It was around 7 in the morning when my eyes fluttered open because of the aarti playing on the speakers.
"Aahhh," I groaned, dragging a pillow over my ear, trying to muffle the sound. It was baba's (dad's) daily habit—doing aarti without fail.

But I never believed in God. Not when the most important reality of my life was this—my aai (mom) left me alone on the very day I was born. If God really existed, he wouldn't have snatched a child's mother on the day that child entered the world.

"Nikhil, bada utha na. Tula pan office la jaycha aahe."
(Nikhil, child wake up. You've to go to the office as well.)

Aaji's (grandma's) voice echoed in the room, as soft and gentle as ever.

"Mmm," I mumbled, turning to the other side.

"It's already 7:15, gudda. Your baba will scold you if you get late," Aaji said, gently caressing my head.
"And you have a meeting scheduled with him today," Aatya (aunt) added, entering the room right after.

"Shit, how did I forget that?" I muttered, rolling off the bed.

Baba was the softest father—warm, understanding—but not when it came to work. And I was just working as the marketing head of Deshpande Corporation.

I quickly freshened up and made my way downstairs.

"Good morning, my prince. And look what I've made for you," baba said, his voice warm and full of affection.

"Arey waah, maaza favorite puranpoli?" I said, serving the hot puranpolis on my plate.

"Stupid boy, it's hot. You'll burn your mouth," baba said, lightly smacking my head.

"Waah baba, puranpoli khub chaan aahe."
(Wow dad, the sweet flatbread is so tasty.)

I took the first bite, the rich flavours of jaggery and lentils melting in my mouth.

"Here, have one more," baba said, picking up another puranpoli to serve it on my plate.

"It's enough, baba," I said quickly, stopping him. "If I eat more, I'll definitely sleep during the meeting."

"And moreover, my boss—Mr. Veerendra Deshpande—is very strict. If he finds me sleeping, then he'll definitely fire me from my job," I added, grabbing my blazer from the chair.

"And Aaji, Aatya—you people know how much I love my job. Bye, everyone," I said, hugging all of them before leaving.

It was around 9:30 when I reached the office.

"Good morning, sir," my teammates greeted me.

"Morning, people," I replied warmly.

"Everything set?" I asked.

"Yes sir, all set," one of them replied.

"Great, guys. We'll head to the meeting in the next 30 minutes," I said, glancing at my watch.

They nodded in agreement and got back to their last-minute preparations.

Hey hi, all the lovely readers out there. You might be wondering—who am I? Don't worry, I'll introduce myself.

I'm Nikhil Deshpande. You might know me from Ye Moh Moh Ke Dhaage as Shivansh's best friend. Yes, I'm that Nikhil Deshpande, working as the marketing head at Deshpande Corporation, run by my father, Veerendra Deshpande.

If you're thinking why I'm not the CEO yet—it's because I wanted to gain work experience before taking that post. And honestly, I'm just like many of you—confused, learning, and still figuring out life's lessons.

So welcome to my journey. Let's discover together what life has planned for me.

"Dr. Mehta, there's an emergency," a nurse came running. Just behind her, a boy—about five years old—was wheeled in on a stretcher.

"What has happened?" I asked, already checking his pulse.

"Madam, baccha to khel raha tha... phir achanak se khaasne laga... phir behosh hogaya hai..."
(Ma'am, the child was playing... then he suddenly started coughing... and then he became unconscious...) the boy's mother said, panic spilling through every broken word.

"Dekhiye, aap chinta mat kariye. Sab theek ho jayega."
(Please don't worry. Everything will be fine.)

I reassured her and directed the team to prepare for the necessary examinations. By then, our senior, Dr. Roshan, had also joined us. Once the examinations were completed, we discovered that the boy had swallowed a one-rupee coin.

There was no time to waste.

We rushed him to the OT, and after almost an hour of struggle, we were finally able to remove the coin from his throat. When his condition stabilized, he was shifted to the ward.

I stepped out into the waiting area where his parents sat, their eyes immediately finding mine.

"How is our child, doctor?" the boy's father asked, worry etched deep into his face.

"Don't worry, sir. The child is out of danger. You can meet him after some time," I said, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

"Thank you so much, doctor. Aap nahi hote to humara beta..."
(If you weren't here, then our son...) the mother began, but her voice cracked, emotions choking the rest of her sentence.

"No, ma'am. Don't thank me. It's my duty. Take care, okay?" I said politely.

The satisfaction of being a doctor is unexplainable—and it will always remain unexplainable.

With a tired smile, I bid goodbye to my colleagues and punched out after my night shift.

It was around nine in the morning when I reached back to my hostel. I tossed my bag aside, kicked off my shoes, and crashed onto the bed. The exhaustion weighed heavily on my body, but it vanished the moment my phone buzzed.

Maa.

Without wasting a second, I picked up the call and chirped, "Hi, maa!"

"Good morning dikri, su kare che?"
(Good morning, child. What are you doing?) maa asked softly.

"Just came back after my night shift," I said, sitting upright so I could see her clearly on the video call.

"It must have been a long day for you, no?" she asked, placing her phone on the kitchen platform.

"Maa... did that guy beat you again?" I asked as I noticed the bruises, the bluish marks on her face.

How brutally has that guy beaten my maa. Such a shameless man—and he's none other than my father.

"Did you eat anything?" maa asked, clearly trying to change the topic.

"Maa, don't change the topic," I said, concern lacing my tone. "Why don't you leave him, maa?"

"Sakshi, we live in a society," she replied, averting her gaze.

"So what, maa?" I started.

"Sakshi, he's your father," she said—and abruptly cut the call.

I threw my phone away, frustration clawing at my chest.

How do I get my mom out of that hell? And more importantly, how do I get her safely away from that Harish Mehta—my father?

Oh hey, all you beautiful readers out there. I know your mind is swirling with just one thought—who is this chatterbox?

You might have seen me in YE MOH MOH KE DHAAGE as Kavyashree Sharma's best friend. Yes, that's me. Sakshi Mehta. First-year pediatric surgery resident at AIIMS Delhi. Daughter of Swarna Mehta.

And no, I'm not my dad's princess—because that man doesn't deserve to be called a father.

Ahh, let's leave him. Why ruin your pretty moods because of that piece of shit?

Welcome to my life—maybe a bit clumsy and a little confused. Let's see what life has planned for me... together.

Author's Note

Hey dewdrops,

This was the beginning of ADHOORI SI MAI POORA TU.
I hope this chapter found a tiny corner in your heart and stayed there for a while.

If you enjoyed it even a little, don't forget to tap that vote button and drop a comment telling me which part you liked. I truly love reading your thoughts—more than puranpolis, and that's saying something.

And if you're shy or an introvert like me, here's my Insta ID—just a DM away. I promise I'm not a python who'll eat you whole if you text me personally.
Pinky promise, mai nahi niglungi tum logon ko.
(Pinky promise, I won't swallow you.)

With love,
Your chatterbox Author 🤍
Lavenderwrites