Arjun’s POV

The house felt alive again, but the silence between us was fragile. I stayed near her room after instructing Meena, listening to each soft movement she made inside.

A rustle.

A sigh.

A pause.

I knocked gently.

“Aarohi… dinner is ready. Just try a little, okay?”

She answered sharply, voice weak but edged with irritation.

“I told you I don’t want it, Arjun. Stop… controlling everything.”

Her tone cut deeper than she knew.

But I stepped back, lowering my voice.

“I’m not controlling you… I just don’t want you to get sick again.”

Another long silence. Then the door creaked open.

Aarohi walked out slowly, one hand holding her bump, the other brushing the wall to keep balance

And when she walked past me, I felt my heart twist because she flinched, just slightly, when her shoulder brushed my sleeve.

Like she didn’t trust me near her.

Like my very presence suffocated her.

She didn’t even glance at me as she sat at the dining table, leaving a large gap between our chairs.

Meena placed the plate gently in front of her:

soft chapati broken small, mild potato curry, boiled pumpkin mashed lightly with ghee, and warm honey milk.

Aarohi stared at it with irritation.

“Why this bland stuff?”

“Because...doctor said it will be easier”

She cut me instantly.

“Of course. Arjun knows everything. Even what my stomach wants.”

A taunt. Sharp.

But she was right to be tired, angry, wounded.

She took a tiny bite anyway.

Then another.

Her breathing softened, her lashes fluttered with exhaustion.

Relief washed through me so intensely I almost closed my eyes.

She was eating.

Just that… was enough to loosen something tight around my chest.

Night crept into the mansion, quiet and dim.

Then I heard her muffled groan.

I found her holding the kitchen counter, trembling hard.

“Aarohi”

“Don’t touch,” she warned, breathless.

But when she bent forward, vomiting again, I stepped closer anyway, steadying her shoulder lightly.

“Easy… let it out… I’m here,” I whispered.

When she finished, I held a glass of water out, not touching her hand, only letting her take it if she wanted.

She drank slowly, then whispered, “Don’t… look at me.”

She wasn’t angry.

She was embarrassed.

Hurting.

I gave her space.

Placed a blanket over her shoulders.

Gave her the medicine quietly.

And I didn’t speak again.

Hours later, the mansion was wrapped in moonlight.

She thought I was asleep.

I wasn’t.

I heard her soft footsteps heading to the kitchen.

“Aunty…” she whispered.

Meena looked up immediately. “Yes, beta?”

Aarohi clasped her hands tightly.

“Do you… have something sweet? A little?”

Her voice cracked like she was scared to ask.

“What sweet do you want?” Meena asked softly.

“I.. I don’t know. Maybe nothing. It’s okay.”

Aarohi shook her head quickly.

“Nothing. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

My heart twisted.

Her little hesitations, the way she couldn’t ask for something she truly wanted it felt like another failure pressing down on me. I wanted to fix this, to make it right, but I couldn’t bridge the wall she had built.

She always believed she wasn’t allowed to want anything.

The way she backed away from her own desire it hit something raw inside me.

She didn’t know how to ask for what she liked.

Life had trained her to shrink.

Quietly, I stepped back into the hallway and made the call to the bakery.

When the tray arrived ghee laddus, fruit custard, chocolate mousse, and the chocolates she secretly loved Aarohi looked overwhelmed.

“This is… too much,” she whispered.

“Just take what you want, beta,” Meena said, smiling warmly.

Aarohi swallowed and finally reached for a chocolate piece. Her fingers trembled, but she tasted it slowly.

Then

A soft, tiny laugh escaped her lips.

She pressed a hand to her bump.

“Aah… naughty kick again.”

Meena chuckled. “Baby also wants sweet.”

I stood half-hidden, watching her chest rise and fall peacefully for the first time today.

I felt something twist deep inside me a yearning so raw it almost hurt.

I wanted to go to her.

To feel that moment.

To touch her hand.

To whisper that I was here.

Her smile…

that tiny, fragile smile…

broke me.

I wanted to be the one beside her.

I wanted to feel that kick.

To hear that laugh up close.

To hold her while she smiled.

But I had no right.

Not anymore.

But I had no right.

So I stayed hidden…

watching her smile…

letting her enjoy a moment of sweetness in a life I had once made bitter.

