Isha pov

“Ahhhhh, Shivam jiii!” I screamed without even realizing how loud my voice had become.

My heartbeat was racing like it had forgotten how to stay calm, and before I knew it, I was running straight toward the balcony. I didn’t even notice that my saree’s end had tangled around my ankle until it was too late. One second I was running, the next I stumbled — and suddenly, boom! I bumped straight into Shivam Ji.

Everything happened in slow motion.

The tray he was holding clattered somewhere,the call it ended too and the world tilted, and before I could think or breathe — both of us lost balance and fell together.

We didn’t even get the chance to pick a direction; gravity made the decision for us.

And where did we land? Not on the floor.

On the bed. Together.

There was a loud thud — a deep dhhaam! — followed by an awful creak that made my heart drop.

Then came silence.

My eyes shut tightly on instinct.

For a moment, I thought maybe I’d fainted.

But then I felt it — a firm arm around my waist, gripping tightly, protectively. The warmth, the strength — it could only be one person.

When I opened my eyes, I realized the unbelievable truth:

The bed had cracked beneath us.

“Oh no…” I whispered under my breath.

Both of us just froze, lying there like two guilty children who had accidentally broken their parents’ favorite vase. My heart was still racing, and I could feel Shivam Ji’s breath against my cheek — steady, calm, like nothing had happened.

I didn’t even dare move. My saree was half-twisted around us, my hair was all over my face, and the broken bed made a weird creaking noise every time one of us breathed too heavily.

His hand was still on my waist — not lightly, but firmly. It wasn’t inappropriate, not even close. It was… protective. Almost as if he was silently saying, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

And that thought, honestly, made my heart skip again.

For a few seconds, I forgot about everything — the scream, the fall, even the broken bed. There was just the strange safety of being in his arms.

But peace never lasts long in my life.

Because just then — knock knock! — the door burst open.

“Bhaiya, Bhabi! What happened?!”

Rishi Bhaiya’s voice.

Of all people.

I instantly wanted to disappear.

I peeked over Shivam Ji’s shoulder just enough to see Rishi Bhaiya standing at the door, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene — two people tangled up on a broken bed. His expression changed from shock to… amusement.

“Ohhh,” he said slowly, a teasing smile forming. “Sorry, sorry! I see… I see… Next time, at least close the door, hmm? And what was that loud scream for, Bhabi? You’re giving the whole house a heart attack.”

If embarrassment could kill, I’d have died right there.

My face felt like it was on fire. I wanted to protest, explain, shout — anything! — but the words got stuck somewhere in my throat.

Before I could say anything, Shivam Ji spoke, his tone completely calm, like he handled situations like this every day.

“Actually, a cockroach was flying. That’s all.”

Rishi Bhaiya blinked. “A… cockroach?”

“Yes,” I managed to say, my voice awkwardly high-pitched. “A big one. It flew right toward me.”

Rishi Bhaiya grinned wider. “Ah, yes, of course. A flying cockroach. The most dangerous creature on Earth. No wonder the bed broke too.”

I didn’t even know whether to laugh or cry at that.

“Bhaiya!” I said in protest, but he only chuckled.

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving. But next time, keep the door closed before starting… ‘cockroach hunting’.”

And with that, he winked and shut the door behind him.

I hid my face in my hands.

“Oh God… can this day get any worse?”

Shivam Ji sighed softly beside me, still calm. “At least he didn’t call the others,” he said dryly.

I glared at him through my fingers. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

He just smiled — that maddening, confident smile — and slowly sat up, still keeping one hand around my waist to steady me.

I sat there for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened. The bed looked like it had survived a minor earthquake, my hair was a complete mess, and my dignity… well, I wasn’t sure where that had flown off to.

Shivam Ji quietly adjusted his sleeve and looked at me with that patient, half-amused expression that said he’d already accepted the chaos of my existence. “Come on,” he murmured, stretching a hand toward me. “Let’s get you up before this poor bed collapses again.”

I hesitated for a second—more out of embarrassment than fear—but then placed my hand in his. His grip was warm, firm, steady. The moment our fingers touched, a strange calm settled inside me.

He pulled me up carefully, as if I were made of glass. When I finally stood, our faces ended up far too close. My heart thudded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

He looked down at me for a moment, eyes soft but teasing. “Still shaking?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, brushing imaginary dust from my saree. “Totally fine.”

