Advait’s POV

I’m not a kid.

Okay—I mean, technically I’m eight.

But I’m not a kid.

That’s what I was telling myself as Amma leaned in, brushing her nose against mine, her smile so soft I almost forgot I was trying to act cool. “There,” she said, “Now my little lion can go and conquer the school.”

I tried to look serious. Arms crossed. One brow raised. Mafia heir expression on.

But then she giggled.

And I lost it.
I giggled too.

“Appa’s gonna say I’m acting too soft again,” I muttered, pretending to zip up my jacket like a bodyguard.

Amma leaned in and kissed my forehead. “Appa will say your heart is the strongest thing about you.”

“Tch,” I scoffed, but my cheeks warmed up. I hate when she says things like that—because then I feel all mushy inside and it’s hard to act like the don I am.

I watched her walk away toward the car. She turned and waved.

I didn’t wave back.

But the second she turned around again… I waved like a lunatic and smiled so wide my face hurt.

Then I fixed my collar, fixed my jacket, took a breath—

“Game face, Jeon Advait,” I whispered to myself.

I walked into class.

And chaos hit me like a truck.

“ADEYYYY!!”
That’s Aarohi. My baby sister who literally has one job—to leave me alone at school.

She came running like a tornado, pigtails bouncing, eyes sparkling like she swallowed a rainbow.

“Look, look, look!!” She shoved a handful of stickers in my face. “Unicorn! Cat! Sparkle frog!! Do you like this one or this one more??”

She stuck two on my arm before I could even answer.

“Aarohi,” I said with the patience of a monk. “You are destroying my reputation.”

She blinked. “You’re eight.”

“Exactly,” I snapped. “My empire begins now.”

She ignored me entirely and held up a pink glitter pen. “Appa bought me this. It writes in rainbow.”

I sighed. “Why would you write in rainbow when black ink looks cooler?”

She gasped. “You are so boring!”

“Don’t insult the future king,” I muttered, taking a seat.

She leaned in and poked my nose. “You’re not a king. You’re just a little mafia duckling.”

“Take that back.”

“Nope.”

She plopped beside me on the reading rug, dumping her backpack like it was treasure. “Do you want to trade lunch? I have choco-balls.”

“…Okay, now you’re speaking my language.”

She beamed. “But only if you let me put one unicorn sticker on your math notebook.”

I stared at her.

This was extortion. Bribery. Pure blackmail.

I sighed.

“Fine.”

She stuck the unicorn on with a giggle and leaned against my shoulder.

And I guess… maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Being the mafia duckling for a few minutes.

After all, even dons need their princess.

And unicorns aren’t that bad.
As long as nobody sees.

I sat there in the reading corner, trying to hide the sparkly pink unicorn sticker she stuck right in the center of my math notebook like it was some kind of war flag. It had a rainbow horn. And glitter. So much glitter.

If any of the other boys saw this…

Dead. I’m dead.

“Aarohi,” I whispered like it was a secret mission. “If Jae or Harin sees this sticker, I’ll have to fight them. Again. And then Amma will get another message. And Appa might laugh but Amma will say I’ve got anger issues.”

She blinked up at me, totally unbothered. “But it’s a happy unicorn. Why would anyone fight a happy unicorn?”

I sighed. “Because it’s pink. And sparkly. And on my notebook.”

She tilted her head and poked my cheek. “You said I could put it there.”

I looked away. “I didn’t think you’d pick the girliest one in the pack.”

“Okay,” she said sweetly. “Tomorrow I’ll put one with sunglasses on your science book.”

“Please don’t.”

“But he’s cool.”

“Aarohi.”

She giggled again and opened her own notebook, showing off the drawings she made with the rainbow pen. There were stick figures—one of her, one of me, Appa with big muscles, and Amma with her hair flowing like a queen. There was even one of Uncle Aiden, with wings.

My smile dropped a little.

I glanced at it. “You drew Uncle Aiden.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, tracing the wings. “He’s our guardian angel now.”

I felt something warm in my chest. I didn’t like talking about it much. It made Amma’s eyes sad. But Aarohi… she always knew what to say without making it hurt too much.

I nudged her. “You forgot to draw the chocolate in his hands.”

“Oh no!” she gasped. “That was his favorite!”

We both leaned over her page as she carefully drew a chocolate bar in Aiden’s hand. Then a halo. Then a puppy at his feet. She said he would have a puppy in heaven. I believed her.

We were both quiet for a minute, staring at the drawing.

Then she whispered, “Do you miss him?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I miss him too.”

She reached out and held my pinky, like we always did when we were little. We still do. Only in secret. I looked around—no one saw.

