The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the lakeside in hues of deep orange and purple. The serenity of the surroundings contrasted sharply with the storm raging in Ruhi's heart. She stood by the edge of the water, staring into the rippling reflections, her thoughts consumed by the child she had lost. No matter how much time passed, the pain didn't lessen. The ache remained, a hollow space in her soul where her child's laughter should have been.
Abhira had been watching her sister from a distance, knowing Ruhi needed this moment to herself. She had brought Ruhi here, hoping the fresh air and beauty of the lake would ease her troubled heart, if only for a little while. "I'll be right there if you need me," Abhira had said gently before giving her sister some space.
Ruhi hugged herself tightly, her tears falling freely now, unrestrained. As she wrestled with the weight of her grief, a small voice cut through the air.
"Mumma! Mumma!"
Ruhi's head snapped up, her heart lurching painfully in her chest. She turned toward the sound and froze. Standing not far from her was a small child, no older than three. His tiny frame and wide, innocent eyes were like a vision from her memories. For a moment, she thought her heart had stopped beating.
"Merii bachaa..." she whispered, her voice trembling. Her legs moved on their own, carrying her closer to the child. She extended her arms, desperate to hold him, to feel him in her embrace.
But the child flinched and took a step back.
"No, don't go! Please!" Ruhi cried, her voice breaking.
The child turned and began running toward the road. Panic gripped Ruhi as she raced after him, her feet stumbling over the uneven ground.
"Stop! Please stop!" she screamed, her breath hitching as she saw the busy road ahead.
The child dashed into the middle of the road, and before Ruhi could reach him, he was gone. It was as though he had vanished into thin air.
"Merii betuuu!" she screamed, collapsing to her knees, her voice echoing in the stillness. Her body trembled violently, and her vision blurred. The sound of screeching brakes filled the air as a jeep came to an abrupt halt, just inches from where Ruhi had fallen.
A man jumped out of the vehicle, his heart pounding at the sight of the woman lying unconscious in the middle of the road. He rushed to her side, kneeling down and gently lifting her head onto his lap. "Wake up... please wake up," he murmured, his voice shaking.
As he gazed at her face, a strange feeling washed over him, one he couldn't explain. His chest tightened, and his eyes stung with unshed tears. Who was she? Why did it feel like her pain was his pain?
A moment later, Abhira came running toward them, her face pale and streaked with tears. "Didi! What happened to her?!" she cried, kneeling beside them.
The man looked up at her, and something about her struck him as familiar too. He couldn't place it, but there was a connection-a pull he couldn't ignore. "She fainted," he said softly. "We need to get her to the hospital right away."
Together, they lifted Ruhi into the jeep. The man drove with urgency, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. His heart raced, not just with worry for the unconscious woman but with confusion. Why did she feel so familiar? Why did seeing her like this hurt him so deeply?
At the hospital, the doctors assured them that Ruhi was stable and would wake up soon. The man stayed long enough to make sure she was all right, but as he stood by the door, he found himself reluctant to leave. He glanced at her one last time, his heart heavy with a mix of emotions he couldn't name.
"I... I should go," he said finally, stepping back.
"Thank you," Abhira said softly, her voice laced with gratitude.
The man nodded and left, but as he drove away, his thoughts were anything but calm. The image of Ruhi's pale face haunted him, as did the sound of Abhira's voice. Who were they? Why did he feel like he had known them his whole life?
Later that night, as he sat by the window of his quiet home, he couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity. He thought of Ruhi's tears, her broken cries, and the overwhelming urge he had felt to protect her. And then there was Abhira-the way her worried face had sparked something deep inside him, as though they were connected in a way he couldn't explain.
"Why did I feel like they were someone important to me?" he whispered to himself. His chest ached as his mind replayed the day's events. "Why did my eyes fill with tears when I saw her in that state?"
The questions gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. Somewhere deep inside, his heart whispered a truth he wasn't ready to hear-these women were not strangers. They were a part of him, tied to his soul in ways he had yet to uncover.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
