The Daughters of Udaipur:Fan Fiction - Page 2

Chapter 3 is out

Wow that's a nice take from muskan at the end...and she is right in a way....abhira has been given a lot of things on a silver platter and she always makes the bad choice in her stupidity and looses everything just like Akshara....being emotional is one thing but to continuly giving up on the rights and family on a drop of a hat is just too much ......bag pack karo aur niklo naye safar pe.....akshara and abhira both of them are like anupama and nothing like OG Akshara and Naira...God knows how come there is no Naira in her gene....

Loved harshwardhan birla...

Continue soon...

Bade papa to the hi pagal bt I hope Manish sees what shit bageera is and like i disown you lol

Lol harsh 🤣🤣🤣🤣 armaan coming to rescue of bageera is some irony lol. Sahi to bola mechanic to lawyer to xyz..nav ki beti indeed. And good no one should go into that circus wedding. Even poddar neighbours should he be like ap logo ka to shadi khatam nhi hoti

Nonsense of soulmate blah blah from two brainwashed girls. Inko study ki chinta nhi, why should they banna to mechanic hi hai

Abira got handed lot of things from manish gorilla esp due to his partial behaviour to ak

I guess she has a humiliation link that's y yo yo with ar again

What about ru and daksh ?

Originally posted by: AnjuRish

Abira got handed lot of things from manish gorilla esp due to his partial behaviour to ak

I guess she has a humiliation link that's y yo yo with ar again

What about ru and daksh ?

Im more interested in brothers side of yrkkh

Kairav,naksh

Daksh might be brought in.

Give me time

Originally posted by: ashsamik

Wow that's a nice take from muskan at the end...and she is right in a way....abhira has been given a lot of things on a silver platter and she always makes the bad choice in her stupidity and looses everything just like Akshara....being emotional is one thing but to continuly giving up on the rights and family on a drop of a hat is just too much ......bag pack karo air niklo naye safar pe.....akshara and abhira both of them are like anupama and nothing like OG Aksharaand Naira...God knows how come there is no Naira in her gene....

Loved harshwardhan birla...

Continue soon...

🫶

Chapter 4

The air inside the Udaipur Marriage Registration Office was thick with the sterile scent of old paper and bureaucratic indifference. Abhira paced the cracked linoleum floor, the heavy rustle of the crimson silk saree Tanya had given her sounding loud in the quiet room. She kept checking her phone, her fingers leaving smudges on the screen.

"Where is he?" Abhira muttered, her voice tight with a familiar, mounting panic. "The registrar is going to call our names in ten minutes."

Kaveri Poddar sat stiffly on a wooden bench, her hands resting heavily on her walking stick. "This is exactly why I told you we should have kept the family priest at home, Abhira. This government court marriage setup is completely unreliable. Where is Armaan? He left the mansion an hour before us."

Vidya stood by the window, peering through the dusty blinds into the chaotic street below. "His phone is completely unreachable. Madhav, can't you call your old police contacts? Tracking a phone shouldn't take this long."

"Vidya, be reasonable," Madhav sighed, leaning against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets. "He probably just got caught in a massive traffic jam near the old city bridge. Give him a few more minutes."

Maira and Mukti stood near the water cooler, whispering anxiously. "Do you think Papa had another headache?" Maira whispered, clutching her purse. "Remember how he looked at the hospital launch?"

Mukti frowned, her intelligent eyes scanning the room. "I don't know, Maira. But something feels incredibly wrong."

A mile away, near a busy commercial intersection, the reality was far more terrifying.

Armaan’s sedan was parked unevenly against the curb. He had managed to pull over just as the world began to spin out of control. Now, he was staggering along the crowded pavement, one hand pressed hard against his forehead. The white-hot agony inside his cranium had returned with a vengeance, completely blinding his right eye with a static blur.

"Abhira..." he wheezed, his phone slipping from his numb fingers and shattering on the concrete.

The sidewalk tilted violently. Armaan’s knees buckled, and with a heavy, muffled thud, he collapsed face-first onto the hard pavement, completely unconscious.

"Hey! Look over there! Someone collapsed!" a local street vendor shouted, dropping his basket.

Within seconds, a crowd of bystanders swirled around Armaan’s unmoving body. A couple of young college students knelt beside him, checking his pulse.

"He's completely unresponsive! Look at his face, he's burning up with a cold sweat," one of them said. "Call an ambulance! Wait, the brand-new Nirvaan Medical Centre is just two blocks away. Let's put him in an auto and rush him straight to the emergency wing!"

At Nirvaan Medical Centre, the VVIP wing was under absolute lock and key.

