The Daughters of Udaipur:Fan Fiction

Index

Part 1-

Part 2-

Part 3-

Part 4-

Part 5-

Chapter 1:Dropping at 7.30 pm IST

Chapter 1: Homecoming

The cabin of the Airbus A321neo was quiet, save for the low, luxurious hum of the twin engines cutting through the clouds.

Dr. Kaira Goenka Jadeja sat impeccably straight in 1A, her sharp eyes scanning a heavy, leather-bound medical dossier. Even at ten thousand feet, she looked terrifyingly put-together: a sleek, bone-white Max Mara pantsuit, emerald studs that subtly hinted at her Goenka heritage, and her hair pulled back into a flawless, no-nonsense low bun. She was the picture of elite competence—sharp, brilliant, and carrying herself with a faint, regal snobbishness that made the flight attendants handle her espresso with absolute reverence.

Right across the aisle in 1B, completely oblivious to the clinical tension radiates by his wife, sat Nikhil Jadeja.

If Kaira was the storm, Nikhil was the clear blue sky. The undisputed face of the Indian Cricket Team and the heir to the massive Jadeja Textiles empire looked every bit the off-duty superstar. He was lounging comfortably in an oversized cashmere hoodie, dark joggers, and a classic Audemars Piguet watch gleaming on his wrist. He was casually scrolling through a tablet, a trademark suave, dimpled smirk playing on his lips as he occasionally checked the sports news.

And then, there was Varnica.

Occupying 2A, the fourteen-year-old was a perfect, slightly airheaded cocktail of her parents' traits. Wrapped in a designer pastel tracksuit, noise-canceling AirPods firmly clamped over her ears, she was busy editing a TikTok draft. Growing up as the daughter of a legendary cricketer and a world-class neurosurgeon meant Varnica viewed luxury not as a privilege, but as basic oxygen. She possessed her mother’s feisty spark, but wrapped in the delightful, unbothered nonchalance of a teenager who knew the world revolved around her.

As the captain announced their descent into Udaipur, Kaira sighed, tapping her fountain pen against the armrest. "Nikhil, I hope the Birla administrative team has finalized the logistics for the JV launch. If Harshvardhan Uncle tries to micromanage the neuro wing, I am going to lose my mind before the ribbon cutting."

Nikhil chuckled, his voice low, mature, and dripping with that smooth charm that made millions of fans swoon. "Relax, doctor sahab. It’s a joint venture, not a hostile takeover. You’re the best surgeon the country has; even the Birlas know they can’t run the show without you. Just breathe."

As the wheels touched down smoothly on the Udaipur tarmac, Kaira immediately switched her phone on and dialed a FaceTime call. It rang continuously before disconnecting. She frowned, her perfectly arched eyebrows knitting together.

"Still no response from Papa and Mamma," Kaira muttered, looking annoyed. "I told them to keep their phones active today."

Varnica popped out one of her AirPods, rolling her eyes with affectionate teenage exasperation. "Oh god, Mom, give it a rest. Nani and Nana are in Italy. It’s literally gorgeous evening weather in Tuscany right now. They’re probably in their villa’s kitchen, drinking red wine and learning how to make authentic handmade pasta from scratch. They are retired. Let them live their best Dolce Vita life without your hospital stress!"

Nikhil burst out laughing, winking at his daughter. "See? Listen to your mini-me, Kairu. Kairav bhaiya and Muskan bhabhi have officially earned the right to ignore your calls."

Kaira tossed her head back, her feisty side flaring up. "I just wanted them to know we landed safely in Udaipur. But fine. Let them drown in marinara sauce."

Meanwhile, on the other side of Udaipur, away from the glitz of private arrivals, a very different kind of drama was unfolding.

By the banks of the serene lake, near a beautifully decorated gazebo, Armaan Poddar was standing with a velvet box in his hands. He looked handsome, but beneath his sharp blazer, there was a subtle, uncharacteristic paleness to his face.

Abhira stood before him, her eyes wide, her breath hitched.

"Abhira," Armaan said, his voice laced with intense emotion as he looked into her eyes. This was it. After their nth separation, after all the heartbreaking misunderstandings, the tears, and the toxic shadow of the Poddar family dynamics, he was pleading for a clean slate. "No more running away. No more contracts, no more saas-bahu drama, no more letting anyone stand between us. Let’s start over. Just you, me, and a brand new life. Will you marry me... again?"

He knelt, holding up a brilliant diamond ring. Abhira’s heart hammered against her ribs. She wanted to scream 'yes,' she wanted to throw herself into his arms.

But as Armaan smiled up at her, a sudden, sharp, agonizing stab of pain shot straight through his temples. For a split second, his vision blurred, the vibrant colors of Udaipur washing out into a terrifying grey static. His hand trembled, almost dropping the velvet box. He blinked rapidly, pressing a hand to his forehead, a cold sweat breaking out at the base of his neck.

"Armaan?" Abhira asked, her joyous expression instantly melting into concern. "Are you okay? Kya hua?"

Armaan forced his eyes open, shaking his head to clear the sudden vertigo. He forced a strained, reassuring smile onto his face, masking the terrifying symptom. "Nothing... nothing, meri jaan. Just a little headache. Too much excitement. Answer me first."

Abhira, completely unaware of the ticking medical time bomb inside his brain, let out a breathless laugh and nodded, letting him slide the ring onto her finger. They embraced, but as Armaan held her tight, his eyes closed, the dull, throbbing pain in his head whispered that this 'new start' was going to be far more complicated than they ever imagined.

Back at the airport terminal, the Jadeja luggage was being loaded into a sleek, matte-black luxury SUV.

Kaira adjusted her sunglasses, looking at the bustling Udaipur traffic, and then turned to her husband with a sharp, mischievous glint in her eyes. "Nikhil, take the chauffeur and the luggage. Go settle into the villa."

Nikhil raised an eyebrow, thoroughly amused. "And where exactly are you going, Dr. Kaira?"

"I am taking Varnica with me," Kaira said, a nostalgic, beautiful smile gracing her lips. "We are going to enter Udaipur the proper way. The Goenka way."

"Ugh, Mom, don't tell me we are taking a local auto," Varnica groaned, holding her designer handbag like a shield. "My hair cannot handle the humidity."

