Author's POV:

As they both stepped out of the plane, the first thing Anjali saw was the airport staff lined up, holding a massive banner that read: 

"WELCOME BACK, MRS. TANEJA." It wasn't just a sign; it was an acknowledgment that her identity had been restored to the world. Anjali tightened her grip around Aryan's neck, her heart swelling as she looked at him with teary eyes.

Aryan gazed back at her with a soft, triumphant smirk. 

"Ye toh kuch nahi hai, Jaan... aage aage dekho."

As they began to walk the path laid out for them, the staff started showering flower petals with every step they took. 

Suddenly, the roar of a helicopter overhead drew Anjali's gaze upward.

From the sky, a literal rain of rose petals began to descend, swirling around them in a crimson whirlwind. 

Anjali closed her eyes for a moment, letting the soft, fragrant petals brush against her face. When she opened them, she reached up to caress Aryan's cheek.

"It's beautiful, Aryan..." she whispered, breathless.

"Meri biwi se zyada nahi," he replied, leaning down to leave a lingering, sacred peck on her forehead.

He led her to the waiting car—a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the airport lights. 

Aryan gently placed her inside, ensuring her saree was tucked in and she was comfortable before hurrying to the other side.

As the drive started, Anjali leaned her head against the window, watching the city of Delhi go by. Everywhere she looked, there were diyas, lights, and banners. '

Her heart warmed; it didn't feel like a homecoming—it felt like a festival dedicated to her survival.

But as the car finally turned into the familiar, tree-lined lane leading to the Taneja Mansion, the festive joy was replaced by a sharp, stabbing ache in her chest. 

Her heart felt like it would rip apart.

Anjali's POV:

The gates of the mansion loomed ahead, and suddenly, the air inside the car felt too thin.

 Every meter we traveled closer to the porch felt like a mile traveled through my own memories.

I looked out at the garden, at the swing where I used to sit, at the windows of our room

and then my gaze fell on the front steps.

My breath hitched.

There she was. A tiny, delicate figure standing between Aahan and Arushi. Advika.

A wave of agonizing guilt crashed over me, so heavy I could barely stay upright.

I stared at her through the glass, my vision blurring with hot, stinging tears.

 My baby. I missed it. I missed all of it.

I missed the way she must have looked when she took her very first steps without me holding her hand.

I missed the sound of her first words—did she call out for 'Mumma' only to find silence? 

I missed the way her face changed as she lost her baby fat, the way her hair grew longer,

the way her eyes must have searched the door every evening for a mother who never came.

Four years. 1,461 days of her life that I can never get back. 

I wasn't there to kiss her scraped knees.

I wasn't there to sing her to sleep when she had a nightmare. 

I wasn't there to see her grow from a toddler into this little girl who now looked at the car with such haunting, hesitant hope.

The most precious moments of motherhood the ones you can't record or replay 

had been stolen from me.

I felt like a thief in my own life. I felt the weight of the time Dev Singhania had ripped away, 

and for a second, the anger was so sharp it choked me.

The car came to a complete stop.

Aryan reached over, sensing the tremors in my body. He took my hand, his grip firm and grounding.

 "Anjali? Look at me."

I turned to him, my face drenched in tears. 

"Aryan... she's so big. I missed her childhood. I missed everything."

"No," Aryan whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against mine. 

"You didn't miss her. You were always in her heart. And from this second on, you will never miss another breath she takes. Go to her, Jaan. She's been waiting for four years to see those eyes look at her."

Aryan stepped out and opened my door. As he helped me out, the scent of the house hit me—home. 

I stood on the driveway, the red silk of my saree fluttering, and our eyes finally met.

Advika took one small, trembling step forward. 

She looked at me, then at the photo she was holding in her mind, and then back at me.

"Mumma?" she whispered.

The sound of that one word shattered the last of my heart's defenses. 

I didn't care about the pain in my side or the weakness in my legs. I sank to my knees right there on the gravel, opening my arms wide.

"Adu... mera baccha...mumma ke pass aao."

Pov End

Advika didn't just walk; she exploded into a run. 

Her tiny feet clicked against the stone as she sprinted, a small white blur of pure, unfiltered longing. She collided with Anjali's chest so hard that they both swayed back. 

Anjali pulled her in, burying her face in the crook of the child's neck, breathing in the scent of baby powder and home.

The silence of the mansion was broken only by the sound of raw, gut-wrenching sobs. 

Anjali held her so tight, as if she were trying to fuse their bodies back into one, to make up for every second she wasn't there to protect her.

"Mumma... aap kahan chale gaye the?" Advika cried, her tiny hands clutching the silk of Anjali's saree. 

"Maine itna dhundha... maine chachu se roz pucha... aap gussa the kya Adu se?"

"Nahi... nahi meri jaan," Anjali choked out, her tears soaking into Advika's hair. 

"Mumma apni adu se bhala kyu gussa hongi hmm..Mumma rasta bhool gayi thi... par ab Mumma kabhi nahi jayegi. Kabhi nahi."

Advika pulled back just an inch, her small, chubby hands reaching up to Anjali's face.

 With a heartbreakingly tender gesture, she used her tiny thumbs to wipe the tears from Anjali's cheeks, her own eyes still swimming in salt water.

"Ab rona nahi Mumma," Advika whispered, her bottom lip trembling.

"Pata hai... school mein sab poochte the ki meli Mumma kahan hai. Jab annual function hota tha, sab apni Mumma ke saath aate the... main kone mein baith ke unhe dekhti thi. Sab bolte the ki meri Mumma star ban gayi hain aur wo aasmaan se mujhe dekh rahi hain..mai bawan ji se kahti thi ki meli mumma ko mujhe dedo mai aachi bachi banugi aur detho bawan jine meli wish puli kaldi"

She took a shaky breath and a tiny, proud smile flickered through her tears.

"Ab mai bhi apne doston ko batungi ki mele (mere) pass bhi Mumma hai. Sabko dikhaungi ki meli Mumma sabse sundar hain... aur ab woh star nahi, mele paas wapas aa gayi hain.Kal aap mele saath school chalode (chaloge) na? Sabko dikhana hai"
The words felt like a knife and a healing balm all at once.

 Anjali let out a broken cry, pulling Advika back into her embrace, her forehead resting against the child's shoulder.

Aryan, who had been standing a few feet away, finally let his own strength crumble.

 He dropped to his knees beside them, wrapping his massive arms around both his world and his soul.