Dr. Kaira Goenka Jadeja, looking pristine and commanding in her white coat over a sharp tailored blouse, was standing near a state-of-the-art diagnostic console. Beside her stood Dr. Nishta Birla Chaudhary, the Head of Gynecology and Obstetrics, looking equally focused. They were surrounded by senior administrative assistants and a couple of plainclothes security personnel.

The heavy glass doors opened, and a sophisticated young woman—the Chief Minister’s daughter—walked in, flanked by her personal assistants.

"Dr. Kaira, Dr. Nishta," she greeted them with a polite smile. "Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice. The travel schedule has been brutal."

"The pleasure is entirely ours," Kaira replied, her tone perfectly polished, mature, and carrying her signature elite confidence. "We have cleared the entire fifth-floor diagnostic wing for your private assessment. Dr. Nishta will begin with your comprehensive metabolic and endocrine panel, and then I will personally oversee your advanced spinal and cranial MRI mapping. Let's head through to the VVIP suite."

As Kaira and Nishta led the high-profile patient down the corridor, completely insulated from the rest of the hospital, the emergency alarm on the ground floor began to ring.

Down in the main Emergency Room, an auto-rickshaw screeched to a halt at the ambulance bay. The bystanders frantically signaled the medical staff.

"Stretcher! We need a stretcher here! A man collapsed on the main road!"

Two junior neuro-residents—Kaira's direct subordinates—rushed out with a mobile gurney. As they lifted Armaan’s limp body onto the sheet, one of the juniors, Dr. Rohan, instantly recognized the sharp, pale face.

"Wait... isn't this Armaan Poddar?" Rohan muttered to his colleague as they wheeled him rapidly into the trauma bay. "The lawyer who made that massive scene at the banquet launch two days ago?"

"Yes, that's him. Wipe the sweat off his forehead and hook him up to the monitor, quickly!" the second junior ordered.

Within seconds, the machines began to beep with a frantic, erratic rhythm. Armaan’s vitals were dangerously unstable. His blood pressure was skyrocketing, and his pupils were sluggishly reacting to light.

Dr. Rohan quickly flashed a penlight into Armaan’s eyes, his expression turning grave. "Look at the optic disc swelling. This isn't a simple case of fainting or heatstroke. There is massive intracranial pressure building up inside his skull."

"Did he have any trauma? Any history?" the other junior asked, rapidly checking Armaan's pockets for an ID or a medical file, finding nothing but his keys.

"We can't wait for his family," Rohan decided sharply, snapping on a pair of sterile gloves. "Dr. Kaira is completely locked in the VVIP wing with the Chief Minister's daughter; her orders are absolute—no interruptions unless it's a code blue. We need to handle this ourselves. Prep the radiology suite immediately. I want a high-resolution contrast MRI of his brain right now. Move!"

The juniors moved with practiced clinical speed, wheeling a completely unconscious Armaan down the sterile corridor toward the heavy doors of the scanning room, entirely unaware that the results waiting for them would soon shatter the fragile peace of the Poddar and Goenka worlds alike.

The heavy glass door of the VVIP suite clicked shut, and Kaira finally allowed her shoulders to drop slightly. The Chief Minister’s daughter had been thoroughly examined, her protocols were filed, and the administrative prestige play was a resounding success.

"Excellent work, Nishta mam," Kaira said, checking her platinum watch as they walked down the quiet, carpeted corridor. "Her metabolic panels look stable. I'll have my junior team upload her spinal mapping by tonight."

"Thanks, Kaira. Honestly, having you handle the clinical side makes these political profiles so much easier," Nishta smiled, turning toward the elevator bank. "I’m heading down to the pediatric wing for a scheduled delivery. See you at the evening board briefing?"

"Definitely," Kaira nodded.

Stepping into her private elevator, Kaira pressed the button for the third-floor executive medical wing. A minute later, she walked into her private cabin—a sanctuary of minimalist luxury featuring a large teak desk, deep leather chairs, and a massive, state-of-the-art dual-monitor workstation.

She peeled off her white doctor's coat, draping it precisely over the back of her chair, and sat down. She pulled up her hospital iPad, tapping through her secure enterprise database.

Ping.

A red, high-priority notification flashed from the Radiology and MRI Department.

"A new trauma intake?" Kaira muttered to herself, her sharp eyes instantly narrowing into tight focus.

She opened the file. Because it was a rushed emergency admission handled by the junior residents, the patient’s primary biographical details—including the name—were still stuck in the queue of the central registration database. The name field was blank, showing only an emergency token number.

