account for Sammy, one that could serve as a platform for her talent and personality. They set it up quickly, and almost instantly, it drew an overwhelming number of followers. Fans flocked to her, abandoning Twitter for Instagram, eager to support her and create edits that captured her essence.

Yet, as her popularity soared, so did the shadows lurking in the background.

Meanwhile, somewhere in India...

"Tomorrow's the match, right? Let's start our game," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Tell your people and the media to begin their work now. We'll start with flattery, but don't be fooled-soon enough, they'll pivot to questions about her and her family. Keep it light for now; after this series, it's time to get serious." His smirk held a sinister edge, a glint of calculation in his eyes.

As he spoke, the weight of his intentions hung in the air. He relished the idea of manipulation, knowing how easily public perception could be twisted. Each compliment would be a bait, leading to deeper scrutiny, and soon, the media would uncover every flaw, every hidden secret. It was a game of control, one he intended to play ruthlessly.

In the shadows, the excitement of Sammy's rise would soon give way to the darker realities of fame, a world where adoration could swiftly turn to scrutiny, and where enemies often wore the masks of friends. Little did they know, the very attention that brought her joy was a double-edged sword, ready to cut through the delicate fabric of her life.

The day flew by as Reyansh absorbed the stories of his father and his unofficially adopted kids. He learned about the fiercely possessive Jassi and Hardik, who guarded their "Papa" like a treasure, refusing to share him with anyone except Virat and Ms. But then there was Ishan-a sweet, spirited boy who, despite his small stature, bravely faced the wrath of Jassi's jealousy. Ishan was determined that Rohit was his brother too, and his resolve was unyielding.

Reyansh was captivated by the chaotic dynamics between Rohit, Ishan, and Jassi. The stories painted a vivid picture of a world where Jassi's jealousy erupted in dramatic fashion. Reyansh heard how Jassi would threaten anyone who dared to come near Rohit during practice, boasting of deadly bouncers and devastating yorkers aimed at those who tried to steal his brother's attention. Yet, in Rohit's presence, Jassi transformed into a picture of innocence and obedience, his eyes wide with admiration, as if the world outside faded away.

As Reyansh listened, he could almost feel the tension in the air-the playful rivalry mixed with deep affection. Jassi's possessiveness was raw and real, revealing a fierce loyalty that ran deep. It was a chaotic love that twisted and turned, filled with laughter, jealousy, and the bittersweet pangs of growing up in a family bound by cricket and camaraderie.

Each story painted a scene of wild antics: Jassi's dramatic outbursts followed by heartfelt apologies, Ishan's endearing determination to win Jassi's approval, and Rohit's laughter, echoing like a warm embrace that enveloped them all. It was a beautiful mess-a whirlwind of emotions that made Reyansh realize how fiercely they all loved each other, despite the chaos.

In that moment, he understood that this was family: a tapestry woven with threads of rivalry, affection, and the unwavering bond that could withstand even the stormiest of the days.

The day passed quickly, and as dawn broke the following morning, Sammy felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety as she and her teammates prepared for the match. The weight of unspoken words lingered heavily on her heart-she hadn't spoken to either her parents or her brother since the whirlwind of events began.

Feeling a surge of urgency, she dialed her brother's number, her heart racing as she waited for him to pick up. When Rey finally answered, she asked about his day, her voice laced with concern. Hearing his reassuring response-that he felt comfortable-washed over her like a warm embrace, and for the first time that morning, she felt a flicker of relief. She let go of some of her worries, knowing that at least he was okay.

After their conversation, Sammy's thoughts turned to her parents. She knew she needed to reach out to them, to bridge the emotional distance that had grown since everything changed. With a deep breath, she tried to call them, but instead, she received a message from Rohit. He informed her that her parents were in a session with Ritika.

Disappointment washed over her like a cold wave. She sighed, feeling a knot tighten in her chest. The longing to connect with her parents, to hear their voices and share her feelings, was overwhelming. In that moment, she felt an ache for the support and understanding she desperately needed.

As she stood there, surrounded by the buzz of her teammates, the excitement of the match felt distant. The internal struggle between her love for cricket and the yearning for family was a tumultuous tide, leaving her feeling adrift. Sammy closed her eyes for a moment, wishing for the comfort of their presence, the warmth of their words, and the reassurance that everything would be alright.

But for now, she would have to channel her emotions into the game ahead, hoping that soon she would find the time to reconnect with the family that meant everything to her.

