𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

62⚚ Ashes of past

Author POV:

The moonlight bathed the room in a soft, ethereal glow as it streamed through the tall window, painting silvery shadows across the floor.

The heartbroken living room was now serene, filled with the quiet hum of love and healing. Everyone sat in a relaxed half-circle on the giant carpet, backs resting against plush cushions, their bodies worn out but their hearts finally breathing again.

Rithvik stood at the center of them all, like a mother hen fussing over her chicks — a plate of food in his hands, his brows drawn together with both affection and irritation.

"Come on, Vi," he urged, bringing the spoon closer to Viraj's mouth. "You barely had anything."

Viraj grumbled but opened his mouth reluctantly, chewing like a scolded child. His arms remained firm around Amaira, curled up in his lap like a kitten, her legs tucked, her hands clutching the fabric of his hoodie.

His grip on her was so tight it was almost possessive — as if every cell in his body needed to feel her close to believe she was truly there.

Amaira giggled at his reaction, eyes gleaming as she watched Viraj sulk at being mothered by Rithvik.

"And you, young lady," Rithvik turned to her with a mock glare, "Open that stubborn mouth."

Amaira pouted dramatically, lips forming a tiny 'O' as she leaned forward for the spoon. She accepted the bite with a sigh of defeat, and Rithvik smirked in triumph.

This time, Viraj couldn't help but chuckle. He leaned in and poked his tongue at her like a playful little boy, teasing her just to get a reaction.

She rolled her eyes, a small scoff escaping her, but her face softened instantly as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and tucked her even closer.

"You're annoying," she mumbled into his chest.

"I love you," he whispered back, his voice so full of love it made everyone smile silently.

To their right, Ash leaned his shoulder over Viraj's and stole a bite from Rithvik's plate like a ninja, earning a slap on the wrist.

"I swear you're the eldest only by birth, not by behavior," Rithvik huffed.

Daksh, sitting on the other side of Viraj, just chuckled under his breath, "You still love us, bhai."

Gaurav leaned back with a sigh, taking it all in — the warmth, the laughter, the comfort of everyone safe, everyone together.

He looked over at Rithvik who was now crouching and feeding Daksh with exaggerated annoyance, and then back at Viraj and Amaira tangled into each other like one heartbeat in two bodies.

He didn't say anything. But his heart did.

'Thank you, moon. For witnessing the beginning of our healing.'

Before he could say anything, Rithvik's voice rang out again, louder this time, filled with mock authority and tender irritation.

"And you, big man—should I scold you too to make you eat?"

Gaurav leaned back against the pillow pile, mouth opening obediently for the spoon Rithvik held out. A soft smile played on his lips as he muttered, "Just so you know, I'm an entire year older than you, Rithu."

Rthvik scoffed, hand dramatically placed on his hip as he rolled his eyes. "Should I give you a trophy for that?" he said, then shoved the spoon into Gaurav's mouth.

Laughter broke like a wave through the room.

"A golden one!" Daksh chimed in, chuckling. "With 'Most Ancient Brother' written on it."