Wounded Heart ✔

Chapter- 7

Flashback:

The morning sun spilled golden light across Amna Mansion, touching the polished floors and the quiet hum of a household slowly coming to life. In the grand hall, Khushi paced, her eyes flicking repeatedly toward the staircase. Beside her, Abhishek, Laksh, and little Aashi fidgeted nervously, while Amir sat cross-legged on the floor, his small hands clenching the edges of his chair, waiting. Today was not just any day—it was the day their Amira, the last and most cherished of their children, would step into the world of school for the very first time.

"Arnav, how much longer? If you don't come down in five minutes, I'm coming up myself!" Khushi's voice rang with equal parts amusement and frustration, carrying through the marble hall.

"Don't worry, love," came Arnav's deep, warm voice from the stairs. "Here is my Babygirl... looking like a princess for her first day."

Khushi turned, and there he was, descending with Amira cradled in his arms, her tiny face bright with curiosity, a hint of trepidation hidden behind wide eyes. She wore the carefully chosen outfit he had insisted upon—soft pastels, ribbons in her hair, a little backpack slung over her shoulders. The room seemed to hold its breath.

"Ami Baby, Amir beta, go and take blessings from Grandpa and GrandMaa. Today is your first day," Khushi said, kneeling to straighten Amira's collar, her own heart swelling with pride.

The children scampered forward, hands held tightly as they whispered their morning prayers, while Arnav placed Amira gently in the car seat, his face etched with a mix of protectiveness and apprehension.

"Khushi... is it really necessary for Babygirl and Champ to join school this year? Can't we wait until next year?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, though the worry in it was unmistakable.

Khushi's eyes narrowed slightly, a soft exasperation threading her tone. "Arnav... they're ready. This is the right age. You know it. No arguments."

The drive to school was quiet, the kind of silence filled with anticipation and an undercurrent of tension. Amira's small fingers curled around the straps of her backpack, excitement mixing with the faintest edge of fear. When they reached the school gates, she stepped out with Abhishek and Laksh on either side, her little hand slipping into Aashi's.

Arnav, refusing to let go of Amira's hand, caught Khushi's eye. She gave a small, knowing sigh, letting the moment stretch.

"Baby girl," Khushi crouched before them, voice soft and commanding love, "listen to your teachers. Be kind, be brave, and... don't get into mischief, okay?"

Amira's gaze was fixed on the school building, tall and imposing, but she nodded firmly. "No Papa, I'm going with Bhaiya, Bhai, and Di. Don't cry. I'll be back soon," she said, her voice steady, wiping the tears from her father's eyes before they could fall.

Arnav exhaled, hugging her tightly, a moment that drew the rest of the family into a joyous, chaotic embrace—hands, arms, and hearts all entwined in protective love. Even Amir's little arms reached for them, giggles breaking the tension, and for a fleeting instant, the world outside seemed to vanish.

As the children walked inside, hand in hand with their siblings, a single tear traced down Arnav's cheek—not of sorrow, but of a father's fierce, quiet pride.

Back in the car, Khushi's curiosity broke the soft hum of the engine. "Arnav... tell me. Why are you so affected? We've seen other children start school, even Amir... but you... this is different."

Arnav's eyes softened, a shadow crossing his face as memories intertwined with the present. "Khushi, it's different with Amira. She has always been... special. Curious, determined, fearless. She reminds me of my sister Roshini, the little one I lost too soon. I see her in Amira—the same spark, the same drive. She's our youngest, our last... and perhaps that's why my heart is caught in a storm today."