“Right,” he said, clearly not believing me.

I turned away, trying to fix my saree pleats, and that’s when I felt it again—the nervous habit I never seemed able to control. My teeth found my lower lip, and I bit down lightly, thinking about how ridiculous the entire situation was.

Before I could stop myself, his voice cut through the silence.

“Don’t do that.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Lips,” he said simply. “Don’t bite them.”

My fingers froze mid-air. “Why?” I asked, half-confused, half-challenging.

He didn’t answer immediately. He just gave a small smile, the kind that carried far too many unspoken things. “Because,” he said at last, “you’ll end up blaming me if something happens.”

I stared at him, completely lost. “What does that even mean?”

He chuckled quietly, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Easier said than done.

I could still feel the warmth of his hand from when he helped me up, and the silence between us stretched. The room looked like a war zone—the broken bed, the fallen cushions, the one lonely slipper lying in the corner—and somehow we both just stood there in the middle of it, neither knowing what to say next.

Then, as if on cue, something moved near the curtain.

I froze.

A small, black, winged thing buzzed past my ear and vanished somewhere near the window.

“C-c-cockroach!” I squeaked, jumping back instantly.

Shivam Ji turned just in time to see me clutching his arm like a lifeline. “Seriously?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “After everything that just happened, you’re still scared of a tiny bug?”

“Tiny?” I glared at him, trying to stay behind his shoulder. “It flies! That makes it a monster.”

He laughed—a full, genuine laugh that made me both furious and secretly happy. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? Still the same little Isha who used to climb on chairs whenever she saw one.”

“That’s not funny,” I said, tightening my grip on his sleeve.

“Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Stay behind me. I’ll handle your deadly enemy.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, Major Isha. I promise to protect you from the terrifying flying creature of doom.”

Despite my fear, I couldn’t help but giggle. He looked so serious while saying it that it almost felt heroic.

He picked up a rolled-up newspaper from the table and scanned the floor like a detective. I peered over his shoulder, half hiding, half curious.

“There it is!” I whispered, pointing dramatically toward the curtain.

He followed my finger, but before he could swing the paper, the cockroach took flight again—straight toward me.

I screamed and instinctively hid behind him, pressing my hands against his back. He froze for a second, probably realizing I was practically glued to him, and then quietly said, “Isha… I can’t move if you keep holding me like that.”

“Then don’t move,” I said from behind him, eyes tightly shut.

He sighed, clearly trying not to laugh. “Fine. I surrender.”

When I finally dared to peek, the cockroach had disappeared somewhere—probably terrified of my scream. Shivam Ji turned slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“See?” he said. “Even the cockroach gave up. You scared it away.”

I smacked his arm lightly. “That’s not funny!”

“It’s hilarious,” he countered. “And also… kind of adorable.”

I blinked, not sure if I heard him right. “What?”

He shook his head quickly. “Nothing. I mean, your reaction. It was… dramatic.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious, but his expression was too innocent to question. Still, my cheeks felt warm.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the creaking of the broken bed. Both of us looked at it at the same time and burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe we actually broke it,” I said, holding my stomach.

“Well,” he said, trying to sound serious but failing, “in our defense, the bed was old. We just… accelerated its retirement.”

I laughed again, and for the first time since morning, the tension lifted completely.

He crossed his arms and looked at me with a mock-stern expression. “From now on, no running inside the house, Mrs. Banerjee.”

I straightened up, pretending to salute. “Yes, sir. And no more cockroach wars either.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

For a second, I thought the moment would end there—but it didn’t. He glanced down, noticed a strand of my hair caught on his sleeve, and gently freed it without saying anything. The touch was brief, simple, but it made something flutter in my chest again.

I smiled awkwardly, trying to act normal. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly.

Shivam POV

I knew, deep down, that Isha would be furious about this—and not just a little. Especially if she found out in front of the whole family. Rishi  had that mischievous streak that could turn any small incident into a legendary story in minutes. And I could almost guarantee that, despite how carefully she handled everything, he would eventually spill the beans to everyone.

So I didn’t wait. I decided to act fast. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and headed straight for Rishi’s room.

