ETERNAL DIVINITY BOND

Krisha lived in the quiet hills of Nainital with her stepmother and younger brother.

But life was far from peaceful. Her stepmother, Reeva, wore a mask of charm in public, but behind closed doors, she was cold, rude, and unkind. 

Every day, Krisha endured harsh words, endless chores, and the sharp sting of being treated like an outsider in her own home. While her brother was pampered and loved, Krisha was made to feel invisible — like a burden, not a daughter. The warmth of a mother’s touch was something Krisha had only read about in books.

Every night, Krisha cried silently into her pillow, wishing things were different. But she never told her father the truth. She couldn’t. Reeva had threatened her — warned that if Krisha dared to speak up, she would turn her father against her too.

Krisha’s real mother had died in a tragic car accident when she was just a child. Since then, nothing had felt right. Her heart ached for the warmth she had lost, and the fear of losing her father’s love kept her silent.

Everyday at night, little Krisha sat by her window, staring at the stars, whispering silent prayers to the heavens. Her eyes, full of longing, searched for one star brighter than the rest—the one she believed carried her mother’s soul. “Please,” she’d whisper, “bring my mummy back… just once… or send someone who can love me like she did.”

Far above, in the divine realm, God watched silently. Beside Him stood Krisha’s mother, her spirit glowing gently. Pain shimmered in her eyes as she watched her daughter suffer. She turned to God and said softly.

“If I cannot return, please… send someone to protect her. She’s too little to fight this world alone.”

Next Morning In School 

Krisha went to school. But peace remained far from her. Her younger stepbrother Arjun often mocked her, laughing at her clothes, her silence, her tears. No one stopped him. Why would they? At home, it was the same. 

That evening, the cruelty worsened. Reeva, her stepmother, was in one of her terrible moods. The moment Krisha entered the kitchen, Reeva slapped her, hard.

“Did you forget the lunch box again? Useless girl!”

She threw a hot spoon at her. It missed her face, but grazed her hand. Krisha screamed, more in shock than pain.

“Stop crying,” Reeva hissed. “Or I’ll give you something real to cry about.”

That night, under the same stars she prayed to, Krisha made a decision.

She packed a tiny bag—some biscuits, a water bottle, her mother’s photo—and opened the window. Her small feet hit the ground silently, and without looking back, she ran.

The wind was cold, the world vast, and fear clutched her heart… but not stronger than her need to escape.

Next Day

Her father entered, expecting to wake her for school & to wish her birthday only to find the bed unslept and the window slightly open.

“Krisha?” he called.

Panic rose in his chest. He searched the house, the neighbors, the school.

When she was nowhere to be found, he ran to the police, desperate.

“She’s just a child,” he told the officer, breathless. “My Krisha is missing.” 

Deep inside the forest, Krisha lay motionless beneath a large banyan tree. Her tiny frame was curled like a fallen leaf, lips dry, skin cold. The night air wrapped around her like a cruel blanket. Hunger had left her weak, and her body had surrendered to the silence.

High above, in the realm of the divine, Krisha’s mother could no longer bear it. “She is alone,” she pleaded, her voice trembling, “and I cannot hold her. Please… do something.”

God, His eyes filled with a quiet storm, whispered to the winds of the world.

Savi Saviiiii.....

Go To Her.......

 And the winds carried His call far—across fields, over rivers, and into the heart of a hidden village.

There, under the silver moonlight, a white dog opened its eyes.

The dog stopped beside Krisha. Her breath was shallow, a whisper between worlds. The dog sniffed her, then lay down beside her, curling its glowing white body around hers.

Its fur touched her skin—warm, comforting. And slowly, something incredible began to happen.

From Krisha’s palm, a soft golden light emerged, pulsing like a heartbeat. It was the same place she’d once clutched her mother’s photo, the same hand she raised to the stars.

A soft warmth brushed against her arm. Slowly, Krisha’s eyes fluttered open. At first, all she saw was a white blur, glowing faintly in the darkness. Her breath caught. “Mumma?” she whispered, the light blurring into the shape of a gentle face—kind eyes, a warm presence. It felt like her mother was there.

