𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 ✔

93 . A day out with Ruhaan and Rehaan

Rumaisa's POV

The car rolled to a stop outside the care home, its modest structure standing quiet and unassuming against the backdrop of bare winter trees. The sky was a dull shade of gray, heavy with the weight of an approaching storm, but it wasn't the cold that made my fingers tremble.

I sucked in a breath, gripping the seatbelt buckle tighter than necessary before unfastening it. My pulse thrummed in my ears, my chest tightening with a nervous anticipation I hadn't fully prepared for.

Before I could gather myself, Ansh reached for my hand. His fingers, warm and steady, curled around mine, grounding me. I turned to him, finding his dark eyes already watching me-calm, unwavering, filled with the kind of patience only he could offer.

"Nervous?" he asked, his voice softer than the wind outside.

I exhaled slowly, watching my breath turn to mist. "A little..." I hesitated, swallowing hard before admitting, "What if he doesn't like us?"

Ansh's gaze didn't waver. Instead, he reached out with his free hand, cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin as if to wipe away my doubt. His touch, familiar and reassuring, sent warmth spreading through me.

"Then we'll try until he does," he murmured, his conviction steady, absolute.

I nodded, though the lump in my throat remained.

The care home was warmer inside, but it barely touched the cold lodged in my bones. We sat across from the supervisor in a small office, the walls lined with children's drawings-tiny handprints stamped onto paper, names scribbled in uneven letters. Each one told a story, a life too young to carry so much weight.

"He's a quiet child," the supervisor said, her voice gentle, understanding. "Observes more than he speaks. The winters have been hard on him."

I twisted my fingers in my lap, my heart aching at the thought of him braving the cold without anyone to call his own.

"Can we meet him?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

The supervisor smiled and nodded before leading us outside.

The garden stretched wide before us, patches of frost lingering in the grass. Laughter filled the air as children played, their voices ringing with unfiltered joy, but my eyes searched for only one.

And then-I saw him.

A small figure sat curled up in the farthest corner, his knees drawn tightly to his chest, his tiny fingers gripping the loose fabric of his oversized sweater as if it was his only shield against the world. His hair was slightly messy, strands falling over his forehead, and his dark eyes-hauntingly familiar-lifted the moment he heard footsteps.

For a second, time stood still.

My breath hitched. "Rehaan?"

His lips parted, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. He blinked, his fingers freezing mid-fidget, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Aap?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, rough from the tonsillitis that had first brought us together in the hospital weeks ago.

I took a slow, careful step forward, kneeling onto the cold earth so we were eye level. "Haan, main," I said softly, trying to smile even as my throat tightened. "Tum kaise ho?"

Rehaan stared at me, his fingers resuming their nervous fidgeting, tugging at a loose thread on his sweater. His small shoulders curled inward, his gaze flickering with something raw, something unspoken.

"Aap... mujhe bhool nahi gaye?" he asked, his voice so small, so heartbreakingly uncertain, that something inside me cracked.

Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I held them at bay, offering him the only reassurance I could. I shook my head, my smile trembling at the edges.