Agar mein nakam rhi tumhe rokne mein
Agar mein har gyi hamara rishta bachane mein
Agar tum Jeet gyen mere pyar ko andekha krr..mere sarre efforts ko bhul aage badh Jane mein

To meri ak baat hamesha yaad rakhna meri jaan

Ye bhagwan jante h ki jis pyar k lia duniya taras jati h na

Maine tumse wo pyar kia tha

Wo Bhagwan janta h ki bhagwan ka hi darja de dia tha tumhe

Lekin inn sab k bad bhi agar mein harr jati hu na

To m aisa harungi meri jaan

Ki tum JEET KE BHI PACHTAOGE 🥀♥️

This was the last feeling the old, vulnerable girl inside me had for someone who never deserved my love. No, not love—prem—a deeper, purer form of love. But that girl? She died long ago.

Now, I’m here, carving out my own path, traveling to new places, living by my own rules. Every time I put on my uniform, it reminds me of the freedom I’ve fought for and the life I deserve. I earned it, every stitch and every stripe. This is my story now, and I’m the one writing it.

It wasn’t like I had a traumatic past , childhood trauma or suffered through some nightmares. But still, life didn’t go easy on me; it wasn’t much kinder than trauma.

Since I was young, I was always asked to wait. Wait for everything—the tiniest things, the simplest needs. I had no one to confide in. I loved my parents deeply, but I had to constantly prove myself as the “good daughter.” When they discovered I was in love, I became the “bad daughter.” From that day forward, no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough. No one noticed, no one cared.

And then, as if fate wanted to rub it in, the man I poured my heart into left, telling me I wasn’t enough.

But it's not like I didn't care and love them..I can go to any extent for single smile of my parents.

I may have failed as a daughter and in love, but I refuse to fail as a woman.

So here I am, proudly wearing the cabin crew uniform of one of the world’s biggest airlines, ready to soar in my own sky. This is my journey now, and I’m finally in control of where it leads.

Right now, I’m in Amsterdam, savoring my layover. I’m wrapped up in a bathrobe, stretched out on a queen-size bed, enjoying the view of the chilly weather from my window.

Then, of course, the foodie in me kicks in. I crave something warm and delicious, so I call down to reception and order a bowl of tomato soup, garlic bread, and a hot coffee—perfect for a cold day like this.

It’s not that I’m always eating, but, hey, did I mention I’m a pretty good cook too? Give me the right ingredients, and I can whip up just about anything.

Just as I opened the door to collect my order, everything looked so tempting—warm, delicious, and exactly what I needed. I settled in, ready to savor my first bite.

But then, my phone rang. I hate distraction while eating..I even put my hair in bun so that even my hair stranfs doesn't interrupt..

Mateshwari.
My mother, Kirti Rawat
How does she always know the exact moment I’m about to eat something from outside?

I picked up the phone, smiling. “Good afternoon, Mateshwari! I love you and miss you so much!”

Her voice was quick and knowing. “Are you eating junk food again? Vanya, how many times have I told you to pack homemade snacks for your layovers?”

I laughed. “Oh, come on, Mom! How do you even know I’m eating out? And, by the way, I’m not eating junk—I’m having tomato soup. Healthy, right?”

She sighed. “I know by the way you say ‘I love you.’ Whenever you’re about to enjoy some treat, your mood’s too cheerful.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She knew me too well, and somehow, it didn’t even surprise me.

She continued, her tone suddenly serious. “Listen, your father needs to discuss something very important with you. Cancel your next flight and come back to India as soon as possible.”

My heart skipped a beat. Father wants to talk to me? What now? Kaunsi chori pakdi gyi ab ?

“Are you listening?” she pressed. “I want you back in India tomorrow. That’s final.”

I took a deep breath, mustering some courage. “Mateshwari, you know I’m in the middle of my journey, right? I can’t just cancel at the last moment—I have a flight to Rome at 6.”

Her voice turned stern. “I don’t care. I want you in front of me tomorrow.” And with that, she hung up.

I stared at the phone, still processing. Something was definitely up.

With no other option, I contacted my In-flight Manager, explaining the situation—though, of course, not the real one . Unfortunately, they arranged for a replacement crew member to cover my duties, and I was cleared to head home.

And now, here I am, on a flight to Udaipur, India, wondering what could be so urgent.

