Ayaan pov...
A Few Days Later.....
As soon as the flight landed, I couldn't stop myself from stepping out quickly. The moment the seatbelt sign turned off, I grabbed my bag and made my way toward the exit. My heart was racing—not because of the journey, but because of what waited for me on the other side.
I hurried through the airport, barely paying attention to the people around me. The only thought in my mind was her.
As I reached the exit, I spotted a black car already waiting for me. Without wasting a second, I walked over and got in. The driver nodded at me and started the engine. The car smoothly merged onto the road, heading toward the city.
I leaned back against the seat, but my mind refused to rest. I turned to look out of the window. The city lights blurred as we sped past them, but I wasn't seeing any of it. My thoughts were filled with her—Rhea.
A small smile crept onto my lips. Just a few more minutes, and I would finally see her again.
I glanced beside me at the bag resting on the seat. I had spent hours preparing it—choosing every item carefully, making sure it was perfect. Inside were all the things she might need for her pregnancy. Books about prenatal care, soft maternity clothes, healthy snacks, supplements, and even a small teddy bear for the baby.
I had spent nights reading articles, watching videos, and researching every little detail about pregnancy. What she should eat, how she should rest, the changes she might go through—I wanted to be prepared for everything.
I imagined her reaction when she saw these things. Would she be surprised? Would she laugh at my efforts? Or maybe… she would tear up, realizing how much I cared?
I couldn't wait to see her expression.
The car moved swiftly through the familiar streets, bringing me closer to her. My fingers tapped impatiently on my knee.
Just a little more… and I would be with her again.
The car rolled to a stop in front of her apartment building, and before the driver could say a word, I pushed the door open and stepped out in a hurry. My heart pounded violently against my ribcage, the anticipation clawing at my chest. I barely acknowledged my surroundings as I grabbed the bag beside me and strode toward the entrance, my hands tightening around the straps.
The moment I stepped inside, my eyes darted toward the elevator. I could take it, but waiting for it to arrive, then slowly making its way up floor by floor, felt unbearable. I couldn't waste another second. My impatience got the better of me, and I turned toward the staircase instead.
With each step I climbed, the pounding in my chest intensified. It wasn't just exhaustion—it was the desperation, the longing, the sheer need to see her again. Every muscle in my body felt wired, like I had been holding my breath for days, and now, I was just moments away from relief.
By the time I reached her floor, my legs ached, but I didn't care. My heartbeat was erratic, my fingers twitching with nerves. Standing in front of her door, I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm me. My palms were slightly damp, my throat dry.
I lifted my hand, hesitating for a brief moment before pushing the door open slowly. As soon as I stepped inside, my gaze instantly found her.
She was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone, completely lost in whatever was on the screen. The soft glow illuminated her delicate features—the slight furrow in her brows, the way her lips parted slightly in concentration, the loose strands of hair cascading over her shoulder.
My feet stayed frozen at the doorstep as I took her in. She looked the same, yet something about her felt different—maybe it was the way she was curled up so casually, or the way her free hand absentmindedly rested against her stomach.
I had spent countless nights picturing this moment, imagining how it would feel to see her again. But now, standing here, nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming rush of emotions crashing over me.
She was right there. So close, yet completely unaware of my presence.
And in that moment, all I wanted was for her to look up and finally see me.
As soon as she looked up at me, her eyes widened in shock. She stood up from the couch, her body going rigid as if she had seen a ghost.
A slow chuckle escaped my lips as I stepped toward her, my heart pounding with excitement. Without giving her a chance to react, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
She didn't move. Her body remained stiff against mine, her hands hanging by her sides. She didn't hug me back.
I felt it—something was off. But I ignored the unsettling feeling creeping into my chest. I had missed her too much to care.
I held her tighter, closing my eyes as I inhaled the faint scent of her perfume, a scent I had longed for during the days we had been apart.
After a moment, I pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. "Hey?" I waved a hand in front of her face, trying to get her attention.
She blinked rapidly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
"What's wrong, Rhea?" My voice was soft, concerned.
Her expression shifted, and in the blink of an eye, she forced a smile—one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Nothing," she said, shaking her head.
Then, as if suddenly realizing her lack of response earlier, she wrapped her arms around me, hugging me back.
I chuckled, the warmth of her embrace settling something in my chest. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Maybe she had just been surprised to see me.
I pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a second before pulling away.
