Sanya p.o.v...
My own child—my baby—was gone before I could even hold it.
That sentence echoed endlessly in my mind since the moment I heard it.
A single sentence, yet it ripped through me like a thousand knives.
Guilt. Regret. They consumed me.
He had distanced himself—not out of arrogance or coldness—but because he was in pain. A pain I never bothered to understand. And what did I do in return?
I blamed him. For everything.
For creating space between us. For not reaching out. For the silence.
But not once did I stop to consider what he might be going through. Not once did I try to speak to him first.
I sat across from him on the couch in his room, my hands clenched in my lap. The air between us was heavy, weighed down by everything we hadn't said.
He stared at the floor, his face emotionless.
Seeing him cry—something he rarely allowed himself to do—broke something deep inside me. My arms ached to hold him, to tell him that I was here, that I always had been. But I held myself back.
Maybe he wouldn't want that.
Maybe that would just make things worse.
But what crushed me even more was hearing about his relationship with Rheah.
A woman I didn't even know existed in his life.
He never mentioned her. Not once.
And there I was again... blaming him.
Even now, in this moment, my mind wanted to question him—Why didn't you tell me? Why did you hide that part of your life?
But I bit my tongue.
I let out a sigh, trying to steady the storm brewing inside.
"Ayaan?" I finally broke the silence, my voice soft, almost hesitant.
He looked up, his eyes rimmed red, the exhaustion on his face clear. There was a vulnerability in his gaze I hadn't seen in a long time.
"You called me yesterday... You said you wanted to talk?" I asked gently.
"Yeah," he said, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."
I gave a small nod, silently encouraging him to go on.
"You left so suddenly yesterday... Mom and Dad were really hoping you'd stay for dinner," he said, still avoiding my eyes, his voice softer now.
"Oh," I replied, guilt flashing through me. "I told you—I had an important meeting scheduled. I couldn't miss it."
He nodded, though something about his expression told me he wasn't convinced—or maybe he just wished things were different.
The silence that followed was heavy. Uncomfortable. It stretched long between us, like a thread neither of us dared to pull.
Just then, Sharmila aunty walked in with a gentle smile on her face, followed by two maids carrying trays full of snacks. The aroma of freshly baked goods, spicy tikkis, and something sweet filled the room.
She clapped her hands softly. "Keep the plates in front of them, beta," she told the maids.
One of them placed a large, beautifully arranged plate in front of me, and I blinked. It was overloaded—with everything from samosas to fruit chaat to my ultimate weakness: chocolate pastry.
"You will have to eat all of this," she said, her tone strict but playful.
I groaned, half laughing. "Aunty, how am I going to maintain my diet if you keep feeding me like this?"
She wagged a finger at me. "No diet when you're here, understood? You used to eat four pastries in one go as a kid. Don't pretend now."
I chuckled and shook my head, surrendering to her warmth. That chocolate pastry was staring into my soul anyway. I picked up my plate and took a small bite, and instantly, memories of my childhood visits here came flooding back.
I glanced at Ayaan mid-bite—only to find him looking away quickly, as if he'd been caught.
To break the silence, I turned to aunty. "So, aunty, how's everything going?" I asked, taking another bite of the pastry. It was still as delicious as ever.
"Everything's good," she said, her eyes softening as she looked over at the baby sleeping peacefully on the bed. "And now I have someone to keep me occupied all day."
I followed her gaze and smiled too. The tiny bundle of peace was like a quiet blessing in the middle of all this chaos.
"How's work going for you?" she asked as she settled briefly on the edge of the couch.
I let out a tired sigh. "Super hectic. I barely get time to breathe. Meetings, shoots, edits—it never stops." I said, stuffing half the pastry into my mouth without thinking.
She laughed, the sound familiar and comforting. "You're always busy. Ever since school, you've been a little firecracker."
I laughed with her, my shoulders relaxing for the first time in days.
"Okay then," she said, rising from her seat. "You two talk. I'll go check on the staff." She paused for a second to give Ayaan a look—a motherly nudge—before walking out.
The door shut softly behind her.
Ayaan cleared his throat, and I instinctively sat straighter.
"Let's just be honest," he said, his voice firmer now. "I need to ask you something. And I want you to answer truthfully."
I blinked, heart suddenly uneasy. "Okay?"
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "What do you know about Karan Shegal?"
My breath caught. My fingers froze mid-movement.
What? Why is he bringing up that name?
I placed my plate down slowly. "I don't know much, honestly," I said cautiously. "We had a photoshoot campaign with his company a while ago. When it performed well, he reached out personally to negotiate another deal. But that's it. I don't know him well—neither professionally, nor personally."
Ayaan nodded slowly, but I could tell his mind was ticking behind that calm facade.
"I just needed to tell you," he said finally, voice heavier now. "He's involved in politics. And not in a good way. He's been working actively against our party. There are campaigns—online, offline—and he's behind many of them. He's manipulating teenagers, spreading propaganda. It's all calculated."
I blinked, stunned.
"And I need you to be careful," he added. "Because you're not just a social media star. You're the daughter of one of the most powerful politicians in this country. That makes you a target, whether you want to be or not."
His words settled over me like a blanket of cold air.
I nodded slowly, my thoughts suddenly tangled. I hadn't expected this conversation. But maybe... I should have.