In the dressing room, anticipation hung thick in the air as everyone prepared to step onto the field. India had lost the toss, leaving them to bat first. Palak and Sammy, brimming with determination, were ready to open the innings. They shared a heartfelt pep talk with their teammates, a moment that felt both critical and intimate, before stepping out into the vibrant energy of the ground.

As the match began, the opposition team stood composed, their confidence palpable. After two tense overs, India had yet to score; the scoreboard remained stubbornly at zero. Spectators and commentators echoed their concerns, sensing the weight of pressure on the Indian batsmen. Yet, in the midst of that pressure, Palak and Sammy felt a calm resolve. They studied the pitch closely-it was neither a friend to the batsmen nor the bowlers. They recognized that skillful bowling could yield wickets, but if they played their shots with precision, runs would follow.

With a shared understanding, they had a brief yet profound discussion. One would assume the role of the anchor, steadying the ship, while the other would take the initiative, attacking the bowlers. As they executed their plan, something magical happened-the runs began to flow like a river bursting forth. By the 25th over, India had amassed 190 runs. It wasn't a stellar total, but it felt like a collective achievement, a testament to their resilience.

In the next over, heartbreak struck as Palak, on 97, fell just short of a well-deserved century. A wave of disappointment washed over her, but she quickly reminded herself of the importance of her contribution. Sammy, sensing the moment's weight, rallied Aarya as she joined her at the crease. They spoke quietly, sharing encouragement and strategy, as if binding their hopes together.

Sammy reached her century with a magnificent six, a moment that ignited joy and pride. She shifted into the role of anchor, her focus unwavering as Aarya unleashed her talent, attacking the bowlers with fervor. Runs flowed freely, each boundary echoing the spirit of their teamwork. But then, in a twist of fate, Sammy was run out-a crushing blow. The crowd gasped, but she held her head high, knowing she had given her all.

Ziva stepped onto the field, and with Aarya, they elevated the innings further. Their partnership was electric, a blend of skill and determination. Even as Aarya eventually fell, Kritika stepped in, ready to shoulder the responsibility. With each run, the atmosphere pulsed with excitement and hope.

When the innings concluded, India had set a target of 295 runs-a figure that shimmered with promise. It was more than just numbers on a board; it was a reflection of their hard work, passion, and the unbreakable bond they shared as a team.

Virat felt a swell of pride as he watched Palak and Sammy perform. Their determination and skill shone brightly, and he knew they deserved recognition. After the first innings concluded, he patiently waited in the dressing room, where the atmosphere buzzed with excitement and camaraderie. Surrounded by the batting coach and head coach, he began to commend the entire team, but his heart was set on two individuals.

When the moment was right, he stepped forward, his voice warm and sincere. "Palak, Sammy, you both are the newfound jewels of the Indian team. Palak, we've witnessed your incredible talent over the past year, but every great player needs a partner to thrive alongside them. Sammy, you've stepped into that role perfectly, providing the support Palak needed to shine even brighter."

He paused, taking a moment to let his words resonate. "The way you approached those initial overs-taking your time, observing the pitch, and not rushing-shows an extraordinary maturity beyond your years. It's a testament to your growth as batsmen, and it fills me with hope for the future of this team."

Virat's expression grew earnest as he continued, "Your talent deserves to be celebrated, and I want the world to see it. But I urge you to remember one crucial thing: don't let aggression cloud your judgment. I've seen how aggressive players can sometimes be misrepresented outside our circle. Hold onto your passion, but always stay grounded. Trust in your skills, learn new techniques, and embrace the journey ahead. The world is watching, and I have no doubt that you both will leave an indelible mark."

With those words, he hoped to inspire them not just as players, but as individuals navigating the complexities of their dreams.

Unknown to them, Aairaa's mobile was continuously ringing, vibrating with a flurry of messages that felt like a relentless storm. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead, feeling the weight of stress pressing down on her. The calls continued to echo in her mind, each one a reminder of the pressure she was under. As she glanced over at her teammates, deep in strategy for the second innings, a knot tightened in her stomach. She couldn't ignore the call any longer. Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the group, seeking a moment of solitude.

Finally, she answered, her heart racing.

"Aye, ladki, kya socha hai tumne? Jo humne kaha hai, haan?" The voice on the other end was sharp and demanding.

"Apni jaan dedungi, lekin apne desh ke saath gaddari nahi karungi. Aur apne profession ke saath bhi, samjhi?" Aairaa shot back, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. "Agar itni himmat hai na tujh mein, toh saamne aakar baat kar mujhse."