"Chup kar," Kaira laughed, grabbing her daughter’s hand. "You’re going to experience real beauty today. See you at home, Nikhil!"

Nikhil shook his head, gazing at his wife with pure adoration. "Don't be late. I'm ordering local Dal Baati Churma for dinner!"

Kaira pulled Varnica toward the old city banks. The air was thick with the scent of marigolds, wet stone, and history. As they reached the edge of the sparkling Lake Pichola, the sky turned a majestic shade of crimson and gold, reflecting off the ripples of the water. In the distance, the last ferry boat of the evening was just about to untie from the wooden dock.

"Oh no, we are going to miss it!" Kaira exclaimed.

Suddenly, that sophisticated, snobby neurosurgeon persona vanished, replaced by the spirit of a true Udaipur girl. "Varnica, bhaago!"

"Wait, Mom! In these shoes?!" Varnica shrieked, but her mother’s infectious energy caught her.

the mother and daughter sprinted down the stone steps. The chiffon overlay of Kaira's outfit fluttered elegantly in the lakeside breeze, and Varnica’s laughter echoed across the water. Their feet tapped rhythmically against the ancient steps, running against time, their silhouettes casting long, cinematic shadows against the backdrop of the majestic City Palace. With a final, breathless leap, both of them stepped onto the wooden deck of the boat just as it pulled away, the old boatman chuckling warmly at their antics.

Varnica collapsed onto the wooden bench, panting but grinning from ear to ear, her airheaded complaints completely forgotten. "Okay... I admit it. That was kind of aesthetic."

Kaira trailed her fingers through the cool, shimmering lake water, looking out at the city she had returned to after years.

An hour later, the SUV and the boat journey converged at their new destination.

The gates opened to reveal their temporary home for the next two years—a sprawling, ultra-modern villa nestled on a quiet hillside overlooking the lake. It was a architectural masterpiece, tastefully blending contemporary glass facades with traditional Rajasthani stone carvings. Inside, the decor was a testament to Kaira’s elite taste: clean ivory walls, minimalist Italian furniture, abstract art pieces, and bespoke linen textiles from the Jadeja mills. It was luxurious, serene, and completely insulated from the chaotic drama of the rest of the city.

Nikhil was already waiting on the terrace, two glasses of fresh juice in hand, watching the stars come out over Udaipur.

"Welcome home, ladies," Nikhil smiled, wrapping an arm around Kaira’s waist as she joined him.

Kaira looked out at the glittering lights of the city, unaware that tomorrow, a certain young lawyer named Armaan Poddar would collapse, and his fate would land directly onto her operating table.

"It's good to be back," Kaira whispered, her sharp mind already calculating the battles ahead.

The first morning in Udaipur arrived in a sweep of golden sunlight reflecting off the lake, casting dancing patterns of light across the ivory walls of the Jadeja villa. True to his word, Nikhil had spent the early morning jog checking out the local sports complex, while Varnica was still buried under her luxury duvet, blissfully ignoring her alarm.

By 9:00 AM, Dr. Kaira Goenka Jadeja was already in elite professional mode. Standing in front of the master bedroom's full-length mirror, she smoothed down a crisp, lavender-toned formal silk shirt paired with charcoal-grey tailored trousers. She added a minimalist platinum watch and her doctor’s coat, looking every bit the high-profile neurosurgeon ready to conquer a new territory.

"Nikhil, I'm heading out to the Hospital,The administrative audit starts at ten."

Nikhil walked out of the kitchen, holding a travel mug of black coffee, wearing a relaxed linen shirt. He offered his trademark dimpled smile, handing her the mug. "Go knock their socks off, Doc. I’ll keep our resident teenager entertained until she decides to wake up from her slumber."

"Thanks, love. Don't let her spend the whole day online," Kaira said, kissing his cheek before heading down to her waiting sedan.

The joint venture site was nothing short of spectacular. Located on a prime, sprawling estate, the brand-new Nirvaan Medical Centre (NMC) stood as a gleaming monument of glass, steel, and high-end medical technology.

As Kaira walked through the grand glass atrium, her heels clicking sharply against the polished Italian marble, she was immediately greeted by a familiar, booming voice that hadn't lost an ounce of its dramatic flair over the decades.

"Ah! The star of the show has arrived! Look at her, looking exactly like her father—all business, no nonsense!"

Kaira turned to see Harshvardhan Birla walking toward her. Now well into his 80s, the senior patriarch of the Birla medical empire was a striking silver-haired senior citizen. Despite his age, his eyes were incredibly sharp, moving restlessly as he evaluated every single corner of the hospital lobby. He was eccentric, fiercely protective of medical administration, and carried a legendary reputation for being a tough taskmaster.

"Harshvardhan Uncle," Kaira greeted him with a respectful but confident smile, extending her hand. "It is wonderful to see you looking so sharp and energetic."

"Hmph, someone has to keep an eye on these youngsters, Kaira," Harshvardhan said, waving his hand dismissively before his face hardened into a classic, grumpy scowl as old memories flashed in his mind. "I just thank the heavens you inherited your father Kairav's business mind and sense of discipline. Thank God you didn't turn out like your Bua, that tuntune-wali Akshara! Wandering around with a guitar, singing songs at the drop of a hat, disrupting hospital decorum... Oh God, just thinking about her musical therapy still gives me a migraine!"

Kaira bit back a smile, well-aware of the decades-old Gen 3 history and Harshvardhan’s eternal grudge against her late aunt's whimsical ways. "Don't worry, Uncle. I assure you, I only bring surgical scalpels and strict administrative protocols to this hospital. No guitars."

"Excellent! That’s what I like to hear," Harshvardhan chuckled, his eccentric mood bouncing right back.

"Dr. Jadeja, welcome to Udaipur," a warm, professional voice interrupted.

Walking toward them were two brilliant doctors in their early 30s. Dr. Shivaansh Birla, Harshvardhan’s grand-nephew, was a highly accomplished cardiologist and surgeon with a calm, reassuring demeanor. Beside him stood his wife, Dr. Nia Birla, a sharp and brilliant orthopedist who looked equally thrilled for the venture.

"Kaira, meet Shivaansh and Nia," Harshvardhan introduced proudly, puffing out his chest. "They are running the core operations here. Shivaansh handles the cardiac wing, Nia is taking care of orthopedics, and with you heading neurosurgery, Nirvaan Medical Centre is going to completely dominate the healthcare sector in Rajasthan."

