Peehu's shout pierced through Priya's haze, yanking her back to reality. "Mumma!" the little girl exclaimed, her tiny feet thudding against the ground as she dashed toward her. Priya instinctively knelt down, catching Peehu in her arms. But before Priya could speak, Peehu's excitement bubbled over. "Come, Mumma! Let me introduce you to my new friend!"

Without waiting for a response, Peehu grabbed Priya's hand and began dragging her toward the bench where Ram stood, looking equally surprised to see Priya. He slowly rose, his eyes locking with hers. "Hi," he said, his voice carrying a mix of familiarity and uncertainty. "We meet again."

Priya felt her heart constrict, her vulnerability threatening to spill over in this unexpected and awkward reunion. She hadn't prepared herself for this—this raw, surreal moment where her carefully constructed boundaries were breached by fate.

She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. "Are you here alone? Where's Mrs. Mehra?"

"She's away for a couple of days," Ram explained. "Something urgent came up."

Priya's eyebrows knitted together in concern. "And you're staying on your own? How are you managing?"

Ram gave a faint smile. "I'm improving. I've started remembering things, little by little. Mrs. Mehra arranged a maid for me, but I just wanted some fresh air, so I came out for a walk. I live nearby."

Priya's worry deepened. "Will you be able to get back home on your own?"

Before Ram could answer, Peehu's nanny appeared, her face fraught with concern. Priya turned to her sharply. "Take Peehu straight home," she instructed, her voice firm.

Peehu tugged on her mother's kurti, her eyes brimming with disappointment. "But Mumma, you promised to play with me!"

Priya crouched down, brushing a strand of hair from Peehu's face. "You've played enough for today, sweetheart. Please listen to your nanny, okay?" Her tone was firmer now, leaving no room for argument.

Peehu pouted but reluctantly took her nanny's hand. As they began to leave, Peehu turned and waved enthusiastically at Ram. "Bye, Uncle!" she called out.

Ram waved back with a small, almost shy smile. Priya stood frozen for a moment, the innocence of her daughter's actions colliding with the complicated emotions swirling in her chest.

After a brief silence, she spoke. "Let me walk you back to your apartment," she offered.

Ram raised an eyebrow. "That's not necessary. I have my address written down in my phone. See?" He held up the device, his expression almost proud.

"Whatever," Priya replied, sighing. "I'll leave after I see you home."

The path back to Ram's apartment felt laden with an unspoken weight as Priya and he walked side by side. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement, painting their silent journey in hues of orange and gold. Priya kept a steady pace, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, while Ram occasionally glanced her way, as though searching for fragments of familiarity in her profile.

Ram broke the silence, his voice soft and curious. "Are you a mother?"

Priya halted mid-step, startled by the question. She turned to him, unsure of how to respond to such a layered inquiry from the very man she'd fought so hard to shield her daughter from. She nodded slowly. "Yes, I am."

Ram smiled faintly, his gaze momentarily distant. "I didn't think you were married," he said, his tone light but his words cutting through Priya's composure.

She couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her lips—a bitter irony laced within it. The universe, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. "I'm not married," she said, keeping her voice steady, though her emotions churned beneath the surface. "I'm a single mother."

"Oh," Ram murmured, digesting this new information. He didn't probe further, his attention shifting to the sky, where the first stars began to appear. Yet, the quiet lingered with an air of tension.

As they approached the apartment building, Priya found herself studying him—the way he shuffled slightly in his steps, the absentminded way he reached into his pocket for his keys.

Priya turned to leave, but Ram's voice stopped her mid-step. "Hey, wait," he said softly, almost hesitantly. "Stay for a cup of coffee."

She blinked, surprised by his sudden invitation. "No, that's not needed," she replied, her voice firm but not unkind. "I should be leaving now."

But before she could move, something shifted in Ram's expression—a flicker of determination, vulnerability, or perhaps both. He reached out, his hand lightly clasping hers. "Just come with me, na?"

The gesture caught her completely off guard. Priya hesitated, her instincts telling her to pull away, but the sincerity in his voice and the fragility in his touch made her pause. Against her better judgment, she found herself following him into his apartment.

