Author's POV

Arushi stepped out of the café, the door closing behind her with a soft thud that felt louder than it should've. The world outside buzzed with life—cars passing, people laughing, the sun still stubbornly shining—but inside her, everything was muted.

Her mind was a storm.

She walked aimlessly down the pavement, unaware of where her feet were taking her. The image of her—of  Anjali—kept flashing before her eyes. The same smile. The same mannerisms.

But how could it be?

How could her best friend, her soul sister, the girl she had cried oceans for, the one whose absence left her world in pieces... be alive?

And living a life where her family didn't exist?

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away angrily. She wasn't someone who cried easily. But this—this wasn't something she knew how to process.

If She really was Anjali...If she had been alive all this time...Why didn't she come back?Why did she let everyone mourn her like she was dead?Why did she let them suffer alone in her absence?

The questions circled in her head like vultures. Each one pecking at her with new pain.Had she forgotten them?

Had someone made her forget?

Or had she... chosen to forget?

Arushi stopped walking as a chill passed down her spine.

Was it possible that Anjali didn't remember who she was?

Or worse... didn't want to remember?

She clutched her scarf tightly, her fingers trembling. The girl inside that café was not a lookalike.

 Arushi's heart knew. That was her. Her Anjali. Maybe changed, maybe lost—but undeniably her.

And if she had to fight the entire world to bring her back...She would.

Because some bonds—some promises—aren't broken by time, death, or even forgotten memories.

They just wait.

Jhanvi's POV:

As the woman walked out of the café, I just stood there, staring after her like she'd left a trail of fire in my chest. My heart was thumping like hell—each beat loud enough to drown out my racing thoughts.

 My mind was swirling with so many questions, spinning faster and faster I almost felt dizzy.

Who was she really? Why did she look so familiar—yet feel so distant? And why did meeting her stir something inside me I couldn't explain?

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I barely heard Reva's voice until she gently shook me.

"Oh..." I looked at her.

"What happened?" she asked, looking at me carefully.

"Uh—nothing, it's just that—" I started, but she cut me off.

"That woman seemed... different, didn't she?" Reva said slowly. 

"Like she expected something from you. Or maybe she thought you were someone else?"

I blinked, trying to process her words. "Yeah... that's exactly how it felt. Like she was waiting for me to remember her. But I don't remember anything. I swear I don't."

Reva nodded, her eyes softening with sympathy. 

"Sometimes people just have that kind of look. Like they're searching for a lost piece. Maybe she's going through something tough too."

I forced a small smile, grateful for her kindness but still feeling hollow inside. "Maybe."

She reached out and squeezed my arm gently. "Hey, just chill, okay? Don't let all this mess with your head."

I took a deep breath and nodded, trying to calm the storm inside me. The weight on my chest eased just a little. 

"Yeah... thanks, Reva. I guess I need to stop overthinking all this."

Reva smiled reassuringly. "Exactly. Sometimes it's better to take a break from all the questions and just breathe. You'll figure it out when the time is right."

I glanced back toward the door where that woman had left, the café suddenly feeling a little emptier.

"Yeah," I whispered to myself. "For now, I'll just try to let it go."

Back at the hotel:

Arushi sat on the bed, unusually quiet, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Aahan stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He noticed the expression on her face immediately.

"You okay?" he asked, walking closer.

She looked up at him slowly. "I went to that café across the street."

Aahan stilled but said nothing.

"There was a girl at the counter..." Arushi's voice lowered, "She-she looked exactly like Anjali."His breath caught, but he kept his face still.

"I called her Anjali." Arushi blinked, still trying to process it. 

"But she just smiled—confused—and said, 'I'm sorry, ma'am. You must've mistaken me for someone else.'"

She looked at him sharply. "But I know what I saw."

Aahan exhaled slowly. "Because you were right," he said quietly.

Arushi stared. "What?"

