caniplsnotexist
Once, the name Goenka meant something.
They were royalty in a city that bowed to old money and older honor - a family whose word could move markets and whose weddings stopped traffic. But empires built on people crumble, when the people are gone. Naira's death cracked the foundation. Kartik and Sirat's death shattered it. And one by one, death or distance picked off the rest, until the empire's last defenders were five grieving elders and four children who barely remembered a time before loss.
Akshara. Arohi. Kairav. Vansh.
They grew up on stories of "Goenka Pride" - told like scripture.. To them it was never a legacy. It was an echo. A house full of trophies for people who weren't there to see them dusted. A name their grandparents clung to maybe because that is all one is left capable of doing after burning the pyre of their own children.
But names have a way of outliving the people who stop believing in them.
Four kids who never asked for this inheritance are about to find out what it actually means to carry it - whether they want it or not. They will have to learn how to rebuild for themselves even if it took sweat, blood or tears.
The Goenkas aren't finished. They're going to rise again.