Chapter 21 (A): Khaare Raaste - Part 1

Maysha retreated into her room, the door clicking shut as she leaned against it, trying to steady her erratic breathing. The image of Maan in the room which he turned into a studio—the sweat, the raw power, the unrefined intensity—lingered behind her eyelids like a persistent fever.

She walked toward the side table to set down the ginger tea flask, but her movement stalled as she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror. She stopped, staring at the woman in the glass. Her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes wide with a confusion she hated to admit.

Slowly, she reached for the hem of her crop sweatshirt, pulling it up, and adjusted her sweatpants just enough to view her stomach.

At five weeks, it was still flat, the tiny lives inside no bigger than blueberries, but to her, everything felt different. She placed a hand over the cool skin and whispered into the silence, "I can't wait to see you grow."

The days bled into weeks, and the weeks into months. Every morning, Maysha found herself back at that mirror, a silent observer of her own transformation.

Second month

Third Month

Fourth Month

By the time the fourth month arrived, the change was undeniable. Because she was carrying twins on such a petite frame, her body had bloomed rapidly. The "blueberry" days were long gone; now, a firm, prominent bump rounded out her silhouette.She stood before the mirror once more, pulling up her sweatshirt to study the high, taut curve of her stomach. She traced the new contours of her body, marveling at the physical weight she was now carrying. The reflection no longer showed an actress or an influencer—it showed a mother.

*

At 3:00 AM the following night, the room was silent, save for a sound that resembled a rhythmic, metallic grinding. Maan sat bolt upright in bed, his hair disheveled, staring at the silhouette of Ayush on the opposite bed.

"Unbelievable," Maan whispered, grabbing a plastic clothes clip from the laundry basket near the door.

He crept toward Ayush’s bed like a silent predator. With surgical precision, he clamped the orange clip onto Ayush’s nose. The snoring stopped instantly, replaced by a confused, whistling silence. Maan smirked, finally laying back down.

Three minutes later, Ayush bolted upright, gasping for air as he ripped the clip off his face. He sat there for a second, disoriented, before the realization hit him. He marched over to Maan’s bed and shook his shoulder aggressively.

"Are you insane?" Ayush hissed. "You’re trying to suffocate me in the middle of the night?"

Maan didn't even open his eyes. "I wasn't suffocating you. I was saving my eardrums from bursting. You aren't snoring, Ayush—you’re operating heavy machinery in your sleep."

"It's been four months, Maan!" Ayush retorted, crossing his arms. "How were you tolerating it until now?"

"Four months ago, you were a soft hum," Maan said, finally sitting up and pointing a finger. "Now, you sound like a tractor with a broken engine. It’s too much!"

Ayush hesitated, his ego taking a slight hit because, deep down, he knew he was exhausted. "Fine... maybe it's louder tonight. I was at work all day yesterday, I had time to barely help Maysha with anything, and by the time I hit the bed, my body had just shut down. It's called deep rest."

Maan softened for a split second before his mischief returned. "Does Maysha know you snore like this? Did you do this during your cricket tours when you used to take her with you?"

"Yes," Ayush muttered. "During matches, the pressure was always like this.."

"Bechari (Poor) Maysha," Maan sighed dramatically. "Luckily, she’s sleeping in her own room during the pregnancy. But I pity her if she chooses you to be the 'lucky one' later. My kid will grow up as a victim of your snoring."

"Oh, please," Ayush shot back. "As if you’re a silent sleeper. You snore too! It’s natural."

"Hello? I don't snore," Maan scoffed. "You just can't take the fact that I called you a tractor, so now you’re making things up."

Ayush rolled his eyes and turned back toward his bed. "Whatever. Buzz off, Bbuddah (Old man)."

Maan’s head snapped toward him. "Oye! Bbuddah kisko bola? Bbuddah hoga tera baap!" (Oh! Who you called old man to? Old man, is your dad!)

The Next Morning

The rivalry didn't end at 3:00 AM. While Maan was in the shower, Ayush spotted Maan’s freshly pressed trousers laid out on the bed. A devilish grin spread across his face.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door creaked open, and a cloud of steam rolled out.Maan came out in his towel and searching for his pants on the bed, and seeing the door opened and wondering if anyone would step inside he hurried back inside and then he heard a whistle and he said.

