Early Morning — Mussoorie

The sky was still half-asleep when they reached the peak.

A thin mist hovered over the valley, the cold air biting gently at their skin as the first hints of sunrise painted the horizon in soft hues of orange and pink.

Aahan stood slightly aside, Arushi tucked into his arms, her head resting against his chest. 

They weren't talking—just existing together, warm and comfortable, like they belonged there.

Aryan, on the other hand, was still half-lost in sleep. He stood quietly, clutching his small toy tightly to his chest, his head leaning slightly against Arushi's arm.

 His cheeks were flushed red from the cold, lashes heavy, expressions innocent.

Jhanvi stood near the edge.

Not too close.

Just close enough to feel the depth of the cliff.

She stared at the endless stretch of mountains, the silence around her louder than any noise. 

Something heavy sat in her chest—too many emotions tangled together, none of them making sense.

She glanced back.

Aryan.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips when she saw him struggling to stay awake, rubbing his cheek against the toy unconsciously. There was something painfully pure about him in that moment.

How can someone be this... gentle?

The sunrise slowly began to unfold, people around them murmuring in awe, cameras clicking, 

voices blending into the background. Aahan commented on how beautiful the view was, Arushi 

teased him about being dramatic—but Jhanvi barely heard any of it.

Her mind was elsewhere.

On him.

The way he looked at her sometimes—lost, searching.

The way her heart reacted when he was near.

She took a step forward without realizing.

Then another.

Her shoe slid against loose gravel.

And suddenly—

She slipped.

A sharp gasp left her lips as her body tilted forward, balance completely gone—

Strong arms wrapped around her waist instantly.

Firm.

Protective.

Pulling her back with force—but not roughness.

Her back collided with a warm chest.

Her breath hitched.

And then, right near her ear, a voice whispered—low, steady, raw:

"Ek baar kho diya hai tumhe...dobara nahi kho sakta."

Her entire body went still.

That voice—

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't fragile.

Slowly, hesitantly, Jhanvi lifted her gaze.

Aryan.

But not the same Aryan.

His eyes were fixed on her—not confused, not distant—but intense. Deep. Clear.

Something old lived in that gaze.

Something she couldn't name... but felt.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

For a few seconds, the world disappeared.

No mountains.

No sunrise.

Just the two of them—breathing the same air.

Then—

"Jhanvi! Are you okay?!"

Arushi's worried voice cut through the moment.

Jhanvi startled, immediately stepping back, her heart racing.

"H-huh? Umm... haan. Y-yeah. I'm fine."

She avoided looking at him.

But when she did—just for a second—

Aryan was still watching her.

Quiet.

Unreadable.

Aahan noticed it.

So did Arushi.

They exchanged a glance—silent, knowing.

Did you see that?

Yes.

Because something had shifted.

Subtly.

Aryan looked away slowly, his grip on the toy loosening just a little.

And for the first time in a long while—

It felt like he wasn't just existing anymore.

He was returning.

And Jhanvi...

She pressed her palm against her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat.

Because whatever that moment was—

It wasn't normal.

And it wasn't one-sided.

Something had awakened.

In both of them.

Author's POV

Aahan closed the balcony door softly while Arushi adjusted the phone angle. 

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as the video call connected.

The familiar face of Dr. Mehra appeared on the screen.

Aahan hesitated for a second, then spoke carefully,

"Doctor... there's something you need to know. I mean—Aryan bhai... in the past four years, he has never behaved like his old self. Not even once. But today... he did."

Dr. Mehra straightened in his chair, interest instantly piqued.

"Oh?"

Arushi nodded, her voice low but excited.

"Subah jab hum sunrise dekhne gaye the... the way he reacted, the way he spoke—it wasn't childlike. It was... him."

There was a brief silence on the call.

Then the doctor smiled—genuinely surprised.

"Wow. That's actually very unusual."

He leaned closer to the screen.

"Honestly, the way Aryan has been improving lately is remarkable. Acting again like his old self... responding instinctively, emotionally—that means his mind is reconnecting."

Aahan frowned slightly.

"But doctor... four years tak kuch nahi hua. Aur sirf pandrah din mein... how is that even possible?"

Dr. Mehra sighed thoughtfully.

"Well, healing isn't always linear. Sometimes it's not medicine—it's presence. Familiar emotions, familiar triggers."

He paused.

"I'll need to check on him properly."

Arushi immediately said,

"Hum log Delhi paanch din baad aayenge... but if you say, we can come back earlier."

The doctor shook his head.

"No, no need to rush. Five days is fine. In fact, this environment seems good for him."

He smiled reassuringly.

"You both don't worry. This is a very positive sign. Aryan is returning to himself."

The call ended.

Aahan and Arushi looked at each other.

Hope flickered quietly between them.

And they know the reason behind his healing.

Jhanvi's POV:

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

But my mind wouldn't stop replaying that moment.

My slip.

Those arms.

That voice.

Ek baar kho diya hai tumhe... dobara nahi kho sakta.

My heart thudded painfully against my ribs.

Why did it feel so... familiar?

