The journey back home was quiet. Too quiet.

Janki sat by the window of the carriage, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, though she barely registered any of it. The sky had turned a dusky shade of purple, the last rays of the sun casting long, wavering shadows over the fields. The distant flickering of lanterns from village homes would have normally caught her attention, made her smile even-but not today.

Rana, on the other hand, sat beside her, arms crossed, his posture relaxed, but his mind was anything but. He had noticed it the moment they left the clinic-Janki's silence, the way her fingers twisted the end of her dupatta, the way she seemed so... lost.

Janki was not a quiet person. She was warmth, laughter, and gentle reprimands when he teased her too much. She was fire when angered, tender when vulnerable. But today, she was distant.

And Rana noticed everything.

The ride home was filled with Reema's chatter. She went on about how wonderful the city was, how Dr. Abhimanyu was the best physician she had ever met, how he was well-respected, brilliant, charming. Janki had nodded along, even managed a small smile here and there, but she had said nothing.

It was unlike her.

When they reached home, the haveli was eerily silent. For once, Kesar Bai was nowhere to be seen, and the air felt unusually still. Reema had retired to her room, and Siya, exhausted from the long journey, had fallen asleep in Janki's arms before they had even stepped inside.

Janki placed Siya in the cradle with the utmost care, adjusting her blankets as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. Her fingers traced small, soothing circles on the baby's tiny chest, as if assuring herself that Siya was real, safe, here.

She stayed like that for a long time.

Just staring.

Rana had been watching from the doorway, arms folded, trying to gauge what was running through her mind. He had given her time, space, but now... now, he needed to know.

He stepped into the room and sat beside her on the bed, leaning back on his hands. His voice was gentle when he spoke.

"Janki."

She didn't look at him.

He tried again, softer this time. "Are you okay?"

Janki exhaled slowly, as if she had been holding in a breath for too long. Finally, she turned to him, her lips curling into a weak, tired smile.

"I'm missing Ira a little too much today."

Rana stiffened. He hadn't expected that.

She looked back at Siya, her fingers brushing lightly over her soft hair. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You know why?"

Rana didn't answer. He didn't trust himself to.

Janki's smile faltered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know. Maybe because... I'm feeling exactly what she must have felt."

Rana froze.

His mind went still, but his heart? It pounded in his chest.

What did she mean?

Was she talking about Abhimanyu? That strange moment at the clinic-the way she had frozen at the sight of him? Or was she referring to Reema-the woman who had once been meant to stand in her place?

His hands clenched into fists against his lap.

He had been patient. He had kept his questions at bay, had given Janki the space to speak when she was ready. But now... now he wasn't so sure he wanted to know the answer.

Janki finally turned to him, her eyes holding emotions he couldn't quite decipher. "Ira must have held Siya the same way I hold her now... must have whispered to her, reassured her, just like I do. And yet..." She swallowed, her voice shaking. "Yet she's not here to see her grow."

Rana released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

So this was what had been weighing on her heart?

Guilt seeped into his chest. Had he really thought-if only for a moment-that she had meant something else?

Of course, she was thinking of Ira.

She had lost a sister. And now, as she cared for Siya, she was feeling the weight of that loss more than ever.

Rana shifted closer. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek for a moment, warm and grounding.

"You are not Ira, Janki," he said, his voice firm yet infinitely gentle. "And you will not share her fate."

Janki lowered her gaze. "I know."

She took a shaky breath, then, after a moment of hesitation, whispered, "Yes, I'm not Ira because I wouldn't survive if I had to go through what she did."

Rana felt something inside him twist painfully.

Before he could say anything, before he could find the right words to assure her, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Janki stiffened at first, but then, as if something inside her had finally snapped, she clung to him. Her fingers fisted the fabric of his kurta, her grip desperate, unrelenting.

She was trembling.

Rana pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips barely moving as he whispered against her skin. "Why are you saying this?"

Janki didn't reply.

She only held onto him tighter.

He could feel her breath against his neck, warm and uneven, her emotions pouring into that single embrace.

The weight of her grief, her fears, her pain-all of it settled between them, heavy and unspoken.

In that moment, the lines between past and present blurred.

Ira. Siya. Janki.

Rana could feel the burden of it all-the ghosts of what had been, the fears of what could be.

But more than anything, he could feel her.

The woman who had walked into his life unexpectedly. The woman who had changed him in ways he had never imagined.

The woman he wasn't willing to lose.

He held her closer, letting her bury herself in his warmth.

Outside, the night stretched on, silent and endless.

Inside, Janki clung to the man who had become her anchor.

And Rana?

He realized, perhaps too late, that there was something else, something deeper, lurking beneath her silence.

And he wasn't sure if it was just about Ira.

-VS<3