"Ayush! I know it’s you!" Maan’s voice thundered from inside the bathroom. "Just because I put a clip on your nose doesn't mean you can steal my pants! Isn't calling me 'Bbuddah' enough for one day?"

Ayush leaned against the bathroom door, dangling the trousers from his index finger. "You called my snoring a tractor noise, so I called you old. That was the 'clip' settlement. Stealing the pants is for my honor. Besides, you love flaunting your muscles and your abs—so go ahead, walk around in a towel! Who’s stopping you, Maan?"

"Ayush, tumhari kherr nahi! (You are done for!) Give me my pants right now!"

"Nahi doonga! (No, I will not!) What are you going to do?"

The bickering was interrupted by the heavy sound of footsteps. Ishaan appeared in the doorway, looking like a man who hadn't had nearly enough coffee to deal with two grown men acting like toddlers.

"Are you two serious?" Ishaan’s voice was dangerously calm. "You’re trying to become fathers, and yet you're acting like you're in a hostel? You’re both late for breakfast."

He looked at the stolen pants, then at the closed bathroom door. "Since you both want to play games, you both suffer. The breakfast I prepared for you is going to Maysha instead. You guys can figure out how to make your own breakfast with whatever limited ingredients are left in the fridge. Suffer together."

Ishaan stormed off, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

Maan’s muffled voice came from the bathroom, sounding defeated. "See? You invoked 'Dr. Jallad' with your prank. Now we're both starving. Happy?"

Ayush sighed, his hunger winning over his spite. He tossed the pants onto the bed. "Fine. Here, take them. But if I hear one more tractor joke, the shirt is next."

*

The next day, the silence of the duplex at 2 AM was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the central cooling.

In her room, Maysha tossed restlessly. Sleep was a lost cause; her twins were awake and demanding a craving she would have previously found gross: yogurt mixed with chips, honey, and chili flakes.

Giving up on sleep, she wrapped her silk robe around her and navigated the stairs, her hand constantly seeking the small of her back. The ache was sharp, a reminder that her center of gravity had shifted entirely.

The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the stovetop light. Ayush was already there, leaning against the counter with a glass of water. He looked up, his eyes immediately dropping to the way she was walking—slightly tilted, hand pressed into her spine.

He set his glass down instantly and moved toward her.

Tu Jahaan Main Wahaan

Sang Sang Yu Chalu Tere

Jaise Tera Aasmaan

"Maysha, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she exhaled, reaching for the fridge. "The pain is normal, at least according to the gynecologist. It’s just the twins... they’re practically going to be night lovers. They’ve decided to be hungry at the exact hour I need sleep before you and Maan wake me for that jog."

Tu Jahaan Main Wahaan

Sang Sang Yu Chalu Tere

Jaise Tera Aasmaan

Ayush let out a soft chuckle. "They seem to be. And what are they craving now?"

"I have this insane need for yogurt mixed with chips, honey, and chili flakes," she admitted, beginning to pull the ingredients together. "It makes no sense, Ayush."

"It makes perfect sense to them," he murmured.

Jo Dhup Nikli Chaya Ban Jaaunga

Jo Ho Tu Akeli Saaya Ban Jaaunga

Jo Uljhan Mein Ho Mann Main Behlaaunga

He moved towards her,helping her by getting the chips from the cupboard.While she prepared the mixture to mix, he stood directly behind her. "You’re overextending your lower back, Maysha. You’re leaning forward to compensate for the weight."

"I don't have a choice. They’re heavy."

"Let me," he said. It wasn't a question.

Tum Aa Gaye Ho Toh Jeena Aaya Hain

Ayush stepped into her personal space, his presence warm and steady. He slid his large, athlete-calloused hands under the heavy, firm swell of her stomach. With a slow, disciplined strength, he lifted.

Khushiya Ka Tumne Yeh Jaal Bichaya Hain

Maysha’s breath hitched in a sharp gasp. The agonizing pressure on her lower vertebrae—the feeling that her spine was about to snap—simply vanished. For the first time in weeks, she felt light.

Khoya Hain Khudko Yah Sab Kutch Paaya Hain

"Oh... Ayush," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as her head fell back onto his shoulder. "Please don't let go. It feels like I can finally take a full breath."

