The school bell echoed through the air, and soon the gates were flooded with children racing out, their laughter and chatter filling the premises. Parents eagerly called out their names, holding out arms to scoop them up and carry them home. Amidst the chaos, Ram stood near his car, his eyes scanning the crowd with an almost desperate intensity.

He didn't know what he was looking for until he found her. There she was, Peehu, standing near the school building, her small frame leaning against a pillar, her arms crossed over her chest. Her face wore a pout, her brows furrowed in impatience. She was waiting, waiting for her mother, or someone she trusted to come and take her home. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her tiny bag slipping off her shoulder, which she pushed back with an annoyed huff.

Ram's heart clenched at the sight. His little girl. His Peehu. She had her mother's eyes, sharp and full of silent resilience, and perhaps his stubborn chin, though it softened her round cheeks. She was a perfect blend of him and Priya, a living testament to their fractured union.

How foolish he had been, he thought bitterly, to once deny himself this joy. This tiny human, this piece of him walking the earth, was a miracle he had almost turned his back on. And yet, standing there, staring at her, he realized how deeply his heart had always yearned for her, how much he had craved to hear her call him "Papa" just once.

He took a hesitant step forward but stopped in his tracks, his feet rooted by a storm of emotions—guilt, longing, fear. What right did he have to approach her now? To claim a place in her life when he had stayed away for so long? His fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to rush forward and pull her into his arms.

Peehu looked around again, her lips trembling slightly as her patience began to wane. She tugged at the strap of her bag and kicked a pebble near her foot. Ram swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He wished he could step in, kneel before her, and tell her everything—how he missed her first steps, her first words, her innocent laughter. How he wished he had been there for every scraped knee, every bedtime story.

But he couldn't. Not yet. He wasn't ready to face her questions or her resentment. He wasn't ready to explain why he had been absent for so long. So, he stood there, in the shadows of his own regret, watching her from a distance, burning her image into his mind—a father trying to memorize the daughter he could never truly call his own.

Ram stood in the distance, clutching the small teddy bear in his hand, his heart pounding louder with every step he took toward Peehu. It felt as though the world had slowed around him, the vibrant chatter of the schoolyard fading into a muffled hum.

but he knew this was his last chance—his final moment with his daughter before he disappeared from her life forever.

When he finally reached her, he softly called out, "Peehu."

She looked up, her wide eyes filled with a mix of confusion and fear. The memory of that night when Ram lost control flashed in her mind, and instinctively, she took a small step back. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Ram knelt before her, lowering himself to her level, and offered her the teddy bear with a shaky hand. "I came to meet you," he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I brought you this. I thought you might like it."

Peehu's gaze shifted to the teddy bear, her small hands hesitant to reach out. She glanced at Ram, searching his face for any signs of the man who had scared her before. Her young mind wrestled with the fear and curiosity battling within her.

Ram sighed deeply, his regret evident. "I'm sorry, Peehu," he said softly. "On your birthday, I ruined everything. I scared you. I... I wasn't myself. But I'm better now. I promise."

Peehu tilted her head slightly, studying him, her fear easing as she saw the gentleness in his eyes. "Mumma said you were unwell," she replied. "Are you okay now?"

Ram nodded, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine now."

While playing with the teddy she noticing ram again then she asked him,

Hesitated, then smiled faintly. "You look different," she said, her voice lightening. "Mumma used to tell me about my dad. She said he was tall and handsome and wore black suits, just like you. 

Ram chuckled softly at her innocent words, his heart aching at the unintended irony. "Do you think I'm handsome?" he teased gently, his voice breaking slightly.

Peehu giggled, nodding shyly. "Yes."

Her smile was like sunlight breaking through the darkest clouds, but her next question sent a dagger through his chest. "If you're all fine now, why didn't you come to meet me? I missed you. I asked Mumma, but she got upset."

Ram's throat tightened, his words caught in the storm of emotions surging within him. He looked at her, the innocent eyes that didn't deserve the pain of his absence, and whispered, "Because I wasn't here. But I'm here now, Peehu. I came to see you, even if it's just for today."

Peehu's eyes lit up with hope. "So, now you're going to stay, right? We can meet often?"

Ram froze, her question cutting through him like a blade. He stared at her, the longing in her eyes mirroring the ache in his heart. He wanted to say yes, to promise her the world, but he couldn't. Instead, he pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her small frame against him as tears streamed down his face.

