The adoption process was nothing like Aarya remembered from her past life.
It was quieter. Slower. Filled with forms, interviews, careful questions, and long
pauses that tested patience more than emotion. Still, every signature felt
heavier than the last, as if fate itself was watching closely, waiting to see
whether she would hesitate.
She didn't.
Arjun sat beside her during most of it, feet not quite touching the floor, face calm
to the point of unsettling the social worker interviewing them. He answered
when spoken to, politely but briefly, his eyes sharp and alert, observing
everything.
Too alert.
"So,Arjun," the woman said gently, smiling. "Do you like Uncle and Aunty?"
Arjun looked at her for a full three seconds.
"They are… competent," he replied.
Aarya coughed.
Her husband lowered his head, hiding a smile.
The social worker blinked, then laughed lightly, assuming it was childish phrasing.
"That's good," she said. "Would you like to live with them?"
Arjun turned his gaze to Aarya then. For the briefest moment, something unreadable
crossed his face.
"Yes," he said. "I would."
That was all.
But Aarya felt it—the weight behind that single word. The trust. The choice.
The home visits followed. The background checks. Conversations with people who already
knew Aarya and her husband well enough to speak honestly about them. Each step
passed without resistance, as though the path had already been cleared long
before they arrived.
When Arjun was finally allowed to spend extended time with them, it felt strangely
natural.
He followed Aarya through the house like a shadow, silent but present. He watched
her carefully, memorizing routines, habits, expressions—testing whether she was
real, whether she would disappear if he blinked too long.
Her husband approached him differently.
He didn't soften his voice. Didn't pretend Arjun was fragile.
He spoke to him directly.
"If you don't like something, say it," he told him one afternoon. "We don't read minds
in this house."
Arjun studied him for a moment.
"Good," he said. "I don't enjoy explaining myself twice."
That earned him a nod of approval.
Veer, on the other hand, had no such caution.
He decided Arjun was his brother the moment they shared a box of crayons.
He talked endlessly, asked questions without
fear, laughed easily. Arjun rarely responded—but he listened. Always listened.
At night, when the house fell quiet, Aarya sometimes found Arjun sitting awake on
the bed, staring at nothing.
"You can sleep," she told him once, gently.
"I know," he replied. "I'm just making sure this doesn't end."
Her heart tightened, but she said nothing. She only sat beside him until he closed
his eyes.
It was during this fragile, unfinished happiness that the past walked back in.
Aarya encountered Rudra by accident—or what passed for accident in a city that never
truly forgot.
He saw her first.
She felt his presence before she saw his face, the way she always had. When she turned,
he was standing only a few steps away, frozen mid-stride, staring as if she
were something unreal.
"Aarya,"he said.
She didn't flinch.
"Rudra."
His eyes moved over her quickly. The calm. The confidence. The absence of longing. It
unsettled him.
"You're
married," he said, not quite a question.
"Yes."
His jaw tightened. "You didn't even tell me."
"You weren't owed an announcement."
That stung.
"And the child?" he pressed. "Is he—"
"No," she interrupted firmly. "Don't finish that sentence."
He inhaled sharply, anger flickering beneath disbelief. "You disappeared. Then you
return with a husband and a child and expect me to accept—"
"I don't expect anything from you," Aarya said calmly. "Acceptance included."
He laughed bitterly. "You said you needed space. Meera said you'd come back."
Aarya's eyes hardened.
"You believed what was convenient," she said. "That was your choice."
His gaze shifted then—past her.
To Arjun.
The boy stood a short distance away, watching silently, expression unreadable.
Rudra frowned. "Who is he?"
Aarya stepped subtly in front of Arjun.
"He's family," she said.
Something dark passed through Rudra's face. "Another secret."
"No," she replied. "Another boundary."
Her husband joined them then, placing a hand on her back—not possessive, not
aggressive. Just present.
"Is there a problem?" he asked calmly.
Rudra looked at him, measuring, searching for weakness. He found none.
"No," Rudra said stiffly. "Just… confusion."
Aarya met his gaze one last time.
"That's something you'll have to live with."
She turned away without another word.
Arjun watched the exchange carefully.
"That man," he said later, voice low. "He used to hurt you."
Aarya didn't deny it.
"He doesn't get to anymore," she said.
Arjun nodded once, filing the information away.
When the adoption papers were finally approved, there was no celebration.
No grand announcement.
Just a quiet moment in the living room.
Aarya knelt in front of Arjun, holding the document with steady hands.
"This doesn't erase your past," she said softly. "And it doesn't trap you here. It
just means… we choose you. Every day."
Arjun looked at the paper. Then at her.
"…I know," he said.
He hesitated, then added quietly, "I choose you too."
Her husband cleared his throat, emotion unspoken but heavy.
Veer hugged Arjun without warning.
Arjun stiffened—then, slowly, allowed it.
Later that night, as the house settled into a
new rhythm, Aarya watched the two boys sleeping in adjacent beds.
One born into her arms.
One returned by fate.
Her life was no longer split between past and present.
It was whole.
And this time, she would protect it—without hesitation.