As they strolled along the quiet tree-lined path, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the rustling leaves, Priya noticed a faint smile tugging at the corners of Ram's lips. His gaze was distant, as though he were lost in a daydream, and for a moment, he seemed lighter—untouched by the weight of the world that usually bore down on him.

Her curiosity piqued, Priya tilted her head and asked, "What is it? Why are you smiling?"

Ram startled, as if snapped out of his thoughts, and turned to her with wide eyes. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked almost boyish in his bafflement. He stammered for a moment, searching for an answer. "N-nothing," he managed at first, but under her knowing gaze, he gave up the pretense.

"Maybe... it's just you," he said, his voice soft yet sincere. "Your presence—it calms me down somehow. I've been thinking about that, I guess."

The honesty in his words caught Priya off guard, and for a moment, she simply stared at him. His bashful expression, the way he avoided her eyes and glanced at the ground, made him seem vulnerable—almost endearing.

Priya couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine, carrying the warmth of emotions she hadn't felt in years. She had once craved such words from him, back when they were together, back when his guarded demeanor had often left her longing for even the smallest sign of affection. Yet here they were, in a moment she'd never expected, and he was saying the very things she had dreamed of hearing.

Fate, she thought, had a peculiar sense of humor.

Ram glanced at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head, a hint of bittersweetness in her tone. "Let's just keep walking."

As they continued, Priya couldn't suppress the small smile playing on her lips. She wasn't sure what the future held for them, but for now, she chose to let the moment linger—a fleeting glimpse of happiness, however ironic, that life had granted her.

While walking they reached to a park, as the park was serene, with children's laughter echoing in the distance and the gentle rustle of leaves swaying in the breeze. Priya had chosen a quiet bench beneath a sprawling tree, hoping the stillness would give them both a moment to breathe. "Let's stay here for a while," she said softly, her voice barely louder than the chirping birds.

A few moments later, she stood abruptly. "I think I need some water. Stay here, okay? Don't move." Her tone was firm but kind, a subtle blend of concern and instruction. Ram nodded obediently, watching her disappear into the park's shaded pathways.

When Priya returned with a bottle in hand, her heart froze. The bench where she'd left Ram was empty. Panic surged through her veins, and she began searching frantically, her eyes scanning every direction. "Ram!" she called out, her voice tinged with desperation.

Then, in the distance, she caught a glimpse of him. Her breath hitched, and without thinking, she broke into a sprint. As she approached, she saw him standing near an ice cream cart, holding two cones in his hands.

Ram turned to her with a sheepish smile, his expression gentle and unassuming. "I came to buy ice cream for you," he said, his tone almost apologetic. "I thought you'd like it. You said you were thirsty too, so..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the worry etched across her face. "Did I make you worried?"

Priya stopped in front of him, panting, her chest rising and falling with the exertion. For a moment, she just stared at him, her emotions teetering between frustration and something far more tender. Finally, she closed her eyes, her exhale laced with exasperation.

"Ram," she began, her voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity, "don't think of me too much. Think about yourself instead. Focus on who you are and try to remember that. That's what's important right now."

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with a meaning she wasn't entirely sure he could grasp. Turning on her heel, she began walking back toward the bench, her steps brisk, her mind racing.

Ram stood frozen for a moment, staring at her retreating figure, his confusion palpable. He glanced down at the melting ice cream cones in his hands, unsure of what to do next. With a small shrug, he began following her, trailing a few steps behind like a shadow, his heart quietly holding onto the warmth of her care, even if he couldn't fully understand it yet.

Ram finally reached Priya, who was seated on the bench, sipping from her water bottle. Her eyes met his as she gestured for him to sit. "Why are you standing there like that? Sit down," she said, her tone a mix of irritation and bemusement.

Ram hesitated, juggling the two ice cream cones that were already starting to melt. Priya's gaze dropped to his hands, and she raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to give me one of those?"

Startled, Ram fumbled with the cones and stammered, "Oh—of course! I thought you were mad at me. I was scared."