Tu Jahaan Main Wahaan

"I've got you," Ayush breathed, his chin resting near her temple. He didn't just hold her; he began to use his thumbs to gently knead the strained muscles at the sides of her waist, supporting the weight of his and Maan's child with equal care.

Sang Sang Yu Chalu Tere

Jaise Tera Aasmaan

"Am here Maysha, and will always be".He leaned down, pressing a lingering, reverent kiss to her forehead.In that quiet moment, to Maysha, Ayush wasnt just a choice-he was her sanctuary."

*

Inside the sonography room, the air was cool and smelled of sterile linen. Maysha lay back on the exam table as Dr. Sonal Shroff prepared her for the scan. With practiced, gentle hands, the doctor tucked Maysha’s top just below her chest and placed a towel beneath her exposed abdomen.

Dr. Sonal applied the cool, clear gel and began to glide the transducer over the skin. The monitor flickered, and suddenly, the internal world of the twins filled the screen in grainy shades of grey and white.

"Maysha, I’ve read the notes Dr. Ishaan added to your file," Dr. Sonal said, her eyes tracking the movement on the monitor. "It’s been very helpful to see the development since your last visit. Now that you're in your second trimester—the fourth month, to be precise—you must be feeling quite a few changes, right?"

"Yes, Doctor," Maysha replied, her eyes fixed on the screen. "Like you mentioned at the three-month check-up, the backaches have started, and there’s this constant fatigue. The nausea is still hanging around too."

Ishaan stood just behind Dr. Sonal, holding the medical file with a focused, protective gaze. Across from them, Ayush and Maan were perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning in so far they were almost blocking each other's view of the monitor.

"Nausea should start to subside soon," Dr. Sonal noted, "but the fatigue... that’s a constant companion when you’re carrying twins. They take a lot of energy."

Dr.Sonal then points to the screen with a sigh "Baby Luthra's heart rate is exceptionally steady and rhythmic". "Baby Khurana's femur length is above average ."

Maan is smirking, puffying with pride "Above average femur? Obviously mine. That’s the Khurana height —a pure 'Alpha' trait. It’s all about the premium DNA, Ishaan. You can’t replicate that kind of sperm quality in a lab."

Ayush scoffs "Alpha? Seriously your ego still hasn't subsided. But that rhythmic heart rate? That’s an athlete’s heart, Maan. That’s resting bradycardia. My genes are built for endurance and high-pressure performance. My 'contribution' was clearly the superior one for the long game."

Maan then says "Quality over quantity, Ayush. I’ve always operated at a different level of... biological excellence."

Ishaan’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward, snapping the medical file shut with a sound like a gunshot on the table. "Both of you. Shut. Up."

The room went silent. Ishaan glared at them with his full 'Dr. Jallad' intensity. "I am trying to ensure my sister-in-law is healthy and my nieces or nephews are developing correctly. I am not here to host a 'Best Breeding Stock' convention. If I hear the word 'sperm' or 'product' one more time, I will personally escort both of you to the parking lot and you can finish this 'quality' debate over there.

Dr. Sonal suppressed a chuckle, focusing on the monitor. "It’s a good thing I have a high tolerance for ego, Ishaan. But Maysha, ignore them. The babies are thriving because you are doing the hard work. These two are just providing the commentary."

Maysha sighed, a weary but amused smile touching her lips as she watched the two tiny forms on the screen. "Thank you, Doctor. Can we wrap this up? Before they start arguing over whose 'contribution' has better lung capacity?"

"Almost done," Dr. Sonal smiled as she scanned for a few secs before keeping the transducer down. "Both are healthy, growing, and exactly where they should be." she then cleaned the residue from Maysha's baby bump before she adjusted Maysha's top and pants to cover the exposed area.

As they got up to leave, Maan leaned toward Ayush, whispering, "I’m just saying... Twin B definitely looks will be more good in quality wise after all it's taken from its father ."

Ayush just rolled his eyes. "Keep dreaming, Khurana."

*

Maira and Maysha were now deep into their fifth month of pregnancy. Since many of Ishaan’s Delhi relatives wouldn't be able to travel for the formal Godbharai in Mumbai, the family had organized a spiritual Satsang—a small, intimate prayer service for the wellbeing of Maira and the baby.

