ALWAYS YOU

BONUS 1

Amara:

Three Years

It has been remarkably pleasant of late. We’ve all returned to India after I completed my studies abroad, and I have recently assumed control of my late father's business empire, the Arora Group which is mainly known for its cosmetics and jewellery

Ayaan, overwhelmed by despair, tragically ended his own life in the torture chamber, a place that now bears the weight of his suffering. His mother has been committed to a psychiatric facility, her mind too fragile to bear the burden of the calamity that has engulfed them.

Bhaiyyu’s stepmother still resides in that very chamber, and from time to time, my companions and I visit, indulging ourselves in what we consider our own twisted amusement.

Never before have I been so entirely consumed by work. In taking on the responsibility of leading the business, I’ve gained a newfound respect for the men in my life, realizing just how difficult it is to juggle family and professional commitments.

Yet, they’ve always found a way to be there for me.

Mann, unsurprisingly, has grown more affectionate, even clingier with each passing day, while Bhaiyyu has adopted a more authoritative role, often reprimanding Mann and me like a father whenever we neglect our health.

Bhaiyyu is currently undergoing the formal process of ascending the throne of Rajkot. His coronation is imminent, and soon, he will take his rightful place as ruler.

As for Kabir and me, we are our usual selves—constantly bickering but utterly inseparable, partners in crime through and through. Whenever Mann or Bhaiyyu tries to keep me from doing something out of concern for my safety, Kabir and I always find a way to sneak off.

Of course, we’re inevitably caught, and we end up shifting the blame onto each other, earning ourselves days of punishment.

Adi, on the other hand, exhibits a far more unsettling form of possessiveness. While Mann and Bhaiyyu are fiercely protective, Adi’s behavior leans toward obsession.

One day, while we were out shopping for Mann’s birthday gift, a man made an inappropriate remark. Without hesitation, Adi beat him to death. Yes, literally—he’s dead.

At first, I was furious. The man deserved a good beating, no doubt, but death seemed too extreme a punishment. I refused to speak to Adi on the drive back.

Later, he came to me with an apology gift—along with evidence of the man's criminal history, which included multiple offenses and sexual assault cases. Seeing that, I felt a twisted sense of relief, understanding that perhaps justice had been served in its own way.

"Sorry for upsetting you, Abhi ki Jaan,but I can’t promise I won’t do it again," he said, offering me chocolates and an expensive handbag in his attempt to make amends.

I couldn’t help but smile, fully aware that the others were probably hiding somewhere, recording the great Aditya Raichand apologizing.

Feigning skepticism, I watched his face fall before pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m fine, Hero.”

He exhaled in relief as he hugged me back. That was the first time I called him ‘Hero,’ and ever since, the name has stuck.

I’m aware that Adi’s behavior is alarming, but when I discussed it with Mann, Bhaiyyu, and Kabir, they explained that losing his sister has made Adi overly possessive of me. Bhaiyyu, having also lost his sister, is protective but not obsessive—he trusts that I can handle myself.

We’ve established an unspoken tradition of having at least two meals together every day. For the third meal, typically lunch, we connect via video call to make sure no one skips out—a ritual I initiated.