Tujhko Jo Paaya.

Chapter7:Finding Love

**Samira's POV**

I found myself lost in a whirlwind of pleasantries, introductions, and smiling for photos. But despite the grandeur and festivities, there was a quiet observation I was making-one that would stay with me long after the party ended.

It started when I saw Ahan's cousin Nikita being pampered by her parents Mr Chaudhury's younger brother and Mr. and Mrs. Chaudhury brother whom Nikita affectionately calls Badi maa and Papa. They fussed over her in the sweetest, most loving way, making sure she was comfortable, checking if she had eaten, praising her for looking beautiful.

"Nikita, beta, look at you! Kitni sundar lag rahi ho" (U r looking so beautiful )Mom, Ahan's Mom, cooed as she adjusted the dupatta on Nikita's shoulder.
"Did you eat something? I know you haven't, you always forget."

Nikita laughed, shrugging playfully. "Arre Badi maa, bas abhi jaane wali thi khane ke liye!" (I was just about to go to eat something..)

Her father, Ahan's chachu, chimed in, "Arey, Nikita, you don't need to go. I'll get a plate for you." And without waiting for an answer, he headed off to get her food, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I watched, heart swelling at how naturally and lovingly they cared for her. It wasn't just a performance for guests; there was genuine affection in their gestures. It was in the way they spoke to her, in the small moments of attention they gave, and in the protective glances that her father exchanged with her. They were treating her like she was a treasure-something I had never experienced growing up.

A few moments later, Mrs. Chaudhury walked up to me with a smile that made me feel warm, like a soft blanket on a cold day. "Samira, beta, come, join us. I'm sure you're tired of all the introductions and posing for the cameras," she said, gently wrapping her arm around my shoulder. I nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed by the attention, but her kindness made me feel included, like I belonged.

"Maa, you've done enough walking around today. Aap baith jao(you sit now)," Ahan's voice came from behind as he approached. His gaze softened when he looked at his mother. "Let me take over for a bit."

Mrs. Chaudhury smiled at him with so much pride in her eyes. "Arre beta, main thik hoon."(I'm okay) But Ahan insisted, taking her gently by the arm and guiding her to sit down.

It was a simple act, yet it spoke volumes about their family dynamic. Women here were treated with respect and affection-not as burdens or people whose worth was defined by their marriage or family reputation. Ahan and his family revered the women in their lives like they were divine.
Like they were *Lakshmi*.

In that moment, something deep inside me stirred-a memory I had pushed far down resurfaced, raw and painful. I remembered a day from my childhood, a day that still haunted me like a bad dream.
I felt a lump forming in my throat.

I was ten years old when we found out I had thalassemia. I still remember the day I fainted in the middle of our living room. My parents had been arguing about something trivial-my mother scolding the house help, my father ignoring her as usual. And then, I fell.

When I woke up, I was in the hospital, a tube in my arm and a dull, aching pain in my chest. My mother was standing by the window, looking irritated, and my father wasn't even in the room. The doctor had just left after explaining what thalassemia was-a blood disorder that would require constant treatment, possibly for the rest of my life.

"Ye sab kya natak hai?" (What is this all drama)my mother muttered under her breath when the doctor left. I blinked, unsure if I had heard her correctly.

"Maa, I don't feel good," I said weakly, my voice barely a whisper.

She sighed heavily, her face hardening. "Humare ghar mein pehle kabhi aisi bimari nahi hui. Tumhe zarur kuch ulta-seedha khane se hua hoga."(We have never had a disease like this before. You must have got it from eating rubbish outside.)