Guiding her back to the couch, I gently held her shoulders and made her sit down. Taking a seat beside her, I reached for her hands, holding them firmly between mine.
"How are you?" I asked, my thumb brushing over her skin.
She hesitated for half a second before smiling. "I'm good."
I let out a breath of relief. "And the baby?"
The moment I mentioned the baby, her body tensed.
It was quick—just a fraction of a second—but I noticed.
Still, she nodded, her movements stiff and unnatural. "Good," she said, avoiding my gaze.
Something about her response didn't sit right with me. My mind screamed at me to question her, to press for more details. But before I could, I leaned in, my hand moving to cup her cheek.
I wanted to kiss her. To remind her that no matter what, I was here.
But just as my lips were about to touch hers, her phone rang.
She immediately pulled away, putting distance between us. "I'll just get that," she muttered before standing up and heading toward her bedroom.
I exhaled slowly, raking a hand through my hair.
She had been acting strange.
Brushing off the uneasy feeling, I got up and followed her. I didn't want to be apart from her, not even for a minute.
When I reached the doorway of her bedroom, she was already on the phone, speaking in a hushed tone near the window.
I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but something about the way she spoke made me pause.
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
It lacked the warmth, the excitement I had expected when she saw me.
Pushing the thought aside, I let my gaze wander around her room.
The bed was neatly made, the pillows arranged perfectly. A half-empty glass of water sat on the bedside table, and her perfume bottle rested beside it. Everything seemed normal.
I sighed, pulling my phone out of my pocket, planning to set it on the nearby table. But as I leaned forward, my eyes landed on a stack of papers sitting on the dresser.
Hospital reports.
A smile broke across my face.
She must have gone for a check-up. Maybe it had details about the baby's health. Maybe she had been nervous to tell me something good.
Excitement bubbled in my chest as I reached for the file, eager to read it.
But the moment my eyes landed on the bold letters at the top, my entire world stopped.
ABORTION.
The word screamed at me.
My breath hitched. My fingers trembled.
No.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I scanned the document again, desperately hoping I had read it wrong. That my mind was playing tricks on me.
But there it was, in black and white.
She had aborted our child.
My stomach twisted painfully. A suffocating weight settled in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I gripped the paper tighter, my knuckles turning white.
Why?
Why would she do this?
My vision blurred, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Did she even plan to tell me? Was she just going to keep pretending?
The blood in my veins turned ice cold as realization sank in.
She had lied.
All those moments when she smiled at me, when she nodded at my questions about the baby—every single one of them was a lie.
The sound of her laughter from the other end of the room made something snap inside me.
I clenched my jaw, my entire body trembling with a mixture of heartbreak and fury.
She had killed our baby.
And she had been lying to my face.
I turned around slowly, the paper still clutched in my shaking hands.
"Rhea."
Her name barely came out as a whisper.
She paused mid-conversation, turning to look at me. Her face remained unreadable, but for a split second, I saw something flicker in her eyes.
Fear.
I held up the report, my voice hoarse with pain.
"What the hell is this?"
Her body stiffened. For a split second, I saw it—the flicker of fear in her eyes. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by something else. Indifference.
She sighed and ended the call, slipping her phone into her pocket. Then, as if she was merely tired of a long conversation, she walked past me and sat on the edge of the bed. Her movements were calm, calculated, as if nothing had happened—as if the file in my hands was meaningless.
"You're not supposed to go through my things," she said simply, crossing her legs.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips, sharp and cold. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "Are you serious right now? You're acting like this is nothing!" I gestured toward the report in my hands, my voice rising despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
She exhaled slowly, finally looking up at me, her expression unreadable. "It was my decision and my body."
I clenched my jaw, trying to control the storm inside me. "I respect that it's your body," I said, my voice low, measured. "But we were in this together, Rhea. You didn't make this baby alone."
She scoffed, tilting her head. "Together?" A humorless chuckle left her lips. "That's funny. Because as far as I remember, it was me who had to carry it. Me who had to deal with everything. So no, this was never 'together.'"
I stared at her, my hands shaking as I gripped the file. "So what was I then? Just some outsider? A stranger who had no right to know?"
Her gaze didn't waver. "It wouldn't have changed anything. Telling you would've just made it harder. You would've tried to stop me."