"It's an honor to finally work with you, Dr. Kaira," Shivaansh said, shaking her hand. "Your research papers on complex tumor resections are mandatory reading for our residents."

"Likewise, Dr. Shivaansh," Kaira replied, her sharp eyes instantly locking onto the architectural blueprints Nia was holding. "Let's head up to the conference room. I want to review the intensive care unit allocations and the neuro-OT equipment list before the weekend launch."

Back at the villa, the afternoon sun was blazing. Varnica had finally emerged from her room, dressed in a casual oversized graphic tee, lounge shorts, and her hair tied up in a messy bun. Reclining on the plush velvet sofa of the ultra-modern living room, she pulled up her iPad and started a FaceTime call to Italy.

The call connected almost instantly, revealing a sun-drenched, rustic Italian villa background. Kairav Goenka stood near a heavy wooden counter, dusted with flour, while Muskan was seen laughing in the background, holding a glass of white wine.

"Varnu! Mera bachha!" Muskan beamed at the screen. "Look at you, finally awake! Did you land safely? How is the new house?"

"Hey, Nani! Hey, Nana!" Varnica smiled, propping the iPad against a vase. "The house is honestly so gorgeous, totally Mom's aesthetic. But Udaipur is so warm, oh my god. And Mom already left for her boring hospital meeting."

Kairav walked closer to the camera, wiping his hands on an apron, a warm, doting grandfatherly smile on his face. "Your mother is a workaholic, Varnu. Just like I used to be. But listen, now that you guys are finally settled in Udaipur, you shouldn't just sit at home. You have family there."

Varnica blinked, taking a sip of her smoothie. "Family? You mean like... extended relatives?"

"Yes, your cousins, Mukti and Maira," Kairav reminded her gently. "They are Poddar family daughters, but they are your sisters. Maira and Mukti are a bit older than you—both are sixteen—so they can show you around the city, introduce you to the local scene, and keep you company."

Varnica paused, her perfectly manicured hand freezing mid-air as a sudden, hilarious, and deeply embarrassing memory flashed through her mind. A look of pure teenage cringe took over her face.

"Wait... Maira?!" Varnica groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically as she mocked the name. "Oh my god, Nana, please don't make me hang out with her. Isn't she the one from those cringey family videos who used to literally refer to her own parents, Armaan and Abhira, as 'My Billis'?!"

Muskan burst into a fit of laughter in the background, while Kairav cleared his throat, trying to maintain a straight, grandfatherly face. "Varnica, that was just an affectionate childhood nickname she used..."

"No way, Nani, it was independent levels of cringe!" Varnica interrupted, shuddering with mock horror. "Who calls their parents Billis? Like, 'Oh look at my cute billi parents!' Ugh, I literally can't. If she introduces me to her friends as her cousin from Mumbai and starts talking about her cat-obsessed family dynamics, I will actually evaporate into thin air. My reputation will be ruined before I even find a decent cafe here!"

"You are such an airhead sometimes, Varnu," Muskan laughed, shaking her head affectionately. "They are lovely girls. Go meet them first. Mukti is very sensible, and Maira has probably grown out of her childhood antics by now."

"We'll see," Varnica muttered, though a feisty, curious spark gleamed in her eyes. "If they try to force me into some traditional Udaipur setup, I am calling Dad to rescue me. Anyway, go back to making your handmade pasta, Nana. I need to go find a corner in this house that has the perfect lighting for my next reel!"

Disconnecting the call, Varnica leaned back, a smug smirk on her lips. Udaipur was definitely proving to be amusing, but she had a distinct feeling that the upcoming collision between her high-society lifestyle and the dramatic world of the Udaipur teenagers was going to be an absolute reality check for everyone involved.

Forgot to say but varnica name is very interesting

Chapter 2 dropping tommorow

Chapter 2: Strategy, Shadows, and Star-Crossed Cringe

The sleek, minimalist dining room of the villa was bathed in the warm, ambient glow of recessed lighting. On the dark marble tabletop, a gourmet spread of local Dal Baati Churma—ordered from Udaipur's finest heritage kitchen—lay mostly finished.

Kaira sat back, swirling a glass of sparkling water, her sharp mind still running through surgical schedules. Across from her, Nikhil was casually leaning against the leather chair, looking effortlessly handsome in a black crewneck sweater, his athletic frame completely relaxed after a long day.

"The final inspection went perfectly," Kaira said, her voice laced with that crisp, executive confidence. "Harshvardhan Uncle is as eccentric as ever, throwing tantrums about tuntunes and musical therapy, but his administrative eye is unmatched. The grand opening of Nirvaan Medical Centre is officially locked for three days from now."

Nikhil smiled, his dimples catching the light. "Brilliant. A smooth launch is exactly what you needed." He paused, taking a sip of water, his gaze turning a bit more serious. "Which means our timelines align perfectly. The BCCI finalized the itinerary today. I’m flying out to London in five days for the Test Series against England."

Kaira’s perfectly arched eyebrows drew together, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She looked at her husband with deep affection, but her practical, sharp side took over. "London? Another grueling five-match series, Nikhil? You really need to start looking towards retirement from the longer formats now. You’ve achieved everything there is to achieve in international cricket."

Nikhil chuckled, a wry, charming smile playing on his lips. "Are you trying to bench the captain, Dr. Kaira?"

"I’m being realistic as your wife and a medical professional," Kaira replied, her tone feisty but mature. "Your knees aren’t twenty-five anymore. Shift your focus completely to the IPL. Keep the franchise captaincy, enjoy the short formats, and start retiring from Test and ODI cricket. You’ll get to spend more time with us, and honestly, the Jadeja Textiles and Constructions empire needs its heir to start sitting in the boardrooms."

"Fair point," Nikhil conceded smoothly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I am actually thinking along those lines after this WTC cycle. Speaking of boardrooms... I had a long chat with Dad today. He’s finally agreeing to let Jadeja Constructions heavily invest in my new sports apparel brand. If the final equity deal goes through this week, we’re looking at a massive national rollout."

"Now that is an investment I 100% approve of," Kaira smiled, before her expression shifted, her eyes cooling into a look of sheer, sophisticated disdain.

