Six Months Later — Hillside Cottage, Evening
The city felt like another life.
Maybe it was.
Here, in the lush green silence of a hillside town far from the chaos, Dr. Mahi Shaikh was no longer a doctor. No longer haunted by gunshots or betrayal or tears she couldn't explain.
Here — she was just Mahi. A girl with flour on her cheeks and bandages in her past that only her body remembered.
Her mind?
It had forgotten almost everything.
Her name. Her work. Her scars.
Everything… except the man who stayed.
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INT. COTTAGE KITCHEN – 6:15 P.M.
"Why does it keep sticking to the spoon?" Mahi muttered in frustration, gripping the wooden spatula as she stared down at the stubborn cake batter.
Flour dusted the counter, her shirt, and the tip of her nose.
Saif, standing across the kitchen in a soft grey henley, folded his arms and tried — truly tried — not to laugh.
SAIF (grinning):
"Maybe because you keep adding milk like you're trying to drown it?"
MAHI:
"Excuse me, Mr. I-Can't-Boil-Tea? You're not exactly Gordon Ramsay either."
She tossed a small pinch of flour at him. He dodged it — barely.
MAHI (mock serious):
"You said you wanted chocolate cake. You never specified it wouldn't fight back."
SAIF:
"I didn't know cake could defy physics."
They both laughed, their voices echoing through the cozy two-room cottage. The kind of laugh that didn't come from a joke — but from comfort. From safety.
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INT. MAHI'S ROOM – 7:00 P.M.
After dinner (burnt cake, sweet tea, and laughter), Mahi sat by the window, looking out into the fading purple sky.
A notebook sat in her lap — her "Memory Journal," as Saif called it.
She flipped through the pages, filled with moments she was trying to record — not from memory, but from now.
"My favorite flower is jasmine."
"Saif hums when he cuts vegetables."
"I don't like the sound of helicopters."
She couldn't remember why that last one gave her a cold chill. Maybe she never would.
And yet… she didn't feel empty. Not here.
She looked at Saif, who walked into the room with two mugs of coffee.
MAHI (smiling faintly):
"I wrote down something new today."
SAIF (sitting beside her):
"Yeah? What is it?"
She flipped to the last page and read softly.
> "I think I used to be broken. But maybe I'm whole now, even if I don't remember how I got here."
Saif didn't speak right away.
He just looked at her.
So beautiful. So alive. So... at peace.
And yet, she didn't remember what they'd been through.
Didn't remember that he once loved her in silence.
Didn't remember that he almost lost her — twice.
MAHI (gently):
"Does it ever scare you?
That I'll wake up one day and remember everything?"
He looked into her eyes — eyes that once knew pain and fire, but now held quiet warmth.
SAIF (softly):
"Sometimes.
But even if you remember… I just hope you'll still smile like this."
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EXT. VERANDA – LATER THAT NIGHT
They sat together under the stars, wrapped in a blanket, sipping lukewarm coffee.
The sound of crickets echoed softly through the night. Wind brushed past them, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers and rain.
MAHI (gazing upward):
"It's strange… how peace feels new to me.
Like I've never known it before."
SAIF (watching her):
"Maybe you haven't."
She looked at him. Her head tilted slightly, a half smile on her lips.
MAHI:
"But I know you."
He blinked, caught off guard.
MAHI (softly):
"I don't remember anything… not my name, my past, my pain.
But I remember how I feel when I look at you."
SAIF:
"How do you feel?"
She leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as her hand found his gently.
MAHI (whispering):
"Safe."
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INT. SAIF'S MIND – SILENTLY
And in that moment, Saif didn't care about the past.
Didn't care that she once loved someone else.
Didn't care that he was a gangster trying to be good.
Didn't care that her memory might return tomorrow and take this all away.
He just knew that right now, this version of her — this Mahi — chose him.
And that, for now, was enough.
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