Aryan's POV

It's raining again.

The sky cries a lot these days.

Maybe... because Mumma left.

I don't like the rain. It makes the windows blurry, and I can't see her face in the clouds anymore.

I sit near the window, holding the small box close to my chest. It's soft... smells like her.

I don't remember where I got it, but it feels like hers. Everything that feels warm feels like her.

Inside it, there's a tiny pendant — silver and shiny. I touch it again and again. Sometimes it talks to me.

Not with words... but with heartbeats.

My chest hurts. Like someone poked a hole inside and forgot to close it.

"Mumma..." I whisper. My voice sounds funny. Like a baby's.

But I don't care.

When I say that word, the walls stop feeling so empty.

And then... I see her. Not real... but still real.

Her eyes.

Her smile.

Her voice when she says my name.

"An...jali..." I whisper, and my lips shake.

Why do I know that name? It feels like home... but I can't remember where home is anymore.

I look down at my crayons — red, yellow, blue. They're broken, but I still like them.

I start drawing. Circles first. Then eyes. Then lips.

The paper slowly becomes her.

Beautiful. Like a dream I forgot but still feel.

The door opens. Tiny footsteps. "Papa!"

I look up. It's Advika. My friend.

"What are you doing?" she giggles, peeking at my drawing.

"Mumma," I mumble, smiling without knowing why.

Advika gasps. "Wow! You made Mumma again!"

Again?

Did I make her before too?

I don't remember...

She snatches the paper and runs away, shouting happily. "I'll show everyone!"

I reach out weakly, my hand shaking. "No... don't take Mumma..."

But she's already gone.

I stare at the door for a long time.

Then I look at the box again.

"I miss you," I whisper, my voice trembling. 

"You're not mad at me, right? I didn't mean to break the car... I didn't mean to make you sleep forever..."

A tear falls.

I wipe it fast, just like Mumma used to do for me.

Then I hug the box again and close my eyes.

"Mumma will come, na?" I whisper to the quiet room. 

"She always comes back."

The rain doesn't answer.

Only keeps crying — for both of them.

(He called her Mumma—just like Advika did. The only difference was, for him, that word wasn't a name... it was a heartbeat he'd been chasing ever since she was gone.)

Author's POV:

Jhanvi reached the gates of LeMont Grand, balancing the huge box in her arms. 

"Aish, kitna heavy hai! Pata nahi Reeva kab aayegi," she muttered under her breath, adjusting her grip.

As she stepped inside the grand hotel, her eyes widened in awe.

 "Waaah... it's so beautiful," she whispered to herself, her voice echoing softly in the luxurious lobby.

Just then, her phone buzzed. Managing the box in one hand, she fumbled to answer it.

Jhanvi: "Yeah, where are you? When will you reach?"

Reeva: "I'm on my way! Has the tasting started already?"

Jhanvi: "No, not yet. I'm going inside the waiting room. Come fast," 

she said, distracted as her attention drifted away from where she was walking.

And then—BOOM!

She collided hard into someone. 

The box and her phone slipped from her hands, tumbling to the floor. 

Just as she was about to fall, a firm hand caught her waist, pulling her against a solid chest.

Jhanvi squeezed her eyes shut from the impact, heart racing.

"Yaa! Dekh ke nahi chal sakte kya?!" she snapped, opening her eyes—only to freeze.

The man standing before her didn't flinch. 

His dark, sharp eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made a shiver run down her spine.

 There was something cold, dangerous  gaze.

Her brows furrowed. "Kya aise ghoor kyu rahe ho?" she muttered, trying to pull away.

The corner of his mouth curved slightly, and his voice came out low, rough, and addictive.

"Addicting..." he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her breath hitched. "A-what?"

Her brows furrowed, and her voice came out sharp, unwavering:

"Well whatever nvm butt... because of you, my hard work went in vain," She said, her tone edged with irritation.

He didn't reply immediately—just bent down, picked up the fallen box, and handed it to her, his fingers brushing lightly against hers.

The touch was brief, but a shiver ran down her spine.

His eyes lingered on her face for one more second before he said flatly, 

"Be careful next time," and walked away, leaving her staring after him

Meanwhile;

Jhanvi stood frozen for a moment, mumbling under her breath, "Jerk..." before shifting her attention back to the box. 

She carefully checked inside — the main dish was ruined, but thankfully, a few of the other items were still intact.

Letting out a sigh, she gathered herself and walked into the waiting room, setting the box neatly on the table. 

She had just sat down when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind her.

Reeva came running in, slightly out of breath, crouching in front of Jhanvi.

"I–I'm here!" she huffed, brushing her hair aside. "Yaaar, why are you sitting like this? What happened?"

Jhanvi pouted slightly, pointing at the box. 

"Because of a jerk, our hard work went in vain!"

Reeva blinked in confusion. "Jerk?"

Before Jhanvi could reply, a staff member entered.

 "Ma'am, the head chef is ready for the tasting."

The girls exchanged a quick look and followed him into the tasting room.

Inside, the executive chef and a few assistants stood ready. The atmosphere was formal yet welcoming. 

Jhanvi placed the remaining desserts on the table, her heart pounding as the chef began to taste each one carefully.

After a few tense seconds, he finally smiled. "Very impressive," he said, nodding appreciatively.

 "Your café may not be very big, but this—this has finesse."

Reeva grinned, her eyes twinkling with relief. 

Jhanvi exhaled a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her shoulders relaxing.

But before they could celebrate, the heavy wooden doors swung open.

The staff straightened immediately as a tall man in a crisp black suit entered, followed by two men in uniform. 

His presence alone was enough to shift the air in the room.

The head chef turned to him with a respectful smile. "Welcome, — the owner of LeMont Grand, Mr. Dev Singhania."

Jhanvi's  froze. Her eyes widened as she looked at  The man.

It was him.

The same man she had collided with earlier.

She leaned slightly toward Reeva, whispering under her breath, "He's that jerk."

Reeva's eyes widened in panic. "You didn't say anything stupid to him, right?" she hissed. "If you did, we're so losing this contract!"

Jhanvi bit her tongue, looking guilty. "No, I didn't! But—Aish, I was frustrated, okay?"

Before Reeva could scold her, Dev walked forward and took a seat beside the chef. 

His gaze, however, didn't waver from Jhanvi — sharp, unreadable, and oddly amused.

"Mr. Singhania," the chef began, "this is from Café Whiskers — one of the most promising local cafés. They've prepared these desserts."