Since childhood, I’ve shared a unique bond with my father; sometimes, he understands me better than my mother. But, being a typical Indian dad, there’s also that bit of fear he instills in me—though, to be fair, meri harketin hi aise h..!!

As I stepped into the house, I was greeted by Priya didi, our maid but more like a sister to me. We hugged, and I asked her how she’d been. Then came my Mateshwari, welcoming me with a warm smile and hug. I touched her feet, and she did a quick arti—a ritual I’ve missed, one of those perks of being away from home.

It was afternoon, so I knew my father would be at the office. I sat down for lunch, grinning like a kid when I saw my favorites: palak paneer, naan, and sewai. Unable to contain my excitement, I clapped, then planted a kiss on my mother’s cheek before savoring the first bite.

After a hearty lunch, I slept through the entire evening, exhausted from the continuous flights. I was finally woken up by Priya di at 8. Quickly freshening up, I hurried to the living room, excited to see my father.

There he was—Jairaj Rawat, the owner of Rawat Saris—sitting on his grand chair with the air of a king. I rushed over and wrapped my arms around him, holding on a little longer than usual. I’d missed him more than I realized. He seemed emotional too, his familiar strength softened as he hugged me back.

I settled beside him, resting my head on his shoulder as he gently ran his hand through my hair, a comforting gesture I’d missed.

We talked about everything and nothing, laughing as we caught up on lost time. But suddenly, his tone shifted—his eyes softened with emotion, and his expression grew serious. Taking my hands in his, he looked at me and said, “My daughter, I want you to get married…”

The world around me froze. It felt as if I had been shoved out of an aircraft without a parachute, leaving the ground beneath me to vanish. Marriage. The word hit me like a jolt. After everything I had endured, after all the love I had poured into someone, only to lose myself in the process...could I really risk it all again?

I had fought so hard to rebuild—to reclaim my parents' trust, my career, and, most importantly, myself. The thought of loving again filled me with a dread that twisted deep inside. What if this time, too, I was destined to fail?

I snapped back to the present, drawn out of my thoughts by my father’s calm voice. He gently squeezed my hand, a look of understanding in his eyes. "I know, my love," he said softly. "Trusting someone, giving your life over to marriage...it’s not easy. But do you trust me?"

I blinked, still trying to process his words, as he continued, “They are the Tanwars. Their textile empire is unmatched, not just in India but worldwide. Tarini Tanwar, the groom’s grandmother, is a remarkable woman, highly respected in Bagru village. We’ve worked closely with her family, and they’ve provided some of the best artisans for Rawat Sadies."

My mother, looking relieved, joined in, “Oh, Tarini! She’s a wonderful woman, and her family is highly esteemed. There’s no harm in at least meeting them.”

My father smiled, nodding. "Yes, and I want you to marry Rudransh Tanwar, her grandson. He’s the CEO of Tanwar Textiles, a diligent, hardworking man I’ve seen at several business gatherings. He carries himself with respect and integrity. I believe he would make you happy. What do you think, my love?"

I felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over me as I tried to process my father's words. I do not want to get married right now I thought, but the hope in my parents' eyes made it impossible to voice my true feelings. They had sacrificed so much for me, and I couldn't be selfish. With a heavy heart, I finally nodded. "Okay," I said quietly, "I’ll agree to meet him."

As soon as the words left my lips, my parents engulfed me in a warm embrace. My father’s relief was palpable as he said, "You don’t know what this means to me, my daughter. I feel so relieved."

My mother, with a bright smile, turned to Priya didi, instructing her to bring out sweets to celebrate. I sat there, feeling suffocated as I hardly touched the sweets, my throat tight with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty.

My father, sensing the weight of the moment, added, “Kirti, we’ll be going to Jaisalmer tomorrow to finalize this marriage. But just so you know, Vanya, you won’t be able to meet Rudransh yet. Tarini ji believes in traditional values; she thinks it’s best for the elders to decide what’s good for their children.”

The news hit me like a punch to the gut. I had no choice but to trust the process, but the thought of not being able to meet Rudransh before the wedding felt daunting. What if he wasn’t what I imagined? What if I was stepping into another situation that could shatter my heart again? But now, it seemed, the decision was out of my hands.

Okay so now.. Cabin crew of the year , Miss. Vanya rawat , gonna get married.

Hey my doves 🤍..

What do you think about Vanya??

Are u excited for next part??

Stay tuned and Don't forgot to share love and comments ♥️