"Kuch rishte naseeb likhta hai... aur kuch hum khud." (Some bonds are written by fate... and some, we write ourselves.) Blood may write the first chapter of our lives... but love decides how the story continues. This isn't a story of perfect people. It's a story of the broken - the ones who learned to hide their wounds under silence, who carried scars like second skin, who stopped believing they were meant to be loved. She was one of them. Kartiki - a girl who had already lived through storms that would drown most grown men. She came carrying no luggage, except for a heart that was too pure for the cruelty it had known. And maybe... a secret hope that somewhere, someone would choose her. Not out of duty. Not out of pity. But simply because they wanted her in their life. They were the Rajputs - a family built on discipline, power, and unspoken grief. Four brothers and a father, each with their own shadows. They had lost their mother years ago, and with her, they lost the softness in their home. The walls of their mansion were strong. The walls around their hearts were stronger. No one expected her to change anything. No one expected them to change either. But sometimes, the people who share no blood can feel like the closest thing to home. And sometimes, love arrives dressed as chaos - as arguments, as accidental smiles, as someone scolding you for skipping a meal, as a hand quietly holding yours in the dark after a nightmare. This is not just her story. This is theirs too. A tale of a girl who healed a family, and a family that healed her back. Of bonds formed not by birth, but by choice. Of love that doesn't ask, "Are you mine?" but instead promises, "I am yours." Because family isn't who shares your blood... it's who shares your pain, your laughter, and the quiet moments in between - and stays anyway.