The cold laughter that followed sent chills down her spine. "Tujhe nahi pata, tu kis se panga le rahi hai, bewakoof ladki. Agar aaj match nahi haari na India, toh tu soch bhi nahi paogi tere saath aur tere co-players ke saath kya hoga, samjhi?" His words were like ice, slicing through her resolve.

"Maang gaye tujhe aaj! Haan, humne laga tumhare maa ka khoon behraha hoga tumhare andar, but tum toh apne baap ki tarah nikli ek dum," he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain.

The weight of his words pressed heavily on her chest, a suffocating reminder of the stakes involved. "Par iske consequences toh bhugatna padega tumhe aur tumhare team ko, last time se bhi zyada," he threatened, his voice cold and menacing. Aairaa felt a surge of fear, but she fought to maintain her composure.

"I won't let you intimidate me," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Jo ukhadna hai, udhad le! Darte nahi hum tujhse, samjha? Chal, bhadwe!" She cut the call, her hands trembling slightly, heart racing with adrenaline and fear.

Taking a deep breath, Aairaa stared at the ground, feeling a mix of dread and determination swirling within her. The pressure of the impending match weighed heavily on her shoulders, but so did the desire to prove herself. She mumbled under her breath, "Aaj hat-trick lekar rahungi main," her voice firm despite the turmoil inside.

In that moment, she felt a fire ignite within her, fueled by the challenge ahead. Aairaa knew that she was fighting not just for the match, but for her identity, her dignity, and the respect she craved. The battle lines were drawn, and she was ready to confront whatever came her way.

As the next innings began, a thick tension hung in the air, and Aairaa emerged like a storm, determined to take control. From the moment she stepped onto the pitch, she was a whirlwind of focus. In her very first over, she bowled six exceptional balls, achieving a maiden over that left the batsmen visibly shaken. Ziva and Aarya exchanged anxious glances, sensing an ominous fire igniting within Aairaa; she was fierce and relentless.

At the other end, Seeta took the cue from Aairaa's intensity, but the batsmen, desperate to target her, quickly fell apart. In a shocking twist, they lost two wickets in that maiden over, sending shockwaves through the crowd. It felt as though they were witnessing a gripping thriller unfold, each ball like a scene from a dark movie they never wanted to see.

Despite the early losses, the batsmen fought back, but the scoreboard remained precarious until the 20th over, when Aairaa returned for her third spell. With two maiden overs under her belt, she stepped up to deliver with unwavering resolve. After four dot balls, she unleashed a perfectly placed inswinging yorker that bowled the batsman clean, leaving him dumbfounded. The crowd erupted, but Aairaa felt something darker creeping in. She was a force of nature, and yet, a sinister feeling lingered at the back of her mind.

As she continued her ruthless performance, taking five wickets, the opposition team collapsed for a mere 196 runs. The weight of victory felt hollow, overshadowed by the shadows lurking just beyond her triumph. Though she was named Player of the Match, a chill ran down her spine, gnawing at her joy.

After the match, Aairaa found herself drawn to Virat, compelled to share the dark undercurrents that had begun to drown her spirit. She hesitated, her heart pounding, but knew she had to reveal what loomed over her like a storm cloud. Approaching him while he discussed strategies with Tilak and Shami, she felt a surge of dread.

"Chachu, you need to see this," she said, her voice a whisper, trembling as she handed her mobile to Virat. The moment he opened it, his expression morphed from curiosity to horror as he read the chilling messages that threatened not only her but her teammates as well. The words were like venom, threatening their lives and dredging up her mother's painful past.

Virat's fury erupted as he slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing ominously in the silence that followed. Shami stood frozen, confusion etched across his face, but the weight of the situation settled heavily on them. Virat, feeling a primal urge to protect, snatched the mobile from Aairaa, his eyes narrowing as he read the threats again. Tilak's face paled, reflecting the gravity of their reality.

Virat pulled Aairaa into his embrace, his voice a fierce whisper against the rising tide of panic. "Kab se ho raha hai yeh, baccha? Shh," he said, desperate to shield her from the malevolence lurking in the messages.

Aairaa's composure shattered as tears streamed down her cheeks, each sob a release of pent-up fear and anguish. "Since the last series, Chachu. I tried to manage, but it's becoming overwhelming. I feel like I'm losing everything-the fear of losing you, my only parent, and my extended family is suffocating me." Her voice broke, the weight of her vulnerability hanging heavy in the air.

