Author's POV:

The sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of Aryan's room, but it brought no warmth, only a harsh reminder that a new day had begun—a day he wished would never arrive. 

Aryan was still sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, his eyes hollow and fixed on the far wall.

The same questions played on a loop in his mind: Did he do the right thing by leaving? Or did he just abandon the woman who was the center of his universe? He didn't know anymore.

 The line between sacrifice and cowardice had blurred into a gray mist of pain.

His trance was broken by a soft groan. 

Advika was waking up, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her tiny fists. 

"Papa?" she whispered, her voice small and searching.

Aryan immediately wiped his face and stood up, pushing his grief into a dark corner of his heart.

 He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his lap, caressing her hair with a trembling hand. 

"Good morning, baccha," he murmured.

Advika snuggled into his chest, seeking the comfort only he could provide.

 "Good morning, Papa," she mumbled against his shirt. 

They stayed like that for a long time, two broken pieces of a family trying to hold each other together.

Finally, Aryan broke the hug, forcing a gentle smile.

 "Chalo, ab utho. Go brush your teeth, hmm? Papa chachu ke saath neeche hain. Jaldi aana."

Advika nodded obediently. Before hopping off the bed, she turned toward the side table.

 She leaned over and gave a sweet flying kiss to the picture frame of Anjali.

 "Good morning, Mumma!" she chirped.

Aryan watched his daughter, his heart clenching so hard it felt like it would bleed. 

He thought about how Advika lived on hope and innocence, while he was drowning in reality.

 How am I supposed to tell her that the woman she just kissed good morning is going to  belong to someone else? How do I tell her that her 'Mumma' doesn't even know we exist?

He stood up, his joints stiff from the cold floor, and walked toward the door.

 Every step felt like he was walking through lead. He had promised to return to work, to be the "Old Aryan," but as he looked back at the empty bed, 

he realized that without Anjali, he was just a ghost haunting a very expensive house.

After sometime;

Aryan walked downstairs, the heavy silence of the house broken only by the clinking of utensils.

 In the dining room, his mother and Arushi were busy setting the table for breakfast, their movements mechanical and somber.

The moment his mother spotted him, she froze. She walked toward him with a shaky, sad smile, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

She reached up, her warm hand caressing his cheek with a tenderness he hadn't felt in years.

"Pichle chaar saal se tune apni maa ko bahut sataya hai," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. 

She remembered the nights he spent staring at walls, the days he refused to eat, and the way he had become a ghost in his own home.

Seeing him dressed for work, standing tall again, felt like a miracle she had prayed for every single day.

She pulled him into a tight, maternal hug, burying her face in his shoulder. 

After a long moment, she pulled back, her expression shifting to one of soft reproach.

"Par ek baat se main gussa hoon... bina meri bahu ke waapas aa gaya?"

Aryan's gaze dropped to the floor. The mention of Anjali was like a fresh wound. 

He looked into his mother's eyes for a heartbeat before turning his head away, his voice low and strained.

"Main jaanta hoon main aap sabki nazar mein bahut coward lag raha honga," he said, his fingers clenching into a fist at his side.

"Par har baar pyaar zor-zabardasti se waapas nahi laya jata, Maa. Mohabbat ka matlab kisi ko qaid karna nahi hota. Agar uska dil mujhe nahi pehchanta, toh main uske dimaag par bojh ban kar nahi reh sakta."

He took a deep breath, looking out the dining room window toward the gray Delhi sky.

His mother watched him, her heart breaking for her son. 

She knew he wasn't being a coward; he was being a lover who was willing to let go of his own soul just to keep her safe.

"Kismat ne humein ek mauka diya tha," Aryan continued, his voice a jagged whisper.

"Par shayad meri mohabbat mein hi koi kami reh gayi hogi. Ab main wahi karunga jo mujhe karna chahiye—apni beti ka baap banunga aur apni zimmedariyan nibhaunga. Anjali ab mere liye sirf ek khubsoorat khwaab hai... jo subah hote hi toot gaya."

Arushi and Aahan exchanged a worried glance. 

They knew Aryan was trying to convince himself, but the way his voice trembled told a different story.

The "cowardice" he spoke of was actually the highest form of sacrifice.

The heavy silence of the dining room was shattered by the sharp chime of the doorbell.

 When the servant opened the door, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. 

Tanishka stood there, her silhouette framed against the morning light.

The moment Arushi saw her, her eyes flared with a deep-seated rage. 

She marched toward the door, her voice trembling with fury. 

"Is ghar mein dobara kadam rakhne ki tumhari himmat kaise hui? Haven't you done enough damage?"

Tanishka didn't flinch, though her face was etched with a profound sense of guilt. 

"Arushi, please... main bas kuch baat karne aayi hoon."

"Yahan kisi ko tumse koi baat nahi karni! Nikal jao yahan se!" Arushi hissed, grabbing Tanishka's forearm to drag her back toward the exit.

Tanishka struggled against her grip, her eyes fixed desperately on Aryan, who remained frozen by the table.

 "Main Anjali ke baare mein baat karne aayi hoon!"

The name acted like a physical barrier. Arushi stopped in her tracks. The entire room went still. Aryan slowly turned, his gaze cutting through the air like a cold blade.

 Tanishka freed herself from Arushi's loosened grip and walked straight toward him. She scanned him from head to toe, her voice softening.