Not just comforting.

Not just safe.

But known.

As if some part of me had lived that moment before.

My fingers curled into the bedsheet.

I like him.

The thought came uninvited—clear, terrifying.

No.

Correction.

I do like him.

But at that moment... it wasn't just liking.

It was something deeper. He felt like—

A knock on the door jolted me back.

"Jhanvi?" Arushi's voice.

I stood up quickly.

"Haan?"

She peeked in, smiling gently.

"Bags ready kar lo. Thodi der mein check-out karenge."

I nodded.

"Okay."

As she left, I shook my head hard, as if I could shake those feelings out too.

Focus, Jhanvi. Don't think. Don't feel.

I started packing mechanically, folding clothes, zipping bags—anything to keep my hands busy.

Anything to silence my heart.

Author's POV — Aryan's Room

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

Aryan stood near the window, sunlight falling across his face. His toy lay untouched on the bed behind him.

For the first time... it wasn't in his hands.

He rolled up his sleeves slowly, deliberately—an old habit returning without effort.

His reflection in the glass stared back at him.

Not broken.

Not lost.

Just... tired.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

"Anjali," he whispered.

The name didn't hurt the way it used to.

It ached.

Because the truth was—

He had begun healing the very first day he saw her.

The first time she walked into his life again—with a different name, a different face, and no memory of him.

He healed quietly.

Slowly.

Without letting anyone know.

Because what could he possibly do?

Tell her—

You're not Jhanvi. You're my wife.

You loved me.

We had a life. A child.

No.

He couldn't rip her reality apart just to ease his pain.

So he chose silence.

He chose to watch his own wife fall in love with life again—without him.

To hear her laugh without remembering who once made her laugh.

To see her smile... and know it wasn't his anymore.

Loving someone who doesn't remember loving you—

That was the cruelest kind of healing.

Aryan pressed his forehead against the glass, eyes shut.

"I'm here," he whispered, voice breaking.

"Jab tak tum khud yaad na kar lo... main yahin rahunga."

Outside, the mountains stood still.

And inside that room—

A man stood whole again...

While his wife lived on, unaware that the man she was slowly falling for—

Had already been hers once.

Some time later, 

the hotel lobby buzzed with the quiet chaos of check-out.

Suitcases rolled across marble floors, receipts were signed, keys returned. 

Aahan handled the formalities while Arushi stood near the exit, giving instructions to the staff.

Jhanvi adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, trying not to think.

Trying—and failing.

Aryan stood a few steps away, calm, silent. His gaze never lingered too long on her, yet somehow she felt him everywhere... like a presence that didn't need eyes to be felt.

Soon, they stepped outside.

The car was waiting.

Aahan opened the back door.

"Jhanvi, Aryan bhai—peeche baith jao."

Jhanvi nodded and slid in first, moving closer to the window. A second later, Aryan got in beside 

her. The door shut with a soft thud.

The engine started.

The car began to move.

Silence settled between them—heavy, loaded.

Aryan's fingers curled slowly on his lap.

This... this was the moment.

He could feel it.

If he stayed like this—like himself—everything would change. Questions would rise. Eyes would 

sharpen. And she—

She wasn't ready.

So he did the only thing that kept her safe.

He slipped back.

Aryan let his shoulders slump slightly. His gaze softened, unfocused. His fingers reached out and 

curled around the familiar toy, pulling it close to his chest.

Aahan glanced at them through the rear-view mirror.

Aryan tilted his head a little, voice quieter, gentler—childlike again.

"Hum... ghar jaa rahe hain?"

Jhanvi's heart twisted.

She turned to look at him.

There he was.

Not the man from the cliff.

Not the voice that had said he wouldn't lose her again.

But this Aryan.

She forced a small smile.

"Haan... ghar jaa rahe hain."

He nodded, satisfied, leaning slightly toward the window.

Arushi's shoulders relaxed in the front seat.

Aahan exhaled slowly.

They didn't notice the way Aryan's jaw tightened for just a second.

Or the way his grip on the toy hurt his own palm.

Jhanvi's POV :

Why do I feel... disappointed?

The thought startled me.

I stole a glance at him.

He was staring outside, red cheeks pressed lightly against the glass, toy clutched like it was his anchor.

This is who he is, Jhanvi.

I reminded myself firmly.

This is his condition.

Still...

My chest felt weirdly heavy.

The man from the morning—the one who held me, who spoke like he knew me—felt like a 

dream now.

Maybe I imagined it.

Maybe I wanted to.

I looked away, pressing my forehead to the window.

The mountains blurred past.

Author's POV —

 Acting had never been this painful.

Every time he softened his voice.

Every time he pretended confusion.

Every time he hid the man he had become again—

It felt like he was losing her all over.

But this was the only way.

If he stayed healed—

Someone would tell her.

Or worse, she would find out too soon.

And if she found out before her heart was ready...

She would break.

So Aryan chose to break instead.

Again.

Silently.

Beside him, Jhanvi shifted slightly, her arm brushing his.

His breath hitched—but he didn't move.

Didn't look.

Didn't reach.