Virat and Shami exchanged anxious glances, the dark implications of the messages settling in their minds. They felt the gravity of Aairaa's situation; this wasn't just about cricket-it was about survival. As Aairaa's gaze drifted to the pictures on the wall, depicting her with Ziva, Aarya, Vami, and Angad-the "baccha party"-a chilling realization washed over her. They had been watched, monitored, and now their lives hung in the balance.

Virat's protective instincts surged. He clenched his fists, feeling anger morph into a desperate need to safeguard Aairaa from the shadows that threatened her. "We're going to face this together," he promised, though uncertainty gnawed at him. "You're not alone in this fight."

But even as he spoke, Aairaa felt an icy tendril of dread wrap around her heart. She knew the stakes were higher than ever. It wasn't just a game anymore; it was a battle against unseen forces lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike. And in that moment, surrounded by friends who were oblivious to the creeping danger, Aairaa realized that the true fight was only just beginning.

Virat's heart raced as he processed the gravity of the situation. The threats were not just words; they were ominous shadows looming over Aairaa and everyone she cared about. He could feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders, an urgency to act before the darkness consumed them.

"Listen to me, Aairaa," he said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "We can't let this go unchallenged. I won't let you face this alone." He glanced around at Shami and Tilak, his expression hardening. "We need to take action-immediately."

Shami nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "We need to inform the authorities, get them involved. This is serious, and it's affecting not just Aairaa, but the entire team."

Virat took a deep breath, his mind racing as he formulated a plan. "First, we'll ensure Aairaa's safety. No one can get to her while we're around." He turned to her, his eyes softening. "I promise, we will protect you. I'll even arrange for extra security. We can't let them intimidate you."

Aairaa looked up at him, tears still glistening in her eyes but now mingled with a spark of determination. "What if they come after you chachu, or dad or the team?" she asked, her voice trembling. "I can't let you all get hurt because of me."

Virat took her hands in his, gripping them tightly. "This isn't just about you; it's about all of us. We're a family, and families protect each other. We'll face whatever comes together. But we need to be smart about this."

With a plan starting to take shape, Virat reached for his phone, quickly dialing a trusted contact in the local authorities. He spoke urgently, relaying the threats and the seriousness of the situation, insisting on immediate intervention. His voice was calm, but inside, he was seething with anger at the cowardice of those who hid behind screens, threatening innocent lives.

As he ended the call, he turned back to Aairaa. "They're sending someone over to discuss this further. We need to document everything-every message, every threat. They can't get away with this."

Although Virat had promised they would confront this together, a heavy weight pressed down on him. He felt lost, unsure where to begin or how to uncover the identities of those lurking in the shadows. If only he could grasp the truth behind the darkness that had once haunted Rohit Sharma, now it seemed to resurface, targeting Aairaa Shami, who was flourishing at the pinnacle of her career.

Meanwhile, Tilak stepped out of the dressing room, his heart pounding. He had just received a message from his investigator, and the contents chilled him. The BCCI had received an anonymous letter, reminiscent of the one that had caused turmoil fifteen years ago. What unsettled him even more was the timing of it-the letter had appeared in Bhatia sir's absence from the BCCI committee.

Tilak couldn't shake the feeling of dread. In the past, it had been about his Rohit bhayya; now, it felt like an ominous cloud was hanging over the next generation-the kids. He felt a surge of anger and desperation. How could he just sit back and do nothing? This was too important.

He quickly messaged the investigator, urging him to meet in a café. When he arrived, he walked in with a sense of urgency, his thoughts racing. "Virat bhayya," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "I've called someone. We can't remain passive. The final match of the series is just two days away, and I know they'll make another move to contact Aairaa. We have to act-before it's too late."

The tension in the air felt almost suffocating, a reminder that time was running out and the shadows were closing in.

In the shadows, a figure watched with a predatory gaze as Aairaa conversed with Virat about the threats encircling them. A sense of exhilaration coursed through him as he observed their ignorance, blissfully unaware of the malevolence that loomed nearby. Inside the changing room, Shami remained oblivious to the sinister plot unfolding just beyond his sight, while Tilak was tucked away, engrossed in hushed conversation with a private detective.

