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Author’s POV:

Upstairs, the room given to Samaira was beautiful — soft pastels, a large window, a plush bed — but for her, it didn’t feel like home.

She sat curled on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. Her eyes were red again. She wasn’t crying loudly — no sobs, no wails. Just quiet tears falling down her cheeks, one after the other, staining her shirt.

She didn’t even know why it hurt this much.

Maybe it was Ahaan’s words.Maybe it was sitting on that stupid chair.Maybe it was everything — losing her parents, finding out about her real ones, being dropped into a house full of strangers who claimed to be family.

A soft knock on the door interrupted the silence.

> Knock knock.

“Samaira… beta?” Ritika’s voice came through gently.

No reply.

“Can I come in?” she asked again.

Still no reply. But Ritika didn’t wait this time. She opened the door slowly.

What she saw shattered her.

Samaira looked like a tiny, broken soul. Curled up, small, silent.

Ritika walked in and slowly sat on the bed beside her, leaving a little distance.

“Tumne kuch khaya nahi,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Samaira’s forehead.

Samaira didn’t look at her. Her eyes stayed fixed on her fingers.

> “Mujhe bhook nahi hai,” she mumbled.

Ritika took a deep breath, controlling her emotions.

> “Ahaan ne jo kaha… uska tumse koi lena dena nahi hai. Usse samajhne mein waqt lagega, jaise tumhe bhi lag raha hai.”

Samaira finally looked up — eyes swollen, lips trembling.

> “Mujhe unki seat nahi chahiye thi…infact mujhe kuch nahi chahiye,” she whispered.

> “Mujhe sirf woh chahiye jo mera tha… mummy papa… Gangashahar… meri purani life.”

Her voice cracked.

Ritika gently placed her hand over Samaira’s.

> “Beta… tum jo chaho, usmein se kuch bhi galat nahi hai. Lekin main ek baat kehna chahti hoon…”She paused.“Tum agar kabhi chaho, toh main tumhari maa ban sakti hoon. Zabardasti nahi karungi. Tum jab chaho… jaise chaho…”

Samaira’s eyes filled up again.

> “Main aapko ma’am bulaungi… abhi ke liye,” she said quietly.

Ritika nodded, even through her breaking heart.

> “Theek hai, ma’am hi sahi. Bas mere paas raho, laado.”

For the first time, Samaira didn’t flinch at the word laado. She didn’t accept it, but she didn’t reject it either.

---

Author’s Note:

Healing doesn’t happen in one meal or one conversation. It happens in whispers. In silence. In letting someone call you “ma’am” and still choosing to stay.

Author’s POV:

The dining room felt heavy with silence. Early morning sunlight barely touched the polished table where Rohit sat, waiting. Ahaan entered, his expression cold, shoulders tense. The air between them was thick with unsaid words.

Rohit broke the silence first, his voice calm but firm.

> "Ahaan, thoda dhyan se suno. I need to say something important."

Ahaan glanced away, arms crossed.

> "Papa, mujhe pata hai aap kya kehne wale ho. But honestly, I don’t think it’s going to change anything."

Rohit’s eyes didn’t waver.

> "Beta, tumhara gussa samajh sakta hoon. But woh gussa tum uss ladki pe mat nikalo, samjhe? Woh tumhari behen hai. Chahe tum abhi maan na pao, but woh is family ka hissa hai."

Ahaan’s jaw tightened.

> "Behen? Main use behen nahi maanta. I don’t even know her properly."

Rohit leaned forward, voice sharpening.

> "Ahaan, main tumhe ye baat clear karna chahta hoon — tum apni feelings uss ladki pe mat nikaalo. Uske saath tumhara behavior jaise dushman ho, main kabhi accept nahi karunga."

> "Tum samajh rahe ho? Gussa rakhna tumhara haq hai, but usse control karna bhi tumhari zimmedari hai."

Ahaan looked away, voice low but tense.

> "Mujhe nahi pata main kab tak ye sab jhel paunga."

Rohit’s voice softened a little.

> "Beta, yeh ghar sirf khoon se nahi, pyar se banta hai. Tumhari behen ko tumse pyaar chahiye. Usse tumhara saath chahiye."

He paused, eyes searching Ahaan’s.

> "Agar tum uske saath aise hi behave karoge, toh main tumse disappointed rahunga. I’m warning you, Ahaan. Change your attitude. Warna mujhe bhi apne tareeke pata hai."

Ahaan swallowed hard, the weight of his father’s words sinking in.

Rohit stood up calmly, leaving the room but the silence remained.

---

Author’s Note:

Sometimes, tough love is the only way to break down walls. And sometimes, the hardest battles are fought within a family.

Author’s POV:

The afternoon was quiet. The kind of quiet that suffocates rather than soothes.samaira sleptafter breakfast because of emotional exhaustion.

Ritika knocked gently before entering Samaira’s room. The girl was awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed, blankly staring out the window.

> "Samaira are you awake?," Ritika said softly.

Samaira nodded faintly.

> "Neeche lunch tayaar hai… chalein?"

> "Main thodi der baad aungi, ma’am," she replied, voice flat.

Ritika didn’t push. She gave a small nod and stepped out — her heart heavy again.

---

Author’s POV:

Downstairs, Rohit sat at the dining table, fingers tapping on the polished wood with controlled frustration.

Ahaan walked in, hoodie on, expression cold.

He avoided eye contact.

> "Ahaan," Rohit began, "Samaira neeche nahi aayi. Tum jaake bula laate?"

> "Why me?" Ahaan snapped. "She’s not my responsibility, papa."

Rohit’s tone sharpened instantly.

> "Ahaan. Enough."

Ahaan looked away, jaw clenched.