Nikhil noticed the change instantly. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Alright, I know that look. You've got that sharp Goenka frown on. What happened? Did you find out something about your cousin?"

Kaira let out a sharp, mocking scoff. "Abhira? Oh, please. I did some digging today through my local legal contacts. Do you want to know what the great lawyer Abhira Sharma Poddar is doing right now? She’s practically a mechanic, running some local garage, living in her absolute gareeb khana of a home."

Nikhil raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "A garage? Wasn't she a top-tier criminal lawyer?"

"She was, until the Poddar family drama swallowed her whole," Kaira said, her voice dripping with snobby irritation. "Right now, she and Armaan are 'co-parenting' Maira and Mukti. And get this—Armaan isn't even heading Poddar Firm anymore. His own brother, Krish, completely cheated him out of the partnership and sidelined him. So Armaan lives in that toxic Poddar Mansion, while Abhira lives in her shed, and they are currently in the middle of their... what, nth reconciliation?"

Kaira rolled her eyes dramatically, standing up to pace the room. "I mean, seriously, mujhe toh samajh hi nahi aata. I scoff at how many times she has forgiven that man! Remember when Maira was just a baby, and Armaan literally took the child and ran away? He kept Maira away from Abhira for seven whole years! Any woman with an ounce of self-respect would have destroyed him in court and locked him up. But Abhira? She welcomes him back with open arms every single time. It’s pathetic."

Nikhil shook his head, a mixture of amusement and exhaustion on his face. He stood up, walking over to Kaira, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. "Chhodo na, Kairu. Why are you wasting your peace of mind on them? Let's not talk about these panautis (bad luck omens) at the dinner table. Their chaotic lives are their own business."

Kaira took a deep breath, her sharp mind already calculating her next move. "They might be a mess, Nikhil, but they are still connected to the family legacy. And since I am a Goenka, I do things with class. I’ve decided to send formal VIP invitations for the NMC inauguration to Abhira, Armaan, and the entire Poddar clan. Let them see what a structured, successful life actually looks like."

Meanwhile, across town, the atmosphere in the Poddar Mansion was entirely different.

In one of the grand bedrooms, sixteen-year-olds Mukti and Maira were huddled together over a laptop, completely oblivious to the fact that their high-society Mumbai cousin, Varnica, was currently cringing at their very existence.

"Oh my god, Mukti, look at this edit!" Maira exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a digital mood board she had created. "If Papa and Mumma get married again this month, we can do a complete pastel theme. It will be so aesthetic!"

Mukti sighed dreamily, chin resting in her hands. "I know, right? They’ve separated and reunited so many times, but this time feels so official. They are literally made for each other. I just want to see them in their wedding outfits again!"

Downstairs, in the secluded courtyard of the mansion, the subjects of their adoration were busy living out their peak, cringe-worthy romantic era.

The moon was shining brightly over the courtyard as Armaan gently pulled Abhira against his chest. Abhira, wearing a slightly grease-stained tunic from her garage day, was giggling as Armaan looped his arms around her waist, looking down at her with intense, melodramatic devotion.

"Abhira," Armaan whispered, his voice dripping with theatrical ITV romance as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Tum meri jahaan ho. No matter how many times we separate, my heart always finds its way back to your garage."

"Armaan..." Abhira gasped softly, placing her hands on his shoulders, completely lost in his gaze. "Promise me you won't let Dadisa or Krish separate us this time. Promise me we'll fight the world together."

"I promise, meri jaan," Armaan declared passionately. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to seal the vow.

But the moment his eyes shut, a sharp, familiar flash of white-hot agony pierced through the back of his cranium. The world tilted beneath his feet. For a terrifying two seconds, his grip on her waist tightened almost convulsively as he fought the sudden wave of blackness threatening to take him down. He swallowed hard, forcing the nausea back into his throat, desperately hiding the terrifying symptoms of the tumor growing inside his brain.

Abhira smiled blissfully, completely blind to the medical disaster unfolding right in front of her, leaning into his embrace as the countdown to Dr. Kaira’s grand inauguration—and Armaan’s ultimate collapse—began.

The sleek, silver Mercedes-Benz glided effortlessly through the narrow, winding lanes of Udaipur’s old town, heading toward the imposing gates of the Poddar Mansion. Inside the climate-controlled cabin, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the humid afternoon heat outside.

Kaira was at the wheel, her grip relaxed but precise, while Varnica sat in the passenger seat, aggressively misting her face with an expensive lavender-scented hydration spray.

"Varnu, put that away for a second and listen to me," Kaira said, her voice dropping into a serious, mature tone as she navigated a sharp turn. "Since we are officially entering the lion's den, you need to know the actual family layout. You need to understand that Mukti and Maira aren't biological sisters."

Varnica paused mid-spray, blinking her large eyes. "Wait, really? I thought they were twins or something because they're the same age."

Kaira let out a sharp, clinical sigh. "No. Maira is Abhira and Armaan’s biological daughter. Mukti was adopted by Abhira years ago under tragic circumstances. Her biological parents died in a massive accident, a direct result of a case Armaan fought from the wrong side for some corrupt corporate client. Armaan carries immense guilt over it, which is why he practically treats Mukti like his own, trying to atone for his past mistakes."

Kaira glanced at her daughter, her eyes hardening with that signature Goenka protective edge. "The Poddar house is built on a foundation of guilt, extreme codependency, and chaotic emotional boundaries. Do not get influenced by their dramatic lifestyle, Varnu. Keep your distance, maintain your boundaries, and remember who you are."

Varnica rolled her eyes, adjusting her designer sunglasses. "Mom, please. I’m the daughter of the Indian Cricket Team captain and a top neurosurgeon. Do you honestly think I’m going to get influenced by a family that sounds like a literal Netflix true-crime documentary? Relax, I know exactly how to handle them."

The massive gates of Poddar Mansion swung open, revealing a grand but distinctly old-fashioned estate. As Kaira and Varnica stepped into the main courtyard, they were met by the formidable presence of Kaveri Poddar—the iron-willed matriarch whom everyone addressed as Dadisa. Flanking her were Vidya and Madhav Poddar, Armaan’s parents, with Madhav carrying the rigid, stiff posture of an ex-police inspector.

