Author's POV:

It had been four years since Anjali's death—or so the Taneja and Verma families believed. Life had moved on, but the shadow of her absence loomed over them like a heavy cloud, changing everything in ways they never anticipated.
Arushi and Aahan, who once dreamed of a grand wedding blessed by their loved ones, opted for a quiet court marriage instead. A somber acceptance of reality replaced the joy they had hoped to share with Anjali and Aryan.

 Their son, Veer, was now three years old—a lively child with an infectious smile that often reminded them of the brighter days.

Advika, now four, was a curious mix of quiet resilience and cheerful energy. Despite her tender age, she had taken on the role of protector in the family. She adored her little brother and fiercely shielded him from harm, but it was her father, Aryan, who truly needed her.

Aryan had become a shell of the man he once was. Over the years, his mental health had regressed to that of an 8-year-old child, leaving him trapped in a world of silent innocence and unspoken grief. He hadn't uttered a single word in four years, his communication limited to nods, gestures, or wide-eyed expressions of curiosity.

He rarely left his room, spending his days tracing the edges of old photographs with trembling fingers or staring at them as if waiting for the people in them to come alive. Occasionally, he would clutch Anjali's photograph to his chest, rocking back and forth with a vacant look in his eyes.

Advika had become his lifeline, the only one who could draw him out of his silent bubble. With her, he behaved like a child himself, mimicking her actions or following her lead with unwavering trust. She was his anchor, her tiny hand in his the only thing that seemed to keep him tethered to reality.

Despite his regression, there were moments when Aryan's childlike innocence shone through. He would nod vigorously at Advika's suggestions, clap his hands in excitement at her laughter, or point at random objects around the house with the wide-eyed wonder of a child discovering the world for the first time.

But beneath that innocence lay a deep, silent grief that no one could reach. Aryan's silence wasn't just a lack of words—it was a barrier.

Aahan and his mother bore the brunt of this heartbreak. Watching Aryan in such a state was agonizing for both of them. Aahan, who had taken over Aryan's work, juggled the responsibilities of the business, his family, and the emotional weight of his brother's condition.

 His mother, once a pillar of strength, often broke down in private, unable to reconcile the image of her strong, dependable son with the broken man he had become.

Despite the whispers from outsiders suggesting that Aryan should be shifted to a mental asylum, Aahan refused. He believed, with unwavering determination, that one day Aryan would heal.

"He's my brother," Aahan would say firmly whenever anyone brought up the idea. 

"He's not a burden, and he doesn't belong in a place like that. He'll be fine. I know he will."

But the cracks in the family were undeniable. Aahan's once vibrant smile had dimmed, and Arushi's laughter was now a rare occurrence. They both tried to keep the family afloat for the sake of their children, but the weight of their shared grief was suffocating.

Advika, too young to fully understand the depth of the situation, had become the light in their darkest days. She would climb into Aryan's lap, her small hands cupping his face as she whispered, 

"Papa, don't cry. Mumma doesn't like it when we're sad." Her innocent words often brought a fleeting smile to Aryan's face, but the emptiness in his eyes remained.

The house that once echoed with laughter and love now stood in muted silence, a place where memories lingered like ghosts. And yet, amidst the pain and despair, there was a glimmer of hope—however faint.

Aahan held onto it with everything he had, believing that one day, the man who had always been his strength would return to them. He had to believe it. For Aryan, for Advika, for Veer, and for the family Anjali had loved so deeply.

Because no matter how broken they were, they were still a family. And families, no matter how shattered, always find a way to heal.

"Adu beta, jaldi karo!"Arushi called out to Advika, who was upstairs. After a few calls with no response, Arushi sighed and turned to go upstairs herself. However, she stopped in her tracks when she saw Aryan coming down, holding Advika's hand.

 He looked around like a child, his eyes darting from one corner to another with a curious innocence.

Arushi's lips curved into a soft smile. "Are waah, aaj toh Aryan bhai bhi ready ho gaye," she said warmly.

(*Yes, she now called him 'Bhai.' Before her marriage, she could simply call him Aryan, but now that he was her jeth, she felt it was more appropriate to address him as Bhai. Aahan's habit of calling him that also influenced her decision.*)

"Haan chachi, aaj papa chhodne jayenge!" Advika chirped, her excitement lighting up her little face. She glanced up at Aryan and then at Arushi, her small hand tightly clasped in her father's.

