Ayaan pov...
It felt peaceful, as if, for the first time in a long while, I could finally breathe. The usual weight pressing against my chest had eased, replaced by something soft, something tiny brushing against my arm. A delicate, featherlight touch-repetitive and warm. Slowly, I opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was a tiny leg rubbing against my arm, moving absentmindedly in its own little world. A smile unknowingly crept onto my face. As my vision adjusted to the dimly lit room, my gaze flickered to the full-sized mirror across from the bed. The reflection was clear-my own exhausted self leaning against the headboard, but beside me...
Sanya.
She was asleep, still holding my baby close to her chest. Her head rested against the headboard, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. The faint glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her features, casting delicate shadows that only enhanced the peaceful expression on her face. Her arms, even in sleep, instinctively cradled the baby with a protective gentleness, as if she belonged there, as if she had done this countless times before.
Something stirred inside me. An unfamiliar warmth. Gratitude, maybe. Or something far more dangerous.
Again, the tiny feet rubbed against my arm, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked down at the baby. She was wide awake, her big, curious eyes staring up at nothing in particular, her fingers splaying in the air as if reaching for something unseen. A small, content sigh left her lips as she kicked softly, enjoying the newfound freedom of movement.
Carefully, I leaned in, my hands moving instinctively as I lifted her from Sanya's arms. My movements were slow, deliberate, not wanting to wake the sleeping woman beside me. Sanya shifted slightly but didn't wake. I adjusted the baby in my arms before gently laying her down on the bed beside me. She wriggled slightly but didn't cry.
Reaching for the blanket at the foot of the bed, I pulled it up and gently draped it over Sanya, careful not to wake her. The room was cold—the kind of cold that sank into your bones. Outside, the rain continued its quiet song, each drop tapping against the windowpane in a steady rhythm that filled the stillness like a lullaby
I pulled the baby closer to my chest, her small body nestled securely against me. She had finally quieted, her soft breath warming the fabric of my shirt. I looked down at her, then glanced sideways at Sanya.
Even in sleep, she looked... beautiful. There was something painfully calm about her face—like all the walls she usually kept up had dropped in slumber. Her long lashes rested delicately against her cheeks, and a single strand of hair had fallen across her face.
Instinctively, I leaned in to tuck it behind her ear. My fingers hovered inches from her skin.
But then—
No. No, it was just a mistake.
The memory came uninvited, sudden and sharp, like a slap. I froze mid-reach. The words echoed in my mind. Her voice, that night.
I drew my hand back like I had touched fire. My pulse thudded against my ribs.
She couldn't know.
She must never know it was me that night.
A soft coo pulled me back.
I looked down, and the tension melted away.
She was blinking up at me, her big curious eyes wide and filled with wonder. Her tiny mouth formed a perfect little "O", her face scrunching up as if surprised by the world around her. And then, as if to reassure me, she let out a gentle coo—sweet and soft.
One of her fists uncurled, and her tiny fingers grasped at the front of my shirt, holding on with the kind of strength only innocence can give.
My heart did something strange right then—something it hadn't done in a long time. It clenched, twisted, warmed... all at once. Her grip was featherlight, barely there. And yet, it grounded me more than anything ever had.
"You're not going to sleep, hmm?" I whispered, brushing my thumb gently over her knuckles. Her skin was so soft, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric between us.
She waved her hands again, mesmerized by her own movements. Then, she wriggled closer to my chest.
I smiled without realizing.
"Okay, okay," I murmured, patting her back softly. "You win. Stay awake as long as you want."
Her lips curled, almost forming the ghost of a smile. And I found myself holding her tighter, like she was the one thing in the world that made sense.
From the corner of my eye, I glanced at the mirror again.
There she was.
Sanya.
Wrapped in the blanket I'd pulled over her, still leaned against the headboard—peaceful, untouched by the storm inside me. She didn't know how much she'd given me without even trying.
She didn't know how much I owed her.
She didn't know... the truth.
But even if she never forgave me, I'd protect her.
I'd protect them both.
No matter the cost.
I tried closing my eyes again, hoping sleep would come this time, but it was nowhere near. My body was tired—aching, actually—but my mind refused to shut up. Too many questions. Too much noise.