"Welcome, Dr. Kaira," Kaveri Poddar spoke, her voice laced with traditional authority as she offered a stiff nod. "The Goenka family has returned to Udaipur after decades. It is good to see you respect family ties enough to visit."

"Thank you, Mrs. Poddar," Kaira replied, her tone perfectly polite but carrying an icy, sophisticated confidence that refused to bow to Dadisa’s intimidating aura. "I am here on a professional and personal account."

Before the adults could dive into formal pleasantries, sixteen-year-olds Maira and Mukti came rushing down the grand wooden staircase.

"Hey! You must be Varnica!" Maira exclaimed, bouncing on her heels, wearing a chaotic tie-dye oversized t-shirt. "Come on up, we've been waiting for you! Move your butt, Chukundar (Beetroot)!" she yelled, shoving Mukti out of the way.

"Shut up, Bandar (Monkey)! You move!" Mukti snapped back, adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses and holding a heavy sociology textbook.

Standing beside them, Varnica literally snorted out loud, her hand instantly flying to her mouth to cover a smirk. Bandar and Chukundar? Seriously? she thought, dying of secondhand embarrassment.

Suddenly, Armaan stepped into the hallway, a wide, dramatic smile on his face as he joined the teenagers. "Ah, my two favorite troublemakers are at it again! Come on, girls, don't scare our guest away on day one!"

Kaira stood near the entrance, her eyes slowly rolling into the back of her head. The absolute lack of decorum and the loud, chaotic energy of the house was already giving her a clinical headache.

Just then, Abhira hurried in from the back courtyard, wiping her hands on a cloth, her hair tied in a messy, disorganized bun. Her eyes lit up when she saw Kaira.

"Kaira! Oh my god, tum log aa gaye! What a beautiful surprise!" Abhira beamed, clapping her hands together. "This is a literal khushi ka package (package of happiness) bursting into our house today! Arre, sit down, sit down! Vidya Mummy, please ask the helper to bring some heavy nashta and cutting chai for our high-profile guests!"

Kaira stiffened slightly, utterly startled by Abhira’s bizarre vocabulary. Khushi ka package? Cutting chai? She cleared her throat, her snobby side instantly flaring up. "No, thank you, Abhira. We just had a heavy lunch."

Meanwhile, Varnica had sat down on one of the traditional wooden sofa chairs. She looked around the dusty, ornate room, pulled out a mini sanitizing mist spray from her bag, and thoroughly doused the armrests before sitting back. When the helper approached with a tray of standard water glasses, Varnica waved her hand dismissively.

"Um, excuse me? Do you guys happen to have premium alkaline water? My skin hydration levels completely plummet with regular tap water," Varnica asked, her voice dripping with high-society snobbishness.

Maira blinked at her cousin as if she were an alien, while Mukti looked up from her book, analyzing Varnica with a sharp, intelligent, and thoroughly unimpressed gaze.

"Alkaline water?" Maira whispered to Mukti. "Is that like... water with baking soda?"

Varnica overheard her and smirked, but as her eyes shifted to Mukti, she noticed the complex academic journal the girl was reading. Okay, wait, Varnica thought, a rare flicker of awe crossing her mind. The monkey is an idiot, but the beetroot actually seems kind of smart.

Kaira decided it was time to cut through the chaos. She stood up, pulling out a set of sleek, silver-embossed VIP invitation cards from her leather bag, placing them formally on the central glass table.

"I am here to invite the Poddar family to the grand inauguration of the Nirvaan Medical Centre," Kaira announced smoothly. "It is a joint venture between the Goenka-Jadeja group and the Birla Hospitals. The opening is in three days."

Instantly, the room erupted. Manisha Chachi, Armaan’s loud and expressive aunt, gasped loudly, gripping her husband Manoj’s arm. "Oh my god! Nirvaan Medical Centre! Manoj, look at the silver card! Kaira, arre waah! But wait... where is Nikhil? The captain? The superstar? My whole kitty party circle is dying to get an autograph!"

Manoj, a prominent Udaipur businessman himself, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Dr. Kaira! The whole business community is talking about your husband’s upcoming investment in the sports apparel sector. It is an honor for Udaipur to host you both!"

From the corner of the room, Disha and Tanya—Abhira’s young devranis (sisters-in-law)—practically squealed with excitement, their teenage-like fangirl tendencies taking over. "Oh my god, Nikhil Jadeja is actually going to be in Udaipur?! The undisputed face of the ICT?! Kaira, you have to invite us to the private launch party, please!"

Abhira smiled warmly, standing next to Armaan, her hand slipping into his. "Of course we will come, Kaira! Actually, this is perfect timing. Armaan and I are also planning a grand celebration soon. We are getting married again!"

Kaira paused, her sharp eyes flicking from Abhira’s glowing face to Armaan’s slightly pale expression. A sarcastic, incredibly witty smirk played on Kaira’s lips as she delivered a classic, deadpan blow.

"Oh? Married again?" Kaira asked, her voice laced with mock sweetness. "Congratulations. Tell me, what’s the timeline on this one? When are you guys planning to divorce again? Just want to make sure I clear my calendar for the court dates too."

The entire living room went dead silent. Armaan’s smile froze, and Abhira’s jaw practically dropped at the brutal, high-society roast.

Before anyone could respond, Kaira’s Apple Watch buzzed with a haptic notification. She glanced down at the blank screen, instantly putting on a flawless, fake expression of medical urgency.

"Oh, absolute disaster," Kaira gasped dramatically, looking at Varnica. "The Birla emergency wing just had a critical neurological trauma case come in. The patient is already in the ER. I have to leave for the hospital immediately."

Varnica, catching on to the cue instantly, jumped up from the sofa, grabbing her designer purse. "Oh god, yes! Duty calls, Dr. Kaira! Bye everyone!"

Without giving the stunned Poddars a chance to say goodbye, Kaira and Varnica practically swept out of the mansion, their heels clicking furiously against the marble floor as they bolted out the front door.

Two minutes later, the Mercedes tore down the highway away from the Poddar estate. Kaira let out a massive, unedited sigh of exhaustion, loosening the top button of her silk shirt.

"Mom, I swear to god, if we stayed there for another five minutes, I would have died of an acute cringe overdose," Varnica groaned, aggressively spraying her sanitizing mist into the car's air vents.