> "You didn’t even tell me she existed. Aur aap expect kar rahe ho main ek din mein bhai ban jaun?"

> "Main expect nahi kar raha tum bhai ban jao. Main expect kar raha ho tum insaan ban jao," Rohit replied, voice like steel.

> "I didn’t ask for a sister. Especially not one who comes out of nowhere and takes everything that was mine!"

Rohit stood up.

> "Kya liya usne tumse, haan? Kya cheen liya usne? Tumhari seat pe baith gayi thi, bas isliye tumne usse daant diya?!"

Ahaan didn’t reply, but his hands were shaking.

> "She lost her entire family in one night, Ahaan. Aur tumhare liye uska ek seat lena 'sab kuch' cheen lena ban gaya?"

> "Uska koi nahi bacha. Tumhare paas sab kuch hai — maa, papa, ghar, comfort. Uska sirf dard hai."

> "Aur tum usi pe chillaye. Sirf isliye kyunki tum confused ho?"

Ahaan was silent, but his eyes flickered. Rohit took one deep breath.

> "I’m warning you, Ahaan. Galti sabse hoti hai, par agar tum us ladki ko aur todne ki koshish karoge… main chup nahi rahunga. Understood?"

---

Later That Day:

Samaira was sitting by the window, clutching a photo frame she kept hidden in her backpack — her adoptive mom and dad. Her voice cracked as she whispered,

> "Main sab theek karne aayi thi… sab bigaad diya maine… mujhe hi wapas chale jaana chahiye tha…"

A creak of the door made her flinch.

Ahaan stood there, arms folded, voice bitter.

> "You think you’re the only one who’s hurting?"

She stood up, startled.

> "Tum meri jagah nahi le sakti, samjhi? Tum yahan kabhi belong nahi karogi."

She swallowed, voice low.

> "Main sirf rehne aayi hoon, sir. Kisi ki jagah nahi lene."

Her words hit harder than he expected.

She walked out, clutching her photo like it was oxygen.

---

Upstairs:

Ritika saw her enter, eyes glistening, face pale.

> "Laado…"

Samaira turned, and without a word, hugged her — tight, desperate.

> "Mujhe wapas jaana hai, ma’am. Main yahan nahi reh sakti."

Ritika’s arms wrapped around her protectively.

> "Tum kahin nahi jaa rahi. Tum meri beti ho — chahe tum mujhe ma’am bulao ya stranger, main tumhe dobara nahi khone waali."

Samaira didn’t reply.

But this time, she didn’t push Ritika away.

---

Author’s Note:

She called them sir and ma’am —because calling them papa and mumma meant she was letting go of the ones she lost.But even broken hearts… eventually crave warmth.

Author’s POV:

The internet was buzzing.

Rohit Sharma had dropped a bomb — not with a bat, not in a press conference, but with something bigger:

A LIVE on Instagram.

---

Scene: Instagram LIVE – Rohit Sharma goes unfiltered

He sat there — no filters, no lights. Just the man, the father, the truth.

> “Hi… I usually don’t do this kind of thing. But today, I’m not here as a cricketer. I’m here as a father.”

He inhaled deeply, eyes fixed on the camera.

> “There’s a girl… her name is Samaira. She’s 13.”

He paused.

> “And yes — she’s my daughter.”

The comments started flooding in, but Rohit didn’t flinch.

> “There was a time when I had to let her go. It wasn’t easy… it wasn’t a choice. But I did it for her safety. For her future.”

> “She was raised away from us… she had loving parents. But… life snatched them away in a tragedy.”

He blinked back the lump rising in his throat.

> “Now she’s back… and this time, I will not lose her again.”

---

Cut to: Ritika watching from the hallway

Ritika stood by the stairs, hand over her heart.

Behind her, Samaira peeked out — hesitant, nervous, eyes shining with unshed tears.

> “Why… why is he doing this?” she whispered.“What if the world judges him?”

Ritika turned to her, cupped her face gently.

> “Let them. He doesn’t care. He’s just making sure the whole damn world knows that you belong with us.”

Samaira looked down.

> “I still… I still want to call him ‘sir’ for now…”

Ritika nodded, holding her close.

> “Then call him sir. But know this — to him, you’re already ‘beta.’”

---

Back to the LIVE:

> “I’m not interested in what anyone thinks. I’m just here to say —Samaira Sharma is my daughter.Blood or not, raised with me or not — she’s mine.”

> “And no amount of whispers, trolling, or judgment is going to change that.”

His voice was steel.

> “She’s 13. She’s scared. She’s been through enough.So now, it’s my job to protect her.Not as a player.Not as a celebrity.But as a father.”

---

Author’s POV:

Within minutes, hashtags exploded:

🔥 #SamairaSharma🔥 #RohitTheRealCaptain🔥 #PapaPandaEnergy🔥 #FatherGoals

Media houses went wild. Fans flooded the comments with support.

But back at home… there was only silence in Samaira’s room.

Until a soft knock.

> “Sir… can I come in?” Samaira asked softly.

Rohit turned around from the balcony, surprised — but nodded.

She stood there, awkwardly holding a water bottle, eyes lowered.

> “You… you said all that… for me?”

Rohit crouched in front of her.

> “Haan. Tumhare liye. Toh kya karoon, press conference bulaun?” said jokingly

She smiled faintly. A first. Tiny, but real.

> “Thank you… Sir.”

He held back his tears, gave her a small nod.

> “You’re welcome, beta.”

She didn’t correct him this time.

---

Author’s Note:

Sometimes, family isn’t built in delivery rooms or school photos.It’s built in truths spoken aloud.In names said with pride.In one man standing tall and saying —"Yes, she’s mine."