Ayaan p.o.v...
It's strange, isn't it? How someone's presence can fill every empty corner of your soul—how a single hug can feel like home.
I wrapped my arms around her tighter, afraid that if I let go, she might disappear again. God, I had missed her. Missed her laugh, her sarcasm, her way of looking at me like she could read every thought I tried to hide. We had been stuck in that frustrating silence for so long, both of us pretending like it didn't hurt.
But now she was here. In my arms. Real.
After what felt like hours but was only a few minutes, she slowly pulled back. Her face was so close, and her smile—it made something inside me soften. She looked peaceful, almost glowing in the sunlight filtering through the window.
I found myself smiling too, unable to stop.
"Okay then, I'm going," she said suddenly, her voice light but firm as she stood up.
I blinked, confused. "What? Where are you going?"
Her eyes met mine. "I have a lot of work to finish. I just came here for you."
Something in my chest clenched at her words—sweet and sharp at the same time. For me. She came here just for me. But it wasn't enough.
I caught her hand before she could walk away and gently tugged her back down to the sofa beside me. "No. Stay. Have dinner with us today and then go."
She gave me a flat look, lips pursed. "Dinner? It's just 2 p.m., Ayaan. Are you seriously asking me to wait till 9?"
I nodded with an innocent face that she didn't buy for even a second.
She groaned. "Naina will kill me."
Ah. Naina. Her over-efficient, no-nonsense assistant. I smiled to myself. I knew exactly how to fix this.
"Call her," I said casually.
"What?" Sanya turned to me, her eyebrows raised suspiciously.
"Call her," I repeated, leaning back with a grin. "And put it on speaker."
She gave me a look that said she didn't trust whatever I was up to, but she sighed and fished her phone from her bag anyway. After a few taps, she placed the phone on the table, speaker on.
It rang twice before Naina's sharp voice cut through the air.
"Sanya, where are you? We have three meetings lined up, and you haven't sent the PR brief yet."
Sanya bit her lip. "Ugh... I won't be able to attend today."
There was a beat of silence. Then Naina exploded. "What? Sanya, this is not going to work, okay? You're always avoid—"
"Miss Naina?" I interrupted calmly.
The other end of the call went dead silent.
I smirked. Classic.
There was a sharp intake of breath. Then a much softer, much more enthusiastic voice, "Is that... Mr. Ayaan Rathore?"
Sanya groaned beside me while I chuckled.
I leaned forward. "Yes. And I was hoping you'd allow Sanya to stay back today."
Naina was silent for a moment, probably dying inside from excitement. Then she practically squeaked, "Of course! Of course, she can stay. Just let her send me the briefing note by evening, and I'll handle the rest."
I looked at Sanya smugly as she narrowed her eyes at me, defeated. The call ended with Naina giggling—and Sanya picking her phone dramatically.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
"And you're staying," I replied with a wink.
She tried to hide her smile, but I saw it. Clear as day.
She was back. And this time, I wasn't going to let her slip away so easily.
She let out a long, dramatic sigh and shook her head, clearly defeated.
I couldn't help it—I grinned like an idiot.
National charmer. I know I am.
I leaned back, arms stretched across the backrest, watching her from the corner of my eye like she was the victory trophy I just won without breaking a sweat.
She glanced at me sideways, narrowing her eyes as if she could hear the ego swelling inside me.
"Wipe that smug look off your face," she muttered, but there was no heat in her voice—only reluctant amusement.
I didn't. If anything, my grin widened.
She exhaled again, more softly this time, and leaned back against the couch beside me. Her shoulder brushed mine gently—a fleeting, casual touch, yet somehow it made the air around us feel warmer. She tilted her head toward me, her eyes half-lidded with comfort and a hint of mischief.
"Now that I'm staying till dinner..." she said, her voice trailing lazily, "what should we do? Even the baby's asleep."
I glanced towards the bed.
Silence. Peace.
A rare thing in this house these days.
I had one major thing on my list today—shopping. Baby shopping, to be exact. Diapers, bottles, new clothes, maybe some soft toys... the list was long and a bit overwhelming. Honestly, I didn't know where to begin. The thought of walking into a baby store alone made me anxious. I needed someone. And if there was anyone who would find joy in picking out every tiny sock and onesie, it was Sanya.
I turned to look at her, watching the way her fingers absentmindedly played with the edge of the cushion, her hair tumbling over one shoulder. For a second, I wished we could just sit like this—me beside her, my fingers tangled in her hair, while she talked about everything and nothing.