Just us. In our little bubble of memory and glitter stickers and unicorn pens and things we don’t say too loud.

Then the door opened, and chaos entered.

“JEON!”
Yup. It was Jae.
Why do all boys yell like they’re wrestling bears?

I sat up straighter and closed my notebook with lightning speed.

“What?” I said coolly, slipping back into mafia-mode.

He pointed. “You have… glitter… on your cheek.”

I froze. Aarohi gasped.

I wiped my cheek immediately. “No, I don’t.”

“You do,” he said, laughing. “Are you wearing makeup now, Don?”

“Wanna see what happens when I wear brass knuckles instead?” I muttered under my breath.

Aarohi stood up beside me like a little fireball. “Don’t you dare talk to my brother like that! He’s smarter than all of you, and he can draw battle plans in his sleep!”

Jae blinked. “What?”

She grabbed my arm. “He’s my bodyguard and I’m his boss, okay?”

I didn’t know if I should be proud or scared.

She dragged me back to the rug and whispered, “See? Told you unicorns are powerful.”

I chuckled, opening her snack box and stealing one of her chocolate balls.

“You’re gonna be trouble when you grow up.”

She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Already am.”

I grinned, flipping my notebook open again—even if it had a pink unicorn sticker.
Because, honestly?

I didn’t care anymore.

Let them say what they want.

I had my sister. My strength.
My tiny glitter-covered empire.

And the unicorn?
Yeah. That stayed.

The day had been long. Unicorn stickers, battles of sarcasm with Jae, and math class that felt like it wanted to destroy my soul. But finally—finally—Amma came to pick us up, and I was free.

I jumped into the back seat of the car beside Aarohi, tossing my bag to the side like a pro.

“I want pasta tonight!” Aarohi announced dramatically, like she was placing an order in a royal court.

Amma smiled in the front seat. “Sure, princess. Pasta it is.”

“I want it too,” I added, acting casual, arms behind my head. “With extra cheese. Not that half diet cheese Appa likes.”

Amma looked at me through the rearview mirror. “Cheese don’t build abs, Advait.”

I smirked. “Neither does stress.”

She rolled her eyes but chuckled. Aarohi giggled beside me, clutching her unicorn water bottle.

We pulled into the driveway of our house, and everything felt calm… normal.
Too normal.

Until we walked in.

There he was.

Appa.
Jeon Jungkook.
Ruler of empires. Breaker of men. My personal hero and also sometimes my worst enemy.

He was sitting at the dining table with his laptop open, brows furrowed, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy. That meant trouble. Big, scary, silent trouble.

He didn’t look up as we entered.

Just clicked something.
Closed the laptop.
And slowly turned his eyes toward me.

“Welcome back,” he said. Calm. Too calm.

“Appa!” Aarohi ran and hugged his arm instantly. “We asked Amma for pasta!”

He kissed her head and smiled. “Then we’re getting pasta.”

She grinned and ran toward her room to change.

I, meanwhile, stayed completely still at the entrance like a soldier on trial.

He turned to look at Amma, who had just taken off her shoes.

“You told him?!” I whisper-hissed to her.

Amma shrugged, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t say a word.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Liar.”

“Appa has ears everywhere,” she said mysteriously.

Appa finally spoke again, looking right at me. “So… Jeon Advait.”

Uh-oh. Full name. That was bad.

“Yes… sir?” I said, straightening my spine, backpack still on.

“Had a little royal duel at school today?”

“I didn’t start it!” I said quickly. “He insulted Aarohi and said I don’t have a real family—”

“And you hit him.”

“I warned him! Twice!”

He stood up slowly, arms crossed.

“You’re not supposed to hit. What did I say?”

I gulped. “Don’t hit first. I didn’t. I warned him. It was a defensive punch.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you call it now? A defensive punch?”

I looked down. “A very light defensive punch.”

Amma walked into the kitchen, muttering under her breath, “That’s the same punch that made the poor boy’s parents call the school thrice.”

I turned to her. “You’re not helping, Amma.”

Appa walked toward me, crouched to my eye level, and stared deep into my soul.

“Listen, Don,” he said, voice serious. “I’m proud that you protect your sister. I taught you that. But strength isn’t just in fists. It’s in knowing when to fight and when to outsmart. You get me?”

I nodded. “Yes, Appa.”

“But…”

“But?”

“If you punch again, you better win so well no one complains.”

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

He smirked and stood up. “That’s between us. Amma doesn’t need to know.”

“I heard that!” Amma shouted from the kitchen.

We both snickered.

Just then Aarohi returned with a sparkly crown on her head and shouted, “Let’s make pink pasta!”