“Maa, Baba,” I called as I approached, raising my hand to my forehead in mock distress. “You have to know what happened today! The bed… the bed in Bhaiya’s room… it broke!”

The words tumbled out in a rush. I pressed my hand against my forehead, imagining that dramatic effect would make my announcement more believable. The thought of how Rishi would react—and how this would spread like wildfire—made me smirk inwardly.

“Rishi,” I said, lowering my voice as I stepped closer to his desk. I could already see the phone in his hand, the way he always sat poised to multitask, always in control.

I whispered the key phrase, perfectly timed, and hit the “mission complete” moment without a hitch. I had practiced this in my mind countless times: distraction, a little tease, and—bam!—he was hooked.

Rishi looked up from his phone, eyes narrowing as he sensed the tension in the air. “Bhaiya… what is this behavior?” he asked, voice mock-serious, eyebrows knitting together.

I let out a long sigh, pretending to be utterly exasperated. “Couldn’t you just keep it a secret from Maa and Baba?” I demanded. My tone carried all the frustration of someone who was convinced that the world had conspired against them.

He leaned back in his chair, hands folding across his chest in that classic “I’m the innocent observer” pose. “So, let me get this straight,” he said slowly, as though explaining complex mathematics. “The bed broke… and somehow, according to you, I am the one at fault?”

I narrowed my eyes, pointing a finger in his general direction. “Do you even know what you deserve? You should be punished for this, absolutely.”

Rishi smirked. “Whatever.”

I threw my hands up in frustration, realizing that this was going to be one of those endless, circular arguments that only brothers can have. But that was fine—because secretly, I loved it. The energy, the playful tension, the teasing—it reminded me of every childhood day we had ever spent together.

The conversation unfolded in that typical brother rhythm: a mix of sarcasm, mock-threats, eye-rolling, and laughter. Words flew back and forth, accusations were made with half-serious tones, and somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, a strange sense of comfort settled in.

Isha pov

Finally, I decided that I couldn’t spend the whole evening in the middle of their brotherly sparring. I pulled out my phone and dialed my dadi’s number. It was time she got the whole story, in detail. She would know what really happened—and, more importantly, she would understand it from my perspective.

“Dadi,” I started, voice softening now that the drama with Rishi Bhaiya had been temporarily set aside. “I have to tell you… everything.”

I recounted the entire saga: the fall, the tangled saree, the loud crash, Shivam Ji’s quick protectiveness, the startled screams, and, of course, the infamous cockroach. Every detail mattered, from the way the bed groaned under the weight to the look on Rishi’s face when he first walked in.

As I spoke, I could almost hear the laughter building on the other end of the line. Dadi chuckled at the right moments, gasped when necessary, and shook her head affectionately at the parts that highlighted the chaos. Her reactions made the story feel alive, validating all the tension, embarrassment, and hilarity that had occurred.

By the end of the call, I felt lighter. I had told someone I trusted fully—someone who would understand without judging—and in doing so, I had transformed the mess of the day into something that felt more like a story, a memory worth holding onto rather than a disaster to be ashamed of.

Shivam POV

Rishi , meanwhile, hadn’t stopped smirking. He had leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with how the events had unfolded. “So, all’s well that ends well?” he asked, still teasing, but with a subtle glint of approval in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly. “You’re impossible,” I muttered.

“And yet… you love me anyway,” he shot back with a grin, the kind that always made me laugh even when I didn’t want to.

“Yes, yes, whatever,” I said, shaking my head and turning toward the door. I felt the warmth of the day’s absurdity settling into a kind of contentment—the kind that comes from surviving chaos with the people you care about, laughing through misunderstandings, and finding a rhythm even in the most unexpected of moments.

Walking away from Rishi room, phone tucked away, I realized something important: even in the midst of drama, teasing, and broken beds, the family bond—the laughter, the arguments, the love—remained unshakable. And that, I thought, made the day unforgettable.

By the time I returned to my own room, I felt a calm settle over me. The bed was still a little crooked, and the memory of the fall would linger in both my mind and heart, but now it was wrapped in laughter, shared stories, and the qui

et knowledge that sometimes, the messiest moments create the strongest bonds.

I smiled to myself. Mission accomplished, in more ways than one.

Here's the updated    

Happy reading

Take care

Muah 💋 💋

Insta id: liliwritezz