Preeti’s POV:

The sun shone brightly over our small village, where preparations for Ganesh Puja were in full swing. The sweet aroma of marigolds wafted through the air, mixing with the sounds of cheerful chatter. Our home was bustling with activity, and I was seated in the garden, weaving garlands with Sheela.

The fresh flowers from our garden were always a highlight for the Puja, and it had become a tradition for Sheela to help me prepare them. She was animated as usual, her hands moving fast but her words coming even faster.

“Preeti, are you even listening?” she asked, waving a half-finished garland at me.

“I’m listening,” I replied with a small smile. “You were talking about—what was it?—how Ganesh Puja brings prosperity?”

“No!” She groaned dramatically. “I was saying how amazing it is that your family has the best flowers for the Puja every year. Everyone says your garlands are the most beautiful!”

I laughed softly and continued weaving. Just then, my mother’s voice called out from the veranda.

“Preeti! Sheela! Are you girls done yet? We still need to sort the decorations for the temple.”

“Almost done, Maa!” I shouted back. I glanced at Sheela, who rolled her eyes but smiled, getting back to work.

---

Inside the house, my father was busy organizing the logistics of the Puja with Vijay bhaiya, my elder brother. Their voices carried through the open windows, a mix of serious discussions and occasional bursts of laughter.

“Baba, did you confirm the pandit’s arrival time?” Vijay asked, his tone practical yet lighthearted.

“Yes, yes, everything is set,” Baba replied, adjusting his spectacles. “Now stop worrying and focus on helping your sister with the arrangements.”

“I’m already doing that!” Vijay shouted back, chuckling as he made his way outside to check on us.

My brother was always like this—reliable and teasing in equal measure. He walked over to the garden and crossed his arms, pretending to inspect our work.

“Are these garlands going to be done today or next week?” he teased.

“Don’t start, Bhaiya,” I said, throwing a small flower at him. Sheela burst out laughing, and Vijay joined in, his laughter contagious.

---

Meanwhile, Dadi sat on the veranda, observing everything with her wise, loving eyes. She was like the matriarch of not just our family but the whole village. The respect people had for her was immense, and her presence brought a sense of calm to the chaos around us.

Dadi called out to me, her voice warm and strong. “Preeti, come here for a moment.”

I quickly set the garland aside and walked over to her. “Yes, Dadi?”

She looked at me for a moment, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place. Pride? Love? Something more?

“You’ve done well, child,” she said, patting my hand. “Your hard work and dedication are what make this family proud.”

“Thank you, Dadi,” I said, feeling my cheeks warm under her praise.

She glanced toward the villagers who had gathered near our house. Their conversations were loud enough for us to hear snippets of gossip.

“She’s such a sweet girl,” one woman said, her eyes flicking toward me.

“And so intelligent,” another added. “Whoever marries her will be a lucky man.”

I tried to hide my embarrassment by looking down, but Dadi chuckled softly. “Let them talk, Preeti. It’s not every day they have someone to admire so openly.”

---

As the day progressed, Vijay found new ways to tease me. When the women praised me, he leaned in close and whispered, “Looks like the whole village agrees—you’re the star of the Puja.”

“Stop it,” I muttered, shoving him lightly, though I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

But while everyone laughed and worked together, Dadi sat quietly, lost in thought. She watched Vijay and me with a knowing look, her mind clearly elsewhere.

From the outside, everything seemed like usual preparations for the festival. But I noticed the way Dadi’s eyes lingered on me, how she seemed to be assessing something. She was up to something—I could feel it.

---

As the evening approached, the house grew even livelier. My parents and Dadi sat together, reminiscing about past Puja celebrations, while Vijay helped us carry the garlands to the temple.

“Careful with those, Vijay,” I said, scolding him playfully. “They’re delicate!”

“Don’t worry, little sister,” he replied with a grin. “Your garlands are in safe hands.”

Sheela stayed behind to chat with my mother, her excitement about the festival bubbling over. “Aunty, Preeti’s flowers are the best in the village. Everyone says so!”

“Of course they are,” Maa said with a proud smile. “She puts her heart into everything she does.”

Hearing my mother’s words filled me with warmth. Our family might not have been wealthy, but we had something far more valuable—a bond that held us together through everything.

---

By the time the sun set, we were all exhausted but happy. The preparations were nearly complete, and the village looked magical under the soft glow of lanterns and fairy lights.

Dadi called me to her side as the family gathered on the veranda. “Preeti,” she said, placing a hand on mine, “tomorrow will be a special day. Remember to embrace every moment of it.”

Her words left me curious, but I didn’t press her further. For now, I was content to sit with my family, surrounded by laughter, love, and the promise of a beautiful festival ahead.

Rivaan’s POV:

The boardroom was tense, as it always was during high-stakes meetings. Charts and figures filled the projector screen while Riya presented the quarterly performance report with her usual confidence.

I leaned back in my chair, listening to every word, my mind analyzing the details. Profits were solid, but the projected growth for the next quarter was under scrutiny, and everyone in the room seemed to tread lightly around me.

“Rivaan?” Riya’s voice cut through my thoughts. “What’s your take on the expansion proposal?”

I straightened, folding my hands on the table. “The numbers align, but if we don’t secure the international partnerships before the next quarter, this proposal is a risk we can’t afford. Focus on consolidating existing markets first.”

Riya nodded, her eyes gleaming with agreement. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

The tension eased, but only slightly. I could sense the weight of everyone’s eyes on me. Being the one in charge meant every decision I made could tip the scales.

