Intro

🖤 His Sahiba

She was her father’s most precious treasure.

He was her father’s most trusted friend.

When Rajesh Shah took his last breath, he left behind one final wish — that his beloved daughter, Vishwa, would marry the only man he believed worthy of her.

Avinash Thakur.

A ruthless businessman. Thirty-five. Powerful. Cold to the world… but bound by loyalty, and something far deeper.

To everyone else, it looked like duty.

To Vishwa, it felt like betrayal.

But to Avinash… she was never a responsibility.

She was his.

Now, at just twenty, Vishwa finds herself caged in a world of wealth, dominance, and desire — married to a man who doesn’t ask, he claims. A man who will burn the world before letting her go.

She was given to him by fate.

But Avinash swears she will stay by choice.

Because she isn’t just his wife.

She is…

His Sahiba.

🖤 Story Intro – His Sahiba

Vishwa Shah 💕 (20)

Gentle, innocent, kind-hearted.

Grew up cherished by her father, Rajesh, who was her only family.

Sheltered, protected, and loved deeply. But when Rajesh dies suddenly, her world shatters.

Left vulnerable, she must now face a life without her father’s warmth.

Rajesh Shah (42, deceased)

A good man, a devoted father. His daughter was his entire world.

Knowing he would not live long (maybe illness, maybe sudden accident), he entrusted her future to the one man he trusted more than himself: Avinash Thakur.

His last wish: that Avinash marry Vishwa, not only to protect her but to ensure she always had someone who would love her as fiercely as he did.

Avinash Thakur 🖤(35)

Rajesh’s best friend and a powerful businessman.

Intelligent, dominant, respected — but cold to the world.

To Rajesh, he was like a younger brother. To Vishwa, he was the mysterious "uncle-figure" in her life, always present in the shadows but never too close.

When Rajesh dies, Avinash fulfills his promise — but not out of duty alone. Deep inside, he knows he can’t bear to see her in anyone else’s hands.

To the world, it looks like he married her out of loyalty.

To him, she is not a responsibility — she is His Sahiba.

(So guys this is my fourth story… If you haven't read the first three stories. I hope you read that… I hope you are active and give likes and give comments…give me comments of how you think or how you want it to be like. Not only that, but I will surely try to take it. Likewise, I just need support)

(A song for my viewers

I like your eyes, you look away when you pretend not to care

I like the dimples on the corners of the smile that you wear

I like you more, the world may know but don't be scared

'Cause I'm falling deeper, baby be prepared

I like your shirt, I like your fingers, love the way that you smell

To be your favorite jacket, just so I could always be near

I loved you for so long, sometimes it's hard to bear

But after all this time, I hope you wait and see

Love you every minute, every second

Love you everywhere and any moment

Always and forever I know I can't quit you

'Cause baby you're the one, I don't know how

I love you 'til the last of snow disappears

Love you 'til a rainy day becomes clear

Never knew a love like this, now I can't let go

I'm in love with you, and now you know

I like the way you try so hard when you play ball with your friends

I like the way you hit the notes, in every song you're shining

I love the little things, like when you're unaware

I catch you steal a glance and smile so perfectly

Though sometimes when life brings me down

You're the cure my love

In a bad rainy day

You take all the worries away

Love you every minute, every second

Love you everywhere and any moment

Always and forever I know I can't quit you

'Cause baby you're the one, I don't know how

In a world devoid of life, you bring color

In your eyes I see the light, my future

Always and forever I know, I can't let you go

I'm in love with you, and now you know

I'm in love with you, and now you know)

🖤 His Sahiba

Chapter 1– Her Father’s Princess

“Sir, please… hold your daughter.”

The nurse’s voice was gentle, but Rajesh Shah didn’t move. His eyes were locked on the lifeless body lying on the hospital bed. His wife, Naina. The woman he had loved since he was nineteen.

“Naina…” His voice cracked as he clutched her cold hand. “How am I supposed to do this without you?”

The newborn wailed in the nurse’s arms, small fists waving angrily at the world. “Sir, she needs you.”

Rajesh turned at last. His hands trembled as he reached for the baby. The moment he held her, she quieted, blinking up at him with wide, dark eyes.

“She looks like you, sir,” the nurse whispered.

