Aaron arrived at the office with the portrait carefully wrapped under his arm, the one he had insisted Meera to draw. His heart was a mix of anticipation and nervousness—today, he had decided, he would finally let Apoorva know what she meant to him. The thought of sharing a life with her felt thrilling, almost too beautiful to contain.
But Apoorva walked into the office in a completely different world of emotions. A week had passed since Nithya's death, yet her mind was still fogged with grief. She had forced herself into work, hoping the endless files and meetings would drown out the ache. Aaron knew nothing of this; to him, Apoorva was just Apoorva—the woman who made his world brighter.
The quiet rhythm of the office was broken by the sharp buzz of Apoorva's phone. Her face tensed immediately. These days, every ring carried with it the shadow of worry, a leftover scar from Nithya's tragedy. She answered quickly—it was Roohi's teacher. Her voice was apologetic but urgent - a sudden strike had been declared due to the murder of some political leader, and the school would remain closed for the rest of the day. Parents were being asked to pick up their children immediately.
Apoorva's eyes flickered to the clock. She was buried in pending tasks and her mother had gone to attend her cousin's child's marriage. There was no one at home to look after Roohi. After a brief moment of thought, she reached for her phone again and called the driver. Her instructions were clear yet hurried - to pick Roohi from school and bring her directly to the office.
However, when he returned, he wasn't alone with just her. Walking beside Roohi, was another girl - her friend - Sanjana, whom the driver had also brought along, by following the commands of Roohi.
Inside the office, Apoorva was still locked in the middle of an important meeting, unaware of their arrival. The driver, unsure whether to interrupt or wait, decided to lead both to the visitor's room. The space was quiet, softly lit, with comfortable chairs and a low table bearing a neatly arranged stack of magazines. The driver stayed with them, occasionally glancing toward the hallway in case someone came to receive them.
The low hum of conversation from Apoorva's meeting could be faintly heard through the wall, but otherwise, the space felt still - almost as if time itself had paused while they waited for the moment Apoorva would finally step out and greet them.
Aaron happened to be walking past when something unusual caught his attention. Through the glass partition, he noticed two small fingers perched on the chairs, their legs swinging freely, clearly out of place in the otherwise corporate setting. He slowed his pace, curiosity knitting his brows, as no little hands are visible here, then stepped inside.
The moment he entered, his gaze shifted from Roohi to the other girl - and recognition clicked instantly. "Uncle, you also work here?", she asked with a recognizing smile. She was the daughter of their apartment's watchman.
He turned to the driver, lowering his voice. "What's going on?". The driver explained quickly, "Apoorva ma'am asked me to bring them here." Aaron nodded, understanding the situation, then said with gentle firmness, "Alright, you can head out. I'll watch them." The driver, relieved, gave a polite nod and left the room.
When Aaron turned back, Sanjana was still looking at him with wide eyes. "We were sent home from school because of the strike", she said brightly, almost as though it were an adventure. "My parents are in their works, so I came with my friend". She pointed at Roohi, who sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap.
Aaron smiled at the explanation, then knelt down beside Roohi, "And what about you, dear?", he asked softly. "Your parents couldn't come either?". Roohi glanced up briefly, her expression calm but reserved. "Mumma's in a meeting. So she told driver uncle to bring me her."
Something in the way she said "Mumma", made Aaron pause. A faint realization began to form in his mind, and before he could stop himself, the question slipped out, "Your mumma is... Apoorva?". Roohi nodded simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
As a faint crease forming between his brows, the thought had been nagging at him ever since he overheard the name "Apoorva" - could there possibly be another Apoorva working here? He tried to summon up a mental list of all the employees he'd seen over the past months, scanning through faces and names, but nothing clicked. Every time he circled back, the only Apoorva he could think of was her!
Just as he was about to brush off the idea as a mere misunderstanding, a thought clung stubbornly to him. "How could Apoorva—only twenty-six and already so accomplished—have a child who was almost six?" The discrepancy nagged at Aaron, refusing to be smoothed over by idle curiosity.
For a moment he found himself leaning on a flimsy shorthand: Apoorva didn't wear the ornaments or the outward signs he associated with marriage. The way she dressed—practical, pared down, free of the cultural trappings he expected—had whispered a simple story to his gut: she must be single. But even as the thought surfaced, he felt its weakness. Clothing and adornment are choices, not proofs; privacy, grief, habit, or personal taste could explain anything. He desperately searched for harder, undeniable clues—grasping at every detail to convince himself that Apoorva could not possibly be married or what made him conclude that Apoorva was married.
As if in answer to his restless search for clues, the sound of measured footsteps rose from the corridor. The door to the visitor's room opened, and there she was—Apoorva. She entered with that composed grace that always seemed her signature, a quiet strength woven into every step. The light from the hallway caught the edge of her scarf, softening the air around her, and in that moment, all of Aaron's lingering doubts dissolved—for she moved not just as herself, but unmistakably as Roohi's mother.
