Author's POV:

Jhanvi returned to the café while Reeva had left for some urgent work. She placed her bag on the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee, trying to steady her thoughts.

Her mind kept drifting back to what happened earlier at LeMont Grand — that look in Dev's eyes, the way his words wrapped around her like a quiet warning.

She shut her eyes for a moment and exhaled shakily.

"I'm overthinking," she whispered to herself, taking a small sip from the cup.

Just then, her phone buzzed against the counter.

Aahan: Hey Jhanvi, I'm really sorry to bother you, but bhai is not well... he's been murmuring your name for hours. If it's okay, could you please come? No pressure, only if you're comfortable.

Her heart dropped the second she read the message.

Aryan.

The mug slipped slightly in her grip as worry clouded her eyes. Without another thought, she typed back a quick reply—

Jhanvi: I'll be there. Right now.

Within minutes, she was on her way. The entire ride to the hotel blurred past in a rush of pounding heartbeat and silent prayers.

When she reached the luxurious hotel where Aahan and Arushi were staying, she immediately called Aahan. 

He came down to meet her, relief softening his tired face.

"Thank God you came," he said quietly before leading her upstairs.

What Jhanvi didn't know was that before messaging her, Aahan had already informed the entire Verma family — Anjali's parents — about her. 

He had told them the truth: that Jhanvi was Anjali... their daughter... but she had lost her memories after the accident.

"Please," Aahan had told them, "don't act shocked. Don't tell her anything yet. She doesn't remember the past. Just... treat her kindly."

Now, as Jhanvi stepped into the penthouse suite, her steps faltered. The air inside felt heavy — thick with emotions she couldn't name.

She was greeted by unfamiliar faces... or at least, that's what she thought.

An older woman, elegantly dressed yet visibly trembling, stood frozen near the sofa.

 Her eyes widened the moment she saw Jhanvi — recognition, disbelief, and heartbreak all crashing together in that one fragile instant.

Her lips quivered. "A-Anjali..." she whispered before quickly covering her mouth, tears already spilling down her cheeks.

Mr. Verma stepped closer, gently placing a hand on his wife's shoulder, whispering softly,

 "Control yourself... she doesn't remember."

But Mrs. Verma couldn't. Her body shook as years of grief and longing broke through the surface.

Jhanvi, confused and startled, looked between them, her brows knitting. "I—um... hello, I'm Jhanvi. I came for Aryan. Aahan called me."

Her voice was polite but hesitant, unaware of the storm her presence had unleashed in that room.

Mrs. Verma quickly wiped her tears, forcing a trembling smile. "Y-yes, dear... thank you for coming," she said softly, her tone breaking.

And as Jhanvi walked past her toward Aryan's room, Mrs. Verma's hand reached out instinctively, stopping just short of touching her — afraid that one gentle touch might shatter the fragile illusion her heart had just regained.

After four long years, the daughter she thought she lost...

was standing right in front of her.

As she entered the room, Jhanvi's steps slowed. Aryan lay unconscious on the bed, his face pale and tired. Two children sat beside him — a little girl gently tapping his arm with worried eyes, and a boy clutching his toy tightly.

 Nearby, Arushi was on a phone call, whispering urgently to someone maybe-doctor.

Jhanvi looked at Aahan, confusion flashing across her face.

"What happened suddenly?" she asked softly.

Aahan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "He got a panic attack. Out of nowhere," he said quietly.

Her gaze softened as she looked back at Aryan — the rise and fall of his chest too shallow, his hand limp on the sheet. 

But a thought crossed her mind, tugging at her heart.

Why... why would he call for me?

She quickly shook her head. No, maybe Aahan misunderstood.

Still, her feet moved on their own, taking her closer to the bed.

The little girl noticed her and looked up. Her big brown eyes widened, glistening with tears — and then, 

with a tiny smile breaking through her fear, she whispered, "Mumma..."

Aahan and Arushi froze where they stood, their eyes wide in shock.

Jhanvi blinked, startled. She bent down, gently brushing a strand of hair away from the girl's face.

 "Baby, who are you? You called me mumma that day too... and now again," she said softly, confusion lacing her tone.

Before the little girl could answer, Aahan quickly stepped forward. "Actually, she's my niece," he said with a strained smile. 

"Aryan bhai and bhabhi's daughter."

Jhanvi froze.

For a second, she couldn't breathe.

Something inside her twisted painfully — an ache she couldn't explain. Her lips parted, but no words came out. So... he's married? And he has a child?

Her chest felt heavy, like something invisible had pressed down on it. She didn't know why it hurt... but it did.

Sensing her unease, Arushi gently took the children out of the room, giving Aahan and Jhanvi some space. The soft click of the door closing echoed in the silence.

Aahan stood a few steps behind as Jhanvi slowly sat down beside Aryan. Her trembling hand reached out, brushing the sweat from his forehead.

"She must be a very lucky women," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. 

"To had someone loved so deeply... that even after losing her, he couldn't find himself again."

Her thumb lingered near his temple, her eyes filling with emotions she didn't understand.

Aahan's gaze softened as he looked at the two of them — the woman who had forgotten her past, and the man who had been trapped in it ever since.

"You both are lucky," he thought silently, his throat tightening. "But destiny... destiny has been too cruel to you."

The clock had slipped past midnight by the time Jhanvi decided to leave.

"I think... I should go now," she said softly, turning to Aahan and Arushi.

Mrs. Verma stood up from the couch and approached her, holding something wrapped in silk — a small box.

 "Please, beta... take this," she said, her voice trembling.

Jhanvi blinked, confused. "I—I can't, aunty, it's—"

"Please." The woman's smile was warm yet fragile. "It's just a little prasad. For good luck."

For a reason Jhanvi couldn't explain, the warmth in that woman's eyes reached somewhere deep inside her — like a long-lost comfort she didn't know she missed. She felt... safe.

Aahan offered, "We'll drop you, Jhanvi."

She shook her head, smiling faintly. "No, it's okay. I'll manage. Just... call me when he wakes up, okay?"

"Of course," Arushi said gently.

And then, as the door closed behind her, the house fell silent.

Mrs. Verma's composure finally broke — her shoulders shaking as tears streamed down her face.

"My baby..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "She was right here... after four years, my little girl was right in front of me, and she didn't even recognize me."

Aahan's throat tightened. Arushi turned her face away, unable to bear it.

Mr. Verma's hands clenched into fists as he murmured hoarsely, "Maybe... it's better this way. Let her heal in her own world."

Mrs. Verma shook her head weakly. "A mother never stops waiting."

The night air was crisp, brushing softly against her face as she walked along the quiet road leading away from the hotel.

Her heels clicked against the pavement — a steady rhythm that echoed the noise inside her mind.

Her heart still hadn't calmed.

Why did it hurt so much? she thought. Why did my chest feel heavy when I heard he was married... and had a child?

She wrapped her arms around herself, letting out a shaky exhale.

We are nothing to each other. Just two strangers who crossed paths by chance.

And yet... the moment she got that message, she ran. Without thinking. Without hesitation.

Her lips twisted in a small, bitter smile. Stupid heart.

She turned another corner — the road now dimly lit by a flickering streetlight.

 Her phone buzzed once in her hand, and she glanced at it before slipping it back into her bag.