 Aryan looked at Arushi with wide eyes and nodded vigorously, as though agreeing with his daughter's words.

Arushi's smile faltered slightly, her heart tightening with a mix of hope and apprehension. It wasn't that she and Aahan didn't want Aryan to go out. In fact, they had been waiting for a moment like this for years. But the fear of something going wrong always loomed over them like a dark cloud. 

Aryan's fragile state made every step outside the house a potential risk.

Still, seeing the determination in Advika's eyes and the innocent eagerness in Aryan's expression, Arushi pushed her fears aside. She crouched down to Advika's level, brushing a stray strand of hair away from the little girl's face. 

"Adu, papa ko pakka sambhal ke le jaana, okay?" she said with a teasing tone, though the concern in her voice was unmistakable.

Advika nodded confidently, puffing out her tiny chest. "Main hoon na, chachi! Papa ko kuch nahi hoga," she declared, her words carrying the unshakable faith of a child.

Arushi straightened up, her gaze shifting to Aryan. He stood there quietly, clutching Advika's hand as though it was his lifeline. She took a deep breath and said softly, 

"Bhai, aap sambhal ke jaana, okay? Adu ke saath ho toh sab theek rahega."

Aryan blinked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave a small, hesitant nod.

Just then, Aahan appeared at the door, his keys in hand. He glanced at Aryan and Advika, then at Arushi. His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he placed a reassuring hand on Aryan's shoulder.

"Bhai, main bhi saath chalta hoon. Adu aur aap dono ko drop kar dunga," he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute.

Advika pouted. "Nahi chachu, sirf main aur papa jayenge!"

Aahan chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Theek hai, madam. Sirf aap aur papa jao. Lekin zyada shaitani mat karna, okay?"

Advika giggled, Her laughter breaking through the tension in the room. Aryan's lips twitched, almost forming a smile as he looked at his daughter.

As they stepped out of the house, Arushi watched them from the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Aahan stood beside her, his arm brushing against hers. "Sab theek hoga," he murmured, as much to reassure her as himself.

Arushi nodded, her eyes following Aryan and Advika as they walked toward the car. For the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of hope in her heart. Maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of Aryan's journey back to them.

Author POV:

Aryan and Advika were walking down the road, his steps unsteady but careful as he clung to her tiny hand. As they passed by, Aryan's gaze darted around like that of a curious child. His eyes widened at the sight of a balloon vendor, and he tugged lightly on Advika's hand, pointing toward the colorful balloons with an excited expression.

Advika giggled. "Papa, woh balloons hai! Par hum kharidne nahi jaa rahe. Chaliye na, park jaana hai," she said, gently steering him forward.

They continued walking until Aryan noticed a couple holding their child in their arms. He stopped abruptly, staring at them with a look of innocent fascination. After a moment, he crouched down and scooped Advika into his arms, mimicking what he had just seen.

Advika's face lit up with excitement. "Papa! Aap ne mujhe upar le liye! Aap toh mere superman ho!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Her joy brought a fleeting softness to Aryan's otherwise vacant expression.

He didn't say anything, as he hadn't in the past four years, but his grip on Advika was firm and protective. He looked around again, his eyes darting to the passing cars, the chirping birds, and the children playing in the distance.

When they reached the park, Advika wiggled in his arms. "Papa, mujhe neeche utariye! Mujhe slide pe jaana hai," she said, her voice filled with excitement.

Aryan hesitated, looking around the park as if unsure what to do. Finally, he set her down carefully, his movements slow and deliberate. Advika grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the play area.

"Aap yahan khade rahiye, papa! Main slide kar ke aati hoon," she instructed, pointing at the slide. Aryan nodded quickly, his head bobbing up and down like a child eager to please.

As Advika climbed up the slide, Aryan's attention shifted again. He stared at the trees swaying in the breeze, the birds flying overhead, and the children laughing nearby.

 His lips parted slightly in awe, his mind lost in the simple beauty of the world around him.

Advika slid down with a loud squeal and ran back to him, her arms outstretched."Papa, dekha! Main kitni fast hoon!" she said, throwing herself into his arms.

Aryan blinked, looking at her as if trying to process her words. He nodded again, his lips curving into a faint, childlike smile.