Aaron sat there in quiet despair, his thoughts circling in vain, when the door finally closed behind Apoorva. Before he could gather himself, Roohi rushed forward, her small arms wrapping tightly around her mother's waist as if she had been waiting all day for that embrace.
Words tumbled out of the child in a rush—about school, about the sudden strike, and finally about the friend she had brought along. Her voice carried both excitement and a trace of hesitation as she explained, "She was all alone, Mom. No one answered the phone, and I thought it wasn't right to leave her there. So I brought her with me. Did I do the right thing?"
The room grew still, every pair of eyes drawn to Apoorva—mother, professional, woman of quiet strength—while Aaron, watching from the side, felt his world tilt. Apoorva bent down, her hand brushing gently across Roohi's hair, and answered with a soft smile, "Yes, sweetheart, you did the right thing. No child should be left alone like that." Her gaze, tender yet practical, shifted to the other girl. "But we must also let her parents know. Do you have their contact number?"
The little one shook her head, eyes wide with uncertainty. For a moment, silence stretched—until Roohi, almost as if remembering a forgotten detail, turned quickly and pointed toward Aaron. "This uncle knows her parents, Mom!" she declared with innocent certainty, her voice ringing in the quiet room. Apoorva's eyes flickered toward Aaron, surprise mixing with unspoken questions.
Apoorva's brows arched slightly as she turned to Aaron, her tone calm but edged with curiosity. "What are you doing here, Aaron? And where is the driver?" Aaron straightened, still caught between Roohi's innocent revelation and Apoorva's questioning gaze. It took him a moment to recover, but then he managed, "I sent the driver back and thought it best to accompany these little ones myself." Her eyes lingered on him, searching for more. Aaron exhaled softly, then added, "As for the girl… She's our watchman's daughter. I'll speak to them and let her parents know she's safe."
For a heartbeat, silence hung between them, Roohi still clinging to her mother, the other girl shifting nervously at her side. And in that fragile pause, Aaron felt the quiet shift of worlds colliding—his guarded feelings, Apoorva's composed strength, and the innocent trust of the children binding them all into an unexpected moment of closeness. Apoorva's expression softened, the tension in her gaze easing as she looked at Aaron. "Thank you, Aaron," she said sincerely, her voice carrying both relief and gratitude. Then, with a glance at the little girl standing close to Roohi, she added, "Please let her parents know she'll be here till evening. I'll drop her home myself after work."
Aaron nodded at Apoorva's words, but his mind was already drifting elsewhere, caught in a tangle of thoughts he could neither silence nor fully face. Almost unconsciously, the question slipped past his lips, low and hesitant.
"Roohi… she's your daughter?" Apoorva's eyes softened at once. A faint smile touched her lips as she glanced down at the little girl still clinging to her side. "Yes," she said gently, then looked back at him. "I'm sorry, Aaron. In the rush of everything, I never properly introduced you to her."
Apoorva bent slightly toward her daughter, her tone lightening with a playful lilt. "Roohi, this is Aaron uncle. Say hello to him. He's also very good at asking questions—just like you." Her words carried a teasing warmth that softened the air, and for the first time since entering, a faint spark of amusement danced in her eyes. Roohi giggled at the comparison, hiding her face briefly against her mother's scarf before peeking up at Aaron with shy curiosity.
Roohi lifted her chin, her small voice bright and polite. "Hello, Aaron uncle."
Aaron's smile deepened, though it carried a trace of unspoken heaviness. He bent slightly and reached out, his hand brushing gently over her hair in a gesture both affectionate and cautious. The child's eyes lit up at the simple kindness, and for a fleeting moment, the room felt warmer—Apoorva watching with quiet approval, Roohi basking in the attention, and Aaron standing caught between admiration and the ache of truths he was only beginning to face.
Apoorva gathered the two girls close, her hand resting lightly on Roohi's shoulder as she guided them toward her cabin. The little one clung to Roohi's side, their chatter fading down the corridor until only the echo of their footsteps remained.
Aaron lingered a moment longer, then turned back to his own cabin, the silence pressing in around him. He closed the door behind him, sat at his desk, and drew a deep breath. Slowly, almost reverently, he reached for the portrait Meera had sketched—the one he had carried with such restless anticipation.
Aaron unfolded the portrait slowly, his fingers lingering on its edges as if it carried more weight than paper ever should. Meera had captured what his heart longed for but dared not speak aloud—He and Apoorva standing side by side, smiles bright and unguarded, sketched not as colleagues but as a couple. Their closeness in the drawing felt so natural, so right, that it almost hurt to look at.
He had brought it here today with one purpose—to show her, to let the picture speak where his words might falter. It was meant to be his confession, his offering, a way of saying he wanted a life with her without stumbling through fragile sentences. But now, after seeing Apoorva as a mother, the portrait felt like a cruel irony. What he had imagined as a promise suddenly looked more like a forbidden dream, one he wasn't sure he had the right to place in her hands anymore.
