"I loved her first, "

"Bapi!!!" The moment Omkara heard the call, the emotional yell of a daughter calling for her father. The moment he saw the familiar sparkle in her eyes. He felt alive again. He knew finally a balm was being applied to wounds left open from years. He could sense the sensation of soothing healing balm on his burning wounds.

The sensation of ice on his burning heart. Soothing, healing cold ice on wounds left open and unattended for years. The untended open infected burn wounds on his heart. Wounds whose pain he all but forgot or maybe after carrying the wounds for 11 years, he had finally grown accustomed to the pain.

But no, not anymore for all his wounds were healing themselves. For his cure was in front of him. For his little girl was in front of him. He can't define the feelings he perceived just watching her. There. Alright.

Om didn't know when he had opened his arms for her. When he has taken a step forward with his arms wide open. A silent gesture screaming everything he wants to convey. "Hop in love, for I'll always hold you"

Aaina didn't need any more invitation. Biting on her lips to keep down the sob threatening to escape her lips. She flung herself in her father's arms. For she has waited 11 years for this moment. 11 years to be in her father's arm. 11 years to let her guard down and feel absolutely safe.

The moment she leaped in his arms, he didn't see the 28-year-old woman she is now. He didn't even see the 17-year-old teenager he last saw– instead he saw a 3-year-old girl with pigtails blindly throwing herself in his arms, always.

He saw the girl who will jump down the monkey bars on his one word. He saw the little girl who blindly trusted his "I'll always catch you, Squirrel". The girl who leaped off high chairs, ladders, and cabinets alike flying in his arms. Always trusting that he won't let her fall down. He will save her.

The little girl who will giggle merrily every time he throws her in the air and catches her. The trust of a child. Pure, innocent, and always so strong. A trust that turns uncertain with growth spurts.

When she wrapped her arms around him, fisting his clothes and tucking her head in the crook of his neck. Om couldn't help but remember similar moments from the past the infant girl, the toddler, the pouty child sleeping in his arms always holding onto his clothes in her tiny fists— afraid he'll leave her and disappear in the dark of night.

The Little girl he rocked to sleep uncountable times. The little stubborn child who'll wail on top of her lungs if not rocked back n forth to seep. The girl who loved to sleep on the outdoor swing and the girl who'll squint her eyes open after every few minutes to check if she was in the swing or not.

The girl who finds it absolutely necessary to paint his pristine white sculpture with her fingers—because colors were pwetty and bright and white wasn't that eye-catching or pwetty.

He can see that giggling 4-year-old in front of him covered head to toe in paint pointing towards what once was a beautiful white swan. Now, it looked like a rainbow Swan.

"colorful and pwetty birdie, baba" the giggling colorful child informed him gleefully. She looked so cute with that mile-wide mischief streak of hers.

"Yeah, very pretty" he agreed with her taking the paint drenched child in his arms and twirling her around the room. His always solace filled room was suddenly full of squeals and giggles of an innocent child. Even his colorful yet always gloomy paintings seemed happy.

The little girl who always insisted on helping him while making clay and the girl who always ended up looking like she had a mud bath; when they finished. The girl who threw mud balls at him pretending they were snowballs. The little girl with a wild imagination.

And the girl who had no qualms in rolling in dirt and grease. The girl who didn't fear wobbly insects. The girl who ran after butterflies. The girl who is his butterfly.

The girl who'll run back in his arms, every time he dropped her to the boarding school. After, every holiday session spent together. The little berry who could only hug his legs and the grown girl who always threw herself in his arms. The girl who didn't mind holding his hands while walking even during high school.

And he always stood there beside the gate waiting for her to turn and run back to him after their final see you again. He waited for her to hug him and whisper "Miss you, bapi. Call daily."

The girl that started calling him "Bapi" when she was 9-years-old. Because according to her logic "baba" reminds her of "Sadhu baba". He had laughed aloud when she had informed him of this with her face scrunched up in disdain.

"Bapi, It's not a laughing matter, " she had whined trying to make him understand the importance of the whole matter.

And he had nodded solemnly in support of her logic. How could he tell a child her age it didn't matter whether she called him "baba" or "bapi" as long as she thought he deserved to her father. He was blessed to be her favorite person, her secret-keeper. The person she trusted with everything.

