You are the younger sister of the famous cricketer Hardik Pandya. He has everything—wealth, luxury, and billions of fans who adore him. But for both of you, family has always meant just each other. Your parents passed away when you were 15 and he was 20, and from that moment on, he became your everything—your protector, your provider, your shield against the world.

He spoiled you like a princess, giving you anything you wanted before you even had to ask.

You had dreams of your own. Studying criminology, you worked tirelessly for the past two years, giving it your all. But every time, you fell short by just three marks. People whispered, called you a disappointment.

The weight of expectations, the fear of seeing even a hint of disappointment in his eyes—it started to crush you. And so, you found an escape. A few drinks here and there to take the edge off. A cigarette when the pressure became too much. It started small, but now, it was becoming a habit.

Hardik knew something was wrong. He could see it.

One night, after a particularly rough day, you came home late, the smell of alcohol faint but present. Hardik was waiting. His arms were crossed, jaw clenched, concern and anger fighting for dominance in his eyes.

“What the hell is going on with you?” His voice was sharp, but underneath it was something else—worry.

“It’s nothing. You muttered, avoiding his gaze. “Just a bad day.”

Hardik wasn’t buying it. “A bad day?” he repeated, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see it? The drinking, the smoking…this isn’t you.”

His expression softened, but his voice remained firm. “You think I care about some stupid exam?” He grabbed your shoulders gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re my sister. My life. You could fail a thousand times, and I’d still be proud of you. But this?” His voice cracked slightly. “This isn’t how you deal with it, princess.”

“Just talk to me,” he pleaded. “Don’t shut me out.