"Tell me about it," Kaira muttered, her feisty side completely spent. She slammed her foot on the accelerator, her sharp eyes locking onto the GPS screen. "Nikhil can have his Dal Baati tonight. Right now, we are heading straight to the nearest Starbucks. I need a triple-shot iced caramel macchiato and an insulated, air-conditioned zone before I completely lose my mind."

"Agreed," Varnica sighed, leaning back against the leather seat. "Order me a pink drink with oat milk. And let's never go back there without a hazmat suit."

Ohh loved it....love kaira and varnica....loved the names....always missed kairav and his family on the show....would love for something like this to happen on the sow but unfortunately it won't.

Introduce everyone from the past in the story....would love that too

Continue soon....waiting

Arre bechari mukti.ko bhi bandar monkey wala syndrome de diya 🤡🤣 that poor sorted girl lol

Mukti varnica together would be riot..maida is brainwashed since birth but there is a chance for mukti. Better kaira take her away from pagalkhana lol

Chapter 3: Red Carpets, Medical Legacies, and Loopholes

The morning of the grand opening arrived with the kind of high-stakes energy that Dr. Kaira Goenka Jadeja lived for. The villa was a flurry of elite preparation.

When the trio finally descended the grand staircase, they looked like a layout straight out of Vogue India. Kaira was a vision of royal sophistication, draped in a bespoke, midnight-blue Kanjeevaram silk saree with a thick, intricate gold border. Her hair was styled in a perfect, sleek low bun adorned with fresh jasmine, and a minimalist diamond choker caught the light. Beside her, Nikhil looked every bit the dashing, suave superstar athlete and business heir, filling out a sharp, tailored charcoal-grey Italian three-piece suit that screamed power.

Varnica, matching her parents' elite aesthetic, wore a chic, pastel pink designer midi dress with pearl embellishments. She was busy checking her reflection, looking like a textbook high-society teenager who knew she was part of Udaipur’s new IT family.

As their luxury sedan pulled up to the grand entrance of the Nirvaan Medical Centre, the atmosphere was electric. Flashbulbs went off in a blinding frenzy. Paparazzi, national media, and top medical journalists lined the red carpet, shouting over one another.

"Nikhil sir! Look here, please!""Dr. Kaira! A photo with the captain, please!"

Nikhil smoothly wrapped an arm around Kaira’s waist, flashing his trademark dimpled, million-dollar smile for the cameras, while Kaira maintained her poised, regal posture.

Just as they stepped into the grand, air-conditioned glass atrium, the Poddar family arrived in a chaotic, loud cluster. Dressed in their usual heavy, overly traditional attire, they immediately disrupted the sophisticated corporate vibe of the venue.

Harshvardhan Birla, standing near the reception desk with a clipboard, took one look at the incoming herd—specifically at Abhira, who was wearing a loud, bright orange saree—and his face twisted into an expression of deep, clinical annoyance. He marched straight over to Kaira, his silver hair practically bristling.

"Kaira! Yeh kya hai?" Harshvardhan hissed under his breath, pointing a trembling finger toward Abhira. "Why is that tuntune-wali ki beti here? Did you actually invite her? Look at her, she’s probably going to burst into a bhajan or start a street fight in my pristine lobby! I told you, her mother Akshara gave me enough migraines to last three lifetimes!"

Kaira handled the eccentric octogenarian with a smooth, calming smile, though her sharp eyes flashed with amusement. "Calm down, Harshvardhan Uncle. As much as I value hospital decorum, I couldn't exactly uninvite my own cousin sister. Don't worry, I have security briefed to step in if anyone tries to pull out a guitar. Let’s focus on the dignitaries."

Harshvardhan grumbled, adjusting his glasses, but allowed himself to be pacified.

Within minutes, the crowd in the lobby noticed Nikhil. Instantly, the corporate dignity of the medical launch shifted as guests, minor politicians, and even some junior doctors went completely gaga over the Indian Cricket Team captain.

"Oh my god, it’s Nikhil Jadeja!" Chachi Manisha whispered loudly, practically elbowing Manoj to get closer. Disha and Tanya were already fanning themselves, staring in absolute awe.

Seeing the crowd converging, Varnica instantly stepped into her well-practiced role as the protective celebrity daughter. She moved closer to her dad, lifting her chin with a snobby, authoritative air, subtly using her designer handbag to block overly enthusiastic guests from invading Nikhil's personal space.

"Excuse me, give him some breathing room, please," Varnica said politely but chillingly, executing a perfect high-society shield that made Nikhil chuckle and pat her shoulder proudly.

Soon, the grand announcement bells rang, and Harshvardhan Birla took the stage, holding the microphone with the absolute authority of a medical emperor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the future of healthcare in Rajasthan," Harshvardhan announced proudly. "I am honored to introduce the core pillars of Nirvaan Medical Centre. First, our brilliant Managing Director and Head of Neurosurgery, Dr. Kaira Goenka Jadeja!"

The crowd erupted in applause as Kaira offered a graceful nod.

"Next, our Head of Cardiology and Cardiothoracic Surgery, Dr. Shivaansh Birla! Beside him, our Head of Orthopedics, Dr. Nia Birla! And leading our maternal care wing, my brilliant niece and Head of Gynecology and Obstetrics, Dr. Nishta Birla Chaudhary!"

Watching this display of immense institutional wealth and medical legacy from the crowd, Sanjay Bansal—Kaveri Poddar's sharp, calculating son-in-law—narrowed his eyes in deep impression. He leaned over to his son, Krish, who was standing stiffly beside a miserable-looking Tanya.

"Look at that, Krish," Sanjay whispered, his voice dripping with legal greed. "That hospital is going to generate billions in revenue and handle high-profile international clientele. We need to play our cards right. Use whatever connection Abhira has with them and score an exclusive retainership legal deal for our firm. That kind of corporate contract will put us completely on the national map."

Krish nodded silently, his eyes locked on the immense prestige unfolding on stage.

Once the formal ribbon-cutting was over, the doors to the grand banquet hall opened, revealing an ultra-luxurious, five-star international buffet spread.

Nikhil and Varnica, thoroughly exhausted by the social elite, immediately hit the premium live counters. Standing by the gourmet cheese and truffle slider section, both of them glanced over at the Poddar table—and the collective Jadeja urge to roast took over.