The space was modest and sparsely decorated, but it carried an unexpected warmth. "Where's your maid?" Priya asked, breaking the silence.

"She's not here. She'll be back in the evening to prepare dinner," Ram replied casually, moving toward the kitchen. "Do you want some coffee? Or maybe tea?"

Priya furrowed her brows, folding her arms. "Who's going to make it?"

Ram chuckled lightly, glancing over his shoulder. "I will. Any doubts?"

She paused, caught off guard again. Ram Kapoor. In a kitchen. Offering to make coffee. The irony wasn't lost on her. This was the same man who once believed that the kitchen was no place for him, dismissing the very idea of cooking as something beneath him. And yet, here he was.

Priya sank into the couch opposite the open kitchen, her gaze fixed on him as he fumbled around, searching for mugs and ingredients. He moved with an unfamiliar but earnest clumsiness, as if he was still learning the basics of domesticity.

Her thoughts began to spiral. How had Ram become this person? The man who once prided himself on his precision and control now seemed so unguarded, so... human. Was it fate that had brought him to this point, or the sheer weight of everything life had thrown at him?

She was so lost in her thoughts that the sudden crash of a breaking cup jolted her back to reality.

Her head snapped up, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Ram standing there, frozen, staring at the shattered remnants of a cup on the floor. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and frustration.

Priya quickly rose from the couch, crossing the small space to reach him. "Are you okay?" she asked, her concern genuine.

Ram looked up at her, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Guess I still have a lot to learn," he said, scratching the back of his head.

Priya rushed to the kitchen, her concern for Ram outweighing her caution. In her haste, her foot landed on a jagged shard of the broken cup. Pain shot through her, sharp and immediate. She winced audibly, clutching the edge of the counter for support.

"Ouch!" she gasped, the sting forcing her to pause.

Ram's head snapped up, his eyes wide with alarm. "What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice thick with concern as he hurried toward her.

Priya shook her head, her voice strained. "I think... I stepped on a piece."

Without a second thought, Ram gently took her by the hand, his grip steady yet careful, and led her back to the couch. "Sit down," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As she sank into the cushions, he knelt before her, his movements frantic yet deliberate. "Where's the first aid box?" he muttered to himself, scratching his head as his gaze darted around the room.

Priya tried to wave him off. "It's not that bad—"

"Stay there," he interrupted, standing abruptly.

He strode back to the kitchen, standing still for a moment as though trying to piece together his next move. His eyes landed on the fridge, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. There, pinned to the door, was a handwritten list Mrs. Mehra had left for him. His finger traced down the paper until it landed on the word first aid box.

"Bedroom," he mumbled to himself, rushing off. Within moments, he was back, the box in hand.

"Okay," Ram said, setting the box on the coffee table and kneeling in front of her again. "Now, sit still."

"Ram, you don't have to—" Priya began, but he cut her off with a soft but firm, "Just let me do this."

He gently lifted her leg, resting her foot on his knee. Priya stiffened, unsure how to react. The sight of Ram Kapoor, once so distant and emotionally guarded, now focused on tending to her injury, was almost surreal.

Ram worked carefully, his brows furrowed in concentration as he inspected the small shard lodged in her foot. "This might sting a little," he murmured, his voice unusually tender.

Priya winced slightly as he removed the shard, but his steady hands made it bearable. He cleaned the wound with surprising precision, his movements slow and precise.

The silence between them was heavy, filled with an intensity that neither could fully articulate. Priya watched him, her heart caught in a strange rhythm. The way he worked, so determined, so present—it was a side of him she hadn't seen before.

"There," he finally said, pressing a small bandage over the wound. His hand lingered for a moment, warm and reassuring. "All done."

Priya exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice laced with gratitude and something she couldn't quite name.

Ram looked up at her, his eyes locking with hers. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them in the quiet stillness of the room. Neither spoke, but the weight of unspoken emotions hung thick in the air.

It was in this shared silence that Priya saw a glimpse of the man Ram never have been before. And perhaps, for the first time, Ram saw Priya as women who he might knew from his past life, and he felt himself so close to her.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, but its impact lingered, leaving both of them feeling just a little more unguarded—and a little more connected.