The moment Ruhan stepped into his old bedroom, he closed his eyes.
The air carried a scent that hadn't changed.
It smelled like aged wood, fading memories, and jasmine — his mother's favorite.
But beneath that… was something else. Something only he could feel.
A whisper from his past.
A moment he had sealed in this room twelve years ago.
He inhaled deeply, as if trying to trap time itself in his lungs.
When he opened his eyes, the room greeted him like a perfectly preserved photograph.
The books on his shelf were untouched.
The soft gray blanket on his bed still folded the way he used to leave it.
A dusty paper plane rested under the window — the last one he'd thrown before he was sent away.
He moved slowly, as though afraid even his presence might shatter this delicate illusion.
Everything was where it should be.
Except him.
He was no longer that boy.
Without a word, Ruhan walked to the tall wardrobe in the corner. He pulled open the bottom drawer — hidden beneath layers of neatly packed clothes — and retrieved a small silver box.
Inside, tucked away like forbidden treasure, was a pack of cigarettes.
He lit one, drawing in the smoke with practiced ease, and leaned against the wall, his mind slipping into silence.
What was he thinking?
No one knew.
But in the next breath, he whispered to the stillness,
"I'm back. I kept my promise."
"Wherever you are, Purple… I'll find you."
From the inner pocket of his coat, he pulled out a photo.
Faded. Old. But still so clear in his mind.
A five-year-old girl — sitting silently on a wooden bench inside the orphanage. Dressed in a tattered purple sweater, her eyes filled with unshed tears and untold stories.
He had taken it secretly — a snapshot stolen from time — the first and last moment he'd seen her.
Her name was etched into his soul, even if she had never spoken it aloud.
Aarohi.
He stared at the photo like it was the only piece of light left in his world.
"Just a little longer," he whispered.
"And then, you'll be with me. You won't leave again. Not now. Not ever."
His voice was filled not just with longing — but with possession.
Whatever this was — love or obsession — it had only grown stronger over the years.
And tomorrow… everything would begin.
He dialed a number.
"Meet me in my office first thing in the morning."
Then, he cut the call, and went back to staring at her photograph, as if willing it to speak.
'Somewhere across the city… another heart stirred.'
Aarohi sat quietly at a cramped dinner table. Her tired hands rested on her lap, while her eyes stole glances at the only real family she had left — a broken one, held together with lies and survival.
The atmosphere was tense, thick with unspoken resentment.
Suddenly, the sharp clicks of high heels cut through the silence.
A girl, probably a few years older than Aarohi, walked out of her room dressed in a dangerously short black dress. Her makeup was heavy, her perfume strong.
Her name was Naina.
Nahim looked up, concerned on his face.
"Where are you going, Naina? It's late."
"Out. There's a party." She didn't even bother to look at him.
"I'm not coming back tonight. Don't wait."
And just like that, she walked out — unapologetically loud, unapologetically free.
Aarohi's eyes followed her silently.
"What are you looking at?"
Naina's mother's voice is cut like a knife.
"Don't you dare cast your filthy eyes on my daughter."
Aarohi flinched.
"N-no… I wasn't… I was just—"
She stammered, trying to explain.
But the woman didn't need a reason to hate her.
She never did.
Aarohi's mind raced back to that morning — the slap, the bruised cheek, the way she'd been hit without warning or explanation.
But she kept quiet.
Nahim quickly tried to smooth the tension.
"We're leaving in two days," he said, forcing a calm voice.
"It's time we left this place behind. Aarohi, I'll speak to your principal tomorrow about transferring your school."
Across the table, the woman scoffed.
She quietly finished her food, then stood up, collecting everyone's plates like usual. She didn't speak again until the dishes were done and her chores complete.
When Nahim Ji was walking to his room, she followed him.
"Papa…" she whispered.
He turned.
There was a rare softness in her eyes — like a child still seeking safety.
"Where are we going now?"
Nahim Ji paused. His shoulders seemed heavier than ever.
"London," he said softly.
"Back to where we lived before."
He didn't say more.
He couldn't.
He just turned and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving behind silence and… a spark.
Aarohi's eyes widened.
Later that night, she washed the dishes like she always did — silently, quickly — and made her way to her tiny room.
Just one bed.
A cracked mirror.
A window barely big enough to dream through.
But tonight… she smiled.
Because she had heard something that changed everything.
London.
She was going back to London.
Back to the place where she had first felt.
Back to the city that held a memory so sacred, she still replayed it in her mind on sleepless nights.
She wiped her hands, ran to the small window, and sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at the moon.
"Will I see him again?" she whispered.
"Does he even remember me?"
A pause.
Then a soft laugh.
"Don't be stupid, Chiku. Why would he? You were nothing. You are nothing."
But her heart?
Her heart didn't believe it.
Because memories like that — no matter how short — leave marks that don't fade.
---
Twelve years ago.
Aarohi sat alone in a corner of the orphanage, arms around her knees, watching other children laugh and play. No one talked to her. No one played with her. She wasn't like the rest of them.
She had bruises she didn't understand.
She was touched in ways she couldn't explain.
And she had stopped speaking, because no one listened anyway.
Until he walked in.
A boy. Maybe fifteen.
Tall, handsome, and looking completely out of place among all the orphans.
His mother was in the manager's office, and he had stepped out, bored.
His eyes scanned the room.
And then… stopped.
She didn't know why he came to her.
But he did.
He sat down next to her and asked gently,
"Why are you sitting alone?"
She didn't reply.
She just looked at him — unsure if he was real.
But then he smiled.
And in that moment, something inside her softened.
Before she could say a word, a voice called out from across the hall —
"Ruhan, darling! Come here."
He stood up and looked at her one last time…
And she whispered for the first time in weeks.
"Ruhan."
He turned. Smiled.
And left.
---
Back in her room, Aarohi smiled at the memory.
"He may have forgotten me…" she whispered.
"But I just want to see him. Once."
She lay down, still staring at the moon.
Her heart is lighter than it had been in years.
But what she didn't know…
Was that far across the city —
Someone was waiting.
Counting days.
Breathing her name.
Building an empire — just to protect her from a world that once failed her.
Ruhan hadn't forgotten.
Not for a single second.
And when they meet again…
The world would burn if it tried to take her away.
Because in his mind…
She was already his.
Thankyou 💜