Chapter 37: Chapter 35- The real Drama

Siara's pov-

I should have known better. With this family, calm is a fleeting concept, and peace is practically nonexistent. As I stood in the living room, watching the chaos unfold, I silently questioned my decision to share my travel plans this evening.

We're leaving for Italy the next morning, and the younger clan had turned this simple trip into what felt like a multi-national summit. Suitcases, snacks, random Italian phrases, and, somehow, a mini karaoke system were strewn across the living room. Shivay, naturally, was at the center of the storm, clutching a massive to-do list like it was a blueprint for world domination.

“Alright, listen up!” Shivay bellowed, his voice commanding attention—or at least trying to. “This Operation is titled: ‘Mission Miracle.’ Group Objective? Get Mr. and Mrs. Rock to stop acting like glaciers. Personal objective? Secure a Non-Icy hangout with Ice-Queen. Target destination: Italy. All systems go!”

I didn’t bother to respond. I simply folded my arms and observed. Shivay was the self-appointed leader of this circus, and as usual, his antics were bordering on the ridiculous.

Kabir rolled his eyes. “That sounds like a Netflix cringe movie.”

“Wait, wait, I’ve got it,” Mahi said, grinning like she just solved the world crisis. “Operation Heatwave: Melting the Rocks!”

Divya burst out laughing. “Mahi bhabhi, you sound like you’re starting a weather channel. What’s next, hourly forecasts of their emotions?”

Kabir was on a roll now, leaning forward like he was pitching to a boardroom. “No, guys, it has to be bold. Operation Cement Crushers: Love Edition!”

This time Devansh objected, pointing at him with an exaggerated frown. “That sounds like a construction company ad! This is about bringing romance, not demolishing roads!”

Mahir smirked, shaking his head, but his gaze flicked to me for a moment, as if gauging my reaction. I stayed silent, arms crossed, watching them descend into full-blown madness. They were louder than a fish market during the peak hours. Sid is going to pay for proposing that idea of three kids because unfortunately now I'm the mother of these giant kids.

Now Shivay was holding a stick like he was a military general.“Alright, team!” Shivay announced, slamming his hand on the table with the authority of a man who clearly had no idea what he was doing. “Here’s the plan: Day 1, we hit the Colosseum. Day 2, we devour every pizza joint in Rome. Day 3, a luxury yacht party on the Amalfi Coast. And Day 4, shopping spree at Milan’s high-end fashion district.”

Divya clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, and don’t forget! We have to visit Venice. Gondola rides! Selfies on the canals! I’m thinking at least fifty outfit changes for all the Instagram content.”

Shivay interrupted, dramatically circling a spot on the map. “Now, here’s the genius part: we’ll end the trip in Florence with a wine-tasting tour.”

The sheer absurdity of their plan was almost impressive. I can bet on my medical degree, none of this is going to happen and whatever will happen is going to be an absolute disaster. They turned a birthday party into a funeral so there is no chance my medical trip.. no, not my medical trip, their family Vacation is going to be less chaotic. This circus will undoubtedly land us in trouble so monumental that even the Italians will declare them a threat to all living creatures, maybe even to the entire ecosystem. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ban us from entering the country altogether, listing us under "High-Risk Groups" alongside tornadoes and rabid raccoons.

And I’m as sure about this as I was when I entered into the medical field. This is going to be a disaster, and I am going to be there, front row, watching it all burn just like last time. And let's not forget their so called plan of adding romance in my life. It's already a flop.

Avya jumped in, dramatically flipping her hair. “Excuse me, can we focus? I’ve already researched the best romantic spots in Italy. This is our chance to make Mahir bhai and Siara bhabhi act like an actual couple, not two corporate robots stuck in a business merger!”

I stood silently, watching as the clan strategized like they were planning to take over a country.

Kabir, munching on a packet of chips, added, "we can just lock them in a wine cellar in Tuscany. Alcohol works wonders.”

Myra shot him a look and rolled her eyes,"You think alcohol can work on them? Alcohol will give up halfway through and realise its fate when they'll consume it"

I didn’t bother saying anything. Dream, dream, dream big. Italians will definitely file a restraining order against them.

As the night wore on, the plans grew more ridiculous. At one point, they debated hiring an opera singer to serenade us at dinner.

"Imagine We’re sipping wine, and this magnificent opera singer starts belting out ‘O Sole Mio.’" Shivay threw his arms wide, pretending to sing, and his voice cracked so badly it could’ve shattered the nonexistent wine glasses.