"Oh my god, Dad, look at them," Varnica muttered, picking up a smoked salmon tartlet and nodding toward the Poddar clan. "Maira is literally trying to fit an entire golgappa into her mouth while wearing a heavy lehenga. It’s a medical launch, not a Sunday market."

Nikhil let out a low, amused chuckle, adjusting his cuffs as he watched Armaan and Abhira. Armaan was currently feeding Abhira a piece of paneer tikka in a highly dramatic, slow-motion ITV manner, completely ignoring the high-profile doctors around them, while Vidya stood nearby, looking overbearingly emotional.

"It’s a specific talent, Varnu," Nikhil joked, his voice smooth and laced with witty mockery. "To bring that level of intense, daily-soap melodrama to a corporate hospital launch takes real dedication. Look at Armaan—he looks like he’s practicing for a movie audition right next to the dessert counter."

"It’s independent levels of cringe," Varnica shuddered, sipping her alkaline water. "I am staying on this side of the hall. My outfit cannot handle their energy."

On the other side of the hall, Kaira was smoothly gliding through groups of international delegates and state dignitaries, greeting them with flawless poise. Harshvardhan Birla walked beside her, highly impressed by how she commanded the room.

As they paused near a pillar, Harshvardhan glanced back at Abhira, who was currently laughing loudly at something Manisha Chachi said, completely oblivious to the elite networking happening around her.

"Tell me something, Kaira," Harshvardhan asked, tapping his walking stick thoughtfully. "What exactly does this cousin of yours, Abhira, do for a living nowadays? I heard she passed the bar exam, but looking at her... I have my doubts."

Kaira swirled her mocktail, a sharp, patronizing smirk appearing on her lips as she delivered the gossip with casual, snobby elegance. "Oh, her law degree has flown away somewhere into the Udaipur air, Harshvardhan Uncle. Right now? She’s practically a mechanic. She runs a local, dilapidated garage and spends her days fixing broken car engines and getting grease all over herself."

Harshvardhan paused for a fraction of a second, and then, he burst into a loud, booming, unfiltered fit of laughter that drew stares from several nearby doctors. He laughed so hard his chest shook, wiping a tear from his eye.

"A mechanic?! Wah! Kya baat hai!" Harshvardhan chuckled crazily, shaking his head with immense satisfaction. "Well, that makes perfect sense, doesn't it? Genetically speaking! Her biological father, Abhinav Sharma, was a small-time local taxi driver in Kasauli! So the daughter becoming a car mechanic? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree! From driving cabs to fixing engines... absolutely apt for her stature!"

Kaira chuckled softly, her feisty, elitist side thoroughly enjoying the brutal assessment, completely unaware that behind the very same pillar, Armaan was standing, holding a glass of water.

He had overheard every single word. His jaw clenched, a surge of protective anger rushing through his veins. But just as he stepped forward to confront them, a sudden, blinding flash of white agony struck the center of his forehead. His vision went completely black, the laughter of Harshvardhan and the chatter of the banquet hall instantly turning into a loud, terrifying ring. Armaan staggered backward, his hand gripping the edge of a banquet table so hard his knuckles turned white, desperately fighting the tumor's deadly countdown before it crashed his entire world.

The sharp clink of crystal glasses and the polite murmur of international delegates vanished in an instant, shattered by a voice that roared with raw, unfiltered fury.

"Enough! Just stop it!"

The entire banquet hall went dead silent. Armaan stepped out from behind the marble pillar, his face flushed and his eyes bloodshot. The blinding pain from his tumor was still ripping through his head, but the sheer humiliation of hearing his wife being reduced to a "taxi driver's daughter" had pushed him completely over the edge.

He marched straight toward Harshvardhan Birla, pointing a trembling finger at the elderly patriarch. "How dare you? You stand here in your expensive suits, acting like gods of the medical world, but your minds are filled with absolute filth! Keep your aristocratic tongue away from my wife and her father! Abhinav Sharma was a man of honor. He didn't need a medical degree to have a soul!"

Abhira’s jaw dropped in horror from across the hall. "Armaan! Kya kar rahe ho?! Stop it!" She rushed forward, trying to grab his arm, but he brushed her off.

Kaira stood several feet away, her posture regal and her expression an icy mask of detached disapproval. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nikhil instantly straightening up, his athletic frame tense. Kaira quickly caught Nikhil’s eye, giving him a sharp, authoritative nod—a silent command that said: Stay back. Do not get involved. She knew the national media was hovering; she would not risk Nikhil’s pristine public image for a chaotic Poddar tantrum. Kaira chose to remain completely silent, refusing to lower her standards to engage in a public screaming match.

But Harshvardhan Birla went completely crazy. He stepped forward, slamming his walking stick hard against the polished marble floor. "Don't you dare raise your voice in my hospital, you third-rate lawyer!" Harshvardhan shouted, his face turning bright red. "Who are you to lecture us? Your wife is a do-kaudi ki mechanic! Look at her resume—it’s an absolute joke! Fixing broken engines and running a dilapidated shed isn't a career, it’s nonsense! You Poddars have zero class. Get out!"

Kaveri Poddar’s face turned completely pale with humiliation. Seeing the high-society crowd whispering, Dadisa’s strict matriarchal instincts kicked in.

"Armaan! Cut this nonsense out right now!" Kaveri commanded, her voice trembling with rage as she forcefully grabbed Armaan's arm. "We are leaving. Vidya, Madhav, Manoj... take the children. Move!"

As the Poddar clan practically fled the banquet hall in a tight, humiliated hurry, Dr. Shivaansh Birla and Dr. Nia smoothly stepped forward into the center of the hall, taking charge of the panicked crowd to resume the presentation.

Nikhil smoothly walked up to Kaira, slipping his hand into hers. "You okay?"

Kaira let out a sharp, exhausted breath, looking toward the grand exit. "I'm fine. I'm just glad I didn't engage with that madness. But that family is an absolute circus, Nikhil.

Two days later, the Poddar Mansion was in a state of hyperactive chaos. Despite the humiliation at the hospital launch, the family had pivoted entirely into full-blown wedding preparation for Armaan and Abhira’s latest upcoming nuptials.

Upstairs in the bedroom, Maira and Mukti were huddled around an ironing board, a look of sheer panic bouncing between them.