The observer's heart raced as he relayed the details to his boss, his voice dripping with a chilling satisfaction. "Boss, they've unwittingly stepped into our trap. That girl is Shami's, and Kohli is the only other one here. They're tangled in their own fears, lost in the shadows of the threats. I believe we can begin our game with Sharma ji's daughter tomorrow. We just need to bide our time until he arrives."

A sinister smile spread across his face, revealing a darkness that ran deep. The thrill of manipulation sent shivers down his spine. He envisioned the chaos he would unleash, savoring the power he held over their destinies. The anticipation of their unraveling ignited a twisted joy within him, as he reveled in the creeping dread that would soon engulf them all.

As he lingered in the darkness, the air thick with tension, he whispered to himself, "Soon, they will know the true meaning of fear."

"By the way, what happened to the letter we sent to the BCCI? Did they take it seriously or not?" his boss asked, his voice cold and void of any warmth.

"No, boss. Just like 15 years ago, they dismissed it as a trivial prank. They made the same foolish mistake, carelessly tossing it aside as if it were nothing. Such naive souls don't see the darkness creeping in, oblivious to the shadows that linger just beyond their reach. Fate has a sinister way of repeating itself, and they are blissfully ignorant of the storm gathering around them."

"Start working on our plan tomorrow. We need to make the first move on that girl, Samaira or Aairaa. We must send Sharma ji an unsettling hint that he needs to come here; otherwise, the past will entwine itself with the present. This time, he won't escape the clutches of his own haunting memories. Tch, what a pathetic man," he chuckled, a slow, eerie smile creeping across his face.

The thrill of their impending despair filled him with a dark elation. He envisioned their lives unraveling, each thread slipping through their fingers as they grasped at the shadows of their ignorance. Every heartbeat, every whispered fear, would serve as a reminder of the web he was weaving around them, tightening with each passing moment. The anticipation of their terror sent chills down his spine, fueling a twisted joy that danced in the recesses of his mind.

In that darkness, he felt alive, intoxicated by the power he held over their fates, savoring the thought of how they would soon realize the true meaning of dread.

Unaware of the dark clouds gathering overhead, Rohit was in Canada, preparing to return to his hometown after a heart-wrenching 15 years. The weight of nostalgia and longing filled him as he planned to arrive in India just as the final match of the series was being played. He yearned to surprise his baby girl, who had begun her journey representing the country without him by her side. In just ten days, it would mark the anniversary of that dreadful day-a day that haunted him relentlessly. Abhishek and Tilak needed him more than anyone else; he longed for the familiar warmth of his people. That day had robbed them of someone precious, and the memory still tormented him, casting shadows over his thoughts, creeping into his mind even in the light of day.

As he pondered this, Ritika entered the room, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of their shared pain. She was his wife, his love, and the one who had endured the most since that day. The memories weighed heavily upon her, like a living nightmare she could not escape, yet she stood before him, a portrait of resilience amid countless fractures in her spirit. He felt an ache in his chest as he walked toward her, a mix of love and sorrow swirling within him.

**Rohit:** "Ritsy, are you ready? Did you pack everything, especially your medications? I need to know you're okay with this decision. It's a lot to face, and I don't want you to feel alone in this."

**Ritsy:** "I've packed everything, and I'm ready to face this head-on. I know it feels overwhelming, but we can't run away from what's coming. We have to confront it, no matter how daunting it seems. Abhi needs us now more than ever, and we can't let him down."

Her voice was steady, yet he could sense the tremor beneath it, the raw emotion she was struggling to contain. Her strength shone through the cracks, but he knew the journey ahead would test them both.

**Rohit:** "We will be there in less than three days, Ritsy. Just the two of us, without the kids. I promise, everything will be alright. We'll face this together."

As he spoke, he reached for her hand, holding it tightly as if to reassure her-and himself-that they could withstand whatever was to come. The enormity of their shared history hung heavy in the air, but in that moment, he felt a flicker of hope. They had endured so much together; perhaps this time, they could find a way to heal..

As the day drew to a close, Rohit felt a mix of anticipation and trepidation. He turned to Ritika, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun.

"That's it , Ritsy. We've taken the first step. We'll face whatever comes next together."

She nodded, her eyes reflecting both strength and vulnerability. "I'm ready. We'll get through this."

That's it for now....

Sharma jii will be there in next update with ritsy.....

Let me know what do you think about the threat will they succeed in that

What about the threat that has given to Aairaa, will virat able to find out who is behind of it...

COMMENTS motivates me alot just let me know how is story going on what are you guys thinking...

See ya with next update hopefully soon

Love
Amy ❤️