FLASHBACK — INT. SAFEHOUSE LIVING ROOM – EVENING (4 years 6 MONTHS AGO)
Ahaan sits on the couch, his sling finally gone. He's healing — physically.
In front of him: a small cake.
The TV flickers. A candle flickers beside it.
It's his birthday.
And the room is… silent.
He checks his phone.
Still no message from Mahi.
He knows she's in Geneva — leading a trauma surgery team for a diplomatic medical exchange. She left just five days ago.
He looks at the time: 11:47 PM.
Still nothing.
A gentle knock.
Mishri walks in, holding a second cup of coffee.
MISHRI:
"Can't sleep?"
AHAAN (nods):
"She's probably busy. Different time zone."
Mishri sits down beside him. Watches him quietly.
MISHRI (softly):
"I know she loves you."
Ahaan gives her a side glance — suspicious.
AHAAN:
"What are you doing?"
MISHRI (calm):
"Just talking."
She leans back, coffee in hand.
MISHRI:
"Love is… strange, isn't it?
You give someone your whole heart.
And still… feel like a stranger on your birthday."
Ahaan looks down.
He won't admit it — but that stung.
AHAAN (quiet):
"She's saving lives, Mishri.
She said she'd try to call."
MISHRI (nods, gentle smile):
"Of course. She always says she'll try."
Ahaan doesn't reply.
MISHRI:
"Sometimes I wonder…
how love survives when people forget the little things."
Beat.
MISHRI (soft, dangerous):
"You never forgot mine."
He freezes slightly. Looks at her.
AHAAN (firm):
"Mahi isn't like that."
MISHRI:
"No… she's not.
She's good. Smart. Fierce."
(beat)
MISHRI:
"But people change when they fly too far from you.
Sometimes they don't even know they're slipping away…
until they already have."
Ahaan's phone buzzes.
He checks it — a notification.
> MAHI: "Happy Birthday, my love. I'm so sorry. Emergency surgery lasted 17 hours straight. Video call tomorrow, promise. I love you."
He softens.
But Mishri watches his expression. She knows it didn't hit the same.
MISHRI (low, almost to herself):
"…Tomorrow."
She gets up. Walks away.
MISHRI (without looking):
"Sometimes tomorrow never comes."