Aarya did not realize her hands were shaking until her husband gently covered them
with his own.
The orphanage stood quietly at the edge of the city, painted in fading pastel
colors that had once tried to be cheerful. Children's laughter drifted faintly
from inside, light and careless, the kind that only existed before the world
taught restraint.
Her chest tightened.
"This is it," she murmured.
Her husband nodded. Veer stood between them, holding Aarya's dupatta in his small
fist, curious eyes scanning the unfamiliar place.
Aarya took a breath and stepped forward.
The moment she crossed the gate, memory struck
her like a physical blow.
Not this place—but him.
She had told herself she was prepared. That time had hardened her enough. That rebirth
had taught her control.
She was wrong.
They saw Arjun near the old neem tree.
He was smaller than she remembered—three years old, thin, sitting alone with a wooden
block in his hand. His posture was unnervingly straight for a child. His eyes…
his eyes were not those of a toddler.
The moment Aarya saw them, tears welled instantly.
Her husband froze.
Both of them recognized him at the same time.
Their son.
Not the child standing there—but the one they had buried in another life. The boy who
had loved quietly, who had stood beside Aarya when the world turned cruel, who
had watched her die and followed soon after.
Aarya covered her mouth as a sob threatened to escape.
Her husband turned away slightly, shoulders tense, eyes burning.
They had promised themselves they would be calm. Gentle. Normal.
But grief did not follow plans.
Veer tugged Aarya's dupatta. "Mama?"
She knelt immediately, pulling herself
Veer tugged Aarya's dupatta. "Mama?"
She knelt immediately, pulling herself together with effort that felt like tearing
muscle from bone.
"I'm okay," she whispered, brushing her son's hair. "Mama's okay."
They walked closer.
Arjun looked up.
His gaze landed on Aarya first.
Then her husband.
Then Veer.
And in that instant—before any expression crossed his face—something ancient flickered
in his eyes.
Recognition.
Then annoyance.
Oh no, Arjun thought.
Absolutely not.
Aarya smiled softly, crouching to his level, forcing her voice into the warmth she
would use with any child.
"Hello," she said gently. "What's your name?"
Arjun stared at her.
Long.Hard.
She waited.
"…Arjun,"he replied at last, voice flat.
Her breath caught. She nearly broke.
"That's a beautiful name," she said, swallowing hard. "Do you like it here?"
Like it here?
He was internally screaming.
Arjun folded his arms.
"It's…acceptable," he said.
Her husband blinked.
Veer tilted his head, fascinated. "He talks funny," he whispered loudly.
Aarya pressed her lips together to stop from laughing or crying—she wasn't sure which
wanted to come first.
"That's nice," she said carefully. "Do you like toys?"
Arjun glanced at the wooden block in his hand as if it personally offended him.
"They are inefficient," he replied.
That was when Aarya's husband lost the battle.
A short laugh escaped him—sharp, disbelieving.
Aarya stared.
Arjun's eyes snapped to him, narrowing.
You.
You recognize me, don't you?
The air shifted.
Aarya leaned closer, lowering her voice instinctively. "Arjun… how old are you?"
"Three,"he said.
Then,under his breath, so quiet it barely existed—
"…Unfortunately."
Her husband choked.
Aarya froze
She looked at her husband. Slowly.
Deliberately.
He looked back.
Their eyes widened simultaneously.
"No," Aarya whispered.
Arjun sighed loudly, rubbing his small forehead with the weariness of a man who had lived far too long.
"Stop staring," he muttered. "You're both being extremely obvious."
There was silence.
Then—Aarya laughed.
Not softly. Not politely.
She laughed until tears spilled freely, until
she had to cover her face, until the sound startled the caretaker nearby.
Her husband followed seconds later, laughter breaking free like a dam collapsing.
Veer looked between them, confused. "Why are you laughing?"
Arjun glared at all of them.
"This is not funny," he snapped. "I died once already. I did not agree to this."
That did it.
Aarya dropped to her knees, laughing and crying all at once.
"It's you," she whispered, voice breaking. "It's really you."
Arjun looked away sharply.
"…You took your time," he muttered.
She reached out instinctively, then stopped herself, remembering he was a child
now—even if his mind was not
"I won't scare you," she said softly. "I promise."
He glanced at her again, something unreadable passing over his face.
"I know," he said quietly.
Her husband knelt beside her. "You remember everything?"
"Yes,"
Arjun replied. "And I am deeply offended that you're pretending I don't."
Veer stepped closer, studying him seriously.
"Are you my brother?" Veer asked.
Arjun looked at him.
Really looked.
Something softened—just barely.
"…Eventually,"
he said.
Veer smiled brightly. "Okay."
Aarya pressed a trembling hand to her chest.
In all the lives she had lived, all the pain she had endured—this moment felt unreal.
She had found him again.
Not as fate's mercy.
But as fate's challenge.
Arjun leaned back against the tree, arms crossed, glaring at the sky.
"Just so we're clear," he said. "I'm not a
child. I will not be treated like one. And if you attempt baby talk again—"
Aarya wiped her tears, smiling through them. "You loved when I did it."
His ears
turned red.
"That was different," he snapped.
Her husband laughed again, quieter this time.
"This is going to be interesting."
Arjun closed his eyes.
This is going to be exhausting.
But despite himself…
For the first time since rebirth—
He did not feel alone.