The girl that grew up too soon. The girl whose mischievous eyes vanished under the veils of a poker face. The drunk girl wailing about her broken heart. The intoxicated girl he picked up from the dirty ground with scraped knees and eyes that held pain and sorrow.

The gloomy look no child her age should wear. The girl who loved paintings and rainbows turning into a blank canvas. And the girl he lost because of his stupid brother.

But having her back in his arms, hiding her face as she did in childhood tugged a million and one memories. Memories she must have forgotten for how come she remember what she did when she was 12 or 15 month old but he remembers them all.

Her first word, her first walk, the first time she was placed in his arms looking all pink and tiny. The time she innocently repeated a curse word she picked from Shivaaye, shocking all of them.

He remembers it all. Everything about her. She was the first child he held. Little Shivu and Ansh the first children of their family. The first children of the new generation.

He remembers helping Shivaaye and Anika in taking care of both of them. Especially, little adventures Aaina who loved ogling birds, clouds, flowers and everything else the world has to provide.

The 6-month-old, who'll cry rivers if not taken outside. He remembers it all. Omisha-Omav-Shivu-Ansh four babies in the house and the house was a madhouse.

He remembers the best friends they were always following each other around, always up to mischief and one accident changes it all. He loves them all.

But now, having her back in his arms. It feels like years were never there between them. She was back to him. He doesn't know what miracle this was but she was back in his arms.

And it's all that mattered, he stood there holding onto her for dear life. No, words were exchanged for words will never be good enough to explain what both of them had gone through the years.

The whimper that escaped her lips, the way their eyes rained as they hold onto each other. 11 years was a long time, a very long time for them. They had watched people changing in seconds and now, they were face to face with each other after years.

Knowing expecting no change will be a foolish notion but at that moment all they wanted was it all to be the same. She still wanted to be the child, he'll always catch and save from falling. And he wanted her to be the same girl, who confided in him with everything.

It felt like another 11 years had passed, with her in his arms. Weeping like an infant while he held onto her consoling her like always. Unaware of his own tears. But the moment they broke the hug. The moment their souls had completed their silent reunion.

Om looked at her. He looked at her properly taking in her appearance. The misty red eyes full of emotions yet he could see that hidden mischief in them again.

She looked fine yet all his heart was feeling was worry for her. He couldn't diminish it even if he wanted too. A 17-year-old alone in the big bad world, not at all a fairytale picture for him.

"Why didn't you...." He croaked out, his voice full of worry, anger and most of all pleading. He didn't know what he really wanted to ask her? Why didn't she call? Why didn't she tell him where she was?? Why didn't she try contacting him? Did she not trust him anymore?

Om couldn't help but notice how she shrank in herself. How she won't just look in his eyes.

"I...I thought you hated me, " He heard her mumble so softly, almost whimpering out the answer.

And he couldn't help but feel like a total failure. What has he done to make her feel like he hated her? Did she really think he hated her?

"Shivanya, how can you think so??" The unmistakable voice of Gauri Singh Oberoi rang around them.

"Mom"

Gauri Singh Oberoi has seen many things in her life. She has seen many ups and downs. She has faced many things. She wasn't born with a silver spoon. She was the daughter of Mrs. Jhanvi Oberoi's PA.

A PA's daughter—who was asked to be her daughter-in-law. She was really happy at that moment feeling blessed. She didn't know why Mrs. Oberoi selected her?

But she was happy for she harbored a secret crush on the calm artistic and the gentlest Oberoi for as long as she can remember. Even after knowing he was way out of her league.

But she was happy. Her marriage seemed like a scene out of a fairy tale. Everything was beautiful and magnificent. It was everything she couldn't ever afford from the dresses to dishes to decorations. It was a beautiful dream.

A beautiful dream that broke in night and a real nightmare began. She thought Mrs. Oberoi was gifting her a life of roses but in reality, she gifted her a house of thorns.

A husband whose love was snatched. A political family she offended by just being Mrs. Omkara Oberoi. The socialites that never saw her as anything but a servant. For them, a servant's daughter will always be a servant.

Diplomacy, mannerisms, etiquette, high society politics. Who knew there was a definite way of eating? Who knew there was a particular way of breathing too? Who knew you always need to look perfect? You can be breaking apart from inside but even a single hair strand can't be out of place.