Priya chuckled, shaking her head. "Give it to me." She pointed at the chocolate one. "No, not that one—the chocolate. I want that."

Obliging, Ram handed her the chocolate cone, then carefully sat beside her. They sat in silence for a moment, the soft sounds of the park enveloping them.

Priya broke the quiet, her voice pensive. "Don't you ever think about your past life? Maybe it was better than this."

Ram stared at the ground, his shoulders heavy with an unseen weight. "I don't want to," he said, his voice low but firm. "I feel like I might've committed some sins. Maybe God wants me to forget. So why should I put effort into remembering?"

Priya's brows furrowed, her heart twisting at his words. "Don't assume things on your own," she replied, her tone steady yet urging. "Just focus on getting better. I'm here to help you."

Ram turned to her, his expression unreadable. "I don't want to get better," he said quietly. "Because once I regain my memory, we'll never meet again, right?"

Priya blinked, taken aback. "What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Ram shook his head, avoiding her eyes. "Nothing," he murmured, rising abruptly. He turned and started walking away, leaving Priya sitting there, her ice cream forgotten in her hand.

"Hey!" she called out, snapping out of her daze. "Stop! I'm coming."

She stood up quickly and jogged after him, her heart racing—not just from the exertion but from the strange heaviness in Ram's words. As she caught up to him, she wondered what pain he was carrying, and more importantly, why it felt so intertwined with her own.

After going some distance ram suddenly stopped by a crowd , the hum of the crowd grew louder as Priya and Ram approached a group gathered around a young man strumming a guitar. The lively tune filled the air, and the audience swayed to its rhythm, their faces lit with joy. Ram stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on the guitarist. His eyes narrowed as though trying to pull a memory from the fog of his mind.

"What is it?" Priya asked softly, studying his face. "Do you like the music?"

Ram hesitated before answering, his voice uncertain. "I don't know. It feels... familiar."

Priya tilted her head, sensing something stir within him. "Do you want to play?" she asked, a playful challenge in her tone.

Ram looked at her, wide-eyed. "No, how could I? I don't even know how to play it."

Priya smiled knowingly. "You can try. Just give it a shot."

Before he could protest, she approached the young guitarist and explained the situation. The man, curious and good-natured, handed over his guitar. Priya turned back to Ram, holding out the instrument.

"Go on," she urged, her voice filled with gentle determination.

Ram shook his head vehemently, backing away. "No, I can't. I don't know what to do."

"Just try," Priya insisted, stepping closer and placing the guitar in his reluctant hands.

He stood there, awkward and unsure, his fingers trembling as they hovered over the strings. The crowd watched with mild curiosity, whispering among themselves. Priya's gaze never left Ram, silently encouraging him.

Then, as if guided by an unseen force, his fingers moved. A hesitant note broke the silence, then another, forming a melody. And suddenly, Ram's hands began to play with confidence, creating a tune so hauntingly beautiful it silenced the crowd.

Priya froze. She knew this song—the gentle strumming, the soulful notes. It was Ram's favorite tune, the one he used to play when he thought no one was listening. Back when they were married, it was the only time she felt she saw the real Ram, the man who hid behind layers of stoicism. He never played for her or anyone else, guarding this vulnerable piece of himself.

But now, that same man stood before her, his head slightly bowed, lost in the music. Priya's heart clenched. The melody was not just a song; it was a glimpse into the Ram she had always longed to understand. The raw emotion in the music was almost unbearable.

Tears welled in her eyes as the memories flooded back—the late nights, the solitude, the longing for a connection she thought they could never have. And yet, here he was, playing a tune that felt like it belonged to her soul.

She couldn't stay. The weight of her emotions threatened to crush her. Turning abruptly, Priya walked away, the sound of Ram's guitar following her like a shadow.

Ram glanced up from the strings, confused as he saw her retreating figure. For a moment, his hands faltered, the tune stumbling. But then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, he continued playing, the melody carrying his unspoken thoughts into the night.