1. Lonely Rockstar

Abhir Sharma had once been a boy with endless dreams and a heart full of love. But that boy no longer existed.

After the bitter fallout in his familu and the tragedies that followed, Abhir left his childhood behind, burying his name and identity deep within.

He became Rudra—the stoic, enigmatic musician known for his haunting melodies and piercing lyrics. To the world, Rudra was a mystery, a man with no past.

The stage lights dimmed, and a hush swept through the crowd. The roaring fans, the pulsating beats, the intense spotlight—all of it was Rudra 's world.

He was the heartthrob of millions, his name resonating in every corner of the country. Women adored him, men envied him, and the media couldn’t get enough of him. Yet beneath the surface of fame and glamour lay an emptiness, a void that no applause could ever fill.

As Rudra strummed his guitar, his fingers moved instinctively across the strings, weaving a melody that wasn’t just music—it was his escape. The ache in his voice as he sang was raw, a longing only he truly understood.

He smiled at the adoring crowd, waving and mouthing, “Thank you,” before stepping off the stage. The cheers faded as he entered the quiet backstage, and with them, his carefully crafted façade slipped away.

“Great show, Rudra,” his manager said, handing him a water bottle.

He nodded absentmindedly, his mind elsewhere—as it so often was these days.

Later, in the silence of his luxurious hotel suite, Rudra sat on the edge of his bed, staring out at the glittering cityscape. Slowly, his hands reached for the worn photograph tucked away in his wallet.

The image was of a woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. His mother.

“Maa…” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Aap kahaan hongi, kaisi hongi? Aaj bhi bheed mein sirf aapka chehra dhoondhta hoon… Hazaron logon ke beech bhi tanha hai aapka Abhir.” His fingers brushed against the photo, his gaze distant. “Kabhi kabhi lagta hai ki aap mujhe dekh rahi ho kahin door se.”

Bitterness crept into his voice as he gripped the photograph tighter.

“Goenka parivaar… Buddy… Unki wajah se aap mujhse door ho gayi, Maa. Aise parivaar se toh anath hona zyada behtar hai. Aaj Rudra  bankar mere paas sab kuch hai—fame, paisa, logon ka pyaar—par mera dil? Woh ab bhi us chhote Abhir ka hai, jo Maa se milne ki umeed mein jee raha hai.”

Meanwhile, in Udaipur, the sprawling Goenka mansion was alive with activity.

The scent of fresh flowers filled the air as servants scurried about, preparing for an upcoming celebration.

In the living room, a group of women gathered around old photo albums, flipping through memories.

“Arrey, yeh dekh, Abhira!” Ruhi exclaimed, holding up a picture. “Tab ki photo hai jab Abhir aur main chhote the, sirf saath saal ke!”

Abhira snatched the photograph, her eyes softening as she took in the smiling faces of her brother and cousin. But the joy didn’t last. Tears welled up in her eyes as the weight of the years pressed down on her.

Ruhi noticed and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Abhira,” she said gently, “I know you want to find him. We all do. But bees saal ho gaye hain… humein pata bhi nahi ki woh zinda bhi hai ya nahi.”

Abhira shook her head, her voice steady and filled with determination. “No, Ruhi. Mera dil kehta hai, mera bhai zinda hai. Aur main apni poori koshish karungi usse dhoondhne ki.”

Ruhi offered her a faint smile, though doubt flickered in her eyes. “I really hope you’re right.”

Abhira fell silent, lost in thought. Her life had changed drastically over the past few weeks.

Flashback

Abhira narrowed her eyes at Ruhi, suspicion brewing. “Tum mujhse kuch chhupa rahi ho, Ruhi.”

“Nahi, sach mein!” Ruhi stammered, avoiding her gaze. “Main kuch nahi jaanti! Agar kuch poochhna hai toh bade nanu se baat karo.”

With her heart racing and the photograph clenched in her hand, Abhira made her way to Manish Goenka’s study. She hesitated at the door, then knocked softly before stepping in.

Manish looked up from his desk, his expression softening when he saw her. “Kya baat hai, beta?” he asked kindly.

Abhira placed the photo on his desk, her hands trembling. “Bade nanu, yeh kaun hai? Aur mujhe iske baare mein kabhi kuch kyun nahi bataya?”

Manish’s face paled as he picked up the photograph, his hands trembling. He let out a long sigh, guilt clouding his features.

“Yeh Abhir hai,” he said softly, his voice laced with regret. “Tumhara bada bhai.”

Abhira’s eyes widened, shock crashing over her. “Bhai? Mujhe kyun nahi pata tha? Aap sabne mujhe kabhi bataya kyun nahi?”

Manish sank into his chair, his voice heavy. “Beta, yeh ek lambi kahani hai. Hamari kuch galatiyan thi, jo hum kabhi sudhaar nahi paaye. Tum baitho, main tumhe sab samjhaata hoon.”

As Manish revealed the truth, Abhira listened in stunned silence. The puzzle pieces of her family’s history began falling into place. Her heart ached for the brother she’d never met, for the pain he must have endured.

“Mujhe unhe dhoondhna hoga,” she said firmly. “Main unhe ghar wapas leke aaungi.”

Manish’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Mujhe hamesha iss din ka intezaar tha, Abhira. Par ab toh lagta hai ki shayad humne use hamesha ke liye khod diya hai.”

Abhira stood, clutching the photo as if it were her lifeline. “Main unhe dhoondh kar rahungi, bade nanu. Chahe jo ho jaye.”

Flashback Ends

Since learning the truth, Abhira’s life had been consumed by a single goal: finding her brother. The revelation that Ruhi was her cousin and that the Goenkas were her maternal family had upended her entire world.

Sitting in her room, clutching the photo tightly, she whispered, “Main unhe zaroor wapas laungi.”

Far away, Abhir sat in the quiet of his hotel room, staring out at the city lights, the photograph of his mother still in his hands.

For the first time in years, a strange pull stirred in his chest, as though something unseen was guiding him.

Little did he know, his sister was coming for him. She was determined to rewrite the story they’d both been living apart for so long.