Divya, raised her hands as if conducting an invisible orchestra. “ It’ll be magical! The singer will hit a high note, and the restaurant will go silent, captivated by the beauty of it all!”

Magical? I bet it would be tragical.

Devansh chimed in, his tone deadpan. "Forget the singer. Let’s just hire a clown. That’s more fitting for this group."

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The Next Morning

The next morning was nothing short of their usual Chaos. The so-called “private jet departure” was treated like a red-carpet event by the younger clan, but to me, it was more like a disaster waiting to unfold—an expensive disaster with wings.

Divya, armed with sunglasses too large for her face and a feather boa  strutted into the hangar like she was attending the Met Gala. "Ciao, Italy! The queen is coming!" she announced, waving dramatically to absolutely no one.

Shivay followed, dragging not one, not two, but four oversized suitcases. "Bhabhi, don't mind the luggage. It’s just the essentials!" he said with a straight face. Essentials? What did he pack—furniture?

Kabir, was carrying a picnic basket filled with snacks. "Emergency food supply," he declared, as though we were trekking through the Sahara  instead of flying first-class.

Then came Mahi, stumbled in with enough luggage to colonize Mars.

Next was Myra who walked in like she owned the place, wearing heels so tall they could double as ladders.

Avya, scrolling on her phone, didn’t even look up. “Italy will regret it's existence”

And then Devansh and Kavya strolled in, looking like they had just stepped out of a movie set.

Mahir came last and threw a glance at everyone, and whispered to me, “We’re going to need therapy after this.”

Amid this circus, I quietly walked toward the jet, wondering if the pilot would just take off without them. If this was just their entrance, I couldn't even imagine what awaited us in future.

Myra, in her ridiculous heels, was next. She nearly toppled over, wobbling like a flamingo on a tightrope. “These heels should come with a warning label!” she huffed, her arms flailing wildly, almost smacking Shivay in the face. He ducked just in time, muttering, “The real warning should’ve been for us.”

Then came Kabir, juggling his snack basket as if it were a prized possession. His triumph was short-lived when a couple of bananas from the basket made a break for freedom, rolling dramatically down the stairs. Kabir gasped like a parent losing their child. "Noooo! Not the bananas!" he yelled, lunging after them, only to trip on the very step he was standing on. The bananas? They tumbled gracefully onto the ground, like yellow agents of chaos.

Divya, strutting down right behind Kabir, didn’t notice the rogue bananas. And then it happened—her foot met one, and in the blink of an eye, she was airborne. It was a perfect slow-motion moment, her arms flailing, her expression a mix of horror and betrayal, and her dramatic scream echoing through the air. Thud! She landed flat on the ground, sprawled out like that failed Ice sculpture cake of mahir.

Her Met Gala-inspired look? Completely ruined. Hair askew, her glittery dress now accessorized with dust, and her carefully contoured makeup smeared from the sheer shock of impact. “MY DRESS!” she wailed, her voice cracking with the kind of anguish usually reserved for soap operas.

Meanwhile, Kabir was still mourning his bananas.

I, on the other hand, simply climbed the stairs, whispering under my breath, “Bananas—1. Divya—0.”

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Author's pov-

The jet was finally in the air, cruising at an altitude that should have brought peace and calm. Instead, it became the setting for "Mission Miracle: Episode 1," a grand scheme by the younger clan to bring the famously stoic Siara and the equally unreadable Mahir closer together. Spoiler alert: it went as well as trying to teach a cat how to swim.

Shivay came up with a “brilliant” idea, spill water on Mahir, forcing Siara to hand him a towel. "It’ll be symbolic," he whispered. "She’ll dry his wounds, and he’ll dry her soul."

What actually happened was Kabir clumsily spilled the water... on Avya. She shrieked so loudly that the pilot almost radioed for emergency landing clearance.

Divya, eager to salvage the situation, decided to serve snacks. But instead of a delicate pairing of wine and cheese, she tripped again, sending a tray of samosas flying. One landed on Shivay's lap, while another bounced off Kabir's head.

Kavya decided they needed a direct approach. "Let’s leave a romantic note on Mahir bhai’s seat, make it look like it’s from Siara bhabhi!"

With great effort, they crafted a letter that read, "Dear Mahir, I may be cold, but your warmth melts the frost. You are the fire to my ice, just like water helps to boil the rice.

Yours, Queen of Antarctica."

Shivay slipped it onto Mahir’s seat with extra effort. Mahir picked it up, scanned the note, and said blankly, “This handwriting’s too clean to be from a doctor."

