Pashmina wiped her tears and ran to her room, while Mumma Kohli sighed, watching her children behave like toddlers instead of talking things out. She knew it was only a matter of hours before one of them softened and reached out to the other. Walking to the kitchen, she picked up their plates and took them upstairs. Quietly, she placed the plates in their rooms, confident that, no matter how upset they were, they would still eat their food.

Hours passed, and neither of the siblings came out of their rooms. Anushka and Mumma Kohli exchanged tired looks, sighing at their stubbornness as they sipped their evening tea.

"They're impossible," Anushka said, shaking her head. "How long do you think they'll keep this up?"

Mumma Kohli sighed, a faint smile on her face. "Knowing them? Not much longer. One of them will cave soon enough."

Anushka raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? They’ve been at this since afternoon."

Mumma Kohli chuckled softly. "Oh, I’m sure. They might be stubborn, but they can’t resist each other for too long. Give it some time."

Anushka leaned against Mumma Kohli, cuddling closer as she gave a half-smile. "Hope so," she murmured.

The room was quiet now, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The dim light from the lamp flickered slightly, casting a warm glow over the old photo album resting on the table. Its pages, worn with time, held memories of days long past.

Virat sat in the corner, his gaze fixed on one of the photos. His long, slightly wrinkled fingers traced the image of baby Pashmina, mischievously hanging from the playground rod. The little girl in the photo was carefree, full of laughter, her eyes sparkling with joy. Virat’s throat tightened as a lump formed, his emotions surging. He bit his tongue, doing everything he could to hold back the tears.

Virat’s fingers hovered over the photo, his touch gentle against the edges of the picture of his baby sister. It felt like just yesterday when he’d been the one to catch her when she stumbled, to dry her tears when the world felt too big. But now, the idea of her leaving, stepping into a life without him, made his chest feel as though it were collapsing in on itself.

It wasn’t just that she was growing up—it was the aftermath of nearly losing her. There had been a time, not too long ago, when the thought of her slipping away had nearly destroyed him. That dark period, when her laughter had faded into silence and the world had seemed far too quiet, had scarred him. After that, he had promised himself he would never let her go. And yet, here she was, talking about moving on, about leaving the family, about beginning a new journey.

Virat turned another page, his eyes drawn to a picture that made his heart ache. It was a snapshot from years ago, the kind of photo that captured everything pure about childhood. Pashmina was perched on his shoulders, her tiny hands gripping his hair as she laughed uncontrollably, her face scrunched in the kind of joy only a child could know.

Her smile was wide and carefree, her broken front teeth showing proudly as she laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. He remembered that moment vividly—the sun shining down on them, the breeze ruffling her hair, and the sound of her laughter filling the air. She had never wanted to come down from his shoulders, as if the world from up there was the safest place she could be. And in that moment, she had been.

He had been her protector, her tower, the one person who could make her feel invincible. The thought of her on his shoulders, so small yet so full of life, made his heart swell with nostalgia. She had always been the one to find the fun in the world, to remind him of the joy in simple things.

Virat’s vision blurred as his tears fell onto the album, staining the edges of the pages. He barely noticed the wetness pooling beneath his eyes as he stared at the next picture—one that hit him like a wave crashing against the shore. It was a family photo, with him sitting on the couch, a small bundle in his lap.

Pashmina, just four months old, was nestled in his arms, her tiny fingers clutched onto his shirt, holding on as if she knew, even then, that he would always be there. Her face was peaceful, her eyes closed in the kind of trust only a baby could have, completely unaware of the world beyond her safe little cocoon. Her soft baby hair stuck to her forehead, and her small body fit perfectly against his, as if they were two pieces of the same puzzle.

The family was smiling in the background, but Virat’s attention was completely consumed by the tiny hand gripping his shirt, the feel of her soft breath against him. He remembered that moment so clearly—the warmth of her small body in his arms, the overwhelming love he felt. She had been so small, so fragile, and yet, in that moment, she had made him feel invincible.

His sobs came harder now, his body trembling as he pressed his face into his hands, his tears falling freely onto the album.

Virat felt his arms pulled apart gently, a soft weight settling onto his lap. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The familiar scent of her hair, the soft rustle of her clothes, and the warmth that radiated from her were enough.

Pashmina didn’t speak. She just sat there, her small presence offering the comfort he needed more than words ever could.

He continued to cry, the tears falling freely now, as his emotions overwhelmed him. Without thinking, he pulled her closer, his hands trembling as he wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing the top of her head with a tenderness that only a brother could have for his sister.