And every second of it carved guilt deeper into my chest.

I could give her food, comfort, a safe place

but I still didn’t know if I could ever mend the wounds I caused.

For now…

this little stolen sweetness

would have to be enough.

I felt the ache of wanting to be part of that moment.

But I stayed in the shadows.

It wasn’t my place.

Not anymore.

Meena sat beside her on the kitchen stool, gently wiping the chocolate smudge from Aarohi’s fingers. The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge, the night calm sinking around them like a blanket.

“Beta… are you feeling a little better now?” Meena asked softly.

Aarohi nodded, but her lips trembled.

Her breathing hitched.

“Aarohi?” Meena whispered, worried. “What happened?”

Aarohi shook her head at first, pressing her lips together.

Then suddenly she broke

her face crumpling as her eyes filled to the brim.

“I… I miss my mother,” she choked out.

My entire body froze from where I stood hidden in the hallway.

Meena’s heart softened instantly. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Aarohi wiped her tears quickly, ashamed.

“I shouldn’t cry. I left home myself. I ran away when I found out I was pregnant. Maa… she must be so angry with me. I don’t even know if she thinks about me anymore.”

More tears streamed down her cheeks.

“When you talk to me kindly… when you give me food… when you scold me softly…”

Her voice cracked.

“It reminds me of her. It feels like… like a little bit of her is here.”

Meena reached out and cupped her cheek tenderly.

“My child… even if you left… you are still her daughter. A mother’s heart never forgets.”

Aarohi’s shoulders shook as she cried harder.

“I want to go back… but I’m scared,” she whispered. “What if she hates me now? What if she doesn’t want me or the baby?”

Meena pulled her into a warm hug, stroking her back.

“No mother hates her child, beta. Not truly. She is waiting. Trust me. When the time is right, you will see her again.”

Aarohi pressed her face into Meena’s shoulder, crying quietly, trembling like a little child who finally let her fear out.

And I…

I stood behind the pillar, feeling her pain stab through my chest like knives.

Because she wasn’t broken just because of me.

She was broken from the world.

From loneliness.

From fear.

From missing her mother and having no one to lean on.

And I hadn’t made it any easier.

Guilt swallowed me whole.

I wanted to step forward.

To hold her.

To tell her she wasn’t alone.

But I didn’t move.

Because I knew…

I wasn’t the one she wanted comfort from.

Meena held her gently, whispering soft, motherly words, and I watched with a burning ache in my chest.

Aarohi deserved love.

She deserved safety.

She deserved warmth.

And right now she was getting it from everyone except me.

Author’s POV

Sometimes, life doesn’t break us with loud tragedies.

Sometimes it breaks us quietly

in the spaces where we pretend to be strong,

in the words we never dare to speak aloud,

in the loneliness we learn to carry like a second skin.

Aarohi had not shattered when the world judged her.

She had not shattered when she ran away, pregnant and afraid.

She had not shattered when she slept alone in strange places, hiding her fear in silence.

But here

in the soft warmth of a kitchen,

in the gentle voice of a woman who wasn’t her mother,

in a moment as simple as tasting a piece of chocolate

she broke

Not because she was weak.

But because she had been strong for far too long.

And Arjun…

he stood there with the weight of every mistake hanging over him,

realizing for the first time that guilt is not just a feeling

it is a mirror.

A mirror that shows you who you have been,

and who you could have been,

if you had chosen differently.

He saw a girl who hid her cravings,

who swallowed her own desires,

who walked on eggshells around the world

because she had never been taught she deserved softness.

He saw a girl who missed her mother

not because she was fragile

but because every brave warrior needs a place to collapse.

And he understood something painful and profound:

Sometimes the person you want to protect the most…

is the person you have hurt the deepest.

The truth burned through him slow, heavy, merciless.

If he truly cared for her,

he would have to loosen his grip,

step out of the center of her suffering,

and bring back the one person whose love was older than fear

her mother.

Because love is not always about holding on.

Sometimes…

love is stepping back,

opening a door you once closed,

and watching someone walk toward the place where they truly feel safe.

That night, in the quiet corridors of the mansion,

Aarohi cried for her mother…

And Arjun, for the first time,

realized he might have to let her go

just to give her back the part of herself that he never should have taken.

Could sweetness ever fill the spaces that pain carved out?

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