"Thanks for letting me know that," I said, my voice calm, accompanied by a faint, polite smile—one that barely touched my lips, let alone my heart.
The silence that followed was deafening.
The space between us felt unfamiliar, cold even. It was as if we were two professionals having a formal discussion, not two people who had once shared the kind of bond that didn't need words. I remembered how we used to fight over the last slice of pizza, how we'd talk late into the night until our voices were hoarse and our eyes heavy with sleep.
Now? We couldn't even look at each other without it feeling... forced.
Why did it feel so formal? So stiff? So unlike us?
A dull ache settled in my chest.
Are we really this far gone?
I glanced at him, searching for something—some flicker of the old Ayaan—but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor, as if he couldn't bear to meet mine.
Say something, I begged him silently. Just... say something.
But he didn't.
And in that moment, a memory rushed back—his voice from before, soft but pained:
That's why I kept my distance, Mom. From everyone. I couldn't handle the thought of loving someone again only to be shattered by their choices. I didn't want to be betrayed again.
Those words had haunted me.
I swallowed hard. He thinks I would betray him? That I'm just like everyone else?
But I would never. Never. I swear.
He mattered to me—more than I could ever put into words. Maybe more than even I was ready to admit.
"Ayaan?" I spoke gently, the word trembling out of me like a secret I had kept locked away for far too long.
He looked up, startled. His eyes met mine—tired, a little wary, but open.
I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't even know what I wanted to say. But some invisible thread pulled me closer, made me rise from my seat and slowly sit beside him on the couch.
He watched me, confusion flickering in his eyes, but he didn't move away. Didn't push me back.
That was all the permission I needed.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my heartbeat as I reached out and gently took his hand in mine. His fingers were cold—but he didn't pull away.
"I don't know what really happened... what's going on in your mind or what you're going through," I began quietly, "but I want you to know something—I'm here for you. Always. I promise you, no matter what happens, you'll find me right here. On your side."
My voice wavered, emotion thickening each word.
"I didn't know about any of this. About Karan or anything else. I just... I thought maybe you were being distant on purpose. Like you were upset or... had gain some attitude. So I stayed away. I didn't ask. I didn't try. I blamed you—and I shouldn't have. I'm so sorry, Ayaan. I swear on my life—I'm sorry."
I paused, eyes stinging.
"But I missed you. So much. I miss my best friend."
He was quiet for a second, blinking as tears pooled in his eyes, catching in his lashes. Then, suddenly—he chuckled.
"Attitude and me?" he said, his voice raspy, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Seriously? You thought I had attitude?"
His attempt at lightening the mood worked. My lips twitched into a small smile, though my heart was still beating far too loud in my chest.
He was trying. And maybe, just maybe, so was I.
His voice was still heavy, but there was a lightness in it now—just a flicker. Like the sun trying to peek through storm clouds.
"Yeah," I replied, nudging him gently with my shoulder. "You've always had one. Don't you remember all the times you rolled your eyes at me like I was the one being dramatic?"
That earned a soft exhale from him, something between a sigh and a laugh.
He blinked slowly, then turned his gaze back to me. This time, his eyes weren't guarded. They were soft. Vulnerable. And when he spoke again, his voice had dropped into something raw.
"I'm sorry too," he murmured. "I really am."
His fingers curled more firmly around mine, the warmth of his palm grounding me.
"I didn't mean to push you away like that. I was just... everything felt like too much. I was angry, confused, and I thought if I shut everyone out, the pain would be easier to deal with. I thought I needed space." He paused, exhaling. "But I let it go too far. And I ended up hurting the one person who was always there for me."
I glanced down at our hands—his holding mine with a quiet desperation—and a lump formed in my throat. I tightened my grip gently in return and looked up at him, my voice soft but firm.
"I'm still here, Ayaan. I never left."
His eyes welled up a little, and he gave a slight nod, like he was still processing the fact that I was actually beside him again.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. We just sat there, hand in hand, two hearts quietly trying to find their way back to each other.
"Ca–can I hug you?" he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
I blinked, surprised—and then, without meaning to, I let out a soft laugh. This was the same Ayaan who used to lift me off the ground effortlessly, spin me around, and throw me onto the couch like I weighed nothing. And here he was now, sitting beside me like a nervous schoolboy, asking for a hug as if he needed permission to breathe.
"Sure," I said, smiling warmly.
Before the word had even fully left my lips, his arm wrapped around me in one swift motion, pulling me into a tight, desperate embrace.
And I didn't hesitate—I hugged him back just as tightly.
It wasn't just a hug. It was every unsaid word, every apology, every missed call, every moment we spent apart. All of it, wrapped in this one shared silence.
His body was warm, trembling ever so slightly, and I could feel his heartbeat against mine—quick, uneven, like he was afraid this moment might disappear if he let go.
I slowly brought my hand up and began to gently stroke his back, soothing him, grounding us both. He still smelled faintly of the old cologne he used to wear, and the scent tugged at memories I didn't even know were still buried inside me.
Without thinking, I pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head. Just once. Just to let him know—he was still important. Still mine in some small, quiet way.
He tensed at first, the sudden intimacy catching him off guard. But then I felt him take a deep, shaky breath and melt further into the hug, as if that one kiss had reassured him in ways words never could.
We didn't speak.
We didn't need to.
We just sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, letting the silence stitch up the wounds the distance had left behind.
And for the first time in a long time... I felt whole again.