Rajesh shook his head, tears spilling freely. “No… she looks like my entire world.”

From that day forward, Vishwa Shah was not just his daughter. She was his reason to breathe.

Infancy (0–3 years)

Being a single father was chaos. Rajesh was a businessman who could handle million-rupee deals, but diapers? Lullabies? Impossible.

The first night home, little Vishwa screamed so loudly the neighbors knocked, asking if something was wrong. Rajesh carried her around, begging.

“Please, beti, bas chup hoja. Papa will buy you every toy shop in Mumbai if you just stop crying.”

She only wailed louder. In desperation, he cleared his throat and started singing in the worst tune imaginable:

“Aaloo ke parathe, ghee lagake khaate…”

Vishwa froze mid-cry. A moment later, she hiccupped and giggled.

Rajesh blinked at her. “Wait… that worked?”

Her giggles grew.

He let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him. “Fine then, princess. Every night, your Papa will sing… even if the neighbors file a complaint.”

And so, her lullabies were born—tuneless songs about vegetables, cricket scores, and office politics.

Bath times were worse.

“Sir, let the maid help,” the housekeeper had begged once.

“No,” Rajesh said firmly, sleeves rolled up. “I’ll do it.”

Ten minutes later, he was soaked head to toe, while Vishwa splashed happily in the tub.

“Arre, stop wriggling, beti!”

She squealed, kicking more water at him.

Rajesh groaned. “Naina, wherever you are, see what your daughter is doing to me.”

Finally, sighing in defeat, he sat right in the tub beside her—fully clothed. Vishwa laughed so hard she forgot to be naughty.

Toddlerhood (3–5 years)

By three, she had him trained.

“Papa, piggyback!”

“Princess, Papa just came from work, Papa is tired—”

“Piggyback!” She stomped her tiny foot.

Rajesh raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. But don’t pull my hair this time.”

The moment she climbed on, she tugged hard. “Giddy up, horse!”

He groaned. “I’m your father, not a ghoda!”

“Yes, ghoda!” she insisted.

So he galloped around the living room, neighing so loudly that the watchman came upstairs to check if everything was alright.

At bedtime, she refused to sleep without a story. Since Rajesh didn’t remember any fairytales, he made them up.

“And then,” he said dramatically, “the princess told the dragon, ‘If you don’t let me eat ice cream for dinner, I’ll burn your castle.’”

Vishwa gasped. “Papa! That’s not how stories go!”

Rajesh smirked. “In my stories, princesses can do anything they want. Especially mine.”

She fell asleep smiling.

Childhood (6–10 years)

By school age, Rajesh had become an expert at fatherhood—or so he claimed.

Every morning, he stood behind her with a comb, tongue poking out in concentration, trying to braid her hair.

“Papa, this looks like a rope!” she pouted at her reflection.

He admired his work proudly. “Not a rope. A magic rope. Strong enough to pull down the moon if you want.”

She groaned. “Other girls have neat braids. Their mamas do it.”

His smile faltered, but he knelt in front of her. “Beti, you don’t need neat braids. You just need a Papa who loves you more than anything. And you have that.”

Her pout melted. She hugged him tight.

At her school functions, Rajesh was always the loudest clapper.

When Vishwa played a tree in a school skit, he jumped from his seat, clapping wildly. “That’s my daughter! The most beautiful tree in the jungle!”

The audience laughed, but Vishwa beamed.

Later, she asked shyly, “Papa, did I look silly?”

“Silly? You were the star, beti. Even real trees must be jealous.”

There were everyday moments too:

When she scraped her knee, he blew on it. “Pain, pain, go away. Otherwise, I’ll beat you up.”

When she wanted a toy:

“Princess, you already have too many.”

“But this one is lonely without me!”

He sighed, defeated. “Fine. But only because it’s lonely.”

When his cooking failed:

“Papa, this dal is salty.”

He tasted it, winced, then shrugged. “That’s because it has Papa’s extra tears missing your Mama. Now eat.”

She rolled her eyes, but secretly loved his silly excuses.

Emotional Core

One night, when she was eight, Vishwa asked softly, “Papa… why don’t I have a Mama like the other kids?”

Rajesh froze. Slowly, he pulled her into his lap.