The ancestral house hall was filled with the scent of burning camphor and fresh roses. Maira and Ishaan sat together on a cushioned floor-lounge, draped in a pristine white sheet. Ishaan’s head was covered with a simple handkerchief, his expression one of quiet, meditative peace. Beside him, Maira looked every bit the traditional daughter-in-law, her head veiled by the heavy pallu of her saree, one hand resting protectively over the firm curve of her stomach.

The Pandit had just finished the Path. Every time his voice boomed with the words "Vansh" or "Successor," a cold shiver raced down Maira’s spine. To the rest of the room, those words were a blessing; to Maira, they felt like a trap.

Ishaan, ever the attentive husband, felt her shift. He kept a steady, grounding hand on her lower back. He noticed her eyes were glazed, her fingers nervously twisting the gold-bordered hem of her saree. As the musicians struck the first chord of the Bhajans, he leaned in close to her ear.

"Maira? You’re not here," he whispered softly under the cover of the music. "Are you tired? Is it the back pain again?"

"No, Ishaan. I’m just... thinking," she lied, forcing a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. She couldn't tell him that she felt his mother’s gaze boring into her, searching for the silhouette of an heir.

The ceremony was interrupted by a rhythmic clapping. A group of Hijras had arrived, informed by a relative that the "Khanna Bahu" was expecting. Their presence was a traditional staple at such events, believed to bring powerful protection to the unborn.

Sujata’s face lit up with a predatory brightness. She beckoned them over immediately. As they sang a vibrant song for Maira, circling her to remove the nazar (evil eye), one of them smiled warmly. "The girl is glowing! The child will be beautiful."

Sujata didn't care about beauty. She pulled out a generous stack of notes and handed them over, her eyes gleaming with a specific hunger.

"Bless my daughter-in-law," Sujata commanded, her voice loud enough to carry over the singing. "Pray that she brings the Khanna Heir into this world. Pray that I finally get my grandson."

The main Hijra looked at Maira’s pale, anxious face and then down at her womb. With a resonant clap and a voice that commanded the room, she placed her one hand on Maira’s head and then other on her stomach. After a brief touch to Maira’s cheeks, the blessing was delivered, Maira smiled as she blessed her:

"Larka ho ya larki, tandurust ho. Maa aur bacha dono salamat rahein." (Whether it is a boy or a girl, may the baby be healthy. May both mother and child remain safe.)

Ishaan smiled, genuinely moved. "Shukriya," he murmured under his breath.

But as the group turned away and the room returned to the steady rhythm of the chanting, Maira caught the movement of Sujata’s lips. Her mother-in-law leaned back, watching the group leave, and muttered a dark correction just loud enough for Maira to hear:

"Healthy baby, yes... but a boy. It has to be a boy."

Maira felt the blood drain from her face. It felt as though Sujata had physically reached out and stripped the "health" from the blessing just to secure the "gender." A deep, instinctive knot of fear tightened in Maira’s womb.

Ishaan noticed the sudden tremor in her hand. He pulled her closer, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "It’s okay, Maira. It’s just the pregnancy hormones and your worry about Maysha, jaan. Don’t overthink it; the boys are there. Once your impromptu Godbharai is finished, we’ll head home. Then you can be at peace by seeing your sister.Okay?"

Maira nodded silently, burying her face in his shoulder. She wanted to scream, to tell him that his mother was bartering with fate, but she couldn't break the peace they had finally found. She just sat there, terrified, praying silently: Please, just let my baby be healthy. I don’t care about anything else.

*

The transition from the spiritual heat of the Delhi ceremony to the cold, torrential rain of Mumbai was jarring. While Ishaan had dismissed the weather reports as typical monsoon drama, the city was currently drowning under heavy clouds.

Back at the duplex, the "normal" rain what Ishaan assumed to be had turned into a disaster. The streets were submerged, and Ayush was hopelessly stranded at his office after a meeting, his car stalled in the rising water. Maan was alone in the house when the silence was broken by the sound of retching from the upstairs room.

Maysha was in the throes of a violent storm of her own. The twins were putting immense pressure on her system, and a sudden, aggressive spike in her temperature and the pressure on her uterus had brought back a wave of nausea that felt like it was tearing her small frame apart.