"I'm not ready to let go," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never will be."

Pashmina didn’t say anything at first. She simply nestled against him, as she had when she was younger, her tiny hands reaching up to hold onto his shirt, just like in the photo.

Virat continued to hold her close, his arms tightening around her as if he could keep time from moving forward.

"Paaji, calm down," Pashmina repeated, her hand gently brushing against his cheek. "I know this is hard, but you have to let go a little."

Virat’s heart tightened at her words, and he couldn’t help but shake his head. “I don’t want to, Pashmina. I don’t know how to. You’ve always been my little sister, the one I took care of. And now… now you’re leaving, and I’m not ready for that.”

Pashmina sighed softly, her hand still resting on his cheek. She looked up at him with the same calm, steady gaze she had always had, even when she was younger and he was her protector. "Paaji," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "I'm not leaving you. I’m just... moving forward. I’ll always need you, always love you. But I need you to trust me. I need you to trust that I can stand on my own, that I can take care of myself, just like you’ve always taught me."

“I’ve always been there for you, Pashmina,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “And now I feel like I’m losing you. What if something happens? What if you need me and I’m not there?”

Her eyes softened, and she gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. "Paaji, I’ll always need you. You’ll always be my first call. But I have to be the one to figure some things out on my own. We both do."

Virat blinked back fresh tears, his heart aching as he realized how true her words were. She wasn’t asking him to stop loving her, to stop caring for her. She was asking for space to grow into the person she was becoming. And as much as it hurt, he knew he couldn’t keep her in that safe bubble forever.

"I don’t want to let you go," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"You don’t have to let go," Pashmina replied, her voice warm and reassuring. "You’ll always have a piece of me, Paaji. I’m not going anywhere for good. But it’s time for me to take the next step. And I need you to be proud of me, not afraid for me."

Virat closed his eyes, the weight of her words sinking in. He had always wanted the best for her, always wanted her to have everything she deserved. And maybe, just maybe, this was part of that. Letting her go, even a little, was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do—but it was the right thing.

With a shaky breath, he finally nodded. “I’m proud of you, Pashmina. I’ll always be proud of you.”

A soft, contented smile spread across her face, and she rested her head against his chest once more. "Thank you, Paaji. That’s all I need from you."

Virat held his baby sister close, his arms tightening around her one last time before he finally pulled back slightly to look at her. Through the tears, a small, sweet smile tugged at his lips. "So soon, I’m gonna be mamu?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion but carrying a hint of teasing that had always been a part of their relationship.

Pashmina blushed, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as she nodded, her eyes avoiding his for a moment. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice quieter now, tinged with a hint of shyness.

Virat’s smile grew, the teasing lightness in his voice blending with the tenderness of the moment. "I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that my little sister is all grown up," he said, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "And soon, you’ll have a little one of your own."

"It feels weird, you know?" she admitted softly, her voice almost lost in the quiet of the room. "Like, one minute I’m playing on the swings with you, and the next, I’m thinking about... well, everything that’s coming."

Virat’s heart swelled as he watched her, the little girl he had always known now standing at the threshold of becoming an adult. He didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but somehow, the little sister who had once clung to him was now strong enough to stand on her own.

"It’s supposed to feel weird," Virat said with a gentle smile, his thumb brushing against her hand. "That’s what growing up does to you. It makes you realize how much you’ve changed, how much the world around you changes. But no matter what happens, you’ll always have a place with me."

Pashmina met his gaze then, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. "I know, Paaji," she said, her voice steady now. "And you’ll always be my home, no matter where I go."

Virat felt a lump rise in his throat again, but this time, he managed to swallow it down. "I’ll always be here for you, Pashmina. Whenever you need me." He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And hey, when that little one comes, you better promise me I’ll be the first one you call to babysit."

Pashmina let out a laugh, the sound like music to his ears. "Deal," she said, her eyes brightening. "You’ll be the first one to spoil Aryaman."

Virat chuckled softly, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t expected to find so quickly. "As long as I can still be the favorite uncle, I’m in."

Pashmina leaned into him once more, her presence comforting and grounding. "You’ll always be the favorite, Paaji," she said, her voice teasing but filled with affection.

Virat pressed his lips gently to Pashmina's forehead once more, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke against her skin. "You’ll be an amazing mother, just like the incredible woman you are," he said, his words full of quiet pride and love.