2002, Bangalore, India.
A black SUV can be seen speeding through the deserted highway that connects Kerala and Karnataka. The mood was light as Aarav (13 years old) played his favorite songs, blasting the old Bollywood hits from the front seat next to his father, Vishwanath. Maya, his mother, holding the little princess Anya (1.5 years old), was sitting in the rear seat along with Arnav(10 Years old) and Advay(5 years old). They were singing out of tune, teasing each other. Even Baby Anya was clapping her tiny hands while blowing bubbles and squealing with joy.
Soon, the children got tired and drifted into sleep. Vishwanath turned down the volume of the music player. From where she sat in the rear seat, Maya leaned her head against the window, smiling.
Then, her eyes caught his.
Vishwanath's face, reflected in the rearview mirror, was bathed in golden sunlight that filtered through the trees. The creases near his eyes deepened when he smiled—not a wide grin, just that soft curve he saved only for her.
For a moment, everything else melted away.
A memory stirred—a flash of a younger Maya, her hair drenched from a monsoon rain, barefoot on a railway platform in Kochi. Vishwa, fumbling with an umbrella, had offered her a ride on the back of his old bike. She had no luggage—just a stubborn glare and a fierce need to be free.
"Where to?" he asked, drenched, nervous, smiling like an idiot.
"Anywhere that's not home," she said, climbing behind him without a second thought.
That night, they rode through rain-slick roads and empty villages, stopping only when the sun rose.
That was the beginning.
And now—years later—he was still at the wheel, still glancing at her with that quiet certainty.
No words are needed.
Her fingers tightened slightly around Anya's tiny shoulder. She wanted to say something, to thank him for giving her a life she never thought she could have. But she knew he'd read it in her eyes.
In the mirror, he blinked, his smile deepening again. She smiled back.
BANG!
The car jolted.
The Children screamed.
The mirror cracked.
The moment shattered like glass.
Another Gunshot cracked through the silence. A vehicle blocked the road ahead. Masked men with rifles opened fire.
Vishwanath was shot through the windshield.
Maya grabbed a hidden pistol from under the seat- something she kept for just in case- which she never wanted to use.
Handing over Anya to Aarav, she screamed for Aarav and Arnav to run with Anya and Advay into the woods.
Aarav hesitated for a moment "Amma!" With tearful eyes, he called her.
"Go!" She shouted without turning back, "Protect each other".
Without a second thought, they turned their heels, not stopping anywhere.
They ran barefoot, slipping on the mud and roots.
Nothing stopped them, not even the sounds of gunfire echoing behind them. For Aarav, his instinct as an elder brother to protect his siblings kicked in.
He had one motive now: protect his siblings at any cost.
Finally, they saw the road.
A few vehicles were seen trailing behind a black Scorpio. As the fear gripped them, they hid themselves behind a huge tree. When the Scorpio stopped, they saw their Aditya Mama, whom they had seen through the photos his mother had kept in her Box.
They came out from hiding.
When Aditya's eyes scanned through the children, his heart was ripped into pieces. Aarav was covered in cuts from the glass and branches, Arnav's Shirt was soaked in blood, Maya's blood and Advay clutched Anya as if she'd disappear.
In the blink of an eye, they were orphans.
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Aditya's POV
As soon as I stepped out of the Scorpio, I was shocked by the sight in front of me. My men instinctively raised their guns—trained to respond to any movement in the woods—but I raised my hand to stop them.
Because I saw them.
Four broken pieces of my sister's heart.
Aarav, bleeding, eyes wide and wild—not with fear, but with the unbearable weight of responsibility.
Arnav, trembling, bloodied and mute.
Advay, still clutching his baby sister so tightly her cheeks were pressed against his shoulder.
And Anya, wailing softly, too young to understand her entire world turned upside down.
My knees buckled as I ran forward. I swept the children into my arms, holding them as if I could glue together all that had shattered. My eyes burned. But I didn't cry. Not yet.
There was still one place left to go.
Soon, with the children, we reached where the bloodshed happened.
I saw men lying down with bullets.
Not just one or two.
Around 20.
And there she was, my sister, lying lifeless.
Bloodied.
In the pool of her blood
With bullets.
She fought like the queen that she is.
Author's POV
Aditya's breath hitched as he turned, his eyes landing on the still form of Maya.
His sister, the fierce girl who once dared to defy their father for love, is now lying on the still on the gravel.
He dropped on his knees beside her body, softly brushing the hair aside with his trembling fingers.
His voice cracked into silence.
There were no words.
Only heartbreak.
And Maya's Husband, Vishwanath, was gone.
A stray bullet had found him moments before Maya fell, his body slumped across the steering wheel, his eyes on her.
The entire family was lost in seconds.
All except the children.
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By nightfall, they reached Ananthan Varma's estate in Kochi.
The iron gates opened slowly, ominous against the darkening sky.
The last time Maya had walked out of those gates, she had sworn never to return.
Now, she was being carried in—lifeless.
Ananthan stood still at the entrance, his white hair disheveled, his frame tall but trembling. He watched as the stretcher was lowered.
And his soul shattered.
They removed the sheet gently.
Maya's face, peaceful yet bloodied, greeted him like a dagger to the chest. He reached out, hands shaking, his lips quivering to form a name he hadn't spoken in years.
"M..Maya..." he choked on his words.
Beside her, they placed Vishwanath's body—the man Ananthan had once cursed, the man his daughter had loved with her entire being. The man had given her a life far better than the war-torn empire she was born into.
Aditya stood by, silent.
Then Ananthan fell to his knees before them.
"I told her... if she walked out of this house, she was no longer my daughter," he whispered.
"I said those words. I let her go."
He looked at Maya's children, his grandchildren, for the first time.
Aarav stood in front of him, fists clenched, his jaw set, a storm in his young eyes. Arnav and Advay held each other, and Anya cried softly in Aditya's arms.
"I couldn't save her," Ananthan said, voice raw. "But I will protect them. I swear it."
Aarav met his gaze.
Not with gratitude, not yet.
But with the silent rage of a boy forced to become a man.
In that moment, something unspoken passed between them, an understanding forged in blood and broken promises.
A promise to hunt down those who shattered their everything.
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That night, the Varma estate didn't sleep.
It echoed with prayers, muffled sobs, and a vow that would shape the future.
Maya and Vishwanath were laid to rest in a private ceremony. No camera. No mafia rituals. Just family. Just pain.
And four children left behind.
From that day, Aarav carried a fire of vengeance in him.
Arnav sharpened his mind, never forgetting the faces of the masked men.
Advay became quiet, calculating—watching the world more than he spoke.
And Anya, too young to remember that night, would grow up amidst shadows and silk, loved fiercely and protected like a secret.
They were no longer just children.
They were heirs to a legacy of blood.
And they will rewrite history with the blood of those who took away their very light.