Maan found her in the bathroom, her face ghostly and drenched in cold sweat.She was shivering violently despite the humidity that made his heart lurch.Maysha feeling a bit shaky while using the basin reached to the commode instead and as she lurched forward Maan acted on instinct. He grabbed a pillow, sliding it beneath her heavy 5th-month belly to support the weight, and gathered her hair in his hand. When she collapsed back against him, exhausted and sobbing, he realized he couldn't wait for the rain to stop.

She curled into him and rested in front of him, and he tried to gently massage her belly to give her relief; he wanted nothing but to make sure they were safe, especially Maysha.

"My babies, they need to be safe, Maan," she whimpered.He kissed her on top of her forehead. "Shhhh Maysha, I will not let anything happen to you and our babies."

He then carried her—light as she was, but heavy with the twins—back to bed. The power flickered and died, leaving the room bathed in the eerie, blue light of the lightning. With the cell towers struggling, Maan managed to start a shaky video call.

On the screen, Ishaan and Dr. Sonal appeared, their faces illuminated by the lights of ishaan's Delhi ancestral home and Sonal's clinic.

"Ishaan, her fever is spiking.... The roads are completely flooded, I can’t even get the car out. I’m trapped here, Ishaan, and she’s burning up. I can't lose her... please, I can’t lose her

"Maan, listen carefully," Ishaan’s voice was sharp with a doctor’s urgency.

Maan, go to my room. Find the black hardshell Emergency Medical Kit and you will find the medicines that I have stocked as well for such emergencies but I also need you to grab the silver hardshell Maternity Kit. I need to know if the babies are under distress from the maternal hyperthermia."

Maan raced through the dark house, his flashlight cutting through the gloom. He returned with both kits, his hands shaking as he opened the black case.

Under Ishaan and Dr. Sonal’s instruction, he first checked her BP and her temperature."The fever is at 39°C," Maan reported, his voice tight as he read the thermometer.

"Oh God" Ishaan said.

"You will be need to keep the cold compresses going, Maan," Dr. Sonal instructed. "And the soup—she needs the salt and the fluids. Feed her slowly. One spoonful at a time."

He then pulled out the Portable Ultrasound scanner and the Fetal Heart Monitor from the grey kit. Maan then gently adjusted Maysha's clothing so that he could do the scan.

"Apply the gel, Maan. Slowly," Dr. Sonal instructed through the screen.

Maan’s fingers brushed Maysha’s taut, heated skin. As he moved the scanner across her abdomen, the grainy image of the twins appeared on his tablet. Seeing them—so small, yet so vulnerable to their mother’s rising temperature—stripped away the last of Maan’s ego.

"Now the monitor," Ishaan commanded. "I need to hear the heartbeats."

Maan pressed the Doppler to her skin. The room was suddenly filled with the fast, gallop-like rhythm of two tiny hearts: Thump-thump, thump-thump.

"They're okay," Maan whispered, a single tear of relief tracking through the sweat on his face. "Ishaan, they're okay."

"They are for now, but you need to break that fever," Ishaan said, his voice softening just a fraction. "Give her the medicine from the emergency kit. Then like Dr. Sonal mentioned, a soup—clear broth—one sip at a time. Do not leave her side, Maan. You are the person she has right now. And cold compresses again, just re-uttering what Dr. Sonal said earlier."

For the rest of the night, Maan was a man possessed.

He simmered a clear broth on the gas range and fed her slowly, blowing on each spoonful. As the rain lashed against the windows, the medicine finally took hold. Maysha’s shivering stopped, and she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, her hand unconsciously gripping the edge of Maan’s sleeve.

Maan didn't pull away. He sat on the floor by her bedside, the silver moonlight finally breaking through the clouds to hit her face. He looked at her—not as the actress he had tried to use, or the woman who was a "rebound"—but as the mother of his child and the woman who had quietly taken over his heart.

Benaam Rishton Ki

Manzil Ke Aaddhe Hain

He reached out, his fingers barely hovering over her hand.

Khaare Raste

Khaare Raste

"I'm sorry, Maysha," he whispered into the silence of the room. "I’m so sorry for everything I did to you. In my revenge with your sister to satisfy my ego, I hurted you instead by playing a man who claimed to love you. But over the past few months along this pregnancy journey, which I dreaded to experience, and being with you in this house by taking care of you and the twins... I have grown to love you, Maysha. And now as I feel this so strongly as you are fighting for them, I know it's real."