From a distance, a mother holding her toddler watched them with a soft smile. She approached Aryan hesitantly. "Aapki beti bahut pyaari hai," she said gently.

Aryan didn't respond. His eyes darted to the woman, then back to Advika, who was now holding his hand protectively. Sensing his discomfort, the woman gave a polite nod and walked away. Advika squeezed Aryan's hand, her small fingers wrapping around his tightly. 

"Papa, chaliye. Ab ghar chalte hain," she said, leading him away from the park.

As they walked back, Aryan's gaze wandered again, his attention caught by the sunlight filtering through the trees and the distant honking of cars. He didn't speak, but every so often, he would point at something, his expression lighting up with a childlike wonder that Advika had grown used to.

"Papa, aaj maza aaya na?" she asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Aryan didn't reply, but his nod was enough for Advika. She smiled brightly, knowing that even if her papa couldn't say the words, she was his entire world—and he was hers.

As they reached home, Advika's eyes lit up when she saw her grandparents standing near the entrance. Without a second thought, she let go of Aryan's hand and dashed towards them, shouting excitedly,

"Nanuu! Nanii!"

Mr. and Mrs. Verma knelt down to scoop her into their arms, their faces breaking into warm smiles as they showered her with hugs and kisses.

"Hamari Adu aa gayi!" Mrs. Verma exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with affection.

Meanwhile, Aryan stood at the doorstep, his head bowed, his hands fidgeting awkwardly. The sudden absence of Advika's tiny hand in his left him frozen, unsure of what to do next. His gaze darted around, his lips trembling as he looked down at his feet, unable to take a step forward.

Noticing this, Mr. Verma gently handed Advika to her grandmother and walked over to Aryan.

"Beta, andar chalo," he said softly, placing a comforting hand on Aryan's shoulder.

Aryan flinched slightly at the touch but slowly lifted his gaze to meet Mr. Verma's kind eyes. With a hesitant nod, Aryan shuffled inside, still clutching the edge of his shirt like a child seeking comfort.

Inside, Advika had already started her usual banter with her little brother, Veer, who was playing with his toy cars on the floor.

"Veer, pata hai? Papa ne mujhe aaj godh mein uthaya!" she said proudly, her hands on her hips. Veer looked up with wide eyes, clearly impressed.

"Sach? Par Bade Papa mujhe toh kabhi nahi uthate!" he pouted, crossing his arms.

"Woh isliye kyunki tu heavy hai!"** Advika teased, sticking out her tongue.

"Main heavy nahi hoon!" Veer shot back, scrambling to his feet. "Tu bas weak hai!"

Mrs. Verma chuckled at their playful exchange and pulled them both into a hug.

"Achha, achha, bas karo tum dono. Laddoo khaoge?"

"Yay! Laddoo!" the kids cheered in unison, momentarily forgetting their argument.

As the laughter of the children filled the room, Mrs. Verma's gaze softened as she looked at Aryan, who was now sitting quietly in a corner, his eyes fixed on the floor. She walked over to him with a plate of laddoos and gently held one out.

"Aryan beta, kuch kha lo," she said warmly.

Aryan glanced at her and then at the laddoo, his lips twitching as though he wanted to say something. Instead, he shook his head slowly and looked away. Mrs. Verma sighed, her heart aching for the son-in-law who had once been so full of life.

The family had gathered today to discuss an important decision. The pandit had suggested performing Anjali's shrad in Rishikesh, a place of spiritual solace. Mr. Verma cleared his throat and addressed everyone.

"Panditji ne kaha hai ki Rishikesh Anjali ke shrad ke liye sahi jagah hai. Uski atma ko shanti milegi aur shayad hum sabko bhi thoda sukoon mile."

Aahan nodded in agreement.

"Mujhe bhi lagta hai ki yeh ek achha idea hai. Aryan bhai ke liye bhi zaroori hai. Shayad jagah badalne se aur rituals se unko thoda farak pade."

Mrs. Verma placed a hand on Aryan's shoulder.

"Hum sab saath chalenge beta,tum akele nhi ho."

Aryan didn't respond, but his gaze flickered briefly toward Advika and Veer, who were now feeding each other laddoos and giggling. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips before it disappeared, replaced once again by his childlike silence.

The family silently hoped that this journey to Rishikesh would be a step toward healing, not just for Aryan but for all of them.