"Maira, I told you to change the heat setting!" Mukti yelled, staring in horror at the center of the table. "This is Mumma's old wedding lehenga dress!"

Maira, holding the heavy steam iron, looked down at the prominent, charred black hole right in the middle of the delicate vintage fabric. "Oh my god, Chukundar, I didn't mean to! The steam button got stuck! What do we do? Mumma is going to literally kill us!"

Just then, Tanya walked into the room, holding a beautifully packaged, brand-new crimson silk saree. She took one look at the burnt dress and sighed, shaking her head. "Okay, stop crying, you two. Good thing I anticipated some kind of disaster. Take this. It’s a brand-new wedding saree I got for Abhira. Give her this and hide that burnt evidence before Dadisa sees it."

Maira let out a massive breath of relief, clutching the new saree. "Tanya, you are a literal lifesaver!"

Meanwhile, at the Jadeja villa, a silver-embossed courier envelope arrived containing the formal wedding invitation from the Poddars.

Kaira picked it up with the tips of her fingers, reading it with a deeply amused, sarcastic smirk before tossing it onto the lounge table.

"Nikhil, look at this," Kaira called out as she walked into the master bedroom, where a large luxury Rimowa suitcase was laid open. "Abhira and Armaan sent their wedding invite."

Nikhil, who was casually stretching after a workout, looked up. "Are we going?"

"Absolutely not," Kaira scoffed, pulling a stack of perfectly folded designer shirts from the closet to help him pack. "I am not wasting my time sitting through another one of their melodramatic family dramas. And honestly? I refuse to spend a single rupee buying new high-society outfits just to attend Abhira’s nth wedding. We’ll just send a luxury fruit and chocolate gift hamper from our corporate account. It’s elegant, detached, and does the job."

"Works for me," Nikhil smiled, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Nikhil's talent manager, a sharp man in a crisp suit, was escorted into the room. He handed Nikhil a folder of recent PR metrics and corporate drafts. "Sir, here are the latest updates from the BCCI regarding the England tour, along with the finalized PR strategy for your sports brand rollout. Everything is locked in."

"Thanks, Amit. Leave the files on the desk," Nikhil said smoothly, dismissing him with a polite nod.

Once the manager left, the room fell quiet. Kaira continued lining up his grooming kit in the suitcase, talking lightly. "Five days in London for the Tests, then you fly back for the corporate board meetings..."

"Kaira," Nikhil interrupted softly, his tone unusually grounded and mature.

Kaira paused, turning around to look at him. "What is it?"

Nikhil looked her dead in the eye, dropping a massive bomb with absolute calmness. "I’m retiring from Test cricket. This series in London? It’s my last one. I've already informed the selectors."

Kaira froze, a sleek silk tie slipping from her hand. Her sharp mind raced, completely shocked by the suddenness of the decision. "Retiring? Now? But Nikhil, the World Test Championship cycle—"

"My body is telling me it's time, Kairu," Nikhil said gently, standing up and taking her hands in his. "I want to focus entirely on the T20 format, captain the IPL franchise, and finally put my energy into Jadeja Textiles and my sports brand. But listen... don't tell Varnica just yet. You know how dramatic she gets. I want to tell her myself when I'm back from London."

Kaira stared at him for a long moment. Her feisty, ambitious side wanted to argue, but looking into his steady, confident eyes, her deep love and respect for him took over. She squeezed his hands back. "Wow. It's a massive step, Nikhil. But... I support you. Entirely. It's time you came home to us anyway."

Before they could share a moment, Kaira’s phone buzzed aggressively on the nightstand. It was Harshvardhan Birla.

She picked it up, her voice instantly switching to her sharp MD persona. "Yes, Harshvardhan Uncle?"

"Kaira!" Harshvardhan’s voice boomed excitedly over the speaker. "Change of schedules for tomorrow morning! I just received confirmation from the state secretariat—the Chief Minister’s daughter is personally flying into Udaipur tomorrow for her comprehensive neuro and spinal health checkup at Nirvaan Medical Centre. I want you at the VVIP wing by 8:00 AM sharp !"

"Consider it done, Uncle. I'll have the medical board prepped," Kaira replied smoothly, hanging up with a focused glint in her eyes. The elite world was moving fast, and she was right at the center of it.

Far away from the brewing storm in Udaipur, the late afternoon sun was casting a golden hue over a sprawling, rustic villa in Tuscany, Italy.

Kairav Goenka was sitting at a white wrought-iron table on the terrace, sketching a new contemporary layout for Goenka Jewels. Muskan walked out, holding two cups of espresso, her expression deeply serious as she sat down across from her husband.

"Kairav, we need to talk about the Akshara Dance Academy," Muskan opened directly, placing his coffee down. "I’ve been thinking about it ever since Kaira called us from Udaipur."

Kairav sighed, putting his sketching pencil down. "Muskan, what is there to discuss? The academy is standing on the family ground."

"No, Kairav, be realistic," Muskan said, her tone sharp and unyielding. "Your sister Akshara left decades ago. Who looked after that academy all these years? You and Our daughter, Kaira. Kaira funded the maintenance, Kaira handled the legal property taxes, and Kaira kept that legacy alive while Abhira was nowhere to be found. Now that Kaira is back in Udaipur, that academy should legally and fully belong to her. Not to Abhira."

Kairav rubbed his temples, looking torn. "Muskan, you know the history. Bade Papa explicitly wrote in his initial will that the dance academy legacy belongs to both Abhira and Kaira... and Abhir,. But Abhir legally relinquished his entire share directly to Abhira. Legally, Abhira has a massive, rightful claim to it."

Muskan’s eyes narrowed with a fierce, protective maternal determination. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "I don't care about emotional claims, Kairav. Sentiments don't pay for property maintenance. Abhira is a garage mechanic right now; she doesn't have the status or the resources to run a legacy academy. Kaira has invested her own hard-earned money into it."

She tapped her fingers firmly against the table. "Talk to our corporate lawyers in Mumbai today, Kairav. There has to be a legal loophole in Bade Papa’s old clauses. Find a loophole, break the joint clause, and make sure the Akshara Dance Academy goes exclusively to Kaira. I will not let our daughter’s hard work be handed over to Abhira on a silver platter."