No one told her of these things and she was the new laughing stock of the high society. The Oberoi daughter-in-law without any virtue or mannerism. And then there was her unsaid competitor, the perfect Ishana Deshmukh.

Polite, dangerous, diplomatic, shrewd and a Queen every member of high society bowed before. No one dared say a thing in front of her face.

Too afraid of the feral, untamed being. Too afraid of the girl who attended a social gathering day after her engagement was publicly broken and she was slandered.

The haughty princess of the court, that walked like everything was beneath her. She was dangerous, wild and unbroken. The girl who had millions of tricks beneath her fingers. The girl who pulled out a gun and stood in front of her father like a human shield protecting him from savages.

Everyone knew about the danger Ishana possessed. Everyone knew to steer clear of the Deshmukh's only child's path and Mrs. Jhanvi Oberoi has unceremoniously pushed her exactly in front of the girl as her enemy.

Mrs. Jhanvi Oberoi had made the world think she was better than Ishana Deshmukh and then left her to be the laughing stock of the high society.

The differences were clear refined Ishana and unmannered Gauri. Mrs. Oberoi watched the show with great gusto. Her way of helping her was attending all the events in her stead. Locking her in the house. Keeping her busy with household chores.

It had taken Gauri 10 years and lost children to finally understand why Mrs.  Jhanvi Oberoi married her to Om and not Ishana.

Jhanvi Oberoi wanted a girl she can control and Ishana was untamable. A girl who won't snatch her power. A girl she can lock-in the house. A girl who won't be the new face of the Oberoi high circle. A girl that will let her be the Queen of the ladies of high society.

And to Gauri's unfortune, she was the perfect girl. She was someone Jhanvi Oberoi knew, someone who trusted Jhanvi and was grateful for her.

When her daughter told her not to come with her on PTM or any other social gatherings at school. When her daughter told her that she embarrassed her in front of her friends. When her own children eagerly looked past her and chose their grandparents for every such function.

She tried and tried connecting to them. She tried searching the toddlers who will always search for her and seek her presence in them. She tried and tried. For she loved them, she loved them maybe even more than Omkara.

They were a part of her. She had felt them grow inside her. She had known their presence first. She had loved them first. How could she not love them?? She felt their every little action, she knew their every habit. She loved them first and she lost them first too. 

She lost them when Omav complained about his father's profession and asked him "why couldn't he be a tough businessman like his grandpa and bade papa?"

She lost them when Omisha didn't even want to be spotted with them. When Omisha and Omav both started avoiding their father's functions whether it was the opening of any new art gallery or any prize ceremony.

Gauri has lost her children to the high society. She has lost her children to the face of Oberoi's. For neither Pinky, nor Anika or Gauri could be made the faces ever.

Even educated they were illiterate in front of those narcissists. In those tiring times, in those depressed days. The only light of her life had been the first child of their family. Shivanya had been her solace. Her child who never rejected the maternal love bestowed on her.

Omkara knew this fact well and noticing her fatigue and depression. Her husband dearest has taken her with him to Dehradun.

The City where their Shivanya was growing up in. Even during the winter breaks when the other children returned to their homes. Shivu couldn't return as either Shivaaye or Om will come and spend time with her. A farmhouse of sort was build here, watching it she always remembered the towers where the princess was locked away from her family. The towers and forts from where the prince rescued the prisoned princess.

So, that time it was her and Om. The first time after almost years she saw the frail and pale girl peeking at her from behind her husband's legs. All her maternal instincts suddenly activated and they screamed at her to love the clearly love-starved child.

The shy hello as the little girl hold onto Om for dear life, clearly wary of strangers. Even when the said stranger was family. From that day, Gauri had adopted a third daughter.

She may not have birthed Shivanya but she loved the girl as her own. The little stay in the wooden house on the top of hills. The little girl adamant about keeping a pet monkey. The girl whose school persons always called her or Om whenever they have any complaints regards her. It was a very rare occurrence. For Shivanya never misbehaved.

She remembers with distinct clarity the time she got a call from the school. Shivu had decided to raise a kitten in school secretly. Naturally, it didn't stay a secret.

