The Saturday sun filtered through the living room curtains, casting warm patterns on the floor where Peehu sat surrounded by her crayons and a half-finished drawing. Priya, already dressed for work, paced near the door, glancing at her phone with a frown. An urgent call from the hospital had disrupted her carefully planned day.

Priya knelt beside Peehu, her kurti brushing the floor as she spoke softly, "Princess, I have to go to the hospital for a little while."

Peehu's crayon froze mid-stroke. Her big, round eyes looked up, brimming with disappointment. "But, Mumma, you promised we'd go to the park today. You said you'd play with me."

Priya's heart sank at her daughter's crestfallen expression. Peehu's tiny hands clutched her kurti, her small voice pleading, "Don't go, Mumma. Please. I really wanted to go to the park with you."

Priya sighed, guilt tugging at her as she gently stroked Peehu's hair. "I know, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to break our plan. But there's something really important at work that I can't ignore."

Peehu's pout deepened, her little face crumpling with frustration. Priya sat down fully now, cupping her daughter's face in her hands. She needed a solution—a compromise. An idea struck her.

"Okay," Priya said with a determined smile. "How about this? You go to the park with aunty first, and I promise, as soon as I'm done at the hospital, I'll join you. I'll bring snacks, and we'll play on the swings together. Does that sound good?"

Peehu tilted her head, considering this. "Promise, Mumma? You'll come for sure?"

Priya held up her pinky finger, a solemn expression on her face. "Pinky promise. I'll be there as soon as I can."

This earned a small, hesitant nod from Peehu. She reached out and locked her tiny pinky with Priya's,

Priya called Peehu's nanny, explaining the situation carefully. "Please take her to the park and keep her occupied until I get there. Make sure she plays and has fun, okay?"

The nanny smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry,Priya mam. Peehu will be fine with me. Just come as soon as you can."

Then Priya kissed her forehead and whispered, "Have fun, my little star. I'll be there before you know it."

Peehu gave a small, reluctant smile, still clutching her favorite toy. She waved at her mother before she walking out the door, priya's steps lighter but her gaze lingering on her little daughter.

The late afternoon sun bathed the park in a golden glow as children's laughter echoed through the air. Peehu, her tiny figure brimming with energy, flitted between games with the other kids, her giggles like sweet music to anyone who passed by. Her nanny, seated on a shaded bench nearby, kept a watchful eye—until her phone buzzed.

Lost in her conversation, the nanny didn't notice when Peehu tugged at her kurti, her wide eyes locked on a distant cotton candy vendor. "I want that," Peehu said, her voice insistent.

The nanny waved her off absently, engrossed in her call. Peehu frowned, her lips curving into a tiny pout as the candy man began to drift further away. She glanced back at her nanny, still unaware, and her frustration bubbled over. With determined little steps, she ran after the vendor, her small frame weaving through the crowd.

At the far edge of the park, Peehu found herself in unfamiliar territory, her excitement giving way to confusion. She slowed her pace, glancing around at the unfamiliar faces and tall trees that seemed to tower over her. Lost in thought, she suddenly bumped into someone.

Stumbling slightly, she looked up—and froze. A tall man with kind but tired eyes looked down at her. He crouched to her level, his face softening into a gentle expression. "Hey there," Ram said, his voice calm and curious. "Why are you wandering here alone? Where's your parent?"

Peehu stepped back slightly, her big eyes wary of the stranger. She didn't say a word, clutching her tiny hands together nervously.

Then, like a little bell summoning her attention, the cotton candy vendor reappeared in the distance. Peehu's face lit up, and she pointed a tiny finger in his direction. "I want that!" she declared, her voice breaking her silence.

Ram followed her gaze to the candy man, the confusion clearing from his face. Before he could respond, Peehu was already on the move, her little legs carrying her toward her goal. Ram sighed and stood up, his curiosity piqued as he trailed after her.

When they reached the vendor, Peehu looked up at him expectantly. "One cotton candy, please," she said, her tiny voice full of hope.