Aaron slid the portrait back into his drawer, shutting it as though that single motion could silence his heart. To forget, he buried himself in work, forcing his mind into reports and figures, into anything that could keep his thoughts from circling back to her. His pen scratched across the pages, his eyes scanned lines of text, but beneath it all, a constant ache throbbed, unrelenting.
For he had carried Apoorva quietly in his heart, waiting, hoping, building a future in the shadows of his imagination. And now, with a single revelation, the thought of losing her felt unbearable—like watching the foundation of those silent years crumble before his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to drown himself in work, the truth pressed at the edges of his mind: letting go of Apoorva would never be easy.
Aaron leaned back in his chair, his hand pressed against his forehead as a bitter laugh escaped him, low and hollow. "How foolish I've been", he thought. "How could I ever believe that one I loved should love me back?"
The weight of the years settled on him, sharp and unforgiving. He had built castles of hope, preserved her in memory like a promise she never made. And here she was, Apoorva—brilliant, composed, a mother. To her, he was only Aaron, a colleague, perhaps little more than a stranger. The realization cut deeper than he expected, leaving him adrift between shame for his own naivety and the ache of a longing that refused to die.
Aaron's mind wandered restlessly in circles, trapped between regret and longing, when his phone buzzed against the desk. Apoorva's name flashed on the screen. For a heartbeat he hesitated, steadying himself, then answered.
Her voice came calm, practical, but tinged with the faint weariness of the day. "Aaron, my car has gone out of the city to pick my mother from the wedding. I won't be able to drop Sanjana at her home this evening. Since she's your watchman's daughter… would you be able to take her back?", Aaron drew in a steadying breath before answering, keeping his tone even. "Of course, Apoorva. I'll make sure she gets home safely." On the other end, Apoorva's relief was clear, wrapped in a quiet sincerity. "Thank you, Aaron," she said warmly, her words simple yet carrying the weight of trust.
As the call ended, Aaron stared at his phone for a long moment. The ache in his chest hadn't eased, but her gratitude lingered with him, softening the edges of his turmoil. Even if his dreams were slipping from reach, at least in this small way, he was still a part of her world.
Not long after, Apoorva's phone rang again. She glanced at the screen and answered, On the other end, Sanjana's father spoke with deep gratitude, thanking her for keeping his daughter safe that day. His words were earnest, almost overflowing, and before ending the call he extended an invitation for Apoorva to visit their home as a gesture of thanks.
Apoorva listened quietly, her gaze resting on the two little girls still busy with their chatter. When the man paused, waiting for her reply, she offered only a polite, measured response—gracious but careful, neither accepting nor refusing. "Thank you for your kind words." she said gently, then ended the call.
By the time the office day drew to a close, Apoorva had neatly wrapped up her tasks, her natural orderliness showing in the way she'd organized everything before stepping out. With Roohi clinging to one hand and little Sanjana to the other, she made her way toward Aaron's cabin.
She paused at the doorway, knocking softly before peeking in, only to find him hunched over his desk. Papers were scattered across the surface, his pen moving mechanically, eyes glazed as though his mind wasn't tethered to what he was doing.
Neither the sound of her knock nor the soft giggles of the girls reached him. He was lost, his body going through the motions while his thoughts wandered far away. Apoorva lingered for a moment, watching quietly, a faint crease on her forehead. Then, with a teasing in her voice meant to pull him back, she said, "Mr. Aaron, are you planning to finish the whole office work in one night?"
Aaron blinked back into awareness, finally noticing the three figures at his door. He straightened immediately, setting his pen aside with a faint smile. "Oh—there you are. Just finishing up." He closed a file, stacked the papers into order, and began slipping them into his bag.
Within minutes, he was ready, and together they stepped out of the cabin. But the moment the glass doors slid open, the atmosphere outside swallowed them—the angry chants from the strike, the restless shuffle of crowds, the air thick with tension. Police stood scattered along the sidewalks, whistles sharp, while buses struggled to crawl through the chaos.
Aaron's jaw tightened. He looked from the crowded roads to Apoorva, who held Roohi close, her eyes silently measuring the unrest. It wasn't safe. Not tonight.
"Apoorva," Aaron said firmly, turning to her, "taking a bus in this mess isn't an option. Let me drop you both. My car's right here."
Apoorva hesitated, her natural independence tugging at her, but a glance at Roohi and then at the turmoil outside dissolved her resistance. "Alright," she said quietly. "First we'll drop Sanjana home. Then… you can take us."
Aaron gave a small nod, relieved, as the four of them made their way toward his car. The four of them settled into the car—Aaron behind the wheel, Sanjana and Roohi in the back, Apoorva beside him. The engine hummed to life, and they slipped out onto the road, navigating carefully through the uneasy shadows of the city.