Appa looked at me and whispered, “Help your mom. Earn some points.”

I sighed. “Fine. But only because I want double cheese.”

I headed into the kitchen behind Amma, who raised an eyebrow at me.

“Planning to become a chef now?”

“Nope,” I muttered. “Just trying to keep my criminal record clean.”

She handed me the cheese grater. “Start here, gangster.”

And that was how I ended up grating cheese beside my mom, while Appa helped Aarohi set the table like it was their mission.

Honestly?

Maybe mafia bosses also need pasta nights.

And unicorn sisters.

And parents who catch you—even when you’re trying really hard to be tough.

I stood there, grating the cheese like some… underpaid kitchen worker. Actually, like a very cool underworld heir learning the culinary ropes. Yeah. That sounded better.

Amma was beside me, chopping onions like a pro, wearing her silk night robe and that usual no-nonsense expression she got when I was in trouble but she was pretending not to be mad anymore.

“Don’t grate your knuckles,” she said, glancing at me.

“I’m not a baby, Amma,” I muttered.

She smirked, clearly amused. “You’re eight.”

“Eight going on legend.”

She snorted. “Legend, huh? Legends don’t get principal calls by lunch.”

“I was protecting my kingdom.”

“Oh, your kingdom?” she raised her eyebrow. “And who crowned you king?”

“You did. When you married Appa. That makes me heir, right?”

She rolled her eyes but I caught the smile tugging at her lips. “You're something else, Advait.”

“And you're lucky to have me,” I said, giving her my signature wink—the one I’d seen Appa use on her a hundred times.

She paused, staring at me for a second. Then shook her head, muttering, “God help the world when you grow up.”

Aarohi came flying in from the living room, wearing a sparkly pink crown tilted sideways and holding a spoon like a wand. “Pasta King! Pasta King! The royal sauce is bubbling!”

I looked at her. “Did you appoint yourself kitchen fairy?”

“No,” she said proudly. “I’m Pasta Queen. And you’re my assistant.”

I gasped. “Assistant?! Assistant?! I started this family’s mafia empire!”

“You grated cheese,” she replied sweetly, plopping onto the counter stool.

Appa walked in right then, adjusting his watch and reading a message on his phone. “What’s this? War in the kitchen already?”

“She called me assistant,” I told him, pointing at the small royal menace.

He chuckled and looked at Aarohi. “You demoted your brother?”

“I promoted him from dishwasher,” she said with a proud little nod.

Appa walked to the pot and took a sniff of the sauce Amma was making. Then looked at her with those soft, serious eyes. “Smells amazing.”

Amma pretended not to blush but I saw her ears turn pink. “Don’t distract me with compliments.”

He leaned in and kissed her temple anyway. “I’ll risk it.”

I made a gagging sound. “Can you not be romantic in the pasta zone?”

Appa smirked. “You’ll understand when you fall for someone who can cook like this.”

“I already did,” I declared. “Her name is cheese.”

Everyone laughed.

We finally sat at the dinner table, the pasta plates steaming, the cheese perfectly melted, and Aarohi making glitter crowns out of tissue for everyone.

Appa looked at me halfway through the meal and said, “So... you’re gonna chill out tomorrow, right?”

I shrugged. “Depends. If Aarohi gets insulted again, I’ll warn the guy. Again.”

Amma sighed. “And after warning?”

“I'll punch respectfully.”

Appa stifled a laugh. “That’s my boy.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” Amma warned, glaring at him.

He raised his hands. “I said nothing.”

Aarohi leaned across the table to whisper to me, “Tomorrow I’ll bring you stickers shaped like weapons. That way it matches your vibe.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“You’ll look dangerously adorable.”

That night, after dinner, Amma read us a bedtime story. Aarohi fell asleep halfway through, curled up with her unicorn, and Appa came in to tuck us both in. He sat beside my bed for a moment while Amma carried Aarohi to her room.

He looked at me seriously.

“You know… you remind me of myself when I was your age.”

“Because I’m awesome?”

“Because I used to think punching was the only answer too.”

I stared at him. “But you punch people all the time.”

“I used to,” he corrected. “Now I make sure they deserve it.”

“…He did deserve it.”

He smiled faintly. “Sleep well, Don.”

“Night, Appa.”

As he stood to leave, I called after him quietly, “Hey…”

He turned back.

“You’re still proud of me, right?”

His face softened completely.

“I’ve never stopped being proud of you.”

And with that, he flicked off the lights.

I smiled under the covers, unicorn sticker still secretly stuck on the inside of my notebook, and whispered to myself—

“Tomorrow, we rule again.”