"I need to go shopping," I finally said. "For the baby. And, truthfully... I have no idea what I'm doing."
She perked up immediately, her eyes lighting up like I'd just handed her a golden ticket.
"Really? Can I come with?" she asked, her voice full of sudden excitement.
I nodded with a small smile. I could already see the sparkle in her eyes turning into something dangerous.
"Oh my God! I'm going to buy her the cutest dresses ever!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. "Fluffy frocks, tiny socks—you just wait!"
I chuckled under my breath and shook my head, already predicting the chaos. I knew what was coming. She would drag me into every possible baby store in the city, comparing prices, checking for discounts.
I shook my head in defeat, standing up and reaching for my phone on the side table. As I picked it up, I could still hear her humming to herself happily, probably already planning what color schemes the baby's wardrobe should have.
I unlocked the screen and dialed Mom's number. She picked up after just one ring.
"Hello, mom?" I said, glancing towards Sanya again.
"Yes, beta?" came her warm voice.
"I'm heading out with Sanya to do some shopping for the baby. Can you come over for a while? I don't want to leave the her alone."
There was a pause. Then, Mom asked, a little too casually, "Did you and Sanya make up?"
I looked at Sanya just then—she was watching me with soft eyes, her brows raised slightly, as if she knew exactly what my mom was asking. There was something unspoken in that look. Familiar. Comfortable.
"Yes, Mum," I replied quietly, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "We're good now."
I could almost hear her smiling on the other end of the line.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," she said. "And tell Sanya I want to see what she buys."
I chuckled. "That might take a while. You know her."
Sanya raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. I just shook my head, slipping my phone into my pocket.
"She's coming?" she asked.
"Yep. You've got twenty minutes to plan your shopping attack."
---
The streets buzzed with life as we stepped out of the car. The sun had softened into a golden hue, casting a warm glow over the rows of colorful shops lined with everything from baby strollers to rainbow-hued toys. We'd decided to explore the local market instead of a mall—Sanya's idea, of course. According to her, this was where "the real treasures and real discounts live."
And I, like a fool with no better plan, had agreed.
We walked side by side, weaving through the crowd, until her eyes lit up and she pointed toward a store with tiny dresses hanging outside, fluttering like butterflies in the breeze.
"There!" she said, already speeding up. "That one looks perfect!"
The shop was small but packed with everything imaginable for babies—clothes, blankets, rattles, mittens, soft toys, pacifiers in every color. I stood by the entrance, overwhelmed, while Sanya dove straight into the chaos like a general leading her troops into battle.
She grabbed a tiny peach-colored dress from a rack and held it up. "Look at this! It even has little pom-poms on the sleeves!" Then, without waiting for my opinion, she turned to the shopkeeper and said, "Bhaiya, how much for this one?"
The shopkeeper smiled and replied, "Six hundred, madam. Pure cotton, very soft, baby will love it."
Sanya raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Six hundred? Bhaiya, this is a baby dress, not a designer gown! Can't you give me a better price?"
I chuckled to myself, leaning against a nearby shelf. This was going to be interesting. I had seen Sanya work her charm before—whether it was to get a discount at a boutique or to get exclusive interviews for her influencer platform, she knew how to make people listen.
"Madam," the shopkeeper tried again, "It's imported fabric. Very high quality."
She cut him off with a smile. "Imported or not, the thread is coming loose from the sleeve. Look!" She pointed to the fabric, as if it was the most serious matter in the world. "Should I really pay six hundred for a dress that can't even hold its own stitching?"
The man hesitated, a little caught off guard by her confidence. "Alright, alright, madam. How about I give you a 20% discount?"
Sanya grinned, twirling the dress in her hands. "Make it 25, and I'll take two."
The shopkeeper blinked, clearly trying to figure out what just happened. "Done. For you, 25% off."
Sanya winked at me, her smile victorious. "Thank you, Bhaiya."
I stood there in silent admiration, amused by how effortlessly she moved from one counter to the next, working her magic on every shopkeeper. In her world, nothing was ever just a transaction—it was an experience. And I couldn't help but admire how she carried herself: confident, assertive, and completely at ease in the chaos.
She was a someone whose presence on social media made headlines, whose choices in style were followed by thousands. But in moments like this, it was easy to forget all the public appearances and political events I was always part of. She wasn't just a face on a screen, or an influencer with millions of followers—she was real.
And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to realize how much more I wanted to spend time with her, outside the chaos of our lives. How much I missed our time together.
