Morning — Pratap Singh Villa
Sunlight streamed gently through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. Kiaan bounced around his room, brushing his teeth and humming a small tune, a rare lightness in his movements.
Susheela, setting breakfast on the table, raised an eyebrow as she watched him. "Kiaan… why are you in such a hurry today? You look… so happy."
Kiaan grinned, a bright, uncontainable beam of joy. "Because… my mumma is going to send an angel for me today!"
Susheela blinked, startled, while Bhoomi and the grandaunt exchanged a quick, incredulous look.
"Your… mumma is going to send an angel?" Susheela asked carefully, leaning over to set a plate in front of him. "And how do you know that, my little one?"
Kiaan's eyes sparkled with certainty. "I… I had a dream last night. Mumma told me herself! She said she's sending an angel just for me… to help me."
Bhoomi, entering the room quietly, paused at the doorway, her heart warming at the sight. Kiaan noticed her and, without a second thought, ran into her arms.
"My grandson," Bhoomi whispered, hugging him tightly, "wow… you're so happy today. I've never seen you this cheerful in the mornings."
Kiaan hugged her back fiercely, his small face glowing. "Grandma… I'm going to meet the angel today! Mumma promised!"
Bhoomi closed her eyes for a moment, letting a soft smile touch her lips. "I hope so, my dear… I truly hope so."
For a fleeting moment, the villa felt lighter, brighter—the weight of the past night, the fears, the shadows of doubt—all seemed to pause as the boy's faith in his mother's love filled the room.
Morning — Pratap Singh Villa
Kiaan bounded down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes bright with excitement. He moved almost too quickly for his own good, barely noticing the polished floor beneath his small feet.
Yuvaan stood near the entrance, adjusting his jacket, and his gaze softened when he saw his son. "Champ," he said with a small smile, "you look so lively this morning. What's going on?"
Kiaan's lips curved into a mischievous grin. "NYC,Not your concern," he replied quickly, tilting his head slightly. His small hand shot out subtly, giving a slight signal to both Bhoomi and Susheela not to say a word.
Yuvaan raised an eyebrow, sensing the secrecy but choosing not to press. "Okay then," he said with a chuckle, bending down to pick up Kiaan's bag. "Come on, then. Let me take you to school."
Kiaan skipped ahead, tugging lightly on Yuvaan's hand, excitement bubbling in every movement. The villa seemed unusually bright that morning, as if it too was caught in the boy's contagious energy.
Morning — Outside Kiaan's School
Yuvaan parked the car and watched as Kiaan hopped out, backpack bouncing with every step. "Have a good day, champ," he called, waving.
Kiaan didn't respond. Not a glance. Not a smile. He simply walked through the school gates, disappearing into the crowd of chattering students. Yuvaan's jaw tightened slightly, a mix of frustration and lingering worry settling in his chest.
He turned back to his car, ready to drive off, when movement caught his eye. A lady walked past him, guitar strapped across her back. The wind picked up suddenly, and her light scarf whipped across Yuvaan's face, brushing his cheek.
He froze.
The scent—the faint, delicate cologne—hit him like a memory. His breath caught. It was… unmistakable. The same fragrance Kiara used to wear.
The lady kept walking, oblivious to him. Yuvaan only saw her from behind—long hair flowing, the gentle sway of her steps, the scarf now back in place. Her face remained hidden, yet something deep in him ached with recognition he couldn't place.
Yuvaan shook his head slightly, heart thumping, and climbed into his car. The vision lingered as he started the engine, driving off. His mind replayed the moment over and over, a small, inexplicable hope stirring within him.
A hint of the past, a whisper of the present, and a mystery he couldn't yet unravel.
School Premises
Kiaan walked through the bustling school grounds, his small backpack bouncing with each careful step. He kept his eyes moving, scanning every student, every teacher passing by. Somewhere in this crowd, his mumma's angel would appear. He just had to recognize her.
A sudden flutter of motion made him pause.
A lady walked past, her guitar case slung over her shoulder, scarf brushing against her face. She moved gracefully, unaware of the boy studying her from a few paces away.
And then he caught it—the scent.
Soft, warm, and unmistakable. His mumma's fragrance. The one his grandma had described to him so many times. He had closed his eyes countless nights, memorizing every detail, practicing until he could identify it anywhere, in any crowd.
"Mumma…" he whispered under his breath, a tiny shiver running down his spine.
The lady didn't notice him. She stepped confidently toward the school building, adjusting her scarf, thinking only of the interview she had to attend. She didn't glance back. She didn't see the small boy, frozen at the edge of the playground, his heart hammering with a mix of awe and hope.
Kiaan felt a strange warmth, a flicker of certainty. He didn't know how he knew, didn't know why, but he did. The angel his mumma had sent… it had to be her.
He took a small step forward. Then another. Quietly, carefully, trying not to be seen. The school crowd swirled around him, oblivious, but his gaze never left her back—the swing of the scarf, the glint of the guitar, the way she moved.
For the audience, it was clear. This was no ordinary stranger. This was Khushi, the woman who had unknowingly stepped into the path of a little boy searching for a miracle.
And for Kiaan, today would mark the first step toward meeting the angel his mumma had sent him.
To be continued..