And then my phone rang.

It was so out of place that the entire room froze for a moment. I didn’t allow interruptions, especially not during meetings. My phone buzzing in the middle of a discussion was practically unheard of.

I glanced at the screen, already prepared to silence it—but then I saw the name.

Dadi.

Riya’s eyes flickered to me, and she gave me a knowing look. She didn’t need to say anything; we both knew I never ignored Dadi’s calls.

With a sigh, I raised a hand to pause the discussion and picked up the phone. “Dadi?”

“Rivaan!” Her voice was warm, cheerful, and immediately put me at ease.

“Dadi, I’m in the middle of a meeting,” I said, glancing around the table at the curious stares.

“Meeting-shmeeting,” she scoffed. “You can work every other day. Listen to me now. I need you to come to the village for the Ganesh Puja.”

Her words instantly transported me to the chaos and color of her village—the loud laughter, the overwhelming smell of incense, and... the girls. My jaw tightened at the memory of the last time she tried to introduce me to “suitable” girls.

“Dadi, I’m very busy,” I replied, rubbing my temple.

“Oh, come on,” she insisted. “You’re always busy. It’s one Puja. You’ve never missed it before.”

“Dadi—”

“No excuses!” Her voice turned stern, the way only she could manage. “And don’t you dare come alone. Bring Dev, Riya, Kritika, and even that little bundle of energy, Baani. The whole family needs to be here this year.”

I sighed, realizing resistance was futile. “Fine,” I relented, my tone softening. “I’ll come.”

“Good boy,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

The call ended, and I stared at my phone for a moment before placing it down. When I looked up, everyone in the room was staring at me.

“What?” I asked sharply.

Riya smirked. “Nothing. Just wondering who’s important enough to make you smile during a meeting.”

I ignored her comment and gestured for her to continue. But as the meeting resumed, my thoughts drifted back to Dadi’s voice, full of warmth and excitement. For her, I could drop everything.

As the discussion moved forward, I found myself unusually patient. I didn’t snap at the junior executive fumbling his presentation or cut off the marketing head’s lengthy explanation. Even Riya noticed the change, throwing me questioning glances every so often.

But I knew what had shifted. The thought of returning to the village, of seeing Dadi and fulfilling her wish, had stirred something in me. A sense of duty.

The board members probably thought I’d lost my edge, but I didn’t care. Let them wonder.

---

Once the meeting ended, Riya stayed behind as the others filed out.

“You’re going to the village?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Apparently,” I muttered, gathering my papers.

Riya leaned against the table, a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s interesting how your tone changes when you talk to Dadi. You’re like... a puppy.”

I shot her a glare. “Careful, Riya.”

She chuckled but quickly sobered. “You realize we’re in the middle of a crisis here, right? The delays with the suppliers are going to hurt us if we don’t fix it soon.”

“I know,” I said, my voice firm. “That’s why you’re going to handle it while I’m gone.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

“You’re more than capable,” I replied, giving her a pointed look. “This is why you’re Vice President, Riya. Figure it out.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to figure out how to explain to my father why we’re all going to the village for a Puja instead of closing deals.”

Riya’s laugh followed me out of the room, but my mind was already elsewhere.

Dadi had a way of pulling me out of my world and into hers. And while I’d never admit it, part of me didn’t mind.

---

I was sitting on the couch, trying to catch a moment of peace when I heard Baani’s cheerful voice calling me from across the room.

“Chachu!” she shouted, running up to me with her usual energy.

I sighed, already knowing what was coming. “Baani, how many times do I have to tell you?” I said, looking down at her. “I’m not your ‘Chachu.’ I’m your ‘Tau.’ That means uncle, not Chachu.”

She stopped in front of me, hands on her hips, a little frown forming on her face. “No! You’re Chachu!” she declared, shaking her head like she was the one with all the answers.

I blinked in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘No’?” I asked, trying to keep my patience. “I’m your Tau, not Chachu.”

“No, no, no!” she said, shaking her head even more forcefully. “You are Chachu!”

I could feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite my best efforts to stay serious. “Baani, listen to me. Chachu is the younger uncle. Tau is the elder one. I’m your elder uncle, so that makes me Tau.”

She thought about it for a moment, her little brows furrowing in concentration, then nodded sagely. “But, Chachu... you’re not married yet, so you are Chachu.”

I froze, blinking at her. “What?” I asked, caught off guard by her reasoning.

“You’re not married, so you can’t be Tau. Chachu’s not married!” she declared confidently, as if this was the most logical thing in the world.

I opened my mouth, trying to figure out how to explain this to a four-year-old, but she had already made up her mind. She crossed her arms over her chest, her little face set in a determined expression, and I knew there was no arguing with her once she’d decided something.

“Well, alright,” I said, throwing my hands up in mock surrender. “If you say so, Baani. I’m Chachu.”

Baani’s face lit up with a victorious grin, clearly pleased with herself. “Yes, you are Chachu! I knew it!” she said, jumping up and down in triumph.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Okay, okay, I’m Chachu,” I relented, ruffling her hair. “But only because you said so.”

She giggled, hugging me tightly. “Chachu’s the best!” she exclaimed, making me smile despite myself.

I couldn’t help but laugh. There was something about her innocent confidence that made everything feel so much lighter. I might not have been “Chachu” in my mind, but in hers, I was—and that was enough for me.