Kehta Na Koi Par

Kishton Mein Chubhte Hain

He leaned closer, his voice a low, broken confession. "I love you. I love you, Maysha. Not because you are carrying our babies, but because I genuinely love you for being you, Maysha. Your goals, your ideals, and everything that makes you special. And even if you never choose me, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you’re never this scared again."

Khaare Raste

Khaare Raste

He kissed her on her forehead, then on her cheek, and then on her baby bump. He stayed up all night until his eyes started to doze off, and he slept while holding her hand as the floods outside began to recede.

The morning light filtered through the damp curtains, pale and weak after the night’s devastation. The relentless roar of the rain had finally subsided into a rhythmic dripping from the balcony eaves.

Maysha stirred, her eyelashes fluttering as the heaviness of the fever finally began to lift. Her body felt battered, her muscles aching from the violent shivering of the night before, but the searing heat in her blood had cooled. As she tried to shift her position, she felt a gentle weight anchoring her hand.

She turned her head slowly on the pillow. Maan was there.

Manzur Hai Har Gham

Dil Ko

Bas Le Chal Sang Apne

Hum Ko

He wasn't on the bed, but slumped on the floor beside it, his head resting against the mattress right next to her arm. His fingers were still loosely curled around hers. In the raw light of dawn, the "Great Maan Singh Khurana" looked unrecognizable. His hair was a mess, his shirt was wrinkled and stained with broth, and the dark circles under his eyes told the story of a man who hadn't closed them for a single second until her fever broke.

Tere Bina Jeena

Kya Hai

Jaise Sab Beparwah Hai

Maysha watched him, a lump forming in her throat. She remembered flashes of the night—the feeling of his hand supporting her belly, the steady sound of the fetal monitor, and a low, hushed voice whispering words that felt like a dream. I love you... for being you. In that moment, she knew her anger towards Maan was slowly fading over the course of time.The door creaked open, breaking the silence.

Ayush stepped into the room, looking exhausted. His clothes were damp, and his boots were caked with dried mud from his trek back through the receding floodwaters. He stopped dead when he saw the scene: the medical kits open, the cold compresses scattered, and Maan asleep at Maysha’s side.

Ayush’s jaw tightened for a fleeting second, but as he looked at Maysha’s waking eyes and then back at Maan’s state of total exhaustion, the competitive fire died out. He walked over quietly, his footsteps heavy.

He reached down and placed a firm hand on Maan’s shoulder, shaking him gently. "Maan. Hey, wake up."

Maan bolted upright, his eyes bloodshot and frantic, instantly reaching for the thermometer on the nightstand. "The fever—is she—?"

"She’s awake, Maan. She’s okay," Ayush said, his voice unusually level, almost hushed. He looked at Maysha for a heartbeat, checking her color, before turning back to Maan. "Go. Go to the room and get some real rest. You look like you’re about to collapse."

Maan rubbed his face, trying to blink away the fog of sleep. "I should stay until the doctor Sonal calls back..."

"I’m here now," Ayush interrupted, stepping into the space between the bed and the floor. "I’ve got her. The maid will be here any moment to clean up this mess and help her freshen up. You’ve done your bit, Maan. Now go."

Chup Chup Se Hain Lekin

Aankhon Se Kehte Hain

Saare Raste

Saare Raste

Maan hesitated, his gaze lingering on Maysha’s face. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something—to see if she had heard his confession—but Maysha quickly looked away, pulling her hand back under the covers.

Haan...

Khaare Raste

Khaare Raste

"Fine," Maan muttered, his voice raspy. He stood up, his legs stiff from the long vigil. He shot one last protective look at Maysha’s bump before nodding at Ayush and heading toward the door.

As the door closed behind him, the room felt different. Ayush sat on the edge of the bed, the spot Maan had occupied just moments ago. He reached out, tentatively touching Maysha’s forehead to check the temperature himself.

"He told me what happened over the phone," Ayush said softly, his voice thick with a mix of relief and a lingering, unspoken guilt for not being there. "Rest now, Maysha. I’m not going anywhere."

Maysha nodded, closing her eyes again, but the silence of the room was now filled with the Echo of Maan’s voice from the darkness of the night.