Krisha lifted her small arms and wrapped them around the soft fur, hugging the figure tightly. She didn’t understand what was real and what was dream—but in that moment, she felt safe. Loved.

As her senses returned fully, the warmth began to take form. It wasn’t her mother—it was a dog. A large, white dog with fur like moonlight and eyes that held something... divine. Krisha gasped and stumbled back, frightened.

But before she could make sense of it, a low growl echoed through the trees. Krisha turned sharply—her eyes widened in terror. From behind the bushes, a massive lion stepped into view, its golden mane rippling like fire in the breeze. It locked eyes with her, took a step forward, and growled.

Krisha trembled. Her feet refused to move.

Suddenly, the dog stepped in front of her—shoulders squared, head lowered. A protective growl rose from its chest. It wasn’t just guarding her. It was challenging the lion.

To Krisha’s astonishment, the lion stopped.

It stared at the white dog, confused… and then, without a sound, it turned and walked away into the darkness.

Krisha’s mouth fell open. She thought, How could a dog make a lion leave?

With wide eyes and a pounding heart, she reached forward and gently patted the dog’s head. “You saved me,” she whispered. 

“You’re my angel… From today, your name will be Savi—because you’re my savior."

Savi wagged his tail and happily licked her hand, a soft glow still lingering around his fur. The two of them—girl and guardian—began their journey out of the woods, walking side by side under the stars.

Return To Home

Krisha arrived home the next morning with Savi trotting beside her, her father rushed forward and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Krisha! Where were you? I’ve been so worried!”

“I went to the temple,” she lied, eyes lowered.

“You should have told someone.”

“You were all asleep, Papa.”

He sighed and hugged her again. “Alright, but never do this again. Promise?”

“Ji, Papa.”

Then his gaze shifted over her shoulder. “And this dog? Where did he come from?”

Krisha turned and smiled softly. “I found him near the temple. He saved my life.”

“Saved you? What happened?”

“There was a lion outside the temple. I don’t know from where. But Savi… he made it go away. He dropped the decorations on it. It ran off.”

Her father looked at her with disbelief and concern. “Are you okay? Did it hurt you?”

“I’m fine. Really. Can we keep him?”

He looked at the dog—so calm, so watchful. “If he saved your life, he stays.”

Krisha beamed. “I named him Savi. Because he saved me.”

Reeva and Arjun watched the dog from the corner of the room. Arjun whispered, “How can a dog scare away a lion?”

“I don’t know,” Reeva murmured, her eyes narrowing. “There’s something strange about this animal.”

Savi stared directly at them—and then began barking loudly. Fierce, unrelenting barks that echoed through the walls.

Reeva and Arjun jumped back in alarm. 

Later that evening, Krisha walked quietly into her room, her footsteps slow, her mind still echoing the events of the day. Close by her side walked Savi—the mysterious white dog who had not only appeared in her darkest hour but had protected her like a guardian spirit sent from above.

She sat on the edge of her bed, and Savi settled at her feet, resting his head on his paws. His calm presence filled the room with a sense of peace, like her mother’s invisible hand on her shoulder.

Just then, the door creaked open. Her father entered, carrying a small bowl, his eyes tired but kind.

“I made this for you,” he said gently. “Your favorite—halwa.”

Krisha looked up, surprised. “Thank you, Papa,” she said, touched by the effort.

He sat beside her, watching her closely.

“I know it’s not as good as your mom used to make…” he began, a little unsure.

Krisha took a spoonful and tasted it—then paused. She looked at him with twinkling eyes.

“No, Papa… This is even better than what Mom used to make,” she said dramatically.

His eyes lit up—until she added with a grin, “Except… you used salt instead of sugar!”

They both burst into loud, genuine laughter, the kind that echoed like a melody in the room.

Her father shook his head, smiling. “I’m sorry, Krisha. Even on your birthday, I couldn’t do anything special.”

