[ complete ] 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 || 𝐉.𝐉𝐊 𝐅𝐅

77. Advait & Aarohi.

Advait’s POV

I’m not a kid.

Okay—I mean, technically I’m eight.

But I’m not a kid.

That’s what I was telling myself as Amma leaned in, brushing her nose against mine, her smile so soft I almost forgot I was trying to act cool. “There,” she said, “Now my little lion can go and conquer the school.”

I tried to look serious. Arms crossed. One brow raised. Mafia heir expression on.

But then she giggled.

And I lost it.
I giggled too.

“Appa’s gonna say I’m acting too soft again,” I muttered, pretending to zip up my jacket like a bodyguard.

Amma leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Appa will say your heart is the strongest thing about you.”

“Tch,” I scoffed, but my cheeks warmed up. I hate when she says things like that—because then I feel all mushy inside and it’s hard to act like the don I am.

I watched her walk away toward the car. She turned and waved.

I didn’t wave back.

But the second she turned around again… I waved like a lunatic and smiled so wide my face hurt.

Then I fixed my collar, fixed my jacket, took a breath—

“Game face, Jeon Advait,” I whispered to myself.

I walked into class.

And chaos hit me like a truck.

“ADEYYYY!!”
That’s Aarohi. My baby sister who literally has one job—to leave me alone at school.

She came running like a tornado, pigtails bouncing, eyes sparkling like she swallowed a rainbow.

“Look, look, look!!” She shoved a handful of stickers in my face. “Unicorn! Cat! Sparkle frog!! Do you like this one or this one more??”

She stuck two on my arm before I could even answer.

“Aarohi,” I said with the patience of a monk. “You are destroying my reputation.”

She blinked. “You’re eight.”

“Exactly,” I snapped. “My empire begins now.”

She ignored me entirely and held up a pink glitter pen. “Appa bought me this. It writes in rainbow.”

I sighed. “Why would you write in rainbow when black ink looks cooler?”

She gasped. “You are so boring!”

“Don’t insult the future king,” I muttered, taking a seat.

She leaned in and poked my nose. “You’re not a king. You’re just a little mafia duckling.”

“Take that back.”

“Nope.”

She plopped beside me on the reading rug, dumping her backpack like it was treasure. “Do you want to trade lunch? I have choco-balls.”

“…Okay, now you’re speaking my language.”

She beamed. “But only if you let me put one unicorn sticker on your math notebook.”

I stared at her.

This was extortion. Bribery. Pure blackmail.

I sighed.

“Fine.”

She stuck the unicorn on with a giggle and leaned against my shoulder.

And I guess… maybe it wasn’t so bad.