I shifted slightly, careful not to wake the baby who was still sleeping peacefully, her small fists curled up beside her cheeks. She looked so serene. As if her world was untouched by chaos.
I sighed and turned to the side table. My phone was there, lying next to the lamp. Maybe something mindless would help. I picked it up, unlocked it, and instinctively opened Rastravaani 24x7—the only news channel that wasn't completely trash.
The screen lit up. A video popped up.
Breaking: A DEAD MAN FOUND NEAR THE SEA
I froze.
My thumb hovered above the play button for a second before I clicked it.
The anchor's voice came through immediately. "Earlier this evening, a man was found dead along the western shore. No identification found on the body. No wallet, no phone. Just a bleeding head wound and a lifeless body."
I straightened up in bed, now wide awake.
The western shore?
I was there. I was right there.
How the hell did I miss a body?
The news clip continued, showing blurred-out images of the scene. There was a faint outline of the shoreline, a group of policemen surrounding a stretcher, and that was it.
"It appears to be a case of homicide," the anchor continued. "Locals reported nothing suspicious, and no witnesses have come forward. Was it a robbery? An act of revenge? Or something more disturbing?"
I sat there staring at the screen, heart thudding.
Could it be… him?
The man who left the baby?
The thought made my skin crawl.
Did someone really leave a newborn girl alone by the sea just to die? What kind of sick coward would do that?
And more importantly—who wanted him dead?
Maybe it's a different case. But still.
So many questions.
My thoughts were spiraling when suddenly another notification popped up.
"BREAKING: Sanya Raichand addresses viral dating rumors with Ayaan Singh Rathore – 'We are NOT a couple.'"
Wait. What?
My thumb froze mid-scroll. I clicked the video.
The screen loaded with the signature red-and-black backdrop of StarBuzz Times Live, complete with dramatic music and a glitzy banner:"EXCLUSIVE | Sanya Raichand BREAKS SILENCE on Relationship Rumours"
The anchor, a woman with a too-perfect smile, appeared first."In today's top entertainment story, social media sensation and fashion influencer Sanya Raichand has finally spoken up about the rumors linking her with politician Ayaan Singh Rathore. This comes after weeks of speculation surrounding their equation. Here's what she had to say in an exclusive self-recorded video posted to her profile just moments ago."
The video cut to Sanya.
"Okay, so apparently," she began, tone dry, "I've entered a whole new relationship without even being informed."
I blinked.
Here we go.
She raised a brow. "First of all, there is no feud between the Rathore and Raichand families. There's no secret war.
She exhaled, then leaned in a little. "And secondly—Ayaan and I…"
Pause.
That pause stretched a little too long. My heart weirdly beat faster.
She gave a mocking smile. "We. Are. Not. A. Couple."
She emphasized each word like she was teaching a toddler the alphabet.
I couldn't help it. My brows shot up.
She even placed a hand on her chest, acting like she just dropped some shocking bomb.
"Breathtaking news, right?" she said with a chuckle. "We grew up together and somehow that means we're married now? I mean, at this rate, if I sit next to a stranger on a flight, are we engaged?"
She ended the video with a laugh and a wink.
The screen cut back to the anchor, who nodded with fake sympathy."Well, that settles it. Sanya Raichand has made it clear—there's no romance brewing between her and Ayaan Singh Rathore. But fans are still wondering if there's more beneath the surface. Are they just friends, or is something being hidden?"
I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.
"Seriously?" I muttered.
I tossed the phone on the bed, running a hand through my hair. My jaw clenched.
Not a couple.
Just friends.
Of course, she said that. It was the practical thing to say. Logical. We were public figures. We couldn't give them fuel.
But still… the way she said it.
The tone. The smirk. The casual dismissal.
Why did it feel like a punch in the gut?
I looked down at the baby now curled up near my side. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, her hand still clinging to the corner of my t-shirt.
"You know," I whispered, "if we're not a couple… why the hell does it feel like we broke up?"
But the only reply I got was the soft hum of the night.
And that stupid echo in my mind—
We. Are. Not. A. Couple.