In the grand Parihaar mansion, a soft morning light filtered through the delicate drapes, casting a warm, inviting glow over the lavish dining room. The room, adorned with intricate ancestral portraits and timeless decor, was centered around an enormous mahogany dining table, polished to perfection.

Rishabh Parihaar, the eldest son, walked into the dining room with a quiet air of authority. At 29, he was the composed anchor of the family, but his expression softened when he spotted his 2-year-old adopted daughter, Meesha, toddling around. Upon seeing him, her eyes lit up, and she squealed in delight, reaching out with her tiny arms, “Dada! Dada!” she babbled in her broken language, her voice filling the spacious room.

Krushna, Rishabh’s 26-year-old younger brother and a singer with an easy charm, entered behind him. He gave Meesha a quick, playful ruffle of her hair, making her giggle even louder as she looked between her father and uncle.

At the table sat Mahesh and Pakhi, the brothers’ parents. Mahesh, dignified and stoic, scanned the morning newspaper, only half-listening to the chatter around him. Pakhi, ever graceful, looked up with a warm smile, her gaze softening as she watched her sons and granddaughter.

Their Aunt Avantika, seated a little apart, glanced up, her expression critical as usual. Known for her tendency to complain, she had a low-key but persistent habit of commenting on every detail, and this morning was no different. “Honestly, must there be so much fuss over breakfast? It’s all quite unnecessary,” she muttered.

Avantika’s daughters, Kritika and Swastika, were seated nearby, their attention firmly fixed on Meesha. The two young girls adored their little cousin, always managing to get her to laugh with their funny faces and silly gestures. Kritika held out her arms, trying to coax Meesha over, while Swastika made faces to keep the little girl giggling.

Rishabh walked over, scooping Meesha up in his arms. She squealed, nestling happily into him. “Dada! Dada!” she repeated, tugging at his collar as if to make sure all his attention was on her.

Avantika frowned, eyeing her daughters with slight irritation. “Kritika, Swastika, you two are encouraging her too much. She’s already spoiled with everyone doting on her.”

Pakhi gave Avantika a gentle but firm look. “Children bring joy, Avantika. Let them have their fun—it’s what makes this house feel alive.”

Kritika, catching her mother’s comment, smirked. “It’s not our fault Meesha’s the cutest in the room,” she teased, sharing a wink with Swastika. Both girls looked at Rishabh, who chuckled softly, appreciating their protective big-cousin energy toward Meesha.

Meanwhile, Grandma Rukmini sat at the head of the table, her wise eyes taking in each member of her family. Though she rarely spoke, her presence commanded respect. She leaned back slightly, watching the interplay with a faint, contented smile.

Krushna, now seated, began talking to Mahesh about his upcoming concert. “Dad, this one’s special. I’ve got a new song dedicated to Meesha,” he said, glancing over at the little girl, who, though preoccupied with her father, seemed to respond to his words with an enthusiastic clap of her hands.

Mahesh put down his newspaper, nodding approvingly. “That’s good, Krushna. A song for family is always worth singing.”

The servant, having been waiting patiently, finally began serving a lavish spread of breakfast dishes, filling the air with delicious scents. Meesha reached out toward the food with her tiny hands, babbling eagerly as she tugged on Rishabh’s sleeve. He fed her a small bite, pretending to understand her babble as if she were sharing her breakfast critiques.

Avantika rolled her eyes slightly. “I just hope she doesn’t get too spoiled with all this attention,” she remarked, but her tone was softer than usual, her gaze lingering on her daughters and her nieces.

Grandma Rukmini’s gentle but wise voice broke the moment. “Family is our laughter, our memories, and our roots. Each of you adds warmth to this home,” she said, nodding toward Rishabh, then Krushna, and finally, little Meesha.

As the family settled into their breakfast, the room filled with easy laughter, playful teasing, and a comforting warmth—the simple yet profound unity that held the Parihaar family together.

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As breakfast came to a close, the lively chatter around the table began to quiet. The Parihaar brothers rose from their seats, preparing to leave for the day. Rishabh gave his family a respectful nod and bent down to hug his mother, Pakhi, and give his father, Mahesh, a brief but warm smile. Krushna, still in his usual lighthearted mood, gave everyone a cheerful wave and a quick hug to his cousins, Kritika and Swastika.

But as Rishabh turned to go, Meesha’s bright little eyes widened. She clung to his arm, sensing his departure. “Dada!” she whimpered, her voice breaking, and in an instant, her lower lip trembled. Tears welled up in her big, innocent eyes, and she began to sob, tightening her grip on his hand.

Rishabh knelt beside her, gently wiping her tears. “Hey, sweetheart, I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he whispered, trying to reassure her, but she only hugged him tighter, burying her face in his shoulder.

Pakhi stepped forward, her heart melting at the sight. “Oh, Meesha, darling, Dada has to go to work, but he’ll be back in no time,” she cooed, gently stroking the child’s hair. But Meesha refused to let go, her tiny hands clutching Rishabh’s shirt, her tearful eyes pleading with him.

Krushna, watching with a soft smile, tried to distract her. “Hey, Meesha, if you’re a brave girl and let Dada go, I’ll sing you a special song tonight. What do you say?”

Meesha sniffled, glancing at her uncle, but her little face remained set in determination. She shook her head and clung to Rishabh even tighter, letting out a small, hiccupping sob. Rishabh chuckled, his heart tugged by her tears.

“Alright, princess,” he whispered, lifting her up into his arms for one more cuddle. “I promise, I’ll be back before you even know it. And we’ll play together as much as you want.” He kissed her forehead, and she softened just a little, her sobs quieting as she relaxed in his embrace.

Reluctantly, Rishabh set her back down, and as he and Krushna finally headed toward the door, Meesha waved after him with her little hand, still sniffling but looking comforted by his promise.

Grandma Rukmini, observing the scene from her chair, chuckled softly, her wise gaze resting on Meesha. “Such a bond they have,” she murmured to herself. And as the door closed behind the brothers, the family returned to their day, with Meesha nestled in her grandmother’s arms, her teary face brightening just a bit, holding onto the promise that her Dada would soon be home.