But Kaira didn't need a name. Her eyes locked entirely onto the high-resolution, contrast-enhanced sagittal slices of the brain scan.

Her breath hitched slightly. The clinical, elite neurosurgeon in her completely took over.

Right there, deeply embedded near the critical neurological pathways and pressing hard against the brain stem, was a massive, aggressive, and irregular shadow. It was an advanced, high-grade brain tumor. The surrounding tissue showed severe, acute edema—the exact kind of swelling that caused sudden blackouts, violent vertigo, and catastrophic memory erasure.

"Good god," Kaira whispered, her fingers rapidly scrolling through the scan angles. "The intracranial pressure must be suffocating. How was this person even walking around until today?"

She immediately hit the intercom on her desk, summoning her executive medical assistant. Within seconds, a young administrator knocked and hurried in.

"Yes, Dr. Kaira?"

"Track this emergency token number from the MRI queue immediately," Kaira ordered, her voice crisp, authoritative, and laced with urgent clinical maturity. "The patient attached to these scans is in an incredibly critical state. The tumor is hovering right over the primary motor and cognitive sectors. If the pressure isn't managed with immediate aggressive steroid therapy and an emergency surgical protocol, they will suffer permanent neurological failure or a fatal herniation within days. Where are they right now?"

"They just moved the patient from the radiology bay into Private Room 402 of the advanced neuro-ICU wing, ma'am," the assistant replied, typing furiously on her tablet. "Dr. Rohan and the junior team have already started an IV line, but they were waiting for your diagnostic sign-off."

"Tell Rohan to—"

Before Kaira could finish her sentence, the loud, piercing emergency siren of the hospital’s main trauma elevator began to wail, accompanied by a sharp red flash on her desk monitor.

Code Red: Multiple Casualty Intake. Emergency Room.

The intercom buzzed violently, and a panicked nurse’s voice came through. "Dr. Kaira! We have a catastrophic multi-car crash on the state highway! Four victims just arrived in the ER—one is a twenty-four-year-old male with an acute open-skull fracture and an active epidural hematoma! He’s crashing on the table! We need the Head of Neuro in Trauma Bay 1 right now!"

Kaira didn't waste a single millisecond. Her feisty, elite savior complex flared up instantly. She grabbed her white coat, snapping it on as she bolted toward the door.

"Put the anonymous tumor patient on a strict, continuous ICU monitoring loop!" Kaira shouted over her shoulder to her assistant as her heels clicked furiously against the floor. "Pump the anti-edema meds immediately! Do not let his vitals drop! I have to stabilize this crash victim first—I'll be straight up to Room 402 the second I step out of the operating theater!"

She vanished into the emergency stairwell, sprinting down toward the trauma bays, entirely unaware that the critical patient fighting for his life upstairs in Room 402 was the very same man who had shouted at her family just forty-eight hours ago.

The automatic glass doors of Nirvaan Medical Centre burst open as Abhira sprinted into the reception lobby, her crimson wedding saree disheveled, her breath catching violently in her throat.

"Where is he?! Armaan Poddar!" Abhira screamed at the reception desk, her voice cracking with pure terror. "Someone called from an auto-rickshaw and said he collapsed!"

"Ma'am, please calm down," the receptionist said, checking the screen. "He was brought into the ER, but he has just been moved to the advanced neuro-ICU wing, Room 402."

Abhira didn't wait for the elevator. She took the stairs two at a time, her heart hammering against her ribs. She threw open the door to Room 402, her eyes instantly locking onto Armaan.

He was sitting up on the edge of the hospital bed, his sharp face incredibly pale, a stark white bandage taped over the back of his hand where an IV line had just been removed. Dr. Rohan, Kaira’s junior neuro-resident, stood beside him with a highly concerned look, holding a digital tablet.

"Armaan!" Abhira cried, throwing her arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh my god, kya hua tha? You completely vanished! I thought... I thought I lost you!"

Armaan held her tightly, his eyes closing as he inhaled the scent of her hair, but his face was a mask of sheer internal panic.

Just two minutes before Abhira sprinted into the room, Dr. Rohan had dropped a medical bomb on him.

"Mr. Poddar," Rohan had said softly, showing him the high-resolution brain scan. "Your collapse wasn't a simple blackout. The advanced MRI reveals a high-grade, aggressive brain tumor pressed near your cognitive sectors. It is highly critical. Our Managing Director and Head of Neuro, Dr. Jadeja, is currently in the theater saving a car crash victim, but she has reviewed your scans anonymously and ordered immediate admission. She will formally review your surgical protocol the moment she steps out."