“Because God was selfish, beti. He took your Mama to heaven. But He left me the best part of her—you.”

Vishwa sniffled. “Then I’ll be Mama for you too, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

His voice broke as he kissed her head. “No, princess. You don’t need to be anyone else. Just be my Vishwa. That’s more than enough.”

That night, after she slept, Rajesh sat beside her, brushing her hair back gently. His whisper filled the dark.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve her, Naina. But I swear on your soul—I’ll protect her. Always.”

And he did. For as long as fate allowed.

✨

 The Man Who Became Family

Rajesh Shah first met Avinash Thakur not in a boardroom, but in the most unlikely place—an orphanage.

It had been twelve years ago. Rajesh, newly widowed, had been donating supplies in memory of Naina when he noticed a tall young man quietly helping children with their homework.

Unlike most, Avinash wasn’t a staff member. He had grown up there himself. An orphan.

Rajesh remembered their first conversation clearly.

“You don’t live here anymore, do you?” Rajesh asked curiously.

Avinash shook his head. “No. The orphanage raised me. Now, I try to give back whenever I can.”

Something in his voice—firm, steady, with the weight of loneliness—struck Rajesh deeply.

From then on, a friendship grew between them. Rajesh was ten years older, but Avinash’s maturity, discipline, and loyalty made him someone Rajesh could trust in a way he trusted very few.

By the time Vishwa turned ten, Avinash had become a part of their little world.

First Meeting with Vishwa (Age 10)

It was a sunny afternoon when Rajesh brought Avinash home for the first time.

“Beti, come here,” Rajesh called, his voice filled with excitement. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Vishwa peeked shyly from behind the curtain, hugging her stuffed rabbit.

A tall man stood near the sofa, his posture straight, his shirt crisp. His eyes, dark and sharp, softened instantly when they fell on the little girl.

“This is Avinash,” Rajesh introduced warmly. “My best friend. More like my younger brother.”

Avinash crouched down, lowering himself to her eye level. His voice was deep, calm, but gentle in a way that instantly soothed.

“So this is the famous princess,” he said, a small smile tugging his lips. “Your Papa talks about you all the time.”

Vishwa blinked, curious. “Really?”

“Really,” Avinash replied, pulling a small chocolate bar from his pocket. “And he didn’t exaggerate. You’re even prettier than I imagined.”

Her cheeks flushed as she accepted it. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Rajesh laughed, ruffling her hair. “See? Already won her heart.”

“Or maybe she’s already won mine,” Avinash murmured, almost to himself.

That day, the foundation of something unspoken was laid.

Growing Up (10–14)

From then on, Avinash was around often. Sometimes for tea, sometimes late-night talks with Rajesh, sometimes just to drop by with little gifts for Vishwa.

He became more than just a “guest”—he became family.

Funny moments filled those years:

At the dining table:

“Papa, I don’t want bhindi!” Vishwa pouted.

“It’s good for you,” Rajesh insisted.

“I’ll die if I eat it.”

Avinash smirked. “Then die. But you won’t be able to watch cartoons in heaven.”

Vishwa gasped in horror, quickly stuffing a spoonful into her mouth.

Rajesh burst out laughing. “Avi, you’re too cruel!”

Arm wrestling wars:

Vishwa once told Avinash, “Papa says he’s stronger than you.”

Rajesh choked on his tea. “I never—”

“You did!” she interrupted gleefully.

Minutes later, the two men were arm wrestling while Vishwa cheered like a referee.

“Come on, Papa! You can do it!”

“No, Uncle Avi is winning!”

Avinash pinned Rajesh’s hand easily.

Vishwa squealed, clapping. “See! Uncle Avi is the strongest!”

Rajesh slumped dramatically. “Traitor! Supporting him over your own Papa?”

Vishwa stuck out her tongue. “I support winners only.”

Homework nights:

Rajesh hated maths, so he’d call Avinash.

“Bhai, come save me,” he begged. “She has ten algebra problems, and I have zero patience.”

Avinash chuckled, sitting beside Vishwa, calmly explaining equations. She hung on every word, her big eyes focused on him with admiration.

Avinash’s Past and Gentle Wisdom

Vishwa grew attached to Avinash. She noticed he always spoke to her like she mattered, never dismissing her as “just a child.”