As we made our way to the counter, arms heavy with bags, Sanya caught my gaze and smiled brightly. "You're lucky I'm here, you know," she teased, nudging me with her elbow. "Otherwise, you'd probably have ended up with five onesies and a pacifier."
I raised an eyebrow. "Five onesies would've been fine."
She rolled her eyes. "No, trust me, you're going to need more than that. When you're a parent, you'll see. You can never have enough clothes."
We made the payment and headed toward the exit, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets. As we walked back to the car, the bags filled with everything from soft blankets to frilly dresses for a three-month-old baby, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm.
Sanya had this way of making everything seem like an adventure, even shopping for the baby. Despite our busy lives—her career in the fashion world, and my constant involvement in politics—the simplicity of this moment felt like a rare treasure.
And as we loaded the car with bags, I found myself thinking—maybe this, right here, was what I needed more of in my life.
As we sat in the car and started driving back, the baby seat in the back was surrounded by pastel bags and tissue-wrapped bundles. The smell of baby powder still lingered from one of the shops.
Sanya hadn't stopped talking since we left the market.
"I still think we should've gotten the yellow onesie with the ducklings," she said, twisting in her seat to grab one of the tiny shopping bags. "I know you said it looked like a banana peel, but come on, it was cute—and it had a hat! A hat with duck ears!"
I let out a breathy laugh. "You argued with the shopkeeper for twenty minutes and still didn't bought a single thing."
"That's because he was being ridiculous! Who charges two thousand for baby mittens? I should open my own store. I'd be a public favorite."
"You already are."
She smirked, then launched into another rant about how strollers should have designer options. I nodded occasionally, letting her voice fill the space between us as I focused on the road—until my phone started buzzing, and the screen on the car's dashboard lit up.
Without a second thought, I muttered, "Alexa, answer the call."
It connected instantly.
"Sir, I found the information about them."
My entire body froze. It was Niraj.
Shit.
He was supposed to message—not call.
The lightness in the car evaporated in an instant. My fingers twitched over the steering wheel as my eyes darted to the dashboard, searching for the disconnect button before Sanya could hear anything more.
But then Niraj kept going. "Sir, those three men were normal middle-class individuals—no political links, no prior records."
Panic flared in my chest.
I reached to disconnect the call.
But Sanya, in the middle of her dramatic gesture about baby socks, suddenly grabbed my wrist. Her touch stopped me cold. I turned to her sharply.
She didn't say a word—just shook her head.
Don't cut the call.
Her eyes were serious now. Gone was the laughter, the playful tone. I nodded slightly and took my hand off the console.
Niraj continued.
"They weren't related to each other," he said. "First victim—Raj Chauhan. Thirty-two. Accountant. Lived with his wife until a day before his death. She disappeared the night before he was killed—no trace of her since. Still missing."
I clenched my jaw.
"The second—Varun Desai. Owned a small garage in Chembur. No known enemies, clean background, but... there's something odd. Two nights before his death, he made five calls to an unknown number, each less than ten seconds long."
"And the third?" I asked quietly, unable to stop myself.
"Name's Sameer Kapoor. Freelance photographer. Travelled a lot. No stable address, no family close by. But get this—his last known location before the body was found... was within 500 meters of where you found the baby."
My heart sank.
Sanya stiffened in her seat.
"There's no record of him calling anyone that day," Niranjan added. "But his camera is missing. Whoever killed him took it."
Silence stretched out for a beat.
"And, sir," Niranjan continued, his voice lowering slightly, "the police still think it's just a coincidence. But three men. Same location. Same timing. Same method. And then you found a baby... there's no way this is random."
This is really suspicious.
"Keep digging," I said, my voice heavy. "Every detail. Their financials, travel records, neighbors, coworkers. I want to know everything."
"Yes, sir."
The call disconnected.
I sat there in the driver's seat, the hum of the engine the only sound between us now. The air felt colder somehow.
Sanya didn't speak right away. Her hand was still loosely wrapped around my wrist. When I finally looked at her, her expression was unreadable.
She blinked, then whispered, "You think they were connected to her."
It wasn't a question. Just a quiet confirmation of something we'd both been trying not to say aloud.
"I don't know yet," I said honestly.
She turned toward the window, looking out at the night. The city lights were beginning to blur past us, but I knew her mind wasn't here anymore—it was with that baby. And so was mine.
"Whatever it is," she finally said, her voice barely audible, "I'm always going to be with you."
And for the first time in a long while, I felt the weight of the unknown... but also the anchor of someone standing beside me.
Not just as a partner in the public eye.
But as someone who wasn't going to flinch when the dark corners of my world started spilling out.