Krisha reached out and held his hand. “It’s okay, Papa. You tried—and that’s more than enough. And thank you… for the halwa. It may be salty, but today, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve had.”

Just then, Reeva stepped into the room.

“Aren’t you going to the office today?” she asked.

Her father smiled. “I’ll leave in a while. Took a half-day—can’t miss spending time with my birthday girl.”

Reeva’s smile was tight. Inside, a storm of frustration swirled. As long as he’s around, I can’t say anything to Krisha…

But before her thoughts could twist deeper, Savi stood up and began barking sharply.

Reeva jolted as if shaken from a trance. She glanced at the dog with wide eyes—it was as though he had heard her thoughts.

Krisha noticed the tension. “Papa, you should go. We’ll talk in the evening.”

Reeva, regaining her composure, nodded. “I’ll pack your tiffin,” she offered and walked out.

From the day Savi entered Krisha’s life, everything began to change.

Reeva and Arjun—who once tormented her with cruel words and bitter glares—never dared to harm her again. Every time Reeva tried to yell at Krisha or even raise a hand, Savi would leap to her defense, barking fiercely, his eyes burning with silent warning.

One night, Reeva sat alone in her room, her face hard with resentment.

"Ever since that dog came, I haven’t been able to get close to Krisha... I need to get rid of him first," she muttered to herself.

The next morning, she put on a smile and approached Krisha gently.

“Sweetheart,” she said in a sugar-coated voice, “don’t you think your little dog needs a space of his own? Why not set up a cozy shelter for him in the garden behind the house? He’ll be more comfortable there.”

Krisha thought for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll ask Papa.”

“No need,” Reeva interrupted, “I already spoke to him.”

Krisha nodded slowly, sensing something off—but instead of arguing, she simply hugged Savi tighter, her heart whispering thanks for his silent love.

Reeva walked out of the room, hiding her smirk. “Now the fun begins,” she thought.

But her plan didn’t work.

Even when Savi was kept at a distance, Reeva still couldn’t bring herself to harm Krisha. Something—some invisible force—always held her back. Frustrated and furious, she made a secret phone call one evening.

“How much will you pay for this girl?” she asked, her voice cold.

A low voice answered, “Ten lakhs.”

“Deal. I’ll tell you when, where, and how,” she said, then hung up.

The next morning felt normal—at least on the surface.

Krisha, come down for breakfast,” Reeva called sweetly.

“Coming!” Krisha replied cheerfully, walking to the dining table with Savi trotting beside her.

She sat down and shared a bite of her breakfast with her furry protector. Her father, Reeva, and Arjun were already seated.

“Tomorrow is a holiday, right?” Reeva suddenly said with a bright smile. “So today, let’s go out for dinner and a movie—all three of us!”

Krisha’s father looked up. “And where do I fit in this plan?”

Reeva chuckled. “Let the kids have some time with their mother.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s not fair.”

Arjun laughed. “Great! Let’s watch Avengers.”

“And I’ll get popcorn and ice cream!” Krisha giggled. “And chocolates for Savi.”

Reeva’s smile thinned. “Savi can’t come with us, dear. Pets aren’t allowed in restaurants or malls.”

Krisha’s face fell. “Oh… okay.”

Evening arrived. The trio dressed up and headed to the car. As Krisha and Arjun slid into the backseat, Reeva paused at the door.

“Oh no, I forgot my wallet,” she said, feigning a light laugh. “You two wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Krisha nodded. “Okay.” 

Reeva walked into the quiet shelter where Savi, the loyal white dog, rested. Her eyes were calm, her hands deceitful. She tied Savi tightly and sprinkled an itching powder she had hidden in her purse. Within moments, the divine dog whimpered, scratching helplessly, his body overcome with irritation. The protector had been caged.

Outside, Reeva climbed into the car beside Arjun and Krisha, wearing a false smile. The trio drove off as if nothing had happened.