One evening, curious, she asked, “Uncle Avi, why do you always help at the orphanage Papa takes me to?”

His expression softened. “Because once, I was one of those children.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yes. I grew up there. I had no parents. But the women there—the caretakers—they taught me many things. How to read, how to cook, even how to take care of little ones. They were the only family I had.”

Vishwa’s heart swelled. “Then… I’ll be your family too!”

Rajesh chuckled. “Looks like you’re stuck with us, Avi.”

For the first time, Avinash allowed himself a real smile. “I think I’m lucky to be.”

The Day of Change (Age 15)

It happened suddenly.

Vishwa was fifteen when she rushed into her room one evening, pale and trembling. Rajesh followed, panicked. “Beti? What’s wrong? Open the door!”

Her voice cracked. “Papa… something’s wrong. I’m bleeding!”

Rajesh’s heart stopped. “Bleeding?!” He banged the door. “Avinash! Come quickly!”

Avinash entered, calm but alert. “Vishwa, open the door. Trust me.”

Hesitantly, she unlocked it. She stood there, eyes wide with fear, pointing at the stain on her skirt.

Rajesh’s face turned white. “Oh God, we need a doctor—”

“No,” Avinash interrupted firmly, stepping closer. His voice was steady, reassuring. “She doesn’t need a doctor. This is normal.”

“Normal?!” Rajesh sputtered. “Avi, she’s bleeding!”

Avinash’s gaze softened as he crouched in front of Vishwa. “Vishwa… you’ve just had your first period. It means you’re growing up. Every girl goes through this.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Growing up? But I don’t understand what to do…”

Avinash’s throat tightened. The little girl who once hid behind her Papa was gone. Standing before him was a young woman taking her first step into womanhood.

He cleared his throat, forcing steadiness. “I’ll help. The women at the orphanage taught me how to care for girls when this happens. I know what you need.”

He handed her a discreet bag with pads, explaining gently, step by step. Rajesh stood by, still flustered but nodding along, trying to comfort her with clumsy pats.

“Beti, don’t be scared,” Rajesh whispered. “Your Papa and Uncle are here.”

Vishwa bit her lip, cheeks pink. “Thank you… both of you.”

For her, it was safety. For Rajesh, it was pride and sorrow all at once. But for Avinash… it was something else.

A sharp, forbidden awareness. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. And that realization scared him more than anything ever had.

Aftermath

In the weeks that followed, Avinash grew quieter around her. When she laughed, he looked away. When she entered the room, he excused himself with talk of “work.”

Rajesh teased him once, “Why do you run every time she’s around? She adores you.”

Avinash forced a smile. “Maybe too much.”

But inside, he knew the truth. Vishwa was no longer the child he could tease about cartoons and homework.

And the feelings beginning to stir in his chest… were feelings he had no right to have.

✨

🖤 His Sahiba

Chapter Two – A Father’s Worry

 – The Silent Burden

The night was still. The only sound in the Shah household was the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the soft laughter drifting from Vishwa’s room as she hummed along with her favorite old Bollywood song.

Rajesh sat in the living room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes, once full of easy warmth, were clouded with something heavier tonight.

Avinash entered quietly, loosening his tie after a long day at the office. “You’re drinking alone? That’s unusual.”

Rajesh gave a faint smile. “Unusual days call for unusual habits.”

Avinash sank into the chair opposite him, his sharp gaze noticing the slight tremor in Rajesh’s fingers. He didn’t comment, not yet. “Vishwa asleep?”

“Still awake,” Rajesh replied, his voice softening. “She thinks I don’t know she stays up late these days, scrolling her phone, reading nonsense stories. But…” his lips curved into a small smile, “…I let her. She’s nineteen. Let her dream a little longer.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Rajesh exhaled heavily, setting down his glass. “Avi… do you ever think about the future?”

Avinash leaned back, brow furrowing. “What about it?”

“My daughter,” Rajesh said quietly, his voice laced with a father’s worry. “She’s still so… innocent. She doesn’t know how cruel this world can be. Sometimes I lie awake at night thinking—what if I’m not here tomorrow? Who will protect her? Who will guide her?”