"I found her... four, five days ago," Aahan admitted, sitting down beside her. 

"She's alive, Arushi. But she doesn't remember anything. Not her name, not us... nothing."

Arushi's heart thudded. "What do you mean? She's lost her memory?"

He nodded. "She's going by the name Jhanvi Bisht. She lives with an older couple—Mr. and Mrs. Bisht. They've raised her like their own daughter."

Arushi's eyes widened as Aahan continued, his voice low, steady.

"I visited their house. Spoke to them. They told me they found her about four years ago—lying unconscious by the banks of a river on the outskirts of delhi. She was badly injured, bruises all over her body, barely breathing. It was a miracle she even survived. The doctors said she had a head trauma and broken ribs. She was in a coma for almost one year."

Arushi covered her mouth in shock.

"When she finally woke up, she had no memory of who she was. Not even her name. Nothing. No family, no past... just pain and confusion."

"Mr. and Mrs. Bisht... they couldn't just leave her. They decided to take her in since they had lost their only daughter in a very brutal way. They named her after their deceased daughter."

Arushi's eyes welled up. "All this time... she was alive. But trapped in a life that isn't hers."

Aahan placed a hand on hers. "We'll bring her back, Arushi. But gently. We can't just dump the past on her all at once."

Arushi nodded slowly, her voice thick. "She deserves to remember who she really is."

Aahan's gaze was firm. "And we'll help her. No matter what it takes."

Author's POV:

Aryan sat silently on the bench in the garden, his eyes fixed on the sky above. The stars twinkled gently, scattered like tiny lights on a dark canvas. His mind, though that of a grown man, wandered with the simplicity of a child—lost in thoughts he couldn't name.

Advika climbed up beside him, her tiny legs swinging as she nestled closer. She slipped her small hand into his much larger one, her touch soft and warm.

"Dada..." she whispered, her voice as light as the night breeze.

"You know, whenever I miss Mumma a lot... I look up at the sky."

Aryan slowly turned to her, his eyes blank yet gentle. He didn't speak—just listened, his fingers curling slightly around hers.

She pointed up, her face glowing with innocent belief.

"Because I think Mumma became a star. She watches me from there. And when one twinkles really bright... I feel like she's saying she loves me."

Aryan blinked slowly. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, he nodded... a small, clumsy nod. His brows furrowed like he was trying hard to understand something deep.

Then he did what he always did when his mind couldn't find words—he leaned his head against hers and let out a quiet, low hum. 

A soft sound that wasn't quite crying, but wasn't silence either. His hand stayed in hers, holding on a little tighter.

And under the stars, two broken hearts sat together—one too little to fully understand grief, and one too lost to explain it—but both finding comfort in just being close.

Next Morning...

Jhanvi rushed down the street, already running late. She was adjusting her watch strap with one hand and balancing her bag in the other.

 "Ugh, why today of all days?" she muttered, breaking into a light jog toward the café.

But just before she reached the entrance, a loud commotion near the alley caught her attention.A crowd had gathered. Voices raised. A man yelling. A woman shouting.

Her brows furrowed. What now?

Despite every cell in her body screaming you're late, her feet had other plans. She made her way through the crowd, weaving between shoulders—until her eyes landed on him.

A man was curled up on the ground, hands clutching his ears, face buried in his knees, shaking like a leaf. His body trembled with silent sobs.

"Thief!" the woman shrieked. "He stole a pendant from our shop!"

"That silver chain cost a fortune! Now he's playing dumb!" the man beside her spat, raising his hand to strike.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

The entire crowd fell silent as Jhanvi's voice sliced through the chaos like a blade.

The woman flinched. The man froze mid-swing. All eyes snapped to her.

Jhanvi stormed through the circle like a wildfire. 

"What do you think you're doing?! Beating someone in the street because you think he took something?! Are you even human?!"

