Rags To Royals (Royal #1: Book 1) | ✔

55

Happy Mahashivratri ✨

-• tangled bonds •-

"You need something?" Dad questions when I string along with him after dinner.

I nod. "Your attention."

Hearing me, my brothers stop too. I glance around, wondering what brought them to a standstill. I'm just demanding some time from my father. I know the hectic people in his profession go through. I've seen my mother struggling to tackle her responsibilities towards me and her work at the same time, often disappointing me and herself because she could rarely make time for me. And now she's not here. People take away the hope of 'next time' when they leave forever. I don't want to feel like an orphan when I've a parent. It sucks that being a child, it's you teaching them how to be a parent, but I'm willing to make do with what I get, and demand something when I need it. Right now, I need his attention.

Dad stands frozen in his place, his gaze softening as it meets mine. "My atte-attention?" He whispers, his voice thick, weighed down, as though the words I uttered and he repeated were heavy on his tongue.

I hum. "You've been busy with work lately. I didn't even get to meet you when I came to see Vivaan Bhai at the hospital."

His lips lift into a smile, eyes filling with guilt. "I didn't think you'd realise," he shakes his head, before raising his arm and beckoning me closer. I walk up to him, holding his hand that automatically goes around my back, pulling me to his chest as he engulfs me in a bear hug. "Should we go to my room?" He tilts his head down, looking at me with fond eyes.

I beam, "Let's watch a movie!"

He chuckles, hiding the tremor in his tone. "Yes, let's watch a movie." And he steers me off to his room.

I throw a glance over my shoulder, at my brothers watching us with varied expressions on their faces before I look back ahead. Yuvraaj was poker-faced, holding on a composed look that revealed nothing. Vivaan Bhai had this gentle smile playing on his lips. What struck me was the look on my remaining brothers. The middle ones appeared forlorn and the twins, slightly envious. I know it's hard for them to just walk up and demand like I did. But I'm confident Dad would never turn me down.

It's strange, how I believe in him more than them, when they've been with him for two decades and I, only for a few months. I think that's what's fascinating about new relationships. There's freedom in it, a space to breath, demand, complain and express yourself openly. Old relationships are like books on the higher shelves, read once, twice, thrice, then shifted to make place for new ones, forgotten, with dust settling on the spines, their once dazzling covers now faded brown.

"Were you missing me, little star?" Dad coos as we walk into his room.

I look up at him in disapproval. "What's my age?"

"My little star turned seventeen this month," he strokes my chin with a smile on his face.

"Then why do you treat me like a kid?" I complain.

"Because you're a kid," he still talks in that childish voice one uses for their pet or newborn. For some strange reason, I love it. It makes me feel like I can flop down on the floor to cry and he'd still do his best to pacify me rather than asking me to grow up.

"I'm not. I'm a big girl." I square my shoulders proudly.

"Oh, are you?" He teases.

"Yes!"

"I'll agree if you give me a hi-five," then he raises his hand all the way above his head, making my jaw drop.

"Dad!"