And she couldn't say no to the girl when she asked her to take Mr. Toffee back home with her. Apparently, Mr. Toffee was very lonely and didn't have any home. Gauri never could say no to her or the cute little kitten forwarded to her.

Mr. Toffee had been a very good companion to Gauri. She took him with her whenever she went to visit Shivu and the girl loved her Toffee dearly. Even though shivu loved the stuff toy replacement, she gifted her with too.

She remembers the 17-year-old girl who bravely helped her father dig the grave of poor Mr. Toffee. She remembers the ceremony, they buried the loyal cat. Shivu had made a tombstone for the cat.

"Here lies the most loyal and adored, Mr. Toffee. You were the best. And you'll always be family. Sleep tight, Mr. Toffee"

The words in Shivu's cursive writing and the rose field there. She knows the girl. The girl she didn't birth but the girl who called her mother nonetheless. The girl that was her child nonetheless.

She knows the girl who cried in her arms when someone called her "white lizard". She cried in her arms when people teased her on her eyes.

The girl over whose condition she cried in the farmhouse. The girl she cared for as much as the children she birthed if not more. The girl whose heartbreak she saw and resented the guy forever.

The girl who never made her feel like a failure as a mother. The girl who never thought twice before walking while holding her hands. The girl who always made her proud was right now making her feel like a failure as a mother.

How can she think that they hated her? Gauri didn't know what got over her when she questioned Shivu about the same.

She didn't want to sound so harsh but she couldn't help it. She was hurt. But the second she heard her girl call her mom again. Something inside her broke and fixed again.

She didn't even know whether she floated or flowed but the next second she had Shivu in her arms.

Breaking apart she questioned her again. " why did you feel like we hated you?" Gauri couldn't help but question this time softly.

"I...I destroyed your new car, " She mumbled sheepishly

"And saved Shivika. Do you really think a car mattered to me more than you??" Om questioned her logic incredulously.
Totally, not believing her.

"Umm...dad said you hated me. He said you were angry because I hurt Omisha. But I...I didn't Bapi, I swear, I didn't push her down the stairs, mom. I wasn't even there, " Aaina all but mumbled.

From her experience, she knew no one trusted her on such incidences. Her parents, grandparents looked at her like she is some kind of serial killer on loose.

"Shivu, we know it wasn't you. We never blamed you ever, " Gauri said pulling Aaina in for a tight hug.

"But dad, "

"Your dad is an idiot and it's a proven fact, " Omkara was feeling so, so angry on his brother right now. What was Shivaaye even thinking? He didn't say anything like that then from where did Shivaaye get this stupid idea??

"I...I missed you a lot, "Om heard Aaina mumble and his eyes softened again. He'll deal with his brother later. For now, his daughter was all that mattered.

" so, where to? And how life has been?" After another few minutes of comfortable silence and solace. Om asked his daughter eager to know about her life. He has many scores to settle with his brother. It'll be worth if he knows the damage of his brother's decision from her.

"Well, you mean how life was after being an exiled disposed crown princess" and there she was the cheeky little thing. The mischievous squirrel, he lost to the boarding school and college.

Staring at him with those wild, mischief filled eyes. She looked exactly like the little girl who will pain mud balls as snowballs.

"Well, yeah, " he couldn't he but humor her.

"Well dil backseat pr tha, dimag front seat pr but raaste mein kuch bandar mil gye the toh maine apni vanar sena banayi, so, maybe I'm the general of apes now."  Om couldn't help but shake his head at her words.

He never thought the dialogue his brother repeated so many times, so seriously. His own daughter will make a joke out of it.

In his entire life, he thinks only this little girl is capable of making his wife change emotions so rapidly. Few minutes, back she was crying her eyes out and now she is chuckling along with this cheeky little thing.

"And, where is your sena then??" Om didn't know whether he was humoring her or him? But it felt good to watch her grin like this.

"Well, they're..." Shivu couldn't complete her question as someone called her. Someone Om has seen yet he couldn't remember where?

"Aaina!!!"

~to be continued~

Hello everyone, how are you people doing?? I hope you all are safe and sound.

Stay safe, stay home and help the needy people around.

Enjoy the chapter and with this, I'll take your leave.

So, adieu guys till the next update.