The vendor hesitated, glancing at her and then scanning the area as if searching for an adult. Seeing her predicament, Ram stepped forward. "Give her one," he said, pulling out his wallet. "I'll pay for it."

The vendor nodded, handing Peehu a fluffy pink cloud of candy. Peehu's eyes sparkled as she took it, holding it carefully in both hands like a precious treasure.

Ram smiled down at her and said, "Let's sit somewhere to eat it. You don't want to lose it now, do you?"

Peehu nodded, her trust in this stranger growing. They walked to a nearby bench under the shade of a tree and sat side by side. Peehu nibbled at the cotton candy, her tiny bites melting into sweetness on her tongue. Ram watched her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "do you always chase after candy men on your own?"

Peehu shook her head, her cheeks puffed with candy. "I told my nanny, but she didn't listen," she said, her voice small but firm.

Ram chuckled softly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Well, I'm glad I was here to help."

For a moment, the two sat in companionable silence, the lively chaos of the park a distant hum. Ram couldn't place why, but there was something about this little girl—her innocence, her determination—that tugged at something deep within him. Peehu, too, seemed at ease, as if sitting with this man wasn't strange but oddly familiar.

The park buzzed with the chatter of children and the occasional bark of a distant dog, but Priya's world had come to a standstill. She had rushed to the park with eager anticipation, ready to fulfill her promise to Peehu. Instead, the moment she saw her nanny seated alone, her heart began to race.

"Hi, where is Peehu?" Priya asked, trying to steady her voice.

The nanny's blank, hesitant expression made Priya's stomach sink. "She was here," the nanny stammered, her eyes darting nervously, "but I... I just took a call, and when I looked up, she was gone."

"What?" Priya's voice rose in alarm, panic tightening her throat. "Did you look for her? Where could she have gone?"

"I was about to," the nanny stuttered, "but then you came."

Priya's face hardened, her eyes flashing with anger and fear. "You should've been more careful! I trusted you! You know how restless she is!" Her voice cracked as she struggled to contain her rising dread.

Without waiting for another word, Priya turned and ran, her eyes frantically scanning the park. Every corner, every bench, every small cluster of children playing—it was all a blur. Her breathing quickened, her heart pounding with every step. The thought of losing Peehu clawed at her chest, choking her with terror.

Then, as she reached the other side of the park, Priya skidded to a halt. Her breath caught in her throat.

There, beneath the shade of a sprawling tree, was Peehu. She was perched on a bench, her tiny legs swinging back and forth, a content smile on her face. Next to her sat Ram, holding a tissue as he gently wiped her sticky cheeks smeared with pink cotton candy. The sight was surreal—almost otherworldly.

Priya froze, her legs rooted to the ground. Her mind screamed at her to move, to run to her daughter, to pull her away. But her body refused to listen. She watched in silence, her heart torn between disbelief and a pain she couldn't name.

Ram, the man she had vowed to keep at a distance, the man she had convinced herself could never be a part of Peehu's life, was here—wiping her daughter's face with an ease that felt so natural, so unsettling.

Peehu giggled as Ram spoke to her, his words too soft to reach Priya's ears. He handed her the last bite of the cotton candy, and Peehu happily popped it into her mouth, her cheeks puffed out in satisfaction. Ram smiled—a faint, almost fleeting curve of his lips—but it was enough to stir something deep within Priya.

Her mind spiraled with thoughts. Why? Why him? Why now? She had worked so hard to build a world where Peehu would never have to know him, where she would never have to face the complexities of explaining their story. And yet, fate had its own cruel sense of irony.

For the first time in years, Priya saw a glimpse of the man she once knew—not the fragile, lost version sitting across from her in therapy sessions, but a man capable of kindness, connection, and something almost paternal.

But that only made it harder. Harder to breathe, harder to understand why this scene felt so wrong and so right all at once.

As the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on them, Priya stood frozen in time. The world around her faded into a blur, and all she could see was her daughter sharing an unexpected moment with the man who was both a stranger and an inescapable part of her past.