At dinner, Reeva behaved unusually kind — laughing with Krisha, praising her, making her feel loved. Krisha’s heart opened like a flower under sunshine, unaware of the storm ahead.

As they stepped out of the restaurant, Krisha suddenly collapsed.

Arjun scoffed. “Maa, here comes her drama again.”

Reeva’s voice was chillingly calm. “I slipped a little something into her food. Just a mild sedative.”

“Why?” Arjun asked, unsure.

“She doesn’t belong with us anymore. I’m sending her away… forever.”

They carried Krisha into the car and drove through winding, silent roads until Reeva stopped near an old van. She made a quick call.

“I’ve brought the girl,” she said.

“Leave her inside the van,” came the voice on the other end. “The money is in your car’s trunk.”

Hours later, Krisha awoke in a cold warehouse. Her arms were tied. Darkness surrounded her. Her mind was foggy, but fear pulsed strong and clear.

Far away, Savi knew what had happened — he had felt it. But tied and drugged, he could do nothing but cry.

In the divine realm, Krisha’s mother stood before God.

“She’s in danger,” she said. “Where is her protector?”

God closed His eyes and saw Savi, broken and bound.

Savi’s voice echoed in His ears. “I’ve failed… Please save her.”

Krisha’s mother stepped forward. “I will go myself.”

“But it’s against the laws,” God reminded her.

“There is no law greater than a mother’s love,” she replied.

God remained silent. Then, with a faint smile, He let them go.

And so, Krisha’s mother and Savi arrived like a storm. The warehouse shuddered. Chains broke. Darkness fled. And Krisha was freed — not by strength, but by love.

Days Later At School

Afternoon when school got over, and Arjun, distracted by his phone, stepped onto the road without looking. A speeding truck turned the corner — and in a heartbeat, Krisha leapt forward, pushing him away with all her strength.

The truck screeched past.

Arjun rolled onto the pavement, unharmed. But Krisha lay still. Unmoving. Unconscious.

A terrifying silence fell. Arjun’s heart pounded as he called her name. Then — everything around him turned to shadow. The world faded. And in that stillness, two figures appeared before him — Savi, the white protector, and Krisha’s mother, radiant and fierce.

Before he could speak, visions began to unfold around him like light on a mirror.

He saw a younger Krisha — waiting by the gate every day after school with his lunch. He saw her tucking a blanket around him when he fell asleep during exams. He saw her silently doing his homework when he was too frustrated to continue. And most of all, he saw her crying alone — while Reeva, their mother, laughed over phone calls, immersed in her career and conspiracies.

Krisha had protected him. Cared for him. Loved him — not as a sister by blood, but in every way that mattered.

Arjun’s knees gave way. Tears filled his eyes.

“I never saw any of it,” he whispered. “I never knew…”

Savi stepped closer. “Now you do.”

Krisha’s mother placed a hand on Arjun’s shoulder. “She never stopped loving you. Even when you ignored her. Even when you believed Reeva’s lies.”

That day changed Arjun forever. He rose not just as her brother, but as her shield — standing between her and every shadow that dared to return.

 

Reeva never dared to speak ill of Savi & she could never speak against Krisha again. Not when Arjun stood guard, firm and loyal. 

One peaceful evening, Krisha sat with Arjun, remembering her mother. Her voice was soft, full of longing. And then — light filled the room.

Her mother appeared.

Krisha ran into her arms. Arjun followed.

“I came to say goodbye,” her mother whispered. “Savi was your protector. But now, Arjun is here. You no longer need her. I’m taking Savi back with me.”

Krisha’s eyes welled up. The next morning, it all felt like a dream.

Arjun entered her room, whispering, “Didi… Savi is gone.”

A Year Passed 

While walking home from school, Arjun and Krisha saw a small white dog trapped in a cage. His eyes sparkled with the same silent strength.

“Savi?” Krisha breathed.

They brought him home.

That night, Krisha looked to the sky and smiled.

“Thank you, Maa… for sending him back to me.”

(NOTE - Destiny Listens When It Becomes Prayer.)

THE END.....