Yeh Hai Aashiqui

Four

Over the next few weeks, Ishaani began to notice the quiet shifts in her world, all of which seemed to center around Sankalp. At first, their meetings at the park felt incidental, just moments of crossing paths, as if life had dropped him into her orbit without warning.

Saanvi, her ever-spirited little girl, took to him immediately. She'd race across the grass with boundless energy, her laughter brightening the park, and Sankalp would scoop her up with the same enthusiasm, always ready with a smile.

"Spidey Uncle!" Saanvi would shout, her small voice carrying across the playground. The nickname stuck after their first meeting. 

Ishaani would watch from the bench, her heart fluttering every time Saanvi threw herself into his arms without hesitation. There was something unspoken in those moments, a warmth that felt unfamiliar but strangely comforting. Ishaani had kept her guard up for so long that even recognizing the ease with which Saanvi had bonded with him felt like stepping into unknown territory.

Sankalp's presence became a constant, a gentle undercurrent in their lives. What started as occasional run-ins at the park soon evolved into planned playdates, as if an unspoken agreement had formed between them. He would bring Saanvi little gifts, small, thoughtful tokens like a toy animal or colorful hair clips that Saanvi would clutch in her hands, wide-eyed and grateful. Her laughter became a regular sound, and with each passing day, the knot of tension that had taken residence in Ishaani's chest began to loosen, if only a little.

But as Saanvi's trust in Sankalp grew, Ishaani found herself both drawn to and wary of him. The way he seemed to slip seamlessly into their lives terrified her, though she couldn't deny the comfort that came with his steady presence. Trust, however, was a fragile thing for Ishaani, something she'd learned to protect with walls that were high and unyielding.

One evening, after another fun-filled day at the park, Sankalp offered to walk them home. Saanvi had fallen asleep in his arms, her tiny head resting on his broad shoulder, her hand clutching the fabric of his shirt. Ishaani walked beside him, the quiet of the evening broken only by the soft hum of crickets and the distant sounds of traffic. The streetlights cast long shadows, but for the first time in years, Ishaani didn't feel alone walking in the dark.

"You're really good with her," she said softly, glancing up at him. Her words were sincere, though tinged with something she couldn't quite name, maybe gratitude, maybe fear.

Sankalp smiled down at the sleeping child in his arms. "She's easy to love. Kids usually are."

Ishaani hesitated before speaking again. "It's more than that. You've been there for her in ways I didn't expect anyone to be." She paused, her breath hitching. "It means a lot."

Sankalp looked at her then, his gaze steady and warm, but not intrusive. "She's special, Ishaani. And you're doing an amazing job with her."

His words landed deeper than she anticipated, triggering a flicker of vulnerability she had long buried. Being a single mother wasn't just about providing for Saanvi—it was about shielding her from a world that had once broken Ishaani. Every day was a fight to keep Saanvi's world intact, even as Ishaani's own felt fractured beneath the surface.

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The weeks turned into months, and what started as casual encounters grew into something more intentional. Sankalp wasn't just part of Saanvi's life anymore—he had become part of Ishaani's too. They would sit on the park bench, their conversations deepening with each passing week. It was easy to talk to him, to let the conversation drift from light-hearted banter to more serious topics—childhood memories, work struggles, even her anxieties about raising Saanvi alone. But the line between trust and vulnerability was one Ishaani struggled to cross.