The words had echoed in Armaan's mind like a death sentence. A tumor. Surgery. More than that, looking at Abhira’s tear-stained face and her beautiful wedding saree, Armaan felt a crushing wave of protective desperation. He couldn't ruin her happiness. Not today. Not with a death sentence.

Gently, Armaan pulled away from the hug, forcing a weak but incredibly reassuring smile onto his pale face. He reached out, wiping her tears with his thumb.

"Abhira, meri jaan, calm down. Look at me, I am perfectly fine," Armaan lied smoothly, his voice carrying that familiar, warm ITV devotion.

Armaan quickly shot a sharp, pleading, almost threatening look at Dr. Rohan, silently begging the junior resident to keep quiet. He then turned back to Abhira. "It was just severe dehydration and a sudden drop in my blood pressure. I’ve been running around for wedding arrangements for days without eating anything. Arre, look, the doctors already gave me a fluid drip. I feel totally healthy now."

Dr. Rohan stepped forward, looking deeply uncomfortable. "Mr. Poddar, with all due respect, your scans show a much more complex—"

"I said I am fine, Doctor," Armaan interrupted sharply, his voice dropping into a firm, unyielding tone as he stood up from the bed, masking a sudden wave of vertigo by gripping the bedside table. "I know my body. It’s just stress. Come on, Abhira, Vidya Mummy... let’s discharge and go back to Poddar House."

Abhira looked at him, her eyes wide with lingering doubt, but she was so desperate for good news that she chose to believe him. "Are you sure, Armaan? Sach mein thik ho na?"

"Absolutely," Armaan smiled, kissing her forehead, hiding the ticking time bomb inside his head. "Let's go home."

Meanwhile, high above the clouds, a sleek, luxury private Gulfstream jet cut through the evening sky, heading from Udaipur to New Delhi.

Inside the elite, wood-paneled cabin, the atmosphere was serene and quiet. Nikhil Jadeja was lounging in a plush leather captain's chair, dressed in a relaxed tracksuit, analyzing a cricket strategy playbook on his tablet. Tomorrow morning, he was flying out from Delhi international airport to London for his final, career-defining Test Series.

Varnica sat across from him, her noise-canceling AirPods on, casually taking selfies with the sunset filtering through the jet window, completely unbothered by the world.

Kaira sat at the executive desk near the front of the cabin. She had changed into a comfortable but chic designer lounge set. Her laptop was open, connected to the high-speed in-flight satellite internet, securely linked to the Nirvaan Medical Centre’s central administrative database.

"The car crash victim’s surgery went perfectly," Kaira murmured, tapping her pen against her chin as she reviewed the digital hospital logs. "Rohan should have uploaded the status update for that critical tumor patient in Room 402 by now."

She clicked on the high-priority neuro-ICU wing folder. Since she had rushed into the ER earlier, the central registration database had finally updated the anonymous emergency token number with the patient's actual biographical details.

Kaira scrolled down to the name field of Room 402.

The moment her sharp eyes registered the text on the screen, her entire body went completely rigid. Her hand froze over the mouse, and her breath caught inside her throat in absolute clinical shock.

Patient Name: Armaan Poddar

Age: 32

Diagnosis: Advanced High-Grade Intracranial Space-Occupying Lesion (Brain Tumor)

Status: DISCHARGED AGAINST MEDICAL ADVICE (DAMA)

Kaira stared at the screen, her mind racing at a million miles an hour. Armaan? The arrogant, dramatic lawyer who threw a tantrum at my launch party? The man who is currently planning to marry my cousin Abhira again?

She blinked, staring at the high-resolution slices of the aggressive tumor she had analyzed in her cabin. It was his brain. He was walking around Udaipur with a lethal, ticking neurological bomb inside his skull, completely capable of erasing his memory or killing him at any second. And he had just signed his own discharge papers against medical advice.

"Oh my god," Kaira whispered out loud, her voice laced with deep shock.

Nikhil looked up instantly from his playbook, his mature, protective instincts kicking in as he noticed the sudden paleness of his wife's face. He unbuckled his seatbelt and walked over to her desk, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Kairu? What’s wrong?" Nikhil asked, his low, smooth voice filled with concern. "Did something happen at the hospital?"

Kaira slowly turned her laptop screen toward him, her feisty, snobby exterior completely melting into the raw gravitas of a top-tier surgeon.

"Nikhil... look at this," Kaira said, her voice trembling slightly. "That critical brain tumor case I told you about before we boarded? The one where the patient is on the verge of permanent cognitive failure? It’s Armaan Poddar. And the idiot just ran away from the ICU."