"Tum... tum theek ho gaye?"

Aryan's face was a mask of ice. "Kyun? Khush nahi ho?"

Tanishka shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. 

"Main bahut khush hoon, Aryan. Par main yahan apne liye nahi aayi hoon. 

Maine Anjali ko dekha... woh zinda hai."

"Main jaanta hoon," Aryan replied flatly, his voice devoid of surprise.

Tanishka recoiled as if she'd been slapped. 

"T-Tum jaante ho? T-tum jante ho... Agar tumhe pata hai toh tum yahan kya kar rahe ho? Tum uske paas kyun nahi ho? How can you be standing here in Delhi when she is there?"

"Kyunki use main yaad nahi hoon," Aryan said, the words sounding like a death sentence.

Tanishka paused, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place. 

She remembered the empty, confused look in Jhanvi's eyes at the party—the way she had looked at Tanishka as if she were a total stranger.

"Toh bas? Itna hi tha tumhara pyaar?" Tanishka's voice rose, turning sharp and accusing. 

"Wahi Aryan ho na tum jo kehta tha ki Anjali tumhari saans hai? Aaj jab use tumhari sabse zyada zaroorat hai, toh tum yahan haar maan kar baith gaye?"

"Haar nahi maani maine," Aryan snapped, his composure finally cracking. 

"Main use takleef nahi dena chahta. Use nahi yaad ki main kaun hoon!"

"Toh yaad dilao!" Tanishka stepped into his personal space, her eyes blazing. 

"Aryan, mohabbat sirf tab tak nahi hoti jab tak sab kuch sahi chale. Mohabbat ka imtehaan tab hota hai jab saamne wala tumhe bhool jaye par tumhara dil use pehchanne se inkaar na kare. Tum wahi Aryan ho na jo Anjali ke liye puri duniya se lad gaya tha? Aaj apni hi himmat se haar gaye?"

She gestured wildly with her hands, her voice laced with a raw intensity.

"Maine uski aankhon mein dekha, Aryan. Woh kho gayi hai. Woh ek aise raste par khadi hai jahan use pata hi nahi ki uska ghar kahan hai. Aur tum? Tumne use wahan akela chhod diya taaki koi aur uska hath pakad kar use galat raaste par le jaye? Agar use yaad nahi, toh kya tumhari saari yaadein bhi mitti ho gayi? Kya Advika ka chehra dekh kar bhi tumhe sharam nahi aati ki uski maa ek zinda laash bani ghum rahi hai aur uska baap coward ban kar office sambhalne ki baatein kar raha hai?"

Aryan stood there, his chest heaving, his mother and Arushi watching him with bated breath.

 Tanishka's words were like salt in his open wounds, burning away the justification he had built for leaving.

"Zor-zabardasti nahi chahiye use," Tanishka whispered, her voice cracking. 

"Use sirf apne Aryan ki zaroorat hai. Bhale hi uska dimaag bhool gaya ho, par uska dil aaj bhi tumhe pukar raha hoga. Tumne char saal uske lautne ka intezar kiya...

 aur jab woh mil gayi, toh tumne hath chhod diya? Isse badi galti tum apni puri zindagi mein nahi karoge, Aryan. Agar aaj tum nahi gaye, toh tum sirf Anjali ko nahi khonoge... tum apne aap ko bhi hamesha ke liye kho doge."

Aryan was still reeling from Tanishka's accusations when his phone vibrated in his hand. He looked down at the unknown number,

 his brow furrowing in confusion. He pressed the phone to his ear with a cold, professional

 "Hello."

The voice on the other end was frantic, whispering in hushed, terrified tones. Aryan's face went from pale to ghostly white in a matter of seconds. His grip on the phone tightened until his

 knuckles turned white, and his eyes ignited with a fire that had been missing for four long years.

"MAI AA RAHA HOON!" he roared into the receiver, the sound echoing through the dining room like a thunderclap.

While the sun rose over the Ganges, Jhanvi lay in her bed, trapped in her sleep.

Her head thrashed against the pillow, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

In the darkness of her mind, the thick, gray fog that had clouded her soul for four years finally began to thin.

The blurred edges of the world were sharpening into focus.

She saw the car again—the bright headlights, the screech of metal. But this time, she didn't close her eyes.

She saw herself laughing in the passenger seat. She felt the warmth of a man's hand on hers, his thumb tracing the same patterns on her skin that she felt in her soul.

The man turned his head.

The silhouette vanished. The shadows melted away.

 The face that had been a blurred smudge for forty-eight months finally became crystal clear.

The sharp jawline, the intense, soulful eyes, the way his lips moved when he called her name. 

It was the man from the cafe. The man who had looked at her with such agonizing pain.

"Aryan..." she whispered in her sleep.

The memories hit her like a tidal wave, breaking the dam she had lived behind. 

She saw their wedding—not this forced nightmare with Dev, but a real one filled with flowers and laughter.

She saw the birth of Advika. She felt the weight of her daughter in her arms. 

She remembered the secret poetry, and the way he used to kiss her forehead to make the world go away.

She wasn't Jhanvi Bisht. She was Anjali Taneja.

Her eyes snapped open. She sat up in bed, her chest heaving, the realization hitting her with the force of a physical blow.

 The room felt alien. The red bridal dress hanging on the wardrobe looked like a blood-stained shroud.

"Aryan..." she choked out, her voice raw.