Meanwhile, Siara sat by the window, completely unfazed, her expression a perfect blend of disinterest and her stoic nature.

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Rome, Italy

The grand entrance of the Sehgal's at their own luxurious hotel in Italy was anything but grand. It was a mix of clumsiness, bickering, and utter disarray—a hallmark of the younger clan. If the hotel staff had hoped for a serene arrival from their esteemed guests, they were in for a rude awakening.

The younger clan stormed into the lobby like a whirlwind, dragging suitcases, backpacks, and snack bags as if they were refugees fleeing a warzone. They didn't even wait for the staff to get their luggage. Myra’s heels clicked dramatically against the marble floor like she came for a march past.

And then there was Divya, who tripped again, over her suitcase and landed face-first on the marble floor. Again. “I think the floor and I are building a special relationship,” she muttered, standing up with as much dignity as she could muster.

Kabir, munching on his ever-present bag of chips, looked down at her sprawled form. “You okay down there? Or should we book you a room on the ground floor?”

Divya shot him a glare, and asked while looking around,“who designed this hotel?”

Shivay, ever the instigator, laughed. “Yeah, Divya, now blame the architecture”

Once the initial storm settled, it was time for room discussions. The hotel manager nervously handed over the keycards, clearly doubting his career choices.

Amid the squabbling, Siara and Mahir stood silently to the side, waiting for the madness to die down. The manager, sensing their calm or more likely their aura of authority, handed them their key last.

“Mr. and Mrs. Sehgal, your suite is on the top floor,” he said with a relieved smile.

Siara took the key without a word, while Mahir nodded. The younger clan instantly pounced on the situation.

“Ohhhh, top floor for the Ice couple!” Shivay teased. “Love is blooming”

"Flowers are cherishing, hearts are aligning,” added Kabir, his mischief shining.

"Romance is rising, the stars will cheer," Chimed in Myra, with a playful sneer.

“Passion will soar, like wine in a glass,” Mocked kavya.

Just then, a loud crash was heard through the lobby, halting their poetic masterpiece mid-verse. All heads turned in unison, and there she was—Divya, sprawled flat on the floor again, her face planted firmly into a decorative flower pot.

For a moment, silence reigned, as if the universe itself needed a second to process the sheer absurdity of the scene. Then came Kabir’s stifled snort, quickly followed by Shivay doubling over in laughter so loud it echoed through the pristine hotel lobby.

“Divya,” Myra said, between gasps of laughter, “were you... sniffing the roses or auditioning to be one?”

“Forget romance on the top floor,” Kabir wheezed. “The real drama is happening here on the ground floor!”

Divya groaned, lifting her dirt-smeared face from the pot, looking more like a farmer rather than the self-proclaimed fashionista she was. “I wasn’t sniffing anything,” she snapped, brushing soil off her cheeks.

Shivay offered her a hand, still laughing uncontrollably. “Divya, look your DAD is glaring at you like a monster”

Siara ignored them as expected and simply walked toward the elevator, leaving Mahir to deal with them.

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Inside the suite, Mahir stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the fading sunset as he tried to process the last 24 hours.

He glanced over at Siara, sitting on the couch, her cold, distant presence filling the room. She wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t even aware of his watchful gaze. She was engrossed in her medical journals.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He’d been with her long enough to know that her silence wasn’t just a result of her icy demeanor—it was a defense. A wall she’d built so high around herself that no one, not even him, could breach it.

The woman he married, the woman he’d once thought was full of life, was nothing but a shadow of herself now. The siara who used to love him was the girl with a radiant smile and now before him stands a woman who has never smiled in years. She had stopped living somewhere along the way, somewhere between the past that haunted her and the pain that lingered in her every step.

Why does that happened to the woman who used to be carefree, who had dreams that weren’t crushed by fear or guilt? What had become of the woman who had once had the courage to face the world with strength? Now, she existed—barely, moving through each day like a ghost trapped in her own body.

Mahir’s jaw tightened as he looked at her. How could he fix what she didn’t want fixed? How could bring back her smile which was snatched away from her years ago along with her wish to live?

As he watched her, his mind swirled with questions he had no answers to. Would she ever be whole again? Could he be the one to make her smile?

But as he turned to face her, he knew the truth. No matter how much he wanted to help, no matter how many ways he tried to reach her, it wasn’t up to him. It was up to her. And for now, she was lost in a world of her own creation where her identity was only Dr. siara.