"Damn right, I would've!" I snapped, stepping closer. "Because that was my baby too, Rhea! And you just—" My breath hitched, my throat tightening as I forced the words out. "You just erased it. Like it meant nothing."
She rolled her eyes, her tone flat. "It meant nothing to me."
Silence. Heavy, suffocating silence.
I felt my heart crack, the pain seeping into my bones, into my soul.
"You're lying," I whispered. "You have to be lying."
She held my gaze for a long moment before sighing. "Believe what you want." She stood up, brushing past me as if this conversation wasn't ripping me apart. "I need to shower."
And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me standing there, holding the remnants of something I had foolishly believed in.
FLASHBACK ENDS
A single tear slipped down my cheek. I didn't bother to wipe it away. What was the point? I loved her. More than anything. But she never trusted me enough to tell me the truth.
If she had just said something—if she had told me she wasn't ready, that she wanted to focus on her career, that she simply didn't want the baby—I would have understood. I would have taken her to the hospital myself, stayed by her side, held her hand through it all. Even if she didn't want the child, I would have been there. I would have taken care of her.
But she chose to do it alone.
And now, my baby was gone.
A hollow emptiness settled in my chest as I sat there, lost in my thoughts, replaying every moment, every word. I felt like I was sinking, drowning in the weight of it all.
It's been a year since all of these happened. I can't forget any of this. They were one of the most dreadful moment of my life.
Then, my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I blinked, my vision blurry, and pulled the phone from my pocket. Dad.
I hesitated. I wasn't ready to talk to anyone, let alone him. But ignoring his call would be disrespectful. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the phone to my ear.
"Ayaan, where are you, son?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying concern.
"I had some work to look after," I replied, my voice dull, empty.
Silence. A heavy pause from his side.
"Come home soon. They must be here anytime."
I frowned slightly, running my hand through the sand beneath me, absentmindedly drawing random patterns.
"Okay," I murmured before ending the call.
Letting out a slow sigh, I pushed myself up from the ground. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I dusted off my clothes and walked towards my car.
As I moved towards my car, a strange sound reached my ears—a faint, almost desperate cry. A baby crying.
I stopped in my tracks, my brows knitting together. Maybe I was imagining it. Maybe it was just the wind playing tricks on me.
But then, the cry came again, louder this time, more urgent.
Something in my chest tightened. I could have ignored it, walked away, pretended I didn't hear it. But my feet had a mind of their own. Before I knew it, I was following the sound, my heart pounding for reasons I didn't understand.
The cries led me to a large tree. There, beneath its shadow, was a basket.
A basket.
My stomach twisted. No. It couldn't be.
I took a cautious step closer, my breath hitching. The sound was coming from inside.
For a moment, I hesitated. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe someone had just left something there, and I was overthinking.
But the cries continued. Weak, desperate.
I couldn't ignore it.
Kneeling down, I reached for the cloth covering the basket, my fingers trembling slightly. With one deep breath, I pulled it back.
And there she was.
A tiny, fragile baby, barely a few days old. Her face scrunched up as she cried, her little hands flailing in the air.
My heart skipped a beat.
What the hell was happening?
Who left her here?
I frantically looked around, searching for someone—anyone. But there was no one. Just silence. Just me and this abandoned child.
The baby's cries grew louder, slicing through the stillness of the night.
My chest tightened painfully.
Gathering my courage, I slowly extended my hand toward her, my fingers brushing against her soft, damp cheek.
And just like that, she stopped crying.
The air around me felt heavier. The lump in my throat grew bigger.
Without thinking, I reached into the basket and carefully lifted her into my arms.
She was so small. So delicate.
Tears blurred my vision as I gazed down at her.
A single tear slipped from my eye, landing on her cheek.
Before I could even process the overwhelming wave of emotions, another droplet fell.
But this time, it wasn't just my tear.
I looked up.
And the sky broke open.
Rain poured down in heavy sheets, drenching me within seconds.
Clutching the baby tightly to my chest, shielding her from the cold, I stood up.
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
I ran.
Through the rain, through the empty street, my mind blank except for one thought—I had to protect her.
Reaching my car, I fumbled to open the door, quickly settling into the driver's seat. The baby stirred in my arms, letting out a soft whimper, but she didn't cry again.
I wrapped her in my jacket, holding her close, my heart still racing.
Taking a shaky breath, I looked down at the tiny life in my arms.
Who was she?
And why was she left here… alone?