Abhira's feet seemed to move of their own accord, carrying her away from the mansion and the painful memories that lingered within its walls. Abhir followed closely behind her, his eyes fixed on her retreating back. 

As Abhir reflected on his feelings, he couldn't shake off the sense of familiarity he felt with Abhira. It was as if he had known her for a lifetime, not just a few hours. He tried to rationalize his emotions, telling himself that it was just his empathetic nature, that he was simply responding to her pain and sorrow.

But deep down, he knew that it was more than that. There was something about Abhira that resonated with him, something that made him feel like he had found a long-lost piece of himself.

Abhir's mind whispered a haunting question: "Who are you, Abhira? Why do you stir up memories of her?" 

Abhir's mind began to wander, searching for answers. Had he met Abhira before, perhaps in a past life? Or was it something more tangible, something that he had forgotten or suppressed?

As he pondered these questions, Abhir's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Abhira's quiet sobs. He was drawn back to the present, his heart aching with compassion for this mysterious woman who had somehow captured his heart.

As Abhira sat on the bench, her body shook with uncontrollable sobs. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of grief, unable to find a lifeline to cling to. The pain of losing her child was a wound that felt like it would never heal.

She thought back to the moment she had found out she was pregnant, the joy and excitement that had filled her heart. She had dreamed of holding her baby in her arms, of watching them grow and thrive. But now, all those dreams were shattered, leaving her with a sense of emptiness and despair.

Abhira's cries grew louder, more anguished, as she thought about all the milestones she would never get to experience with her child. She would never get to see their first smile, their first steps, their first words. She would never get to hold them in her arms, to feel their tiny heart beating against her chest.

As the reality of her loss sank in, Abhira felt like she was being consumed by a darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. She didn't know how to escape, how to find a way out of this abyss of grief. All she could do was sit there, surrounded by the silence of the garden, and let the tears flow.

As Abhira spoke, her voice cracked with emotion, and her eyes pleaded with the heavens above. She was talking to her own mother, who had passed away, asking her to take care of her child in the afterlife.

"BSP" was a term of endearment, a nickname that only Abhira used to refer to her child. The fact that she was using it now, in her grief, made the moment even more heart-wrenching.

Abhira's eyes remained fixed on the sky, as if she was willing her mother to answer her, to give her some sign that her child was safe and happy. The tears continued to stream down her face, and her body shook with sobs, as she poured out her heart to her mother.

"Mumma, please... take care of my little one, won't you?" Abhira's voice trembled as she gazed up at the sky, her eyes pleading for reassurance. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered the nickname she had lovingly bestowed upon her child: "BSP..."

Abhira's voice echoed through the desolate garden, a heart-wrenching cry of anguish and despair. Her eyes blazed with tears as she implored the heavens, her words tumbling out in a torrent of sorrow.

"Why, God, why? Why must you always take away the people I love? My father, whom I never even got to meet... my mother, who left me far too soon... and now, my precious BSP... why must you snatch away my happiness, time and time again?"

Abhira's body shook with sobs, her voice cracking with emotion as she poured out her heart to the universe. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of pain, with no lifeline in sight. The injustice of it all seemed too much to bear, and Abhira's cries grew louder, more anguished, as she begged for answers that seemed impossible to find.

Abhir's POV

As I stood there, watching Abhira's anguish, I felt a familiar ache in my chest. It was a pain I knew all too well, a pain that had once consumed me whole. I had thought I had long buried it, but Abhira's tears had unearthed it, and now it was rising to the surface like a ghost from my past.

I remembered the feeling of losing someone I loved, the crushing weight of grief that had threatened to suffocate me. I remembered the tears, the screams, the endless questions of "why?" that had haunted me for so long.

As I looked at Abhira, I saw myself in her. I saw the same pain, the same anguish, the same desperation.

As I gazed at Abhira, I couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity, a sense of connection that went beyond the few hours we had known each other. It was as if I had known her for years, as if our hearts had been linked by some unseen thread.

And yet, it was her pain that truly bridged the gap between us. Seeing her suffer, seeing the anguish etched on her face, pained my heart in a way that I couldn't explain. It was as if her sorrow had awakened a deep well of empathy within me, a sense of understanding that transcended words.

I felt a deep-seated desire to comfort Abhira, to ease her pain and wipe away her tears. But I didn't know how. I didn't know what words to say, what gestures to make, or how to even approach her.

I felt like I was stuck in a state of emotional paralysis, unable to move or act. I was afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, of making her feel worse instead of better.

As I stood there, indecisive and uncertain, Abhira's sobs continued to echo through the air, a heartbreaking reminder of her pain and my own helplessness. I felt like I was failing her, like I was letting her down when she needed me the most.

My heart skipped a beat as I watched Abhira's body go limp, her sobs ceasing as she lay down on the bench. She looked like a lifeless doll, her limbs splayed out at awkward angles, her face pale and drained of all color.

I felt a jolt of fear as I rushed to her side, my heart racing with concern. I gently placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling for any sign of life, any indication that she was okay.

As I looked down at her, I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. I felt helpless, unsure of how to help her, how to ease her pain. All I could do was stand there, frozen in uncertainty, as Abhira lay there, lost in a sea of grief.

I slowly backed away from the bench, giving Abhira the space she seemed to need. I understood that sometimes, people just need to be alone with their emotions, to process their grief and pain without distraction or interruption.

I took a few steps back, my eyes never leaving Abhira's still form. I stood there, silently watching over her, making sure she was safe and okay.

The garden was quiet around us, the only sound the distant chirping of birds and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was a peaceful, serene atmosphere, one that seemed to envelop Abhira's sorrow, holding it gently, like a soft blanket.

I stood there, waiting, letting Abhira have the time and space she needed to work through her emotions. I was willing to wait for as long as it took, to be there for her when she was ready to face the world again.

His eyes suddenly fell upon a small, delicate locket lying on the ground near her. The locket seemed to glint in the fading light, catching his attention.

As he picked it up, his heart began to race. The locket felt familiar in his hand, and as he turned it over, he realized why. It belonged to his mother.

 he stood there, his eyes fixed on the locket, he felt a sense of trepidation wash over him. He slowly opened the locket, his heart racing with anticipation. And then, he saw it. A picture of his mother, smiling brightly, with a younger version of himself by her side.

But how did Abhira have it? He had never seen her wear it before, and he couldn't imagine how it had ended up in her possession. A thousand questions swirled in his mind as he stared at the locket in his hand, his eyes wide with shock and confusion.

As he gazed down at Abhira's peaceful form, he felt a sense of determination wash over him. He needed to know the truth, to understand the connection between Abhira, his mother, and himself. The locket, the picture, it all seemed to point to a deeper connection, one that he was desperate to uncover.

He took a deep breath, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew that he had to talk to Abhira, to ask her about the locket, about the picture, about the connection between them. But how? She was still reeling from her own grief, and he didn't want to add to her pain.

He looked down at the locket still clutched in his hand, the picture of his mother and him staring back at him. He felt a sense of resolve, a sense of purpose. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took. He would uncover the truth, and he would make sure that Abhira knew that she wasn't alone.