Avinash’s eyes hardened. “Rajesh…” He leaned forward, his tone steady and certain. “I’ve told you before. I’m not going anywhere. As long as I breathe, Vishwa will never be alone.”

Rajesh looked at him then, really looked, and something inside him eased. A bitter laugh escaped him. “I knew you’d say that. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To… lighten the weight in my chest.”

But the truth he carried tonight was heavier than anything Avinash could imagine.

Earlier that day, the doctor’s words had struck like a knife.

Stage four. Terminal. Months, maybe a year.

He hadn’t told Vishwa. He couldn’t. How could he look into his little girl’s eyes and tell her that her only anchor was slipping away?

Instead, he chose to share it, in his own way, with the one man he trusted above all else.

“I went for some tests this week,” Rajesh said casually, too casually. He poured himself another drink. “Doctor says I should… take it easy. My health’s not what it used to be.”

Avinash’s gaze sharpened instantly. “What kind of tests?”

Rajesh waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t start interrogating me, Inspector Saab. Just routine. Nothing alarming.”

But Avinash wasn’t convinced. His instincts told him there was more, but he didn’t press further. He respected Rajesh enough to know he’d speak when ready.

Rajesh leaned back, his expression turning serious again. “Avi… if tomorrow, I’m not around—”

“Don’t.” Avinash’s voice was firm, almost harsh. “Don’t talk like that.”

Rajesh smiled faintly, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling. “Listen to me. You’re the only person I trust. The only man I know will never abandon her. Promise me… promise me you’ll always stay by her side. That you’ll protect her when I can’t.”

Avinash’s jaw tightened, emotion flashing in his usually composed eyes. “You don’t need to ask me that. Vishwa is… she’s family to me. I’ll guard her with my life.”

Rajesh’s chest loosened at the conviction in his voice. He reached across the table, placing his hand firmly over Avinash’s.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

For the rest of the night, they sat together in silence, two men bound not just by friendship, but by something deeper.

Rajesh hid his pain behind laughter and whiskey.

Avinash hid his suspicion behind calm silence.

And upstairs, in her room, Vishwa fell asleep, blissfully unaware that her world was about to change forever.

✨

A Daughter’s World

Vishwa sat cross-legged on the bed, her textbooks spread around her like a battlefield. She was chewing the end of her pen, her brows furrowed.

Rajesh leaned against the doorway, watching her with that familiar half-smile. “If you chew that pen any harder, beti, it’ll cry for mercy.”

She looked up, pouting. “Papa! I’m serious. These economics formulas are trying to kill me.”

He walked in, sat beside her, and ruffled her hair. “Arre, who told you to study economics? I told you—just become a Bollywood heroine, you’ll earn more money than your Papa ever did.”

She giggled, swatting his hand away. “Please, Papa. I can’t even walk straight without tripping. Heroine banungi toh set pe hi gir jaungi.”

Rajesh chuckled, clutching his chest dramatically. “And break a thousand hearts in the process! Poor boys.”

“Papa!” she squealed, throwing a pillow at him.

He caught it easily, laughing, but then his expression softened as he looked at her. “Nineteen already,” he murmured. “Where did the time go, Vishwa? Just yesterday you were a little girl asking me to braid your doll’s hair.”

Her smile faltered. “And you made such a mess of it.”

“Excuse me!” He raised his brows. “That was modern art. Even your dolls looked unique.”

She burst out laughing, leaning against him. “You’re impossible.”

They sat like that for a while, father and daughter in their little bubble of warmth.

Then Rajesh spoke again, his tone quieter. “Promise me something, beti.”

She tilted her head. “What?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll stay strong. You’ll live bravely. You’ll never let anyone dim your light.”

Vishwa frowned, sensing the weight in his voice. “Papa… why are you talking like this? You’re scaring me.”

Rajesh forced a smile, hiding the pain tightening in his chest. “Scaring you? I’m just giving fatherly advice. What else are fathers for?”

She didn’t look convinced, but she wrapped her arms around him tightly. “You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me. Not now, not ever.”

His throat burned as he hugged her back, closing his eyes against the tears threatening to spill. “Haan, meri sahiba. Not now, not ever.”

For her, it was just another warm night with Papa.

For him, it was a memory he knew he’d hold until his last breath.

✨