Nikhil stared at the glowing laptop screen, his usual relaxed, confident demeanor instantly vanishing. His jaw clenched as his eyes scanned the stark medical data, the high-resolution images of the aggressive shadow eating away at Armaan Poddar’s brain stem.

"Armaan?" Nikhil asked, his voice dropping into a shocked, low register. He rubbed the back of his neck, completely stunned. "The same guy who was screaming his lungs out at the banquet? Kairu... this is insane. He’s walking around with this inside his head?"

"It’s not just insane, Nikhil, it’s a suicide mission," Kaira said, her sharp, clinical persona returning as she fiercely snapped her laptop shut. She stood up, pacing the narrow aisle of the private jet. "The edema is massive. He’s probably experiencing violent vertigo, temporary blindness, or cognitive static already. And instead of prepping for an emergency craniotomy, he signs a DAMA form and walks out of my ICU to go play house with Abhira!"

She let out a sharp, frustrated breath, her feisty side flaring up. "I scoff at his absolute stupidity. He’s doing this for his supreme, melodramatic ego. He wants to be the tragic hero who hides his illness so his bride can smile in her red saree. But medically speaking? He is going to collapse again, and next time, he might not wake up with his memory or his life intact."

Nikhil shook his head, his mature, grounding presence keeping Kaira from spiraling into pure administrative fury. "And Abhira has absolutely no clue. If she did, she’d have dragged him back to the hospital by his collar."

"Exactly," Kaira sighed, running a hand over her flawless low bun. "She’s completely blind to it. They are entering a marriage that is literally built on a ticking neurological bomb."

Across the cabin, Varnica popped out one of her AirPods, looking at her parents' tense faces with a slight frown. "Um, are you guys having a mid-air crisis? Because your vibe is seriously ruining my aesthetic TikTok lighting."

Kaira quickly shot a warning glance at Nikhil, reminding him of his promise to keep his upcoming retirement a secret for now. She turned to her daughter, smooth as silk. "Just a complicated hospital case, Varnu. Put your headphones back on and check your luggage."

An hour later, the Gulfstream jet smoothly touched down at the private terminal of Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi. The night air of the capital was warm, thick, and buzzing with energy.

As the jet doors lowered, a fleet of luxury luxury SUVs was already waiting on the tarmac, alongside a small group of senior BCCI officials and security personnel. The rest of the Indian Cricket Team squad had already arrived at the airport hotel, prepping for their high-profile departure to London the next morning.

Nikhil stood at the base of the jet stairs, looking every bit the legendary captain and superstar athlete. He pulled Kaira into a deep, lingering hug, his large hands resting securely on her waist.

"Take care of yourself in Udaipur, Kairu," Nikhil whispered into her hair, his voice dripping with smooth affection. "Don't let the Birlas or the Poddars drive you crazy while I'm gone. And keep an eye on that tumor case from afar. If Armaan collapses again, you’re the only one who can save him."

"I know, love," Kaira murmured, kissing him deeply. "Just focus on your game. Crush the English team at Lord's. I’ll handle the medical board."

Nikhil pulled back, turning to his daughter with a warm, dimpled smile. He scooped Varnica into a tight embrace, lifting her slightly off the ground. "Bye, my mini-me. Listen to your mom, stay off your phone during dinner, and don't spend all my money at the Udaipur boutiques."

"No promises on the money, Dad!" Varnica laughed, hugging him back fiercely before stepping away to wave at his management team. "Good luck! Bring back the trophy!"

Nikhil gave them one final, authoritative captain's wave before stepping into the waiting premium SUV, his mind firmly locked onto his final, historic Test Series.

Kaira watched his car pull away into the Delhi night, a soft, proud smile on her lips. She turned to Varnica, looping her arm through her daughter’s as they walked back toward the private terminal lounge to board their return flight to Udaipur.

"Come on, Varnu," Kaira said, her tone sharp, elite, and full of anticipation. "Let's get back to our villa. We need to finish our packing and coordinate with the hospital administration soon."

Varnica blinked, thoroughly confused. "Wait, packing for what? We literally just moved to Udaipur two days ago, Mom!"

Kaira smirked, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of high-society ambition and clinical determination as she dropped a subtle hint about their summer plans. "Because, my dear airhead, the London Test Series lasts for weeks. Once my initial surgeries at Nirvaan Medical Centre are streamlined, you and I are boarding another private jet. We will fly to London soon to join your dad for the final matches."

"Oh my god, retail therapy in Mayfair?!" Varnica squealed, her eyes lighting up with instant high-society joy. "Okay, Udaipur is officially dismissed. Let’s go pack right now!"