"He had the pendant!" the woman snapped. "We saw it in his hand—"

"—So that gives you the right to publicly assault him? He looks terrified! Does he look like a criminal to you?!"

The man scoffed. "He's not normal! Look at him! He didn't even respond when we shouted—just sat there like some lunatic—"

"He's not a lunatic," Jhanvi snapped, voice laced with fury. 

"He's scared! He's confused! And even if he took something, you could've handled it with basic decency instead of turning it into a public circus!"

The couple looked stunned, silenced by her tone.

Without another word, Jhanvi yanked open her wallet, pulled out a wad of notes, and flung it at the man's face. Several bills caught the woman across the cheek.

"You want your damn pendant money?" Jhanvi hissed. 

"Here. Take it. Now get lost before I call the cops for assaulting someone vulnerable in public."

The couple stood speechless—burning in the spotlight of humiliation.

Jhanvi turned her gaze to the man still crouched on the ground. Her breath caught in her throat.Something about him... tugged at her memory.

She slowly knelt beside him. "Hey... are you okay?" she whispered gently.

The man peeked up at her, eyes wide and filled with confusion, like a lost child. And then—he blinked.

Recognition flickered.

Her.

And he murmured, in a voice so soft it cracked her heart open—

"Mumma... star..."

Her eyes stung with sudden emotion. Holi. That boy. That moment.

It was him.

Her hand trembled as she reached out. "Come with me... please."

He placed his hand in hers—small, cold, shaking.

And just like that, she rose, shielding him behind her like a lioness. She glared at the shopkeepers.

"If I ever see either of you raise your hand at someone again—I swear on everything I have—you'll regret it."

Then she walked away, Aryan's hand clutching hers tightly. The crowd parted like waves, silent now—watching a scene that would stay in their minds for days.

And though neither of them knew what fate had in store, one thing was certain:

The universe had just brought Jhanvi and Aryan together again.

Author's POV:

Jhanvi guided him gently inside the café and helped him sit down. Without wasting a moment, she rushed to get him some water. 

Reeva watched her with questioning eyes, but Jhanvi just gave a subtle signal—she'd explain everything later.

Aryan sat quietly, his eyes slowly scanning the café, lost in his own world. When Jhanvi returned with the glass, she sat down across from him and softly said,

 "Here, drink this."

He looked at her for a moment, then slowly nodded and took the glass in his hands.

Aryan's hands trembled slightly as he brought the glass to his lips. He drank slowly, eyes still darting around nervously, like a frightened animal trying to understand its surroundings. 

Jhanvi watched him carefully, her heart softening at the vulnerable sight.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, careful not to overwhelm him.

He blinked a few times, then gave a faint nod. His silence was heavy, but there was something fragile about him — like he was carrying a weight too big for his small frame.

In that quiet moment, as Jhanvi sat across from Aryan, an invisible thread stretched taut between two souls fractured by fate. 

For Jhanvi—lost in the fog of forgotten memories—the sight of this man stirred something deep within her heart, an ache she couldn't place.

It was as if a forgotten melody hummed faintly in the distance, tugging at a corner of her soul she didn't know still existed.

 Though her mind had no name, no face, the warmth and weight of familiarity pressed gently against her chest, whispering of a bond that time and tragedy couldn't erase.

For Aryan, the man hollowed out by grief and shattered dreams, the world had dimmed to muted shadows after losing her.

His mind, trapped somewhere between the innocence of a child and the torment of a man, struggled to understand the whirlwind of emotions flooding back.

His heart recognized her—this woman who was both stranger and home—but his voice faltered, unable to capture the storm of longing, guilt, and fragile hope that surged within.

Four years had passed since the accident that tore them apart, since everyone believed she was gone forever. 

Yet here they were, reunited by fate's gentle hand, two broken halves finding each other again in a world that had moved on without them. 

In that small café, beneath the hum of everyday life, destiny quietly rewrote their story—a story of loss, of silence, and of a love too strong to be forgotten.