The man didn't immediately reply, his eyes scanning the house briefly before returning to Mr. Bisht.

The man gave a polite nod. "I'm Aahan," he introduced himself, his tone steady but his expression unreadable.

Mrs. Bisht, standing beside her husband, exchanged a glance with him before asking,

 "If you're here for Jhanvi—"(thinking of him as Jhanvi's friend)

Aahan shook his head slightly, his gaze unwavering. 

"I'm not here to see Jhanvi," he said firmly. 

"I need to ask both of you some questions."

The couple exchanged another look, this time tinged with confusion and concern. Mr. Bisht's voice took on a more guarded tone. 

"What's this about? Are you with the police or something?"

Aahan's lips tightened, his expression serious. 

"No, I'm not with the police. But it's related to your daughter."

The words sent a ripple of tension through the air. Mrs. Bisht's protective instincts flared as she stepped forward.

 "What do you mean, related to Jhanvi? What's this about?"

Aahan hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. 

"I need to ask you some questions about her. It's important, and I assure you, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't necessary."

Mr. Bisht frowned, his suspicion evident.

 "If this is about our daughter, we have a right to know what's going on. Why are you asking questions about her? Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"No, it's nothing like that," Aahan replied quickly, his tone steady but urgent.

 "But there are things I need to understand. Please, let me explain. It's not something I can discuss here at the door."

Mrs. Bisht's expression softened slightly, though her wariness remained.

 "If this is about Jhanvi, you need to tell us everything. We won't let anyone hurt her."

Aahan nodded solemnly. 

"I understand, and I have no intention of hurting her. I just need your help to piece together something from the past."

After a moment of hesitation, Mr. Bisht stepped aside, motioning toward the living room.

 "Alright, come in. But you'd better start making sense fast."

Aahan stepped inside, his demeanor calm but his eyes betraying the storm within.

At the Ganga Ghat

The Taneja and Verma families stood by the serene waters of the Ganga, the morning light casting a golden hue over the city of Rishikesh. 

The ghats were alive with activity—pilgrims performing rituals, vendors selling flowers and colors, and the sound of bells ringing in the distance.

The families admired the beauty of the scene, exchanging light-hearted banter and soaking in the festive atmosphere.

Aryan, however, was distracted. His gaze wandered to a group of people playing Holi nearby.

 They were laughing, throwing colors, and dancing to loud music blaring from speakers. He took a step toward them, drawn by the sight of their vibrant joy.

As he moved closer, the crowd grew thicker. The noise seemed to amplify, and the jostling bodies around him became overwhelming. 

Suddenly, someone bumped into him, and he was pushed further into the middle of the crowd.

The music was deafening now, and the colors flying through the air made it hard to see. Aryan's heart raced as fear gripped him. 

He covered his ears, his hands trembling, and looked around frantically for a way out.

The loud beats of the music and the unfamiliar faces surrounding him were too much.

 His breathing quickened, and tears welled up in his eyes.

His breaths came in short, frantic gasps as tears welled up in his eyes. He whimpered softly, his small frame trembling as he tried to block out the chaos.

Just as the panic threatened to consume him, a firm but gentle hand gripped his wrist.Aryan froze, his body instinctively following the pull of the hand. 

The person guided him through the throng, weaving skillfully through the crowd until they emerged into a quieter area.

Away from the chaos, Aryan looked up, his tear-streaked face filled with confusion and relief.

"Hey, it's okay now,"a soft voice said

When Aryan looked up to the voice, the world seemed to stop.

There she was.

Her face was dusted with the vibrant red hues of Holi, the sunlight caressing her features, and her wide, confused eyes locked with his. It was as if the universe had paused, holding its breath for this moment.

His breath hitched, his knees trembled, and his heart raced like a drumbeat. Aryan stared at her without blinking, his mind wavering between reality and the image he had cherished for years.

Jhanvi's confusion deepened as she looked at him. There was something about the way he stared—like she was the only person in the world, like he had been searching for her all his life.

 She felt a strange pull in her chest, a tug at her heartstrings that she couldn't explain.

For Aryan, this moment was surreal. He had been trapped in a world where his mind had regressed, leaving him with the innocence of an eight-year-old child.

 But even in his fractured state, there was one constant—her.

Her picture, the one he had held onto for years, was his anchor. He would sit for hours, staring at it with an almost childlike wonder. 

His lips would part, and he would whisper the same word over and over, as if it were a prayer, a lifeline.

"J-aan..."

And now, here she was, standing before him, not just in a photograph but in flesh and blood. His voice cracked as he whispered the name that had become his solace, the name that had been etched into his heart.

Jhanvi froze at the sound of the name. The way he said it—it wasn't just a word. It was heavy with emotion, trembling with disbelief and longing. 

It felt like a forgotten melody, a distant echo from a dream she couldn't quite remember.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at him, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions swirling in her chest. 

There was something achingly familiar about him, something that made her feel like she had known him forever.

The world around them was alive with the colors of Holi, the laughter of the crowd, and the music that filled the air. 

But for Aryan and Jhanvi, it all faded into the background. The vibrant hues swirled like a cosmic blessing, the Ganges shimmered behind them, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of spring.

Destiny had worked its magic.

Through the chaos, through the noise, through the endless twists and turns of life, it had brought them here—together.

 As if the universe had been waiting for this moment, as if every step they had taken was leading them closer to this encounter.

Aryan's lips trembled as he repeated the name, his voice softer this time, but no less fervent.

 "Jaan..."

Jhanvi's breath hitched, her mind racing. She couldn't understand why this stranger seemed to know her, why his eyes brimmed with emotions she couldn't comprehend.

 But as she stood there, staring into his tear-filled gaze, she couldn't shake the feeling that this meeting was no accident.

It was fate.