She hugged him back, her tiny hands patting his shoulder as if to comfort him. "Why are you crying?" she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

Ram couldn't respond. The weight of his choices, his regrets, and his love for her bore down on him. He held her a moment longer, memorizing the feel of her arms around him, the warmth of her presence.

Then, with a deep breath, he let her go. He stood up, his face a mask of sorrow, and without another word, he turned and walked away. Peehu called after him, but Ram didn't stop. He didn't look back.

He couldn't.

And as he disappeared into the crowd, Peehu clutched the teddy bear tightly, her young mind unable to understand why her heart felt so heavy.

The clothing store buzzed with energy, the racks of brightly colored fabrics a vivid contrast to the storm brewing in Priya's mind. Her family flitted from one section to another, holding up dresses against her, their voices filled with excitement and joy. Yet, Priya stood in the middle of the chaos, her gaze unfocused and her hands limp at her sides.

"Priya, look at this one! It's perfect for the engagement," her mother called, holding up an ornate lehenga with shimmering gold embroidery.

Priya forced a smile and nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. She tried to focus on the dresses, the laughter, the celebratory chatter around her, but it felt like she was trapped in a fog. Every question about colors and designs blurred together, her thoughts pulling her further into her own turmoil.

Am I doing the right thing?

She had been asking herself this question for days, but no answer felt certain. Her chest tightened as she thought about Ram—his recent tenderness, his regret, his desperate attempt to make things right. But then her memories pulled her back to the man he once was—the one she hated, the one who hurt her, the one who dismissed her when she needed him most.

If Ram had never returned to her life, would she be feeling this way? Would she be questioning her engagement? The thought made her uneasy, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress as she tried to ground herself.

No, she thought firmly. This isn't love. This is confusion.

It had to be. She had fallen for the Ram she had seen recently, the one who was apologetic, kind, and trying so hard to make amends. But was that the same man she had spent sleepless nights resenting? The man who had made her question her worth?

"Priya, what do you think about this one?" her sister asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Priya blinked, startled. "It's... nice," she mumbled, barely glancing at the dress.

Her sister frowned. "You're not even looking! Priya, this is your engagement. You should be excited!"

Priya forced another smile, her heart sinking. Should I be excited?

She tried to convince herself that it was just nerves, that everyone felt this way before making a life-changing commitment. But deep down, she knew it was more than that. It wasn't about the man she was about to get engaged to; it was about the man she couldn't stop thinking about.

Her fingers brushed against a soft pink saree, and for a moment, she imagined Ram standing beside her, choosing it with her. She shook her head quickly, as if the thought could be banished that easily.

No. This isn't about him. It can't be about him.

"Priya, come here and try this on!" her mother called again, her voice brimming with excitement.

Priya took a deep breath, pushing her doubts to the side. She walked toward her family, letting their joy fill the void in her chest, even if only momentarily. But as she picked up the lehenga her mother had chosen, her hands trembled.

Because no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she couldn't shake the feeling that her heart was still tangled with a man she had vowed to hate.

The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of cardboard as Ram methodically packed his belongings.

His flight was in the early hours of the morning, and every item he placed in the suitcase felt like he was sealing away a part of his past.

As he reached for a bottle of his cologne on the dresser, it slipped from his hand. The glass shattered on the floor, the sharp sound echoing in the silence. The rich, familiar scent wafted through the air, mingling with the frustration in his sigh.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, crouching to assess the damage. A dark stain had already formed on the sleeve of the suit he intended to wear. Irritated, he went searching for tissues or a cloth to clean up.

When he opened the cupboard, his fingers brushed against a small object tucked away behind neatly folded clothes—a video recorder.

Ram frowned, pulling it out. "Why is this here?" he mumbled to himself, his curiosity momentarily overtaking his frustration. He set everything else aside and sank into a chair, the weight of the recorder heavy in his hands.

With hesitant fingers, he switched it on, the faint hum of the device filling the room. A few moments later, the screen flickered to life, displaying an image that sent a pang straight through his chest.

The video is about, capturing from their first meeting in this very city to buy candy floss for peehu. Ram's chest heaved as he watched their journey play out on the tiny screen.

Ram felt the sting of tears, his vision blurring as her words echoed in his mind. He had been too blind, too proud, to see it then. But now, sitting in his nearly empty apartment, he felt the full weight of what he had lost.

He clutched the recorder to his chest, the scent of